The white
Chrysler rolled down the dark streets. Urban drone grinded past, street lights
flared like flashbulb cameras. A squeal erupted from the back seat.
“YOU MET ANYA ZARSKY?!”
Jen stared
between Raf and down to me I. Her jaw had fallen open.
Still
unable to conjure up words, Raf could only let out a laugh.
I sat in
the warm padded seat of her cupped hands. The price of the comfortable seating had
been to endure a game of being rolled back and forth, from one hand to the
other, and trying to resist her fingers from curling in to pin me and subject
different parts of my anatomy to gentle, ticklish pinches just to amuse herself
in my surprised, irritated reactions. But it didn’t just irritate me. She
seemed irritated too; her sharp nail tips dug into me with breathtaking bite,
like being stroked with the flat of a knife. My stomach curled and hunched.
“That’s
what I said,” I gasped, as the car ceiling flipped around over my head, while
she rolled me around in her hand. “Check your phone.”
“YOU DID NOT,
LIAR.”
In her
other hand, the shiny screen came barrelling at my face and hovered there like
a flatscreen TV. I flinched. And then saw for myself; the last entry on her
chat log with me was over a day ago. No ‘I
will tell you another time’ reply.
Ohhh-kay, I thought. I must have texted someone else by
accident. It hadn’t sounded like a text from her anyway.
She gave my
member a tweak, and smiled in spite of herself.
“YOU’RE A
TOTAL BONEHEAD WHEN YOU’RE HORNY,” she murmured.
At the last
second, the car twisted around a tight corner. I was mashed against her body as
she steadied herself, and then brought back. The impulse to talk was squeezed
right out of me and my mouth remained clamped shut. She met me with a cool,
unperturbed stare. The shadows scrolled past her face as the city lights ran
along the windows.
"I CAN
SEE YOUR TINY LITTLE BRAIN SHORT-CIRCUITING TRYING TO FIGURE SHIT OUT. IT'S SO
CUTE."
Then she
impersonated my voice with an exaggerated squeaky timbre:
“I’M JERRY
MOUSSEAU, WHY DOES MY GIRLFRIEND HAVE TO BE SO BIG?”
“I don’t
sound like that!” But it wasn’t the mimicry of my voice that bothered me so
much as her immediate targeting of something that caused me so much anxiety.
“—AND WHY
DOES MY GIRLFRIEND HAVE TO BOUNCE ME UP AND DOWN LIKE THIS—?”
“Hey!
What—?”
I was flung
up and down like a ragdoll, bounced on the trampoline of her thigh until the
alcoholic contents of my stomach started to crawl up my chest cavity. Feeling
like I was going to pass out, I scrunched my hands and feet rapidly to keep the
blood flowing through my body. Passing out in the vicinity of Jennifer while
she was intoxicated was most unwise. And in the shadowy back seat, with Raf distracted
by the streets, she had full liberty to indulge in her dark whims.
“I’m going
to pass out,” I burbled weakly, clutching the pleats of her skirt. Her fingers
pulled my ankles tight and lifted them up into the air, trying to detach me
from her. Upside down my arms were pulled tight as I gripped her skirt harder,
until my muscles burned. Her reckless strength was terrifying.
My balls
were given a tug. I let go.
As I
dangled from her hand, she slumped back in drunken laughter, still mimicking my
voice:
“—IT’S SO
EMBARRASSING. LOOK AT MY CUTE LITTLE GRUMPY FACE, THAT’S HOW EMBARRASSED I AM.”
“YOU GUYS
ARE INSANE,” Raf exclaimed cheerfully, and laughed. He was absolutely a glass
half full kind of guy; even making insanity sound fun.
“NOW MY
GIRLFRIEND IS GOING TO GIVE ME A BIG KISS BUT I’M SO TINY I HOPE SHE DOESN’T
EAT ME MMMPH—” a giant pair of lips spread over my face, blotting out the world
with squishy, wet, pressurized darkness, “—OH NO, WHAT IS THAT BIG SNEAKY NAIL
DOING? DON’T TICKLE ME – NOOO!”
*
She
departed down the hallway to get changed, moments later her ghostly singing
warbled out from the soft pattering shower.
In the
meantime, I jumped up onto the single bed, put on a loose t-shirt and pyjama
pants, and went back out into the living room. Surmounting the sofa, the lights
seemed to glow too brightly for an instant as I was hit by a sudden pang of
light-headedness as my chest flip-flopped. A muscle in my leg responded by
seizing painfully and twitching. Then it was over. I was still taking the
growth medication and the effects were still happening. I’d just gotten better
and better at pushing it out of mind. Searching for a distraction, I moved over
to the remote, flicking the TV on and watching whatever appeared on the screen,
a talk show.
