Laura busied herself in the kitchen, for the moment seeming to have forgotten my existence.  I stood there, hands clenched into fists, still feeling myself dwindle.  Being away from her while I was shrinking felt like agony.  I guess it always makes me kind of needy, especially when it’s happen so fast.  But as much as I wanted to be near, I didn’t dare move from the place where she’d left me.  So I watched, and waited, counting the seconds, trying to guess how small I was getting.  The kitchen counters were halfway up my chest now, and if I wanted a drink of water, I’d have to stand on tip-toe to reach the faucet

.
Back turned, she let her chamomile seep, adding half a spoon of sugar, stirring thoughtfully.  After what felt like an eternity she turned her gaze to me, as if only just remembering that I was there.  “Okay sweetie.  Let’s go sit down.”  She reached out, offering me a hand that easily encompassed mine, and led me into my living room.  Her pace was stately, which was probably for the best: it was hard for me to keep up with my short legs, and even on such a short walk there was the risk of elevating my heart rate again.

She made me stand in front of my couch, giving the order with a touch and a look, and set her tea on the table to cool.  Then, smirking at my surprise, she slid her pants down her legs.  I had to step back and give her room as she struggled to hook them past her ankles.  She grunted, dignity briefly forgotten in her battle with her skinny jeans, hopping on one foot with her face scrunched up in a comical grimace.  I might’ve laughed, if not for a very real fear that she could lose her balance and fall on me.  That would’ve been…unpleasant.  But at last she sat down on my couch, wearing just her tight sweater, cotton panties, and the one sock that had managed to survive her undressing.   “Hand me my tea,” she commanded.

Sipping, the giant girl regarded me.  I knew she was measuring me against the room, against her own body.  One gets to know that certain, appraising sort of look after a while.  “I’d say…you’re just a liiiiitle under four feet,” she drawled.  “And probably almost done unless I get you REALLY riled up in the next few minutes.  Well, what do you think?  Maybe I should go ahead and give you another dose right now.  Granting you shrank almost twice as much as USUAL, so who knows how small you’d get.  Hm.  It’s tempting to find out.”  She drummed her fingers on the side of her mug, considering, then suddenly caught my body with both knees, giving me a firm hug between thighs nearly as thick as waist, lifting me several inches off the ground.  “No, I have a better idea.  Think you’re too little to get me off, cutie?”

This was a challenge, or more accurately, a round-about sort of order.  I was pretty sure I knew the answer, and after all this teasing I was certainly game to try.  “I can do my best,” I replied, feigning a bit of reluctance.  “Um, could you take off your panties for me though?  Please?”

She, too, feigned reluctance to this request, though she looked uncommonly pleased at my last word – I even saw her pupils dilate ever so slightly.  God she was beautiful.  Even at normal size, a full-on smile like the one she wore now was intoxicating.  

With a look of indulgence she complied, sliding back on the couch and lifting her feet over her head to facilitate the process – ensuring I had the best possible view as she stripped.   From my low perspective, I didn’t miss the way the thin fabric clung between her thighs for just an instant, how she was obliged to peel the garment away from where it had pressed against her womanhood.  ‘I haven’t even touched you, and you’re already wet.’  Words that echoed her sentiments to me in the kitchen; words I had even said aloud to her when our circumstances were reversed.  

I probably smirked.  It was probably a bad idea.

She made herself comfortable, spreading her legs for me, a queen ready for her attendant.  I started slow, lightly stroking her legs, teasing with the back curl of my fingers, every so often letting her feel the gentle touch of my nails.  One moment I’d draw a bit closer to the place where her legs came together, the next I would pass on and work my way back up toward her knee.  Laura did her best to seem aloof, sipping her tea, watching me with cold detachment.  But being small has its advantages.  From this angle I could see minute details of her body I might otherwise have missed: the subtle flush to the skin around her thighs, the way the tiny hairs on her arm stood on end.  And of course, it was impossible to miss that this treatment was getting her absolutely soaking. 

 
I spent a long time working her up this way.  Laura was stoic, to the best of her ability.  Once the giant girl twitched – just a little – when I brushed unexpectedly against her labia.  And after a firm stroke within millimeters of a particular sensitive place, a little squeak issued from the back of her throat that she couldn’t quite suppress.  It was that tiny sound that finally got to me.  Pressing myself against the couch, I started to make good on some of my teasing.  After only a few seconds, I managed to get her to set her tea aside.

  Her eyes were closed, her hands flat against the cushions.  She was breathing long and slow, through her nose.  Laura was the picture of relaxation…or a giantess trying really, really hard not to lose it.  Yet at every turn, her physiology was betraying her best efforts.  Her clit had fully emerged from its hood, and was swollen up SO big and red now.  Several times I came very, very close to touching it, and each time I could see her inner muscles give a few angry pulses when I pulled away.  ‘Aww, SOMEONE’S getting pretty excited.  Can you say please?’  More words from another time.  But, now that the idea was stuck in my head....

I tensed my thumb against her mons, lifting slightly, revealing even more of her clit.  As gently as I could – and at my size, that was quite gentle – I rested the tip of my finger against her.  “Are you ready?” I asked, in a voice almost too soft to hear.

