CHAPTER SIX

Timothy had more trouble driving home than he cared to admit — at this point driving seemed like a dangerous activity for someone who was as small as he was. He had adjusted the seat all the way forward and elevated the seat’s height as much as possible, and even still he had a hard time operating the brake and gas pedals with his feet. He could barely see over the steering wheel; halfway home he decided to sit on his briefcase to give himself a better view of the road, but this meant that his feet could no longer reach the pedals. Suffice it to say, he felt lucky to make it home on one piece. Plenty of people had expressed their frustration and anger at his bad driving, and as he walked into his house his ears were still literally ringing with car horns. 

And there she was, just like he imagined, and his heart jumped into his mouth as his cock stirred in his oversized pants — Beatrice was laid out lengthwise on the sofa, looking for all the world like a luxurious cat. She was looking at him with a long and mischievous smile on her face. 

“Oh my god,” she breathed, evidently pleased by his shrinking, “you got smaller. A lot smaller.”

“Y-yeah, yeah I did,” said Timothy, holding out his hands simply, not knowing what else to say. 

Beatrice rose from the sofa with the agility of a big cat as she walked straight up to him, standing tall, up to her full height, right in front of him. Timothy could not help but get slack-jawed at Beatrice’s size. She positively loomed over him. The top of his head didn’t even come up to the bottom of her big tits; he was staring straight ahead into her abs, which he could see lightly defined through the tight black dress she was wearing. He glanced down at her feet, expecting to see her wearing heels of some kind that made her taller, but she was barefooted. 

“Wow,” said Beatrice with quiet energy, putting her hands on her hips. “Look at you. You’re like a kid next to me.” He certainly felt like a kid with her standing over him like this. This childlike feeling was increased by his realization that Beatrice had…developed even further. There was no doubt about it now: the beatification wish was coming true right before his eyes. Her lips looked thicker and plusher; her face shone with a kind of dark radiance that, when directed at him, made him feel so much smaller than he already was. Her arms and legs seemed longer and fuller; her already-impressive breasts looked a size or so bigger. And her ass, which he could see strongly curving up around her hips, looked absolutely massive. Any slight movement sent its voluminous flesh into a series of jiggles that were mesmerizing to watch. 

Beatrice suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Timothy’s shoulder roughly with one of her hands, and he nearly fell down. She turned him around unceremoniously with her hand, squeezing his shoulder and upper arm. She repeated this action a few more times, effortlessly rotating his shrunken body around in circles as she tested his arms for size. Her big strong hands squeezed and pulled as they coarsely navigated Timothy around and around. Her sudden rough handling surprised him, and he as unable to stifle a yelp of pain when one of her fingers pinched the loose flesh on his shoulder. 

“Owww!” he said, realizing how his voice up-turned into a high pitch. 

“Oh get a handle, baby,” said Beatrice unsympathetically as she continued to toy with him in the same raw and harsh manner. Timothy was definitely turned on by her touch, but he was now starting to panic a little as it became clear that Beatrice either didn’t know or didn’t care that she was hurting him. He spoke up again, a little louder this time. 

“B-beatrice! Th-that hurts!” 

“Aww the tiny little man’s in pain,” came her sarcastic voice from above. She suddenly stopped twirling him around and grabbed both of his hands in one of hers, stooping down low so that she was looking him directly in the face. She pouted her plush lips in his face as her eyes sparkled darkly. 

“So you’re not just getting shorter and skinnier — you’re also getting wimpier too!” She let out a laugh that Timothy tried to pretend was meant as a joke, but he was not able to avoid the thought that Beatrice was actually taking pleasure, mean-spirited pleasure, in his shrinkage. 

“Uhh, I don’t…I, uhh — ” he stuttered, feeling totally overcome by her size and beauty as she looked into his face with her intense dark eyes. 

“How about —” said Beatrice, cutting in assertively as she stood back up to her full height, “instead of stammering around like a little fool, you make me some dinner, huh?” 

“Oh…oh, yes!” said Timothy, jumping at the opportunity to do something for his girlfriend. “What would you…uh…what would you like to eat?” 

