Janine

Climbing into bed, she luxuriated in the cool feel of the fresh linen against her naked skin as she pulled the sheet and duvet up over her body. A sudden loud buzz from her phone snapped her awake. Rolling to her side, she touched the screen of her phone. It was a text message from Tess, again wishing her happy birthday. She smiled, she liked Tess, though the girl had been acting incredibly out of character for a much of the latter part of the party. Touching the button on the side of the phone, she rolled back onto her back and closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift, waiting for sleep to envelop her.

She wasn’t sure what it was, some odd little sensation pulling her back up out of the dream world, some ephemeral transitory sense, here and gone pulling from her slumber and toward consciousness. Opening a groggy eye, she felt something small move on her chest. Panicked, instinctively, she reached up a hand and swatted at whatever it was that might be on her, before flipping over, hopping out of bed and clicking on the bedside light.

She immediately looked down at her chest for any sign of whatever it might have been, before scrutinizing the bed for whatever it was she had felt.

Lying in a tangled heap near the foot of the bed was a tiny bipedal form struggling to stand up.

She frowned. Circling around the bed, she crouched down to get a better view. She recognized the little figure. It was Tess’s brother Tom, except incredibly tiny, no more than two or three inches in length. She regarded him as he stood there, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “This is certainly something more,” she said softly.

Climbing to his feet, still reeling from being launched halfway down the length of her bed, he smiled up at her before bending at the waist in a form of genuflection.

The smile on her lovely face broadened and her eyes positively sparkled.

Standing upright, Tom grinned back. “Hi Janine,” he said.

“Tom,” she replied, replaying her interactions with Tess from earlier in the evening. Did she know he was here? She chuckled softly, of course she knew.

“You are absolutely beautiful,” he said.

She looked down her nude body, toward her pendulous breasts, then back at him. “What were you doing in my room here tonight Tom?” she asked, pulling herself upright, cupping her right breast in her hand, strumming the hardened nipple with her thumb.

He looked sheepish, “I have had such a crush on you,” he confessed.

“A crush you say?” she queried, azure eyes locking onto his emerald orbs.

He nodded.

“So by some quirk of circumstance, you are small, you thought to come into my room and molest me while I slept?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled, “No, it’s, well, it’s not like that,” he defended.

“How is it then?” she asked, releasing her breast and tilting her head slightly to the side, awaiting his reply.

He half chuckled, “You cloud my reason, I am a slave to the crush,” he answered.

Bending again, she moved her hand toward him. He lifted his arms, as if to allow her lift him, instead, she bowled him over onto his back and put her hand down over him, pressing him into the soft mattress. Looking down on the tiny helpless Tom, she felt a surge of power, heady, an aphrodisiac awakening a delicious sensation in her. She put her right index finger in the middle of his chest and applied some pressure.

“I can’t breathe,” he gasped, futilely pushing back against her finger.

She smiled. “So you had a crush on me, I could crush you right now,” she said, tilting her hand into a more upright position, her painted nail under his chin as he struggled against her. The thought did cross her mind, a little push and he would easily be no more, just ended. She eased back on the pressure but still kept him secure, his little lungs filling with life nourishing oxygen. She stopped not because of the moral implications to dispatching him, she just wasn’t finished exploring all of the little games they might possibly play together.

Shifting her fingers so that her right index finger was now on his left shoulder and her right middle finger was on his right shoulder, she leaned forward, her mouth no more than an inch above, so close he could smell the sweet scent of her breath. Leaning forward, so her face loomed over him, she put her luscious lips together, allowing saliva to pool there before letting it drool down over his chest and face. Suddenly he was drowning in her saliva, unable to get a breath as the slippery liquid filled his nose and mouth. He started thrashing his head from side to side, but could not dislodge the viscous gob of spit depriving him of air.

Unable to breathe, his movements becoming more urgent. Distorted by her saliva, he looked up at her with wild eyes until finally she curled her hand around him and lifted him up. He coughed, spitting up some of her slobber.

She laughed and an amused smile danced along her lips.