She nodded emphatically.  

I almost, ALMOST told her to use her big girl words.  But even I wasn’t THAT far gone.

I let my finger paint a slow line over that most sensitive part of her, with about as much force as one might use to pet a kitten’s nose if you were trying not to wake it.  Laura shuddered, letting out a long sigh.  Her leg kicked out involuntarily, startling me a bit, briefly reminding me that she could be QUITE dangerous to someone my size.  But then her head lolled back on the couch, her mouth open, her eyes clenched shut.  

I watched her in repose, studying each reaction carefully.  A touch of one sort could make her eyebrows furrow, or a press in a very certain place could make a muscle on her jaw tighten in a very cute way.  She was silent as I experimented, and almost perfectly still.  Occasionally I had to pause to move her sweater – it kept drooping, getting in my way, and had the annoying tendency to fall back into place at the worst moments.  I probably should have realized it a bit sooner, given how carefully I was observing every minutia of the enormous girl on my couch.  It was a bit of missing the forest for the trees.  It wasn’t until her head slipped, and she had to slide back on the cushion to reposition, that I noticed she was shrinking.

There were so many implications, so many questions to be answered.  Was she somehow absorbing the drug through my hands?  Had she dosed herself when I wasn’t paying attention?  If so had it been it on purpose?  Or was her shrinking the way mine had been at first – borne out of pure desire?  I’d like to say I considered any of those questions.  Honestly?  I just wondered how small I could make her.

Laura was enough on edge that it was harder now to DELAY her first orgasm than simply to give in.  I pressed, speeding up, then pulling back just a bit.  She groaned with frustration, visibly losing a fraction of an inch.  When I sensed the moment was right, I let my thumb hit a rhythm I knew would push her past the point of no return.  It took another half-minute, as she built, and built, biting her lip to stay quiet, able to hold back everything except those cute Laura-patented back of the throat squeaks.  I concentrated my attention on maintaining my rhythm…and on watching her shrink.  It wasn’t nearly as fast as I’d dwindled, and it was clear how I’d failed to notice for so long.  But now that I knew what to look for, it was unmistakable.  She was at least two inches shorter than when the evening had begun.

She came – going rigid, fingers digging deep into the soft leather of the couch.  I slowed for just long enough to not overwhelm her, smirked as she shrank in a slightly more obvious little burst, her body flooding with oxytocin…and went right back to pleasuring her.  The second orgasm came much faster, and by then, she wasn’t even trying to pretend she wasn’t enjoying herself.  On the contrary, I had to devote more of my attention to avoiding the kicking and thrashing of her still-gigantic body.  Idly I cursed myself for not thinking to lay a towel down before we started – she was really making a mess.

I was disappointed that, even after her fourth orgasm, she was still easily big enough that I could fist her without concern.  Well, ‘disappointed’ is probably the wrong word.  I could feel her muscles clenching around my wrist as she came, hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to make me stop.  Another quarter of an inch slipped away.

I lost count at some point, like I always do, as the moment overwhelms the metrics.  There were an endlessly delightful number of ways to get her off.  The days of anticipation, all the salacious text messages, the long teasing session…I guess we were both a little pent up.  She was losing height each time she came, but I couldn’t say how much.  Enough that her sweater reached well past her hip when she finally put her hand on me, telling me without words that she needed a minute.  But the hand still easily covered mine.

We snuggled together on the couch for a time, reveling in the afterglow, gently stroking each other in places that were mostly chaste.  By and by, she pushed me off her lap, kissing my forehead.  “Bathroom.  Be right back,” she whispered.
As soon as her feet hit the floor, she knew what had happened.  She looked surprised, though not especially concerned, as she took in her surroundings.  I would guess she was around five two, though it was hard to be certain since that was still more than a foot taller than me.  Once again, I was smirking.  Once again, it was a terrible idea.

“Did you slip it into my tea?”  Her voice was flat, in a menacing sort of way.  My shock at the question was evident, and I’m pretty sure she’d put aside that theory before I even managed to shake my head.

“You knew it was happening, though?” She crossed her arms over her chest.  The fact that she was pants-less, covered in her own juices, and looking mildly ridiculous with her hands mostly hidden in her sleeves didn’t diminish the impact of her domme voice.  I felt the little hairs on the back of my neck prickle, warning me of danger.  “Answer me. Did you notice I was shrinking and decide not to tell me?”

As clear a message as my immediate denial had sent before, my long delay this time spoke even louder.  “Y-yeah.”

She approached, looming over as I lay splayed out, tiny and naked on the couch.  I felt horribly exposed in this position.  Nowhere to run.  “WHEN did you notice?”

I wracked my brain.  The last half hour was a kind of a blur, but…. “Just before you came for the first time.”

“I see.  And you kept going anyway, for that long?  Well you must have really been enjoying yourself.  My, my.  What AM I going to do with you.”  Again, that look of cold calculation.  Her eyes narrowed.  “Bring me my backpack.  And be quick about it.”