Syze by tallie

The wealthy genius behind America's most unique, most innovative, and most controversial dating app has a dark secret, and a new shrunken friend who is about to learn what it is.

A story about a world changed by the revolutionary technology of Syze, and the lascivious behavior of its famous inventor.

Credit to a detached series by Thatgirlyouknow for the seed that created this story.

Categories: Teenager (13-19), Young Adult 20-29, Breasts, Butt, Couples, Entrapment, Feet, Humiliation, Insertion, Instant Size Change, Lesbians, Mouth Play, Slave Characters: None
Growth: None
Shrink: Doll (12 in. to 6 in.), Lilliputian (6 in. to 3 in.), Micro (1 in. to 1/2 in.), Minikin (3 in. to 1 in.)
Size Roles: F/f, F/m, FF/m, FM/f, FM/m
Warnings: Following story may contain inappropriate material for certain audiences
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 23 Completed: No Word count: 68764 Read: 291994 Published: January 07 2020 Updated: July 27 2023
Story Notes:

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, companies etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

The 'Table of Contents' link will show you everything you need to know about the story, if you are looking for something in particular.

1. Enter Anita Lee by tallie

2. Braden Plays it Safe by tallie

3. Two New Permanent Playmates by tallie

4. I Accept the New Terms of Service by tallie

5. Braden's Folly by tallie

6. Rule 34 by tallie

7. Sausage-Makers on Break by tallie

8. Kid in a Candy Store by tallie

9. One Night Stand by tallie

10. First-Class Passenger by tallie

11. What Happens in Vegas... by tallie

12. Now Boarding... by tallie

13. An Adventurous Couple by tallie

14. Your Flight Has Been Delayed by tallie

15. Pet the Tyger by tallie

16. Please Accept this Meal Voucher by tallie

17. Katrina and the Waves by tallie

18. It's a Committment by tallie

19. Emynda's Easter Stream by tallie

20. Walking on Sunshine by tallie

21. Erik's Long Vacation, Pt. 1 by tallie

22. Anita's New Approach by tallie

23. Sausage-Makers on their Day Off by tallie

Enter Anita Lee by tallie
Author's Notes:

Where our lead giantess is introduced, and the unfortunate reality of those around her revealed.

"Anita, a lot of people are saying that your company's service is risky to its users, that you're allowing a space for predatory behavior. What is your response to that?"

Anita Lee streched her already-strained TV smile a half-inch wider as the anchor asked the question, sure that the thick makeup that had been plastered over her cheeks would crack like brittle clay. She sat, her back stiff against the chair and her legs crossed, her left foot starting to go numb. Under the blindingly bright studio lights, she could barely even see the monitors that allowed her to check her own expressions, and she was only vaguely aware of where the cameras were stationed. The lights also made the stage a good thirty degrees hotter than the rest of the building, and, though she had used all the tricks; hiding thick pads in the armpits of her dress, shivering directly under the vent while she waited in the green room, and guzzling a bottle of cold water just before coming on stage; the interview had gone for so long that she could feel herself starting to sweat anyway. She just hoped that it would be over before it started to show.

"Sure, Linda," Anita responded mechanically, taking a deep breath through her smile. The lines were so mechanical at this point that she didn't need the delay phrase to collect her thoughts, but every second counted when you had to fill twenty minutes. "That's an understandable question, and, as CEO, I consider our customers' safey to be my top priority. We employ advanced machine learning algorithms to monitor for any kind of suspicious behavior on our app, and, last year, with a userbase of more than thirty million, we identified only two hundred and five cases of untoward behavior. And, thanks to the diligent efforts of our partners in local, state, and federal law enforcement, we were able to intervene before real harm could be done in almost all of these cases."

"But you acknowledge that there has been untoward behavior," the anchor responded, nodding as if she expected Anita to agree. A less professional anchor would have homed in on the 'almost,' but it wasn't necessary on this channel. "Do people seem to think that there is risk in signing onto the app?"

"That's not been our experience, no," Anita replied immediately. "We take an effort to be as transparent as possible about the dangers, and we do everything we can to make sure that our customers go in knowing how to take care of themselves. But our track record speaks for itself. Two hundred and five cases may seem like a lot in a year, but, statistically, our service is safer than any other online dating service out there. But no bar or club or dating app has to worry about the behavior of their customers after they've..." her tone dropped a bit, and she dipped her head, looking up at the anchor like she was sharing a secret, "You know... gone to the bedroom..."

The anchor broke into a bubbly laugh, effortlessly turning the 'lurid' into the much more innocent 'naughty' without saying a single word. Anita joined her, keeping a careful eye on the other woman's expressions and cutting off just half a second before she did to continue her speech. "Because of the nature of our service, we do care. We take that responsibility very seriously, and I think our users understand that. They appreciate that," she added hastily, realizing too late what the better word would have been. She cursed herself for her sloppiness, but she didn't let it show for a second on her face.

"That's great," the anchor replied, letting the faint echoes of her bubbly laugh fade away with expert precision. "So, you're in the middle of this IPO roadshow, if I understand right..."

"That's right."

"Tell us how that's going?"

Anita laughed airily, uncrossing and crossing her legs the other way, answering the question with the technical-sounding legally-acceptable banalities that her lawyers had signed off on and that the business community would eat up. The violent pins-and-needles feeling that came with the sudden restoration of circulation to her foot helped her keep her mind off of the sudden stirring from within her panties.

