Once there was this average kind of guy, a lot like you so you can pretend it's you while you're masturbating to this story, who was walking down the street when suddenly BAM! He got hit with some kind of scientific experiment gone awry. To, like, about four to six inches. Shock and confusion were of course his first reactions, and then maybe survival instinct, because of course you have to consider how much slower he moves at those proportions. No way could he dodge a car's tire or a neighborhood cat. And if some boys found him, either they'd run him over with their bike tires or boil him with a magnifying glass or something really unsexy but realistic like that. Even if he did find food, it'd probably be some rancid leftovers that would kill him anyway, end of story. Dead little guy. Whee.

So it's very fortunate that the first person who finds him is this very nice and understanding young woman who is also physically desirous. If the guy writing this story is an immature little horndog then she's extremely hot; if the author is a little more grown-up but not much, he tries to be generous and make her a little homely and unexciting, but still with some good physical endowments. I mean, be kind but let's not go mad.

Anyway, so he's standing there on the sidewalk and then she walks up.
"La, la, la," she says. "Here I am minding my own business, doing something that girls do. Oh, my!" she exclaims with surprise, "Here is a tiny little man, lost and confused in the big bad dangerous world!"

"Please don't hurt me, pretty girl!" cries out the little man. "I am very frightened, especially by you and your sexually dominant... I mean, enormously threatening size!"

"I will not hurt you!" says the girl. "In fact, I find you strangely attractive and would like to keep you all to myself, forever and ever."

"I also find you strangely attractive," says the little man, "and I think I will be coy and pretend you're leading me into this situation even though you can clearly see my erect penis. Because somewhere in all of this I lost my clothes."

And so the girl cradled the little man in her hands or maybe slipped him into her bra (she's old enough to have a bra; for some reason, you can't even permit yourself to fantasize about underage girls in your private time, and it's more acceptable to objectify women of the age of consent, though if you're talking about simple body parts, what's age got to do with it? Whatever.) and for some stupid reason he didn't go into one of her cups, you know, where her succulent breast is, but is riding on her bra strap and that somehow makes him really happy. She took him home and went straight to her bedroom, though the fact that a teenage girl can live in a nice house in the suburbs with no job and no family is never satisfactorily addressed. But they went to her room and began to have a conversation. You know, before the bocka-wow, the bomp-chicka-bomp-bomp.

"So, what happened to you?" said the hottielicious teen girl, pulling off her shirt.

"I don't know," said the little man, staring at her breasts and flat tummy. "I was just walking along the street, minding my own business, when a scientific experiment gone horribly awry hit me and shrunk me down. We have to find a doctor or somebody to fix me, even though this is clearly physically impossible and even finding researchers who may have toyed with the notion of quantum molecular differentiation would require resources far beyond our means, though if you can afford a well-maintained, 6,000 sq. ft. colonial home in a 2nd-tier suburban town, probably we could score some plane tickets to Berkeley, CA, and talk to some guys there."

"I didn't hear any of that," said the young woman, removing her jeans. "I'm too sexy for my ears to work properly, as you can see by my curvaceous, firm young bottom in frilly lace panties. Observe as I proffer my nubile frame to you, a miniaturized version of a strange man I've never seen before, yet I libidinously take to you like a duck to water." She thought a moment. "A duck that really wants to have sex with water, that is. A duck that, upon finding a strange little shot glass of water, not knowing what's really in it, wants to put it into its body anyway."

Wow, thought the little man, she is a masterful poet as well as being incredibly physically desirous. And easy! My God, I've had a tougher time cutting melted butter. But I have to stop and mention some aspect of her intellectual processes so that the author of this classic work isn't denigrated as completely shallow and two- dimensional, just in case some girls are reading and decide that they may want to have sex with him. "Beautiful young woman," said the tiny man to the well-developed piece of girl-meat, "I trust you completely even though I'm absolutely physically vulnerable and feeling a bit like the only girl at a frat party, and even though I've never met you before and you could twist me to a pulp between your fists or poop on my head or feed me to your cat. Also I'm trusting you're not diseased and about to stuff me into a scorching case of genital warts or something. Also I'm trusting that you're not really a boy."

"And even though I wouldn't give you the time of day at a bus stop, were you normal-sized," replied the girl, "I'm fully prepared to jam you into my most private sexual regions within five minutes of having met you. Shall we?" She laughed to herself. "Oh, that's right. Because you're tiny that means I have to dominate you, so you're going to do whatever I say, I'm so powerful, fee-fi-fo-fum, ho-ho-ho, hello down there, planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do, damn the torpedoes, my name is Inigo Montoya, Kansas is goin' bye-bye, k'plah..."

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked the little man, puzzled.

The young sexy woman got a blank look on her face, as opposed to the full palette of emotional dynamic she'd heretofore demonstrated. "I have no idea," she said, "I just started going and lost track of what was happening. Anyway, now I'm going to gratify myself with you because all sorts of sexual information and curiosity has been building up in me for the past 18 years and I'm going to take it all out on you. ...Oh, insert some candid, half-hearted well-wishing for your physical safety here."

"Please be gentle," squeaked the tiny man, and then the young woman scooped him up into her palm and commenced to introduce him to her distended labia and dry vulva. Oh, at some point up there she removed her bra and panties and lied upon the bed. She seized him by his lower legs and somehow he held ramrod straight and resisted the tugging of many dry folds of skin enveloping him. Then he was plunged into her damp moistness and warm hotness, and vigorously thrust in and out of her vaginal passage. Then she climaxed and orgasmed. Then she lay back and let him have his way with her, which entailed crawling up to one breast and playing with her nipple, crawling to the other breast and playing with the other nipple, then crawling back down to her crotch and holding himself before her labia while he ground and thrust his hips into her enormous vulva and he too orgasmed. She probably didn't notice anything but a light, vague rubbing notion but she dutifully made noises like she enjoyed it. Then she washed him off and they curled up and went to sleep and probably did this again and again and again. And he told her frequently that their love was intellectual and spiritual and stuff like that, and she positively glowed from his attention because she had no self-esteem of her own, her self-image was entirely dependent upon the reaffirmation of a shrunken stranger. But there's nothing wrong with that because in an ideal world that stranger would probably be you, wouldn't that be sweet.

Once there was this average guy who minding his own business, doing guy things with his day, when suddenly some foreign country released a biochemical kind of weapon that shrunk people down, and this guy happened to walk into a cloud of shrinking-down stuff. So he shrunk down and didn't have any clothes and started to panic.

Then this girl found him and said, "Oh look, a tiny little guy. Just the thing with which I may explore my budding sexuality. Hello, little man!" she called down to him merrily.

"Hello, gigantic scary woman," he called back up. "Please don't hurt me, I?m lost and confused. Please take me to a doctor. He won't know what to do with me but that's my pathetic gesture toward pretending to not want to be this size."

"I have a better idea," said the hot college girl, and she scooped him up and cradled him in her hands and ran skipping back to her sorority house. She seemed to have walked in right in the middle of a keg party, despite it being the middle of the day on a Tuesday, with stupid girls getting sloppy drunk with emotionally underdeveloped guys who will only score with a physically incapacitated girl, which actually is the most realistic feature in this entire story.

She ran up to her room (her name isn't important, it never is, but we can call her Cayleigh if you like) and put the tiny man down in the center of her bed. Inexplicably she started dancing for him, shaking her butt around and waving her arms and rolling her eyes and other weird stuff. He feigned confusion to be polite but really he was thinking, Damn, she's hot. I would have found her sexually attractive at normal size, but now that I?m tiny I just want to explode with horniness. And even though he was a complete stranger she knew nothing about, Cayleigh worked very hard to impress him, executing such complicated manoeuvres as taking off her sweatshirt and sitting next to him as she peeled off her sneakers.