The pounding
water from the bathroom ceased.
A moment
later, the TV went black and still and the room was quiet again. A giant hand
flew down from the sky and was coming for me.
I dived
under the blanket and began running down the bed, keeping the sheet lifted over
my head.
“Hey, what
about a foot massage?” I called out. I imagined myself nestled between her feet
– as I had been at Samantha’s house – rubbing me until I fell asleep. Right
then, the irony of Samantha being the gentler alternative went over my head.
There was a
great jolt as a form came down upon the mattress. Giant legs dug under the
blanket right behind me, spreading rapidly down the length of bed as if chasing
me. The unseen mass of a huge foot swept past, the toenails scraping, searching
for the tiny object that was my entire existence. I pushed into the smooth
wrinkled canvass of her sole and rubbed it vigorously with my palms as if
trying to pacify her elevating sexual mania.
There was a
shriek and the leg jerked, the big toe pistoning forward with lightning speed
and stamping me dead in the face with a walloping blow like a punch. Next
second my back was against the mattress and stars whizzed in front of my eyes.
My face felt very warm; with a reddened imprint of her toe print stamped over
it.
“YOU LITTLE
ASSHOLE!” came her thundering reproach, but half gasping and half giggling. “DO
THAT ONE MORE TIME AND I’M GOING TO STRING UP YOUR ANKLES AND MAKE YOU INTO A
NECKLACE!”
I was too
dazed to reply. After a moment of silence, the bed groaned as she sat up, her
legs whispering over the sheets, parting to give me space. A hand curled around
and snatched me out from under the sheet where I was brought up under the
massive ceiling of her face, turned down to examine me with concern.
“DID I POKE
YOU…?”
She spread
me out on her thigh and began to stroke her hand over me as if in apology.
“YOU KNOW I
HATE THAT,” she said sternly, referring to me tickling her. Even as she said
this, her nail tip was absent-mindedly swirling against my stomach, tracing the
scar on my belly, and this was tickling me,
though she didn’t seem to realize. “AND YOU’RE SO TINY – OR DID YOU FORGET?
JUST WATCH YOURSELF DOWN THERE, LITTLE NUGGET.”
Lying on my
back, I beat my fists up against the constantly moving target of her hand, but
this just made her lips twist in a smile at the spectacle of my puny fists
paddling away ineffectively into her flesh.
“Don’t call
me ‘little nugget’ – !”
The hand
flattened over my body like a sheet while the pinky finger lifted delicately,
the pad smushing against my lips.
“UHP.
SHUSH.”
She leaned
back, sighing and keeping palm over me, gently sandwiching me against her thigh
– as if predicting I’d run away.
Her hand
swept around me like a blanket, snatching me up into the air. I did a whirl around
in the air until her face filled up my view. My eyes were forced to run over magnificent
features, the silky mane of showered and wet, red-dyed hair that spilled,
untied, over her shoulders, her lashes downcast, fluttering slowly as if
sleepy, but definitely alert. She was wearing only underwear and a tank top
which pulled over her breasts tightly; the nipples erect and contoured in the
air. She hadn’t dried herself properly from the shower and the top was dampening
in patches.
Held up
before her lips, my tiny face was washed by her deep, relaxed expirations,
until it was shining wet from the warmth and moist condensation. I was so close
to her lips that when they parted, my entire vision turned wet and mauve,
completely surrounded by the escaping tongue, which poured out and scooped up
my chin, lifting and balancing my head on its red tip like a tiny, delicate
piece of fruit she was savouring, fighting the temptation to suck and swallow.
The tip of
her tongue was pressed uncomfortably against my throat, slightly squashing it,
while keeping my head inclined up, forced to gaze up into the twin caves of her
nostrils, as she leisurely sampled the flavour and texture of my neck. The
steady draughts of her breath gushed out, patting my cheeks with warm air. She
kept me positioned like that for an extra moment, just to underscore my
helplessness.
If we’d
both been the same size, this terrible intimacy with her face would have been
the precursor to a make out session. She treated the tininess of my head as
something adorably begging to be kissed and licked and teased by the big, wet,
affectionate tongue. But for me, with her head dwarfing my entire body, her
reddish hair tumbling down for miles, the proximity was oppressive and made my
head feel every bit the final piece of food from a good meal, poised to be
eaten once toyed with.
Her tongue
retracted a fraction, sliding in reverse along the underside of my jaw. Then,
with laser speed, the tip of her tongue barrelled at my face and poked me dead
between the eyes as if determined to impale my head on the end.
Her low
voice beat against my ear drums.