He scowled at her, wiping at his face with his one free arm. “What are you doing?” he asked, between coughs. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, this wasn’t how he envisioned his fantasy.

“Poor little Tom,” she said, exaggerated pout on her lips.

“Janine, wait,” he said, slicking back his sodden hair.

“I don’t think so,” she said. Bringing him forward, she opened her mouth slightly, touching his face to her puckered lips, pushing him against the soft flesh. He could also feel the suction from within her mouth as she suddenly drew him passed her lips and inside her dark humid mouth, her tongue slick and powerful, yet soft as she tasted the slightly salty residue of his flesh. She turned him over and around, moving him at will. The thought crossed her mind, she could probably swallow him whole should she choose, another way of ending his little life, but still too soon.

Him still trapped in her mouth, she moved over toward the vanity, facing the mirror. Opening her mouth wide, Tom lay on his back on her tongue, arm out trying to find something anything to grasp. He could see her reflection in the mirror, himself in the open mouth. She giggled slightly, cupping her breasts in her hands, kneading them, massaging them.

Seeing him completely and utterly at her mercy aroused her, heating her desire. Closing her mouth, she crossed back over to the bed and climbed onto it, back against the headboard. Tilting her chin down, she pushed tom toward the front of her mouth, drooling him out feet first onto her breastbone. He scrambled and turned, one tiny hand grasping her lower teeth. Bringing her upper teeth down, as if to bite, she felt him let go and fall back onto her, sliding onto the up slope of one of her gigantic breasts.

Moving her right hand, she took him in her palm and moved it over her right nipple, and began to massage herself, using his slippery body trapped there to stimulate her. Again he struggled but was incapable of resisting as she rubbed him against the excited prominence.

Tipping her hand back, she smiled at him, he flesh made red by the friction and force of her hand.

“Stop, Janine, please,” he said, breathless, hands raised defensively.

She shook her head, “Oh Tom, we are only getting started little one,” she said, tone full of hunger and want.

“No,” he protested.

“Is this not what you wanted when you clandestinely infiltrated my room to spy on me? Was this not what you hoped for?” she asked, a feigned look of innocence on her angelic face.

“I thought, Janine, I don’t know,” he said, trying to get out of her open hand.

She chuckled, a throaty sound. Taking him by a foot, she lifted him up. He watched as she moved him downward, passed her navel onto the sheet between her parted thighs. “Don’t you see what you’re doing to me Tom? How excited I am?” she asked, releasing him.

Getting to his feet, he staggered backward a couple of steps over the sheet, away from her heated sex, engorged and blooming like a flower, the pink slit as tall as him.

“No,” he mumbled, “Not like this,” he said weakly.

“Come Tom,” she said, moving her left hand down her body and separating the petals of her pussy. With her right hand she reached behind Tom and brought him toward her.

He lifted his arms before him, as if the gesture might somehow fend off the inevitable embrace of silky soft slick flesh. Her push inexorable, unstoppable as she brought him to the inner folds of her hungry pussy. She used him to mercilessly, teasing herself, delighting in the sensations his little body was eliciting in her flesh as she worked in and out of herself and over the nerve center of her pleasure. As she felt her need rising, climax pending, she pushed him all the way into herself, whether he lived or died was of no consequence, there was only the overriding riding need for orgasm as she gave herself over to the pleasure. Passed the point of no return, once, twice, thrice she convulsed. Her whole body arching to the overwhelming explosion of ecstasy she was experiencing. Never before had she ever come so hard, a series of contractions following in sequence as her neurons continued to deliver messages of bliss to her brain.

Letting out a long breath, sweated beaded on her exquisite body, she opened her sticky seeping pussy, a tiny hand emerging from the ravenous pit of her hunger. Taking his tiny hand between thumb and forefinger, she pulled him out, slick with the milky essence of her release.

He was limp as she brought him near her face. At first she thought maybe he was dead, but as he neared, she could see his little chest rising and falling, a trail of her come leaking from his mouth and over his cheeks.

She smiled, “Happy birthday to me, I’ll have to let Tess know best present ever,” she said, mind exploring the possibilities of what she could do with her new little toy.