"Oh, little man," she purred, "you are the answer to my prayers. For years I have been victimized by horrible men (sob, sob) and now I finally have you to use and abuse as I see fit. You'd think that by growing past my terrible history and putting it behind me, becoming a successful contributive member to a progressive society, that would be the best revenge of all. Instead, I?m perpetuating this cycle of incomprehensible, inhuman violence against someone weaker than myself and letting a few creepy people shape my entire identity and determine the course of my future." So saying, she pulled off her sock and placed her foot on his body, rubbing it back and forth for a while, ordering him to smell her foot. He did.

Then her roommate, Lindsay, came in and she was extremely drunk. Cayleigh said, "Hi Lindsay, check out the tiny little man I have. I don't know where he came from or what happened to him, but I've been taking advantage of him sexually."

"Oh no, Cayleigh, please don't pass me around like an object," the tiny man pled, pretending to resist.

Lindsay laughed sloppily and lurched over to the bed. "Oh, look at him! He's adorable! I just want to keep him forever and I love him! I love you, little man!" she cried, poking him roughly in the tummy.

"If you would like to play with him, you may," said Cayleigh, adding, "as long as you don't get any stains on him."

Lindsay laughed very hard at that, falling on the bed next to the little man. Her breath stank of cheap rancid beer and vomit. "Oh, don't worry about that! We're going to have fun, aren't we, little man?" she said, and the little man pretended to quail in fear. Cayleigh saw that he was in good hands and left the story. I mean, the room.

Lindsay wasn't much in the breasts department, but she had a firm cheerleader's body and a deep fakebake, and because this story was written by a shallow, hormonally-distended little fuckwad who hasn't had pussy since pussy had him, the tiny man found this very sexy. She crawled up onto the bed and dragged her youthful body over him, first her breasts rubbing over his tiny naked frame, then her rib cage (which jutted out because she didn't eat a lot) and then her flat tummy. At that point she became exhausted from all the alcohol and physical exertion and passed out on top of the little man. Ironically, this was one of the most pleasant moments altogether, being smushed against the mattress by a broad, firm belly of warm, soft skin as slow, deep breathing gently rocked him into a slumber as well.

Then light exploded all around him and when he looked up, Lindsay was gone but her friends Tiffany, Candi, and Foofoo were there, giggling and cooing over him. "Oh look, he's awake!" squealed Tiffany. "Now we can have fun with him! Girls, strip down!" Immediately their clothing flew off and floated to the ground like snowflakes, so there were three completely hot young undergrads standing in this sorority house bedroom. Then they climbed up onto the bed.

"Oh, little man! We love you so!" they chirped, unable to speak in normal human tones. They started bouncing on the bed, first kneeling down around him in a triangle so all he saw were these huge crashing knees around him. Then they laughed and turned around so their asses were bouncing off the bed, and they made a game like Hungry Hungry Hippos where they started chasing him around the bed by bouncing at him with their buttocks. The little man felt a real pang of panic at this point as these enormous derrieres, as sweet as they'd be at normal size, started careening and leaping all around him, thundering after him as he tried to crawl across the mattress. Tiffany blocked him with her thigh as he tried to leap off the corner of the bed, and Candi's ass was the one to come slamming down upon him, devouring him completely between her cheeks. She squealed joyfully and stood up.

"I got him! I got him!" she chittered. "Now I have to bounce up and down to shake him out of my butt!"

"Eek! Little man, little man! Get out of her butt!" The three girls screeched and stood up, jumping around on the bed with their tight little asses shaking and their huge breasts heaving around like water balloons in a paint can shaker, flopping wildly in every direction. It's a wonder they didn't just rip off and sail across the room, smacking into the opposite wall with a fatty splat, leaving a streak of red blood and orange cellulitic material as they plopped to the floor. But they didn't, they stayed firmly anchored to the silly girls' chests as they hopped around.

The tiny man was scared for his life again and tried to grab onto something, to keep himself from falling onto the mattress where the girls' feet rained like boulders (from his perspective). Unfortunately he accidentally grabbed onto Candi's anus. An electric shock ran through her body and she vibrated like an epileptic sucking on a light bulb socket and screeched so shrilly that she shattered all the windows in the bedroom. Needless to say the little man came tumbling out and bounced around the mattress like popcorn as the girls' huge clumsy giantess-feet slammed into the ground around him. More than a few times they stepped on him with their soft, tender pink soles, lifting up immediately and thundering around him some more. Once he got caught in Foofoo's toes and she couldn't do anything about it but drag him around for a while. His tiny face peeked up between her pink painted toenails and he screamed for help but the girls were laughing hysterically as his tiny naked body tangled beneath Foofoo's slender foot.

Eventually he shook loose and the girls laughed some more, then climbed off the bed and got dressed. "I know!" said Tiffany, figuratively. "Let's bring him downstairs for all the girls to play with!"

"Yeah!" they chimed in, and Candi snatched his naked tiny self off the bed, and they tumbled down the stairs into the living room where a lot of bright rich kids used the tuition money from their parents to buy a buttload of alcohol and dump it into a large washbasin, where they were playing Bobbing for Apples, for no good reason but to shove their faces into a lot of expensive alcohol. And seriously, who really needs a good reason for something like that?

Tiffany shrieked, "Hey, everybody! Look what we got!" and Candi held up the tiny little man who trembled fearfully as every girl in the party stared at him and gathered around the basin of booze. For some reason there were no guys around at this point. Maybe they all went back to talk about sports while their testicles recharged or something. Candi laughed and tossed the little man into the basin of alcohol and all the girls cheered and knelt down around him.

All the tiny man saw were a dozen heads of lovely young women laughing and hovering over him like a ring of goddesses picking on a mortal. Except their version of picking on him involved opening their mouths way huge and descending upon him, trying to suck him in. He swam and swam around the basin, gulping for air and screaming for help, as the liquor surged and boiled around him like a stormy sea, and young women's heads splashed into the mixture all around him. Sometimes the waves they made knocked him back and it was all he could do to keep his head up. Other times their long hair wrapped around him and almost yanked him out of the pool, until they laughed and tugged him out with clumsy fingers, palming him and giving him a big sloppy drunken kiss on his belly before tossing him back into the liquor.

Then one girl actually did get him. He looked up too late to submerge or swim aside, and saw this gaping maw of pink lips and sharp white teeth descend upon him. He stared up into the yawning abyss of her black, black throat and was slammed against the roof of her mouth by her enormous, thick, writhing tongue. She yanked her head back and raised her arms in triumph, as his tiny legs kicked and wheeled as they stuck out of her lips. He tried to hug her tongue but it squirmed and wriggled beneath him too spasmodically to hold onto. Then she started laughing and the back of her throat started fluctuating. Sound roared all around him as she laughed, and his tiny body started to slide over her tongue towards the back of her throat. Scared shitless, all he could do was watch his destiny slowly suck him down.

Outside, one of the girls noticed his legs disappearing into the girl's mouth, so she grabbed her shoulders and drew her in for a deep kiss. All the other sorority sisters either went "woooOOOOooo!" or "Eeew, disgusting. Lesbos!" but were secretly intrigued and would try to start talking to both girls involved over the next three months. Anyway, the second girl managed to suck the tiny man back into her mouth, and his upper body was left sticking out as she laughed but held onto his legs with her tongue.

"Hey, no fair!" said the girl who'd sucked him up in the first place, but she was laughing at the same time. Then someone suggested a new game while the little man was all sticky, so all the girls pulled off their pants, skirts, and underwear, and lined up. They set the little man down on an ottoman, and the first girl walked up and sat down on the little man. He screamed when he saw her turn around and flash her ass at him, but of course he was tiny and weak and helpless so he had to take it. She giggled and sat on him very hard, and then her eyes lit up with surprise.

"Come on, Peggy, turn around and pass him off!" the girls were chanting. Peggy stood up and turned around and the next girl in line, Denisha, pressed her ass to Peggy's and started clamping down with her buttocks, looking for the tiny little man.

But she couldn't find him. "Where is he?" Denisha queried. "Peggy, bend over." She did, and there were two little legs sticking out of Peggy's vagina. "Peggy! He's in your vagina!" Denisha laughed.