“I COULD
HIT THE DANCEFLOOR AGAIN AND GO UNTIL DAWN. JUST SAYING.”
Taking this as some kind of sinister
foreshadowing, I began to sweat even more. Then she added:
“BUT WHAT I
REALLY WANT IS YOU ON MY PELVIC FLOOR.”
She nudged
in under my armpits, tickling up and down my sides to get me moving. My heart
plodded like a hammer.
“You just
use me f-for the sex,” I grunted as I squirmed hopelessly around on her palm.
“HEYYY…”
even through a frown her eyes twinkled with mock reproach, “…I HAVE WAY MORE
CLASS THAN THAT. I’M A GOOD GIRL.”
Before I
had time to protest, my head was taken up by her lips, whipped around and
playfully spat out into the air. I spun and bounced over the mattress. Then my
head was sucked back inside her mouth, snatched into the air and shot out
again. This time she laughed and caught me in one hand before I hit the
mattress. I took a huge breath and then the world went black and hot again as
her lips latched around my face again, and her teeth delicately trapped my
temples. It felt like my head was stuck in the exhaust pipe of a great machine.
Her tongue slipped back and forth, poking at my face, adjusting my tiny skull
before my body was again flying free in the air, before skipping over the
bouncy mattress.
Chasing my
flight paths, her long body draped across the tiny single bed, making the bed
seem much smaller. And considering the bed dwarfed me, making me feel
crushingly tinier by comparison. Her body went on forever.
The tight
stretchy sleeveless top was peeled up and discarded like snakeskin, and then
the bra was ripped off, exposing her sweat-balmed naked chest.
“MY BOOBS
ARE CRAZY FOR YOU RIGHT NOW…SO, WORK
ON IT; GO!”
She dropped
me onto the large mound of one breast so eagerly, the hardened nipple punched
my gut. I was quickly repositioned until the feeling of the blown up mass
pushing into my butt every time she drew in breath, with its gentle thrusting
cadence almost overcame me with inescapable eroticism. It was like her boob was
trying to have sex with me, even though it could have crushed me.
I placed a
hand on either side of her nipple and began grinding my palms back and forth,
rolling the nipple a little each way. The nub was like a ball of red putty, but
in contrast, became firmer as I rolled it, not softer. Sometimes I gave the
nipple a quick scratch to surprise her. It seemed to work, every time her long,
raking breaths would catch and she’d gasp, or let out a halting moan.
A hand
crashed down on me, and with a careless sweeping motion, sent me flying over to
her left breast, where I quickly composed myself and got to work ‘pottering’
the left nipple. Unable to rest, her fingers wandered around me, blindly
bumping my shoulders, prodding my head, frequently capturing it in an impassioned
pinch.
Not so long
after, my ankle was snatched up and I was dragged by my leg back to her right
breast.
For good
measure, she took my head up in her mouth, sending another crashing wave of
saliva over my head, and swishing it around with the buff flex of her tongue.
It felt like having my head dunked under a warm tropical ocean at pitch black night,
and manipulated by an enthusiastic chiropractor. Then my head smacked free and
was once more applied to her nipple, stiff with eager anticipation.
The nub was
powerfully massaged into my features, or more accurately, the bumps of my
features were made to massage the nub, tracing around the areola, swooping
under the weight of the breast to sweep up to the nipple, from below, giving it
an upward flick. My face was grinded and stretched against her aching flesh, as
if to scratch at an itch.
Her
fingertips remained calmly and resolutely fixed into the back of my head,
deftly manipulating my neck, working my head around the tip of the sensitive
probe. She wasn’t demure; she watched the whole time, arousal evidently
heightening at the sight of my face contacting the nipple over and over, shoulder
and neck muscles flexing with the exertion.
I scrunched
my eyes shut as the tight rosy bud pounded and flicked my facial features like
a series of small slaps. It felt like my face was being mixed with a spoon and
turned into pudding.
“GIVE ME SOME LIP LOVING, CUTIE.”
At her
command, I puckered my lips in an exaggerated way and pressed them to her
nipple. With all the stimulation she was already receiving, it probably didn’t
make much of a difference, but she seemed to enjoy the sight of me kissing her
nipple more than the feeling. I was a pure toy at the service of her aching
tits, a silent, submissive instrument whose sole sexual duty was to stroke and
swell her feminine ego.
Pleased,
she continued to drive my face back and forth over the terrain of her silky
soft mammary. Every so often when I opened my eyes I noticed very fine – almost
microscopic – hairs standing stiff with arousal, circling the dark areola. On
one of these occasions her nipple accidentally tickled my nose and pricked at
my eyes, so I kept them shut the rest of the time.