He had turned away from her and was walking toward the kitchen. But he suddenly felt two big arms reach around from behind, stopping him in his place. He could tell by the smell of the sweet fragrance of her breath that she had bent down behind him, her mouth at his ear.

“You,” she whispered lustily into his ear. “I want to eat you for dinner.” She had reached around with one of her arms and was now busy rummaging around in his pants with her big hand. She found his cock, which was already quite stiff, and squeezed it insistently, causing Timothy to give a sharp intake of breath. It almost hurt, the way she had grabbed it, but it definitely felt good too. 

She began milking his cock emphatically, keeping up the stream of dirty whispers in his ear. Already sexually frustrated throughout most of the day, and totally overcome by his new girlfriend’s incessant and dominant technique, Timothy could not hold on for long. Within half a minute he was spraying his load all over — his pants had slipped down completely during Beatrice’s forceful handjob. She reached around her other hand and caught Timothy’s cum as she cooed and laughed dirtily in his ear.

Once he was done, she brought her cupped hand with his cum up to her mouth and smelled it, looking down at him with wide eyes as her gorgeous mouth curved up sexily. 

“Mmmm, dinner is served,” she said, making her eyebrows go up and down at him. “Fresh from the source and totally organic.” She bent her mouth down and slurped up the cum noisily, making sure to put on a show for Timothy as she made his cum squelch and ooze through her lips and teeth. Watching her devour his cum that way made Timothy almost feel lightheaded, and he stumbled over to the counter and grabbed on to keep from falling down. 

“Mmm, aww,” said Beatrice through his cum, “isa too musshh forw wyou? Am I too musshh forw wyou little Timmy?” 

“N-no…y-you’re…you’re perfect,” he managed to to say, looking up at Beatrice in awe. 

She smiled down at him as she swallowed and continued to smack her lips. “Aww that’s very sweet my tiny guy, very sweet.” She used a long finger to gather up and cum that was still on her lips and stuck it into her mouth, pulling it out a few moments later with a *pop.* 

“That was a fine little appetizer, but yeah, I’m still gonna need you to make that dinner,” she said as she made her way back to the sofa. 

“Of…of course!” said Timothy, almost stumbling after her. “Yes…yes, I’ll just…I’ll just get right on that.”

“Mmmhmm,” nodded Beatrice, looking unimpressed as she stretched herself out on the sofa again. “And make sure it’s not something boring like mac and cheese or spaghetti and meatballs.” 

“O-ok,” said Timothy, suddenly beginning to feel nervous.

“Surprise me, Timmy — wow me — make me grateful that I have such a caring, talented boyfriend — think you have what it takes to do that?”

“Uhhh, sure,” said Timothy, not actually very assured of his ability to cook up exciting food. 

“I’m blown away by your self-confidence,” said Beatrice drily. She extended a hand and literally shooed him back to the kitchen. “Go on now,” she said, a tad impatiently, “go on little guy. Get to work. Cook up something goooodd.” 

For the next hour or so, Timothy struggled in the kitchen, toiling away to try and make the best possible meal for his knockout new girlfriend. He was still reeling from her forcing him to cum, and he wasn’t sure, but he had a pretty good hunch that he had shrunk some more even after returning home. In any case, he was having to stand on phonebooks just to reach things in the fridge and to make use of the counter. He glanced over at the lines on the opposite wall that had measured his previous height — he wanted so badly to measure himself now to see how small he had gotten, but he didn’t think that Beatrice would take too kindly to him abandoning his dinner duties. 

“Holy shit she’s hot,” he thought blissfully to himself as he stole glances at her big long body reclining on the sofa. He wondered if she had grown any, and if so, by how much? He was going to have to find a way to get her to measure herself for him…but a smile crossed his face suddenly as he remembered: he didn’t need to find a way — she would be totally into it already! All he had to do was mention it. The frustrations of the day melted away as Timothy basked, at least for the moment, in the euphoria of having this bombshell of a girlfriend just laying there on his sofa. 