"I know!" laughed Peggy back. She gave him a tight vulvic clench and his legs started kicking furiously.

All the girls laughed, but Denisha asked, "Now how am I supposed to get him out?" All the girls went "wooooOOOOooo!" again so she knelt down and held onto Peggy's hips as she remained bent over. Very slowly she brought her face into the other girl's firm little ass and pressed into her, her thick tongue rolling out and lapping up her inner thighs and thick labia, before finally rasping between the tiny man's little legs.

The tiny man didn't mind this at all, being wedged up inside a nice sweet pussy while some other doubtlessly hot college student licked at his crotch. That was the life! But then Denisha wrapped her lips around him and sucked him out. All the girls cheered and the tiny man had to cover his ears for all the racket. Denisha turned around and stood up and the next girl, Candi, pressed her breasts together to make some cleavage for the tiny man. Denisha laughed and dropped the little man between Candi's breasts.

Candi started mashing her breasts together, rolling him back and forth between her ponderous boobs, laughing about it all the while. Then she knelt behind the next girl, Lauren, who bent over and basically sat upon Candi's chest, almost. Lauren clenched her buttocks upon Candi's ample cleavage and, after buffing her breasts with a modified lapdance, managed to latch onto the tiny man. She stood up and danced around with the tiny man's legs flailing from her buttocks, then pressed her ass against the next girl's, Trudy.

Trudy had an enormous ass, being a little heavy from watching TV and eating junk food and getting drunk whenever she could, driving around in her Metro Storm and avoiding walking whenever possible. It took quite the effort to bury the tiny man deep enough in Trudy's voluptuous cheeks, but Lauren was determined and kept grinding her ass into the larger girl's. And once he was in there, and just the top of his head was visible between those enormous buttocks, it was pretty clear he was never coming out.

"Okay, party's over," declared Tiffany, and all the girls got dressed up. Trudy just pulled on her panties right over the tiny man's head (no one ever bothered to find out his name, doesn't matter) and then her black stretch pants over that. Her enormous ass rumbled as she slapped it, laughing about the tiny man she was taking with her.

"Awwww," said the other girls. "You're taking him away from us? But we all love him, with all our hearts!"

"Too bad, girls," said Trudy, fondling her own ass quite enthusiastically as she ground her cheeks over the tiny man's body in opposite directions. "I have to take this little prize all the way to the other side of campus, where my sorority sisters will love him just as much! Maybe you'll get him back in a year."

"Yay, a year!" cheered all the girls.

"Oh no, a year," said the tiny man, who began to perceive that he might actually get tired of all this eventually, if not sooner. Much sooner. But too bad for him, because thunder-thighs Trudy heaved her bulk out to her flashy car and zipped across town, hitting all the potholes and road construction so her tremendous ass throbbed and rumbled around the poor little tiny guy. Then she made it to her own sorority house.

"Look what I got, girls!" she called out, and they all looked up from their ecstasy-and-lingerie party to see what she was talking about. Trudy immediately turned around, peeled off her stretch pants and panties (struggling to tug them from over her prodigious buttocks), and bent over. Deep in her ass crack was a tiny little man who looked up groggily and tried to focus on them.

"Eeeeee!!" they all squealed until his ears bled. "We love him very much and we all want to explore him sexually and very privately, in groups and in one-on-one encounters!"

"Well, who's first?" said Trudy. "Come and get him! Or should I say, get him and cum!"

They all laughed at the crude sexual allusion but they also came surging forward, a living forest of firm young cheerleaders' tanned legs, tender bare feet, heaving breasts and supple buttocks, all in various states of undress. Tasha was the first girl to get up there and she thrust her fist deep into Trudy's ass. After fishing around for a couple minutes she found 28 cents in change, a bus pass, some birthday candles, a memory card for a Sony PlayStation, a 3.5" floppy disk, some coffee beans, a cat, and eventually the tiny man. She tossed all the other prizes over her shoulder like the bridal bouquet at a wedding reception, but the little man she kept.

Tasha was dressed in a white sports bra and heather grey biker briefs. She loved to work out and had a very toned body, and she intended to use all of it on this little man. Leaping up the stairs she dashed to her room and locked the door. All the other girls pounded and meowed at her for as long as she had the little guy, but she ignored them. She set the little man down in the middle of her floor and stood over him, her fine feet on either side of him.

He stared up at her, her legs like twin towers, except more shapely like legs that led up to her young womanly crotch, and then it all just got lumpy and distant from his perspective. "What are you going to do with me?" he peeped timidly.

"Oh, little man, I love you so," she said amorously, "you're just what I've always dreamed of. I've always wanted to be sexual with guys but they're so intimidating sometimes. But now I have you and I don't feel shy around you... in fact, I feel very, very open, even though you're a complete stranger and you reek of alcohol and a dozen other girls."

So saying, she plucked the tiny man up between her fingers and pulled open her sports bra, sliding him down against the front of her breast. Her hardened nipple poked into his face insistently, almost like it was demanding his attention, so sometimes he squeezed it vengefully between his arms, but this just made it harder. Inexplicably Tasha started doing jumping jacks right there in the middle of her room. Her large breast heaved tremendously, carrying the tiny man along for a dizzying ride. As she leapt up there'd be a surge of gravity and her breast would press against him, then they'd be airborne simultaneously and he could mash his arms and legs into her fatty tissue with almost no resistance whatsoever. Then they'd come crashing down to earth again and her ponderous mammary would flood up all around and crush the air out of his lungs. Even though he was cradled by her sports bra he still clung to her nipple reflexively. Then she started jumping harder and higher, more frenetically, until her breast was like an angry enormous breast that smacked and pounded into him.

"That's enough of that," Tasha said, "now it's time to work on my glutes." She walked over to an exercise bench he didn't notice before and pulled him out of her sports bra. She stuck him in back of her biker briefs and wedged him between her very firm and well-defined buttocks, then lay down on her front and hooked her ankles beneath a padded mechanical arm. She raised her lower legs, bending at the knees, and tensed up the backs of her thighs as she raised the weight connected to the arm. This was a very strenuous exercise she did over and over on her own, but now she had a tiny man's solid mass wedged in her ass, and it tickled her to work out with him there.

For the tiny man's part, he was crushed by her gluteus maximus every time she pulled the weight up. Crawling out was impossible, as either her muscles were pinning him in place, or the taut Spandex prevented him from getting out very far. So he decided the only thing to do was go in deeper, and bent around until he could reach her anus. Digging his hands into that, he pulled himself down.

That surprised Tasha and tickled her beyond belief, but she was raising the weight and didn't want it to slam down so she squirmed in place while the tiny man tugged on her sensitive little butthole and pulled himself over it. His tiny body dragged over her anus and she screeched and squealed with ticklishness and nervousness. He started to get an erection as his hips passed over her butthole and it fluttered and clenched over his penis. He reached down and started to masturbate himself, which just got her more excited, what with all the twitching right in a very sensitive area, and she started to work out in earnest, using this extra energy to pump the weights even faster. Faster and faster her strong legs pumped, and the tiny man stroked his cock all the more furiously, until his orgasm came out in jagged spurts into her colon. Bizarre, eh? Anyway, he crawled down to her vagina and grabbed tiny handfuls of her labia to pull himself down there. That drove her crazy and the weights came crashing down and she moaned and writhed on the bench, helpless beneath his ministrations.

At that point the door burst open and the girls demanded, "Where's our tiny little man? We want to have sex with him too, as much as he's capable of, that is!" Tasha couldn't say anything but only writhed erotically on the workout bench. One of the girls noticed the squirming lump in the crotch of her briefs and crawled onto the bench behind her, tugging down her underwear. Tasha fine, athletic ass was exposed to all, and the girl thrust her hand down between Tasha's thighs, feeling around before extracting a very sticky tiny little man. The girls all cheered but then stopped cheering as the girl ran into Tasha's bathroom and locked the door behind her. As for Tasha, some of her sorority sisters helped her masturbate into a thundering climax. That's what friends are for.

The new girl, Jill, was more into kinky stuff and thought it would be funny to toss the tiny man (yet unnamed) into the toilet. Then she pulled down her own lacy panties and sat on the toilet seat. "Guess what comes next, little man!" she called down.

"Um, candy?" he said hopefully.

"Not quite," she laughed, and then grunted. He looked up and saw this hot blast of urine come shooting out from the vicinity of her labia and ring against the inside of the toilet bowl. He was disgusted with treading water in the toilet as it was, but now the water was growing warm and stank something fierce.

"Did I get you?" laughed the girl, lifting up one narrow hip to peek into the bowl. She saw the tiny man treading in yellowed water and laughed harder. The girls outside demanded to know what was going on, but she wouldn't say. She just sat back down and grunted harder, and the tiny man's heart froze when he saw her anus starting to enlarge. It opened up wider and pretty soon a huge lump of feces emerged, first hanging as the rest of it pushed out like a big, thick worm. Then the weight of it overpowered its physical cohesiveness and it broke off and hurled towards him like a stinky, sticky asteroid. It landed next to him and sent a wave of urine over his head. Coughing and spluttering he tried to swim away from it and heard the girl laughing outside of the bowl, but then the last bit of shit was pushed out of her butt and tumbled down, smacking him right on the head. When she turned around to check up on him she just about busted a gut laughing, but the tiny man was seriously dazed and struggled to keep his head above water.

"Well, that's all for you, little man," she giggled maliciously and wiped herself with a huge wad of toilet paper. She tossed it down and he tried to crawl onto it for something dry to cling to. Then he looked up and saw she'd pulled up her panties and was grinning down at him as she reached for the toilet handle.

"No!" he screamed, but she just laughed and flushed the toilet. She watched him with an evil grin as the water flooded in and swirled around. The flushing noise rumbled all through him as he clung to the toilet paper, and down went one piece of poop, then the other, rushing into the plumbing of the building. The little man cried and clung to the toilet paper, waiting for it too to be sucked down into the sewer.

By some fortunate circumstance the paper moistened just enough to stick to the bowl and no matter how much water washed around it, it never gave. The flushing stopped, the waters calmed, and the exhausted man looked up into the disappointed girl's face. "Well, I'm not one to question an omen," she said, "so you must be destined to live... for now." She reached down and plucked him out, flushing again to get rid of the paper. She toted him to the sink and doused him in antibacterial hand soap, rubbing him vigorously between her enormous mitts, with no concern as to what injury she might be doing to him, and really it did hurt as her fingers roughly ground into him or pinched his limbs carelessly. Still, she cleaned him up and made him promise never to talk to anyone about what happened, or else she'd shove him up her butt and he'd rot there until she pooped him out and flushed him away for good. The little man was too shocked to say anything so she was satisfied and opened the bathroom door.

"Who's next?" she said, then laughed and chose the fattest, ugliest girl there. And as they were all pretty hot, she could only find a moderately plump, not-gorgeous-but-still-very-pretty girl, and handed the tiny man off to her. The new girl, Bertha, laughed in delight and ran out of the room with the tiny man.

"Oh, you adorable, sexy little man!" she said, her smile a garish red grimace above his tiny, frightened, damaged body. "I love you so much! But I also love food, so I'm going to combine the two! How's that sound?" At this point the man truly wished for death so he gave a half-hearted thumbs-up to her. She trotted off to the kitchen, threw open the freezer, and pulled out a pint of ice cream.

Sitting down at the table, she got a spoon, opened the ice cream and set him down in the middle of it. He was shocked to alacrity with the freezing substance but Bertha just laughed and poked at him with the spoon, scooping up huge chunks of ice cream if he was trying to stand up on it. At the last second he'd slip off and fall back into the pint, and she'd open up her gaping maw and shovel in more ice cream. Each time send a shiver of dread down the tiny man's spine, as the massive lump of food disappeared into that gaping cavern of digestion. Or maybe it was just the frozen ice cream that made him shiver.

Then she got some chocolate syrup and poured it all over him, scooping him up in the spoon. Bertha chuckled and held the spoon out, reciting the old kids' mealtime cajolery, "Here comes the airplane into the hanger, nnnnnneeeeeeeooooooowwwww!!" She swooped and ducked the spoon around, and the tiny man's vision was nothing but bizarre tilting angles and streaks of blurry color. Then she tilted back her head and held the spoon over her face, and the little man tried desperately to hold onto the spoon as she basically poured him into her mouth. His limbs wheeled through the air as he freefell into her mouth, where her tongue was a soft cushion for him to land upon.

Giggling with delight, she rolled him around merrily with her tongue and lapped the chocolate syrup off of him. He was just excited to be warmed up again and hugged her tongue whenever he could, with his arms or his legs. Then she started rasping into him very hard, with a rough, pink, moist tongue almost as long as he was tall, and ground him against the roof of her mouth, purring very loudly. Her purring and moaning, as she played with his genitalia with the tip of her tongue, rumbled through his entire body and so he responded by humping her tongue. She seemed delighted and started tickling him with her tongue, and then he came again, a short little spurt in the midst of her papillae.

All tickling stopped as she explored this curious new taste. She decided she liked it, so huge gushes of saliva washed up all around her tongue and drenched him, and then came the working motion that started forcing him into the back of her mouth. He screamed and clutched onto her tongue, scrabbling for a handhold with her slippery huge teeth, as his legs slipped down into her throat. Seriously, his tiny legs made it over the edge of her tongue and down her throat before her gag reflex kicked in and she lodged him back in her mouth. What a relief!

But then the other girls wanted to know what happened to him. Bertha wouldn't say anything, but grabbed a friend of hers, Malloy, and yanked her to Malloy's bedroom. When Malloy tried to ask what happened, Bertha just shoved her down onto the bed, pulled the crotch of her panties to the side, and thrust her fat face up between Malloy's young thighs and her lips upon Malloy's labia.

The little man struggled to rebel against Bertha's tongue, which seemed to be ushering him out of her mouth quite forcefully. He was very comfortable in her capacious maw and wanted to stay a while, not be ejected into the cold world for some other pervo to take advantage of him, but too bad for him. Bertha's teeth parted and the tiny man only caught a glimpse of wriggling folds of flesh and sproingy thick dark hair before his moistened body was shoved unceremoniously into Malloy's very tight, narrow vaginal passage.

Bertha brought her head up and winked at her friend before standing up and walking out of the room. Malloy lay on her bed in surprise for a moment, wondering what this solid lump was that the plump girl had shoved into her cunt, and then laughed out loud when it started squirming and kicking inside her. Malloy clenched her vulva tighter so he couldn't even force a foot out, such was her talent, and straightened her panties. She got dressed in jeans and a blouse and bolted from the room with the tiny man still trapped deep within her vagina. When the other girls asked what happened she just shrugged her shoulders and said she couldn't talk, she had a family reunion to go to and some female cousins to catch up with. She hopped into the car her daddy bought her and peeled out, racing into the distance, racing to destiny. Along the hour-long car ride she entertained herself by rhythmically clenching the tiny man, contracting her muscles to pull him deeper and deeper inside of her, then pushing him out until his legs rested against her panties, then sucking him back inside again.

When she made it to the reunion she found some of her distant cousins-in-law and dragged them to a nearby barn, where she pulled down her pants and panties and slowly released the little man who came tumbling into the crotch of Malloy's panties. He looked up in confusion at the brand new girls who crowded around him with huge eyes and slowly parting lips.

"Oh, a tiny man!" they crowed. "Just what we've always wanted! We love him so much! Can we experiment with him sexually?"

And that's just what they did, but that's another story. If you want to hear about that story, basically you can cut-n-paste the story from almost the start to this point and just change the names, because that's what I'm going to do when I write it. If I get enough encouragement from an apathetic, selfish readership more interested in new masturbatory material than supporting some strange writer's self-esteem.