But soon the trouble of cooking started to overshadow his joy. He wasn’t that great of a cook to begin with, and Beatrice’s sudden orders had made him feel anxious. What was she going to do if she didn’t like what he made? Would she mock him? Leave him? No, that wasn’t possible, surely…he had wished for a girlfriend and now he had her….there was no way he was only going to get her for a day or two, right?! The longer he puttered around the kitchen, accidentally dropping this here and spilling that there, the more Timothy started to worry about pleasing Beatrice. A few times he looked over at her and was not encouraged to see her looking bored as she played around on her phone. After about half an hour passed, she called out to him. 

“Well? How’s it coming little guy? This big girl’s getting hungry, and when I get hungry, I get hangry.” 

“It’s…it’s coming ok,” said Timothy, who had only made a salad with chopped vegetables and was now struggling with a bag of frozen chicken tenders. He hadn’t even gotten to the baked potatoes yet. He knew that she probably wouldn’t be blown away by this meal, but this was literally the best he could do. He didn’t have a lot of other food in the house. Maybe she would at least like it a little bit…maybe it would be enough to satisfy her…

“Well, get those little legs of yours moving quicker,” she called out. “I don’t wanna wait much longer.” 

Half an hour later, Timothy had finally finished everything and had served up two plates. He made sure that Beatrice’s portion was larger and that she had all the best tenders and the tastiest parts of the salad and the better potato. He brought both plates into the dining room, where Beatrice was now sitting with her arms crossed in front of her chest. She already didn’t look too pleased, and when she saw what Timothy was bringing in, her eyes flashed, and Timothy actually started shaking a little in fear. 

“That’s it?” she said, looking at him as she cocked her head to the side. “That’s your idea of the marvelous, awesome, surprising meal I was talking about?” 

“Uhh…uhh…” said Timothy, starting to panic a little. “J-just…uh…w-well, I think, uh…I think it’s pretty g-good. Wh-why don’t you…uh…t-taste it and, and s-see what you th-think?”

“Uh, uh, uh, o-o-ok,” said Beatrice mockingly, her eyes following him as he sat down. “Geez, Timothy, you’re talking like your brain is shrinking right along with your body.”

She reached down and grabbed a chicken finger, holding it up to her face as she regarded it mockingly. 

“Yummy!” she said sarcastically, and plopped the whole thing in her mouth. Her brow furrowed as she chewed and swallowed. Timothy picked and nipped at his food nervously, afraid for what was going to come next. Beatrice looked him straight in the eye across the table; her stare bore down into him and made him feel positively miniscule. 

“Timmy, that was fucking disgusting.” Her voice was dripping with condescension and tinged with bitterness. “Is this seriously the kind of shit that you eat every day?” 

“Ahh, uh…s-sometimes,” he said in a small voice.

“Because if this is the kind of crap you eat on a regular basis,” she continued, “then it makes total sense why you’re shrinking down into a wimpy little nothing.” She stood up abruptly, leaving the table. 

“W-where are you going?” asked Timothy desperately. 

Beatrice didn’t answer — she went straight for the sofa, and for a moment Timothy was terrified that she was going to gather up her things and leave. He was so scared that he didn’t even notice the little feeling in his stomach that indicated that, once again, he had shrunk. Beatrice reached down for her phone and was dialing a number. 

“Hello, I’d like to place an order for delivery,” she said, looking down straight at Timothy as she spoke. “Yes…yes. A large meat lover’s with a greek salad. Yes. Perfect…Yes…well, the boyfriend can’t cook, apparently. Don’t know why I’m surprised, though. Haha, isn’t that the truth?” 

Beatrice laughed and joked with the other person on the line, and Timothy could tell by the sound that it was another woman. It had sounded deep and like a man’s voice at first, but he realized that the woman’s voice was just deep and rich. Come to think of it, Beatrice’s voice seemed a little lower…and richer…more textured. The beatification was underway…and Timothy felt a heaviness lift off his chest. He still felt bad about failing to cook a good dinner, but the imperious way that Beatrice was behaving, with all of her mocking and jibs and quips and sharp little comments about his size, made him feel very excited. He wished that she would act maybe a tad bit nicer, or…something…gentler, maybe. But who was he kidding — she was an 11 out of 10 and he was maybe a 4. Of course she would get frustrated sometimes. But he just had to do things to…to make her feel like she was the amazon goddess he saw in her. 