Once there was this really hot late-teenage chick who lived at home with her abusive father or step-father or boyfriend. Something like that. He hit her a lot and beat her and sometimes did strange things to her that he'd make his own little nicknames for. And also he would call his friends and talk to them about her and she would get scared and embarrassed and make him meals. For some reason she never went to the cops or tried to contact an abuse shelter. It also never occurred to her to poison his meals since she was making all his food for him and he ate it all unquestioningly, and she also never thought about running away. It's like she felt trapped but actually she had the keys to the house and could have left at any time but chose to stay for unclear reasons.

Anyway, one day things were getting worse and her father or boyfriend or whatever was planning on doing something really nasty to her. Okay, he already did really nasty stuff to her, but this was going to be really nasty, and as with everything else in her life all she could do was quail and tremble about it but not, you know, actually fight back or defend herself or just leave. It's kinda weird that way. But anyway, that day was coming slowly but surely and she had plenty of warning about it and a pretty good idea of how bad it was going to be, and she didn't want it to happen.

And then some kind of alien force from a planet entirely populated by angry women came down from the heavens and chose to give her a powerful device to help her get revenge. It might have made more sense for them to destroy a male-dominated corporation or take over the government or something, since they obviously have superior technology and think nothing of intervening in alien races' lives, but instead of doing something like that that would have caused real change in the world, they decided to focus on one hot teenage chick and give her the benefit of their mind-boggling technology.

It was some kind of piece of jewelry like a girl might wear, but something sexy like a necklace so that when you talked about it you could also mention it hanging between her succulent breasts, or a toe ring. It wasn't a gun or a chemical weapon or an injection or a power generator. It was something pretty and effeminate because apparently that's the range and extent of power-mad man-hating exclusively-female alien races. Dainty stuff.

So then the day came when the really mean guy, the father or cousin or neighbor or whatever, was going to do his really bad thing. So he came downstairs and started yelling at her and hitting her and stuff and started to take sexual advantage of her. Oh, and the man-hating female aliens didn't tell the girl how to work the pendant or brooch or whatever, they just said it would "change her life." Like that's a really clever allusion where most of the humor comes from its understatement, because it's actually going to violate the laws of physics and render everything familiar completely foreign and unalike anything it was before. Subtle, eh?

So he started yelling and punching at her and then the necklace or tiara or butt-plug started to glow and the guy's like, "Whoa, what is this?" and he swore at her some more but then she started to grow to something really huge, a really big size. And of course her clothes don't grow with her (silly female aliens! So short-sighted in their thinking!) so there's this really enormous hot naked high school senior chick standing in the living room except the house is like a doll's house to her and she crashes through the ceiling. Liberally sprinkle text with adjectives here.

Also, being that big suddenly makes her very horny so she grabs the guy who, like, she totally hates and starts making out with him. You'd think that after all this abuse she'd start to loathe him and maybe feel shame for her own body for making him do that stuff to her, but she doesn't. Apparently she can only liberate herself from him by becoming the sexual object he demanded she become, you know, subscribing to his rules. That's what frees her. But that's awfully complex so we won't get into it. She just rubs him all over her nipples, this guy she detests, she places him in her private places, mushing him into her breasts and stuff. And then she breaks through the house and starts masturbating with him in the back yard, in front of all the neighbors and stuff, but nobody thinks to call the police. Maybe there are no police in this world or something. But she starts fucking herself with him like a dildo, introducing him to her distended labia, somehow forcing this much weaker, flimsy, struggling little wet noodle of a person through her dry vulva, and commences to pumping him with vigorous strokes into her suddenly well-lubricated vaginal passage. And, despite being sexually abused all her life and using some scumbag as a sex toy, and despite being completely naked outside and 50' tall and standing in front of all the neighbors, she still manages to achieve orgasm and enjoy it.

Oh, the guy dies too, he is crushed to death in the constriction of her vulva, or by suffocating in her copious vasocongestive lubrication. She tosses the corpse down in the back yard and laughs about it, declares her power over all the male species, muah-ha-ha.

And that's that. Nobody reports the murder, the girl shrinks back down to normal, and goes on living in this caved-in house with no visible means to support herself, in a neighborhood where everyone saw her kill some guy with some relationship to her through the most freakish means possible, and everyone's cool with it. Maybe she'll do it again, maybe she won't, but if this were a movie it would focus in on the girly jewelry hanging between her succulent breasts right now as the credits roll, and maybe Iggy Pop's playing. Or Everclear.

Once there was this married couple, and the woman was really hot with a totally excellent body, and the guy was some fat balding slob like you see in one-panel cartoons in the paper. Maybe he was really attractive once with a great job and he just went downhill, or maybe the woman was exceptionally stupid and thought she saw something noble and fine in him and it turned out the only fine thing in him were asbestos particles in his lungs but she thought she could change him into someone better, rather than simply waiting around for someone who was better because she couldn't bear to be alone with herself, because society taught her that women are inferior and submissive and nothing without a husband. She swallowed it all hook, line, and sinker, even though it was a completely self-defeatist philosophy, and agreed to play along even though the chips were very obviously stacked against her, no bones about it.

Anyway, he abused her a lot by smacking her around and ordering her to do things like make food and do the laundry and stuff, while he sat around getting fatter in his wife-beater shirt and stained black slacks, watching TV with a newspaper draped over his legs, yeah, just like you've seen in those cartoons. He was a total stereotype. He'd smack her around all day and then wrap up the evening with, "Gimme sex, bitch." Evil, eh? You bet. He even stank like curdled milk.

So he's, like, a bad guy and stuff. Then one day while she was out grocery shopping she stopped by the library and met an old witch/chemist who produced a secret ancient tome entitled, How To Shrink Down Your Abusive Husband So You Can Use Sex As Revenge. Not knowing what they would find inside they magically turned to just the right page and the old crone gave the poor hottielicious housewife a potion that had to have a magic spell recited with it, which the woman memorized since it was a stupid little rhyme that made Ogden Nash's work look sophisticated.

She went home and poured the potion into one of his beers, 'cos he kept asking for beer all the time too, so she gave him the drugged beer and he's like, "Whoa, something feels funny, what's going on?" And then he shrunk down and his clothes didn't so he's this little naked pudgy wart sitting in the middle of a huge old recliner. So the woman took off all her clothes and picked him up and laughed at how helpless he was and set him in the middle of the kitchen table.

He started yelling at her and ordering her around, which was stupid since he was no taller than her hand was long. She slapped him and knocked him on his ass. "You can't talk to me like that anymore because I'm all big and powerful and you're a tiny little man and now I'm going to compare you to your tiny genitalia for a while." And then he cried out of shock so she slammed her hand on the table until he stopped.

She reached into a very convenient fruit bowl with many fruits and vegetables and other foods in it. "You see this tomato, honey?" she asked very, very sarcastically. "This is you if you don't shape up:" and she squeezed it in her fist. With her bare hand she squeezed a tomato, and juice and seeds spurted from between her fingers and across the table and against the wall, and some hit the man. He cried and pleaded for her not to hurt him.

"Hurt you?" she laughed, reaching into the fruit bowl. "You see this strawberry, dear?" she asked, her voice again dripping with sarcasm. "This is going to be you if you misbehave:" and she crushed it with her bare hand and the fruity mess ran down her fist and onto the table. The tiny formerly-abusive husband cried in fear and pleaded for her not to hurt him.

"Hurt you?" she chortled, reaching into the fruit bowl. "You see this kiwi, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice heavily laden with equal parts rhetoric and sarcasm, especially. "This represents you if you don't do what I say:" and I swear to God she crushed that unskinned kiwi with nothing but her hand. Juice and seeds ran everywhere, and the fat-ass mean ol' husband, shrunken down, began blubbering like a baby and begged her to please not hurt him.

"Hurt you?" she guffawed malevolently, reaching into the fruit bowl. "You see these Saltines, darling?" she asked, her voice shot through with striations of strong sarcasm. "They're, like, your bones if you think you're going to mess around with me:" and she absolutely mangled the dry crackers in her fingers. Crumbs fell like rain from her all-destroying fist, and her pudgy bag-o'-abuse she called a husband started wailing for her to please not hurt him.

"Hurt you?" she chuckled darkly, reaching into the fruit bowl. "You see this uncooked spaghetti, bitsy-pookums?" she asked, way, way sarcastic-like. "This is what I'll do to you if you're naughty:" and she snapped it into bits, picking up the larger pieces again and again and breaking them up into smaller bits. Her tyrannical despot of a husband, now no bigger than an action figure, broke into uncontrollable sobbing as he begged her to not hurt him, please.

"Hurt you?" she snickered acidly, reaching into the fruit bowl. "You see this handful of chow mein noodles, stud-muffin?" she asked, so sarcastic you could puke. "I'll do to these what I'll do to you if you're disobedient:" and she tightened her fingers around the pile of noodles and mashed them into crumbs. Her physically violent and now miniaturized spouse collapsed into tears of fright and begged, pleaded with her please not to hurt him, please.

"Hurt you?" she crowed hysterically, reaching into the fruit bowl. "You see this grade-A large egg, light of my life, fire of my loins?" she asked, and if you would've looked up 'sarcasm' in the dictionary you would've seen her face there. "This egg will now receive the brunt of my wrath like you will if you deviate from my orders to any degree:" and she simply turned her hand down and slammed the egg into the table, spattering whites and yolk in all directions, coating her diminutive barbarian husband in goop. He wept inconsolably, praying for enough mercy for her not to hurt him, please.

"Hurt you?" she howled with mirth, reaching into the fruit bowl. "You see this coconut, hunka-hunka burnin' love?" she asked, laying on the caustic sarcasm nice and thick just in case he missed it at some point. "I'm going to do to this coconut-..." but her fingers strained against the solid husk to no effect. "I'm going to... give this cocon-..." but though she knocked it quite violently against the table, it didn't give an inch. "This coconut is going to get-..." but when she threw it into the floor it just bounced and rolled around a little bit. Finally she threw it into the living room and said, "Christ, what a messy goddamn table. How do these things happen?"

But she didn't clean it up, she swiped at her husband and knocked him onto the ground. Due to some complex yet thankfully vague theory of physics he tumbled very slowly off the table and landed unharmed on the ground. He sprang to his feet and attempted to run away but she simply strode into him, knocking him over with her toes and then stood on him with both feet until his pudgy, doughy pale body squealed like a puppy's chew toy. Then she let him get up, run away again, and would pinch his legs with her toes, kicking up her foot in the air and swinging him around haphazardly, laughing all the while. He screamed in terror, especially when she slipped and he sailed into the door of the china cabinet, bouncing on the ground a couple times before laying there, panting in fright.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," she said derisively, and rolled him around with her foot. Then she picked him up and said, "You know what? I'm going to watch what I want to see on TV," and brought him over to the couch. She sat down and wedged him between her thighs, in her lap. He kicked and struggled but was so fat that it was nothing for her to clamp down on him with her firm, supple thighs, and all he did was get his feet tangled up in her pubic hair. "Oh, look, football," she said cheerily, and he stopped fighting long enough to check it out. She changed the channel with the remote, taunting him with, "Oops, too bad! Guess it's the 'Lifetime Channel' for us." And she sat and watched a talk show, The Male Hatred Hour, stroking her husband's hair idly all the while with huge, thick, soft fingertips.

When she looked down she noticed (over his enormous belly) that his penis had gotten quite hard, so she plucked him up by his head and thwacked his cock with her other fingers as hard as she could for the entire commercial break, then jammed him back down into her crotch for the rest of the show. When that was done she simply stretched out on the couch and began introducing his flimsy, weak body into her dry labia and vulva, forcing him past the unrelenting skin into her suddenly moist vaginal passage. After a few pumping thrusts into her vagina, she rested her thumb against the back of his head and drove his face brusquely into her clitoris until she got extremely excited, then began thrusting him harder and harder into her vagina. Eventually she stuffed the entire fat little guy into her cunt, and actually it filled her out something nice so she had no complaints.

Then the UPS guy showed up and delivered some videos he'd ordered. The woman thrust her breasts into his face and offered him her husband's beer, which he drank down and then he too shrunk down. She set him down on the couch and lay on her front, pinning him beneath her tremendous breast until it completely covered him and he couldn't breathe, just his tiny flailing arms showed from around her enormous mammary. When that joke exhausted itself she stuffed him also into her vagina, right behind her husband, so his face was shoved into her husband's stinky ass.

Then the gas monitor showed up and even though it was a woman, the abused wife waggled her generous buttocks at the woman and brought her inside, then also gave her some of the tainted beer, shrunk her down, and left the woman to rest on her labia and to play with her clit, since nobody really knows how to please a woman like a woman. From inside the vagina she heard the two other guys' voices calling for help but she figured it was none of her business and was enjoying rolling the thick, aroused clitoris between her tiny hands, and the wife had no arguments either.

Then... I dunno, just some guy showed up and wanted something, so the woman took him in and actually had sex with him. He didn't notice the tiny woman mounted on her labia, so the gas monitor got a nice little ride with the guy's enormous cock thrusting between her tiny little thighs. But the UPS guy caught the head of the new guy's cock right up his butt and he split in half, and the enormous cock forced the bloody chunks up to the fat abusive husband, who blocked most of the passage to the deeper vaginal regions. But that didn't slow the new guy down at all, he just thrust harder and harder and crushed the evil husband against the interior walls of the vagina (though in actuality her vagina should have been able to expand quite considerably to accommodate both the engorged penis and her fatass husband). But then the wife gave the new guy some of the beer and he too shrunk down and fell onto the couch cushion between the enormous valley of the wife's thighs and when he looked up he saw the merry ol' gas monitor gleefully massaging the insane but justified wife's clitoris until it looked like a beachball, and then the mangled corpses of the two guys came out of her pussy and dripped down her thighs and then the wife laughed and said something that reflected some kind of sense of foreshadowing, like this was going to happen again and again. So stay in school and don't do drugs!

It had been ten years since the mysterious missiles flew over the horizon from a yet-unidentified nation, but the impact swept throughout American history: the strange chemical in those warheads that shrunk everyone with a Y-chromosome changed life for everyone somehow. Bertha Watkins looked up at the bronzed memorial statue of a missile cracking open like an egg and dumping a glittery stream of chemicals upon a man, represented by a series of neon outlines that flashed to smaller and smaller images in a cycle. She shook her head in wonder and regret about the life that the entire world had left behind. Also she was late for fucking her stepson.

She hauled her baggage cart through the ruined streets of her city, hundreds of cars lodged into storefronts, stagnant by the trees they'd torn down, upended, rusting husks. These weren't recent accidents: they were left there out of respect for all the male drivers who had been operating them when they got shrunk. There sure were a lot of them, thought Bertha. Men sure did like to drive their cars, back in the day. Briefly she wondered how women got around without men to drive them, but that was a lifetime ago and she could barely recall it, like a dimly hazy half-forgotten dream wrapped in clouds and stashed somewhere she couldn't find.

"Heavens to Betsy, if it isn't Bertha Watkins!" said a hefty old woman with two armloads of groceries. "Nice day for it, isn't it?"

"That's for sure, Bridget," Bertha said, smiling, her ample bosom glowing in the morning sunshine. "What brings you out to the Memorial Car Accidents?"

"Oh, just some shopping." Bridget McBride hefted her grocery bags, badly shoved out of place by her own tremendous bosom. "Got to feed the..." She looked down, a single tear running down her cheek and then taking a long time to navigate the expansive real estate of her large boob. "I nearly said 'husband and kids,' just then. Old habits die hard, I guess." She smiled bravely at her friend. "But old Leroy divorced me just before the shrink missiles struck, leaving me with his runny-nosed brats from the previous marriage, don't you know."