As she continued with her pizza order on the phone, Timothy realized that he had to do something in repentance for dinner. She had turned around and sat her huge ass down on the sofa as she completed her order, and had crossed her legs so that one of her bare feet was dangling in the air. Timothy saw his chance and went over, kneeling before her legs as he stretched out his hands. He was shaking a little in fear and apprehension — he wasn’t sure how she was going to take this, but he had to try. 

His hands made contact with the soft warm flesh of her foot, and he began to knead into it, giving her an impromptu foot massage. Beatrice looked across at him as she continued speaking on the phone; she made no reaction in her facial expressions, but she did keep her eyes on Timothy as he continued massaging his small hands into her big foot. After she hung up she dropped her phone onto the sofa, her eyes never leaving him. For a few moments she silently regarded him, looking down at her foot with an arrogant, exacting expression. 

“Mmmm that’s right,” she said after a minute or so, her voice almost down to a purr. “That’s where you belong: at my feet, and rubbing them with those weak tiny little hands for all you’re worth.” 

“I-I j-just though —” he began, but Beatrice cut him off.

“Shh! I don’t need the massage marred by having to listen to you stutter through some more words, Timmy. Seriously, what’s the deal? Is being in my presence really that overwhelming to you that you literally can’t speak?”

More words caught in his throat, and Beatrice laughed softly. “Of course that’s it,” she said, “that’s exactly what it is. I just overwhelm you in every way, huh?” 

Timothy made something like a little squeak in the back of his throat, unable to say anything else, eliciting another laugh from Beatrice as she extended a long toe and brushed him in the face. “Aww haw haw, look at you — you can’t even say a word. Well, I guess it makes sense. I’m like two feet taller than you now and could snap your little spine with one hand if I wanted to. I’m just…I’m just so much more than you, Timmy. There’s…just…so much more of me that exists. God, I mean look at my foot — it’s longer than your head!”

Timothy was fully erect again from all this dirty talk, but Beatrice wasn’t about to make him cum again just yet. She was looking at something else right now…the pencil marks on the wall. Timothy’s heart skipped a beat as he saw her looking at them, and was inwardly thrilled to see a smile creep onto her face. She looked down at him, her smile almost a sneer. 

“Oh boy, the little guy’s really into this, isn’t he?” she teased down at him in a kind of baby voice. “He loves being so small and weak and helpless next to his big tall girlfriend who can totally dominate him in every way…and he’s getting smaller. Oh yeeah he is…smaller and smaller and smaller.” She stood up and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder again, practically dragging him over to the wall. 

“Let’s see how he measures up now.”

Timothy was almost dizzy from excitement and arousal by this point, and he gladly submitted to feeling like a rag doll in Beatrice’s hands as she pulled him over and shoved him up against the wall. 

“Stand straight now,” she said, getting the pencil to mark, “or, you know, as straight as you can. Jesus Timmy, your posture is awful.” 

He stood up as tall as he could and Beatrice drew a measurement with the pencil right above his head. 

“Holy shit you’re short,” she muttered as she bent down to fetch the measuring tape. “You have to be under four feet now.” 

She slowly drew out the measuring tape, looking down at him with a crooked smile as she widened her eyes in exaggeration. She extended out the measuring tape against the wall. 

“One, two, three…” came her voice, rising up in anticipation. “Three foot eight.” Her voice was deadpan as she stared down at him. “Three foot eight,” she repeated, her eyes getting wide. Suddenly she got down on her knees. Even this way, she was a little taller than him — Timothy couldn’t believe how hard he was. 

“I’m taller than you on my knees, Timothy. On my knees!” Beatrice was clearly quite excited about the most recent shrinkage, and Timothy actually saw her hand go down to her crotch and begin to play with it. He looked up at her face, which was very close to his, and he could see that her nostrils were dilated and her eyes were flashing. She was just as turned on as he was, but instead of her arousal feeling like it was draining the life out, like it was with him, her arousal seemed to increase her power, her vitality, her aggression. 

“This is fucking incredible!” she breathed at him. She stood up to her full height and put her hands on her hips, making it a point to loom over Timothy completely. The top of his head came up to her crotch — she now looked as tall as Maia had been in the elevator. In her tight black dress, her dark made-up, and her immense curves, she looked positively fearsome. 