Bertha clucked her tongue knowingly. "Ah, but isn't that the way of the world." Her own Vincent had divorced her only three days before the missile strike. It wasn't his choice, however: he'd taken a job with Mysterious Industries, filling in the position of Senior Vice-Not-Wife-Haver. He'd left tremendous sums of money for her and their children, and then presumably he got shrunk and died in a car accident, like most men, but Bertha wondered if she'd ever get over losing him. "Are your stepchildren getting along?"

"Most days, most days," Bridget said. "Two handsome, strapping young men Leroy left me. Good genes from their mother, I guess, as Leroy was the sexual equivalent of a community bathroom washrag. You should see the way they're growing: they must be up to four inches tall now, easy."

"That's wonderful. Even if they're not technically your children by blood, they really can be a blessing. What grade are they in now?"

"They're in their last year of high school."

"So they're legal to fuck."

"Oh, yes. I'm going to fuck the shit out of them when I get home." Bridget laughed and wished her friend a good day. Bertha watched her massive, rolling hips rocking down the sidewalk, imagining a slender young man disappearing in her ass crack. It surely is a different era than it used to be, she mused, waddling home herself.

"Not-my-boy! Girls! I'm home, help me with the groceries!" Bertha heard the stampeding feet of her daughters run up to the front door. They giggled at something, and then there was a wet slapping of meat against the doorknob, accompanied by piteous begging in a thin, squeaky little man's voice. Bertha sighed. "Quit slapping your not-brother against the doorknob and open up, please."

The aging white door swung open, revealing two luscious young women in various states of undress. One had glasses and held large tomes of chemistry and philosophy in her arms; the other was decked in black leather and spikes, holding a riding crop in one hand and her stepbrother in the other. "But he insisted, Mom," said Yvonne, the dominatrix. "He wanted to help, so we let him get the door for you." She thrust the tiny man before Bertha's face.

Neal was a swollen little mass of black and blue, and his arms hung at unattractive angles. "I'm fine, Mom, really," he said, bleeding profusely.

Yvonne snarled. "That's right, you're fine! How dare you agree with me!" Her leather glove creaked as her fingers tensed and snapped his shin. He cried out anguished thanks to her. Bookish Vernice rolled her eyes.

"Can't you be a little nicer to our dear, sweet brother?" she said quietly. "Certainly none of this is his fault. We should be more considerate of those less fortunate. He only needs a little... tenderness to straighten himself out. An extra dose of care." Her eyes went half-lidded and her breathing grew heavy. "Some wholesome... nurturing... between-the-thighs kind of affection." She sucked on her canine and stared at the pulp of stepbrother.

"You two unload the groceries and help me get set up for dinner." She unloaded her cart upon the kitchen table and swatted Vernice's plaid-skirted bottom, but not Yvonne's because it was covered in spikes. "Noah! You come with me." She swiped the bruised mass from her oldest daughter's hand.

"What, is it five o'clock already?" The tiny man swung from his stepmother's grasp, trying to spot a clock.

Bertha assured him it was and plunged her hand into her groceries. "I found these at the store, two for $30, couldn't pass them up. See? It's a little protection suit for you." She pulled out a tremendous purple silicone dildo with a hollow center and a little door midway along the shaft. Inside the dildo was an end table with an alarm clock, a tiny bottle of lubricant, an armoire, and a little bookshelf stocked with everything from classical English literature to the latest titles by POC, LGBTQ, and disabled authors.

"You'll be spending a lot of time in here," she said lasciviously, adding sexily, "and there's a bathroom in the scrotum, next to the washer/dryer combo. You can install your mini-laptop in the tip. The whole thing's wired for Bluetooth."

Neal regarded the entire ensemble with dread. "Two of those, huh?"

He could see his face reflected in her incisors as she grinned salaciously. "Should last us the month."

There was an alarming banging at the door. Startled, Yvonne trotted to see who it was. She let two women inside, guards dressed in very sharp, powerful uniforms. Civic guards never carried guns, which were phallic patriarchal symbols of toxic male aggression: they each hauled enormous, polished, vibrating truncheons.

"Officer Lesbo and Officer Butch, ma'am," they said. "Just wanted to make sure you're about to fuck your legally unbound stepson." Bertha waggled the enormous dildo at them cheerily; they nodded curtly and exited the premises.

Yvonne watched them leave, beginning to touch herself intimately. "I wouldn't want their job."

Bertha bade her daughters get dinner started while she trotted upstairs with her passenger and prop to perform her social duties. Vernice strained to meet her stepbrother's eye, massaging her pert boobs with consummate sympathy.

"You don't want this, I don't want this," moaned Bertha out of earshot. "It's not like I even had that much sex with Vincent when he was around. I'm actually ace, did you know that? Or I was: I guess the same thing that shrunk all the broken chromosomes down made those of us with perfect, noble, intact chromosomes randier than goats. Strangest damn thing."

"You don't have to do this," said Neal. "You could just tell the Stepson Sex Cops that you did. I'd corroborate your story."

She blinked in amazement at the little man in her palm. "Oh, no, you're going in me and no mistake, little man. I'm going to bruise my own lungs with how deep I thrust your little love-condo inside me, understand?" Neal nodded sadly and climbed into the enormous dildo, turning on the stereo he found to a college station. Grunting with satisfaction, Bertha undressed quickly to her sexy lingerie and rolled to her back on her luxurious four-poster bed.

With two hands she introduced the silicone manhood into her sopping nether region. She thrust the manhood in and out of her nether region. When her passion rose, her nether region began to seize upon the manhood, squeezing the manhood with all the power of her nether region. Her love-juices gooshed out of her nether region and pooled on the mattress just below her massive, succulent haunches. Moaning with intense delight, she stuffed the manhood deeper into her nether regions. All of her love-muscles, all five or sixteen of them, rhythmically clenched the manhood in a very seductive pattern.

All the alarm drained out of Neal's body as he watched an indeterminate number of his stepmother's love-muscles rippling over the silicone exterior of his new home. A swelling torrent of her love-juices carried him along and he could almost imagine he was flying up into the sky, leaving Earth's atmosphere, to dwell sweetly within the nether regions of outer space.

"I love you, not-Mom," he whispered, leafing through the latest Harper's. Her guttural moans and howls were untranslatable but doubtlessly meant the same thing.

Ichika smiled, knowing that the city was hers. No one could contest her for it, not the builders, not the occupying government with its paltry guns, not even whatever questionable indigenous tribe claimed its ancestors once shat here. She tilted her head back and smiled at the blessing of the sun, and she stretched her arms out to embrace the blessing of the air, and her enormous, planetary bouba were a blessing unto themselves, and so she basked in standing one mile tall (though often she’d been much, much larger) and in possessing this territory for as long as she cared to stomp on it.

Seriously, her tits were fucking ginormous, and even some women are into this so it’s not misogynist.

Rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck, Ichika drew in many thousands of gallons of air to feed her muscles, and her rib cage pushed out her tremendously bloated bouba, twin spheres of milky-white flesh, shuddering deliciously with many thousands of gallons of succulent, life-giving milk, because that’s definitely how bouba work. Across the metropolitan area, two vast circles of darkness spread across highways, neighborhoods, skyscrapers, shuddering with the erotic thrill of what was to come which all bouba naturally transmit because I have absolutely touched an actual, living woman in real life, no doubt about this, and I should know. “Behold your doom,” spoke the colossal woman, condescending to pause and announce her intent. Her nipples protruded several meters beneath her latex catsuit, which is completely believable for a community of microscopic people to have assembled and built for her, probably before their destruction because she knows neither gratitude nor pity. “Yes, ’tis I, the great and glorious Goddess Ichika, deserving of all your worship and more. That’s right, specks, bugs, mants: all of you should worship me for my grotesquely exaggerated sexiness! Behold the grisly burlesque of my improbable curves! But rest assured that women are into this, so it’s cool.”

So saying, she groped her own enormous bouba with both hands, one hand on each bouba and then both hands on one bouba and then both hands on the other bouba, which is how sophisticated adults refer to these things, and she milked her massive milky mommies, which is also how functional, healthy adults who are just having fun without any hang-ups refer to these things, and she…

I lost track of what I was saying.

Ichika massaged her own bouba, almost a full mile above the city, because she was one mile exactly and her tits aren’t on her forehead, groping herself in anticipation of the delicious, life-giving slaughter to occur almost a full mile beneath her, depending on where your point of reference on her body was. She moaned deeply, eroticizing herself through her own bouba, and began to very sensually roll her broad, round hips in a sensual way that everyone witnessing found sensual. Yes, even other straight women, even the aces, even police horses, everyone. She ran her fingers over her hips, showing off her tremendously sexy body that everybody was into before the imminent destruction that would wipe out every single last person in this city. They knew it, and yet they were helpless beneath her boundless and radiant sexuality, which resembled some BBW models on Instagram, some of whom weren’t even heavily laden with Brazilian silicone, so in a very real, non-zero percent chance, her body was technically natural and could happen in real life. Except for the height, duh.

She flicked her own massive, protruding nipples at the ends of each bouba, just as easily as she could have flicked any skyscraper in the downtown proper, except her immense gumdrop-shaped nipple bounced back, eager for more, whereas the skyscraper would have crumbled pathetically like so much cigarette ash, you know, like when someone smokes for a long time and they don’t ash and it just gets longer and longer, and soon everyone’s stopped talking and they’re just watching this ash get longer and longer, and then like a breeze comes by and knocks it off, and it’s like it has no weight or mass at all, just POOM, down it goes. That is what the buildings would do.

Her pussy churned in anticipation of the destruction. There was nothing Ichika loved better than to methodically crush entire neighborhoods beneath gigantic platform boots, exponentially taller than even the highest skyscrapers in any city around the world, and very personally feel each soul smushed beneath them whenever she took a step. This absolutely makes physical sense and doesn’t bear scrutiny. Soon she would be picking out individual people to rapidly seduce and then slaughter within three-second intervals. It actually happens much quicker than it takes to explain, but rest assured that nonetheless tremendous quantities of adjectives will be deployed to really drive home the vision that burns so clearly in my mind, until I feel confident that you feel exactly as I do right now, even though I’m picturing Katy Perry and haven’t mentioned her at all.

“And now,” the immense giantess intoned, “prepare to meet thy doom.” Slowly and very sensually she raised one long, toned thigh, protruding from a butt cheek the size of the Ceres asteroid, and waggled her platform boot very sensually above the city. Everyone was into this, all the cishet women, all the phytoplankton in the waterways, all the gumball machines that vendors forgot to remove in the wake of the pandemic scare, and they all moaned their adoration for the extremely sensual goddess who moved in such sensually sensual ways above the city, even though they all knew they were about to die in three fucking seconds, but that’s just how hot she was. No one could resist her sensual sensuality, as lubrication dribbled down her immense thighs like rivers in a spring thaw and her glutted, engorged butt cheeks strained rebelliously against the very generous donation of ungodly proportioned latex catsuit which was totally reasonable for some hard-working, dedicated community to provide to her, even though they too knew they were about to be eradicated in an extremely sensual way like everybody else.

Ichika paused, making sure all the men saw how extremely sensual she was. She turned slightly on one platform heel, showing off her prodigious rump to the downtown population. It wasn’t always this big, but she knew from social media posts that men were super into big round butts in the last couple of years so she got hers inflated, like, through magical means, but it was totally her own decision as an empowered, informed feminist who was celebrating her sexuality, which was entirely natural and realistic and could happen in a real-world situation, and it was just a nice bonus that every single person in the entire city also admired her ass and wanted to fuck her because of it, but also took her seriously as a contributive member to a progressive society, knowing that she was much more than just two erotic planets of ass grinding against each other in an entirely realistic oversized latex catsuit, even though this was all she cared to reveal to them, this and her extremely sensual platform boots and oh yeah her gargantuan, colossal bouba that filled the skies and blotted out the sun but also her personality.

“You’re all going to die right now,” she purred, “and it’s going to be so hot. Yes, all of your dreams and aspirations re about to be wiped out in a second, everything you’ve ever valued and cherished, everything and everyone you’ve ever loved, every aspiration you held to make the world a better place for all Americans, regardless of skin color or religion or sexual orientation or physical disability, which everyone always forgets about. All of that’s going to be wiped away like it never existed, so just lie back and enjoy my incredibly erotic body as I prepare to stomp you into oblivion.” And they all did. Mothers held their children, men sought out the one man or woman they truly loved, bosses sent their underpaid workers home early, fully compensated for a whole day’s work (for all the good that would do), and they all just fucking shit themselves in terror while simultaneously cumming over and over again, helplessly orgasming in tight rotation, at the overly abundant sexuality of the mile-high giantess looming over their pathetic, stupid, measly pinnacle of civilization. So much cum.

All of a sudden, another immense giantess with massive mommy milky hips and child-bearing bouba showed up and started very erotically grinding in the airspace normally reserved for passenger jets. Ichika planted her fists on her hips and belted out, “You better not be here to stomp on my city full of worshippers! These are mine and mine alone, and they’re all waiting for me! They will not be satisfied to be wiped out by anyone else!”

The other giantess very sensually groped her own bloated and distended bouba and bit her fat bottom lip as she did so. “Maybe we can destroy this city together under our mutual cum,” she said.

Torrents of vaginal fluid gushed down Ichika’s thighs like the flushing of a thousand toilets. “That would be the fucking sexiest thing I could ever think of,” she said, stomping over very sexily to the other giantess, who was already engorged and ready for her. Together they mashed their forcibly inflated huge bouba against each other in a way that made every single living person in the city wish they were also getting mashed between those tension-filled mounds of milky mommy sensuality. They strained to reach each others’ lips, huge and puffy lips that looked like they’d received injections but some women were naturally born with this kind of lips and some women were probably into it so it wasn’t misogynist or objectifying at all, but it was hard to kiss each other because their sensual bouba truly were tremendous and huge and engorged in a very natural and common way that many guys who RP as women are into.

The other perilously endowed giantess paused for a second. “Do you think any stupid, pathetic little men are checking us out?”

Ichika looked around the pathetic city for any pathetic men. It didn’t take very long because the pathetic little city was so pathetically small and pathetic. “I bet they are. There’s no way any red-blooded American, God-fearing patriot couldn’t be turned on by our incredible sexuality and sensuality.”

“That’s very true,” said the other outrageously sexual goddess who was also a mile tall. “I just wanted to make sure none of them were missing out on this incredibly hot action, because they’re all about to die, and they should all be happy that our powerful thighs clenching each other, and our jutting, bulging buttocks swaying over their pathetic, pathetic buildings of patheticness, and our gravity-defying, magnificent bouba mashing painfully amongst each other are doing so above their stupid, pathetic city right before they die. None of them deserve to see such glorious sights, of course.”

“Of course,” agreed Ichiko, “but we should make sure that they can see these glorious, privileged sights before they die, even though they don’t deserve to.”

“I don’t feel their tiny, pathetic eyes burning against my skin, which is best of all, even though it’s pathetic and I hate it.”

“I can’t get off until I know that all these stupid, pathetic, tiny bugs are getting off to me, which they shouldn’t because they don’t deserve it.”

“I know! But they’d better.”

“Or else!”

The two extremely sensual and erotic giantesses laughed and laughed until their gross bouba almost snapped off from their chests and launched into the atmosphere, immediately creating two new and habitable moons around the pathetic Earth, moons that some actual women are genuinely into so it’s not misogynistic or objectifying, it’s just good storytelling, and I don’t understand why every woman isn’t a fan of all my work.

“Before we explosively cum and drown out this city, that we’re also doing to stomp into dust,” Ichika said, “I just wanted to thank my author for writing me in this completely realistic way, and my saying so is proof that this isn’t misogynistic or objectifying, because I as a living entity have chosen to exist this way.”