“Like, look at this, Timothy!” she cried, extending out one of her huge, fleshy thighs. “My leg is as thick as your waist — holy shit, look at that! It’s thicker, actually!” And it was. Beatrice’s leg looked immense and powerful next to his tiny frail body. “You’re the size of one of my legs,” said Beatrice hoarsely down to him. “One of my legs. Let that sink in for a moment, huh?” It all felt incredibly erotic, and Timothy could really do nothing except stand there gaping at the ridiculous, absurd size differences between himself and Beatrice. She was the same way — it was as if she almost couldn’t believe it was true. And yet there it was, all plain to see. 

Timothy desperately wanted to see how tall Beatrice was, but he didn’t feel like he could ask her. Besides, he saw how she compared to the original 5’8 marker on the wall. She was a good deal taller…a number of inches…maybe five inches taller…maybe six? That would make her 6’1 or 6’2. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the reality set in. Before long, his girlfriend was literally going to be twice as tall as him. 

His close-eyed reverie was abruptly interrupted as Beatrice snatched him off the ground, practically slinging his body over to the scale. She didn’t even say anything — her intentions were clear. Timothy stood on the scale for a moment…and then…48 pounds. His heart seemed to stop in his chest. 48 pounds!?!? He didn’t even weigh 50 pounds!?! He couldn’t believe it — he heard laughter from high above him, and he knew that Beatrice was enjoying this bit most of all. 

“Oh my god, you’re an absolute fucking pipsqueak!” she laughed down at him. “You don’t even weigh 50 pounds, you little runt!” She laughed roughly. “Holy shit I was bigger than that when I was six. Six, Timmy!!” Sh crouched down on her knees again, looking at his tiny body with a sense of wonder. Timothy almost came right then and there just from her expression. 

“I don’t…it just…wow…I can’t even…even express…how tiny and pathetic you look right now,” she said genuinely, looking deep into his eyes and speaking with an even tone. “I just…Timothy, this…this changes things.”

“W-what do you mean?” asked Timothy fearfully. And then, he surprised himself by speaking his most dire fear aloud. “Are…are you gonna l-leave me??” Even just hearing his own voice utter those words was enough for Timothy to get emotional, and he felt tears start to well up in his eyes. 

“Leave you?” asked Beatrice incredulously. “Leave you? And leave…this?” She extended her arm out next to his leg, and uttered a cry of delight when she saw that her arm was thicker and longer than his leg. “Oh no, my tiny little baby man, I’m not going anywhere.” Timothy breathed a sigh of relief, even though he could see in Beatrice’s face something that was not quite right, something that didn’t sit too well with him. It was the way her dark eyes lit up…there was something…something scary behind them, despite all their beauty. 

“That’s not the kind of change I was talking about,” continued Beatrice, reaching out and patting his small head with her large hand. She could easily palm his head now. “I’m talking about changes in our…dynamic.”

“D-dynamic?” 

“Yes, Timothy. When I met you a few days ago, even though you were obviously weak and un-athletic, you still…looked like a man. You still were a man.”

“B-but, but I’m still a man now,” enjoined Timothy, surprising himself by his statement. Didn’t he want to shrink down like this?? If so, why was he putting up resistance? 

Beatrice was shaking her head, an odd smile on her face. “No, you’re not, little guy. You’re not a man anymore. You don’t even weigh 50 pounds. You can’t talk to me without st-st-st-uttering every third word. You can’t drive a car anymore. You can’t do things that other adults don’t even have to think about doing. And look at you — there’s not a hint of muscle on you whatsoever. You’re wasting away into a measly little husk of a person. I don’t know what’s happening to you, but whatever it is, I think it’s…it’s turning you into something less…into something less than human.”

Beatrice finished this vicious monologue and stood up, so that she was standing directly in front of him. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down on him, a haughty and severe look in her eye. 

“And I fucking love it,” she said emphatically. Her words caused Timothy to cower, since they were spoken with such energy and force. 

“I fucking love what’s happening to you,” she continued. “It means that you’re in my control right now, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You’re my little bitch, my little toy, my little pet to play with and tease and torment. I’ve wanted to do this for so long, but now….now I can.”

She reached down and grabbed Timothy by the throat, her huge hand easily fastening itself all the way around his neck. With terrifying ease, she lifted him off the ground by his neck and walked over to the sofa. Timothy gasped and fought to breathe as his little hands grappled with her big arm — he may as well have been trying to move a lead statue, such was the power and weight of her arm compared to his weak little muscles. Once they were over by the sofa she roughly threw him down on top of it, leaving him gasping and choking for air as he backed hurriedly away, facing her as she bore down on him, completely covering him in her shadow. 

“Yeah, look at you — you look like a scared little monkey, you know that?” As Timothy cowered at the corner of the sofa Beatrice started crawling towards him from the other end, her mouth open in a sexy snarl as she looked at him like prey. 

“That pizza’s on its way,” she said slowly as she approached him, “but I can’t wait that long. I want…another appetizer.” She had reached him. She extended her arms out and tore off his shirt, exposing his pale and sickly-looking chest. 

“You look like one of those AIDS victims,” said Beatrice ruthlessly, sticking one of her long fingers in between his exposed ribs. “Or one of those people in concentration camps. Ugh, god, Timmy it’s an absolute joke. Your body is a joke.” She kept on, drawing attention to every inadequacy that she saw. Timothy was as hard as a rock by this point, and his cock was pointed straight up at Beatrice’s face as she descended down on him. 

“Come on you little creature,” she said in a low hushed voice, “feed me your cum. Feed it to me. I’m gonna drink it. I’m gonna drink it all up — I’m gonna make you pop in my mouth and I’m gonna swallow you down, little Timmy. I’m gonna eat your soul.” 

This was all too much for Timothy and he howled and bucked as he shot his load. Beatrice chuckled it down her throat, moaning and shaking her head from side to side as she kept her eyes on Timothy’s. It really did feel like she was staring straight into his soul, and it really did feel like she was draining out his very life force with her hungry mouth. 

“Hmmm…is that it? That can’t be it,” she said shortly, holding up his cock to her face and studying it. “Come on little slave, I’m a big girl — give me more! I want more!!”

And with the second “more,” Beatrice had produced a long finger and jammed it up into Timothy’s ass. He threw his head back in surprise and yelled up at the ceiling. 

“N-no! No, B-beatrice, n-no, th-that…that hurts!!” 

“Shut up you little critter!” said Beatrice as she rammed her finger in and out, going deeper each time. “I’m gonna find that little prostate inside this tiny little ass of yours, and then you’re gonna give me what I want.” She continued to probe and jam her finger into his ass for minutes on end — Timothy’s eyes were crossing now, and he had his mouth open in a terrified, perpetual act of screaming, even though almost no sound was coming out. He was in too much pain and was far too overwhelmed to utter much noise at this point. But even as Beatrice hurt him, after a few minutes she found the little bean of his prostate.

“Aha, there it is,” she growled at him sexily, her huge face lit up right up next to him, her wild excited eyes drilling into his with a merciless hunger. “Now you can’t resist anymore — give it to me, give it to me, give it to me. It’s mine; it’s my cum. I’m gonna make it shoot out of you and then I’m gonna lick it up and eat it all.” 

The prostate stimulation, as well as her relentless dirty talk, took Timothy to a completely different level, and he orgasmed again, not once, not twice, but three times in a row, as Beatrice shouted out and growled and snarled in pleasure, catching it all in her open mouth as she rolled the cum around and around, gargling it aggressively before finally swallowing it. 

Twenty minutes later she was still jamming her finger into his ass when the doorbell rang. Beatrice uttered a cry of pleasure and stood up, walked casually over to the sink, and washed her hands. She straightened her hair and cleared her throat before answering the door. Behind her, Timothy lay sprawled on the sofa, his mind somewhere else entirely. His mouth was hanging open, and he was drooling a kind of white froth. His eyes were crossed and rolled back into his head. His little chest rose and fell lightly with slight breaths. He had cum more than he ever had in his life, so much so that he had passed out. But even as he had laid there unconscious, Beatrice had kept at him, unremitting in her determination to draw more and more and more from his shriveled body.