She wrapped up her explanation with a short, mildly-amusing, totally-fabricated anecdote from the roadshow. When the anchor let out her practiced, bubbly laugh again, Anita was able to cover up the sharp sensation from between her legs with a breathy giggle, and supress it with a forceful squeezing of her thighs.

The moment of carefully-scripted levity ended, and the anchor turned back to Anita and, all smiles, said, "A few members of Congress have called on a ban of your services entirely. Has that policy risk backdrop affected your IPO at all?"

Anita shifted her hips in the seat a bit as the stirring in her underwear settled down. She opened her mouth to speak, and the anchor cut her off, "Got about thirty seconds."

Anita took a deep breath, wasting a precious two seconds as she tried to recover from being cut off. "No, to be honest, it really hasn't," she answered calmly. The next line had passed her lips so many times that she could barely think about it when she said it, "We offer a safe, legal service for consenting adults who want to engage in private, size-related activities. Our app is the first of its kind, and we do everything we can to address every one of our users' concerns about both their safety and their privacy. I trust that our government will do the right thing and allow the American people the freedom to do what they want with their private lives."

Her smile unmoving, the anchor turned her head into the blindingly bright lights, fixing her eyes on a camera that Anita could not quite see, and closed the segment with careful, practiced pacing that sounded just authentic enough to be real. "We're going to leave it there. We've been speaking with Dr. Anita Lee, founder and CEO of Syze Corp, based in San Fransisco. I'm Linda McCallan, and this is Bloomberg."


Anita closed the interview with the minimum amount of off-camera niceties that she could get away with, constantly reminding the studio staff, including the anchor, that she had business to attend to elsewhere in town. One overeager rigger told her that he loved her app, a compliment that she graciously accepted than immediately tried to purge from her mind. She was proud of what she had made, but that didn't mean she wanted to meet face-to-face with the people who used it to express their deepest, darkest sexual fantasies.

Thirty million users, and more every day. She knew that plenty of people in her office used it, but they operated on a strict but informal "don't ask, don't tell' policy. The folks at Match Group surely never had that problem, but their dating app was just that, a dating app. They let people meet each other, but creepy fetishes were past the water's edge for them. Anita, her development team, and her investors did not have that luxury. They were the first of their kind, not just focusing on, but specifically enabling their users to exercise their shared fetish.

Fetish, singular. Her company maintained a jealous monopoly on a brand new technology that nobody had ever even dreamed of: the ability to shrink people.

Barely five years ago, she had been a dirt-poor grad student working on her PhD, secretly using the computing resources offered by her University to perfect a side project of hers. A massive, ugly machine she had been working on that had taken up fully half of her studio apartment and had more than tripled her electric bill. She had practically phoned in her PhD project compared to how much effort she had poured into this thing, but she was sure that she was on the verge of a breakthrough of massive proportions, one that she didn't want the University to own any part of.

Her thesis defense had been at 1 PM on January 7th, though she had had the paper ready to go for weeks. That morning, she rolled out of bed, poured herself a cup of coffee, and spent the first two hours of her day fine-tuning some stubborn lines of code before pulling the trigger on her side project. When her literal guinea pig shrank to the size of a grain of rice, so quickly that she didn't even notice it happened at first, she let out a primal scream of joy.

After checking, double-checking, and triple-checking that she had done it right, she spent so long photographing every corner of her machine and backing up her code in a dozen different places that she almost forgot that she had the thesis defense for her PhD that day. She showed up five minutes late, sweaty, without makeup, and wearing sweatpants with her fancy blouse because she couldn't find her skirt in time.

She had earned the title Doctor with a one hundred and fifty-four page paper called "Inter-cellular reactions associated with Strange Electromagnetic Field effects in mucous membranes." Four years afterwards, she had earned the title Billionaire by marketing her fully-owned shrinking technology in the most lucrative business in human history: sex.

Two months after singlehandedly programming the Syze app, it had garnered almost ten thousand users, and she had been forced to shut it down when it turned out that even the near-invincibility offered by the shrinking process wasn't enough. People had been mysteriously disappearing, men and women alike, and the only common thread was that the last app they had accessed was Syze. Fortunately, she had earned enough money by that point that she was able to get enough lawyers out into the country to keep the litigation out of the court system.

After a bit of rework, this time with a team of programmers at her back who were able to create programs that automatically identified disturbing behavior and flagged it before it could mature into an unfortunate accident, she relaunched the app. This time, after Wired ran a story just a week before titled "What Happened to Syze?", their userbase exploded to ten thousand within the first week, a hundred thousand in the first month, and million in the first year.

Her life had accellerated from apartment scientist, to app developer, to bigshot CEO at a dizzying pace. After barely fifteen months, she was jetting around the country constantly, cashing eye-popping checks from private equity firms that couldn't even wait until her presentation was over to give her money. Her company doubled, tripled, quadrupled in size, but its value, and her personal wealth, increased a hundredfold. Soon, she had so much money that she had to hire half a dozen accountants just to figure out where the hell it all was.

Oh, she had done all the things billionaires were supposed to do. Charity work, some politics, even a few pet projects to get her name in feel-good headlines, mostly focused on medical uses of her shrinking technology. But the money, and the status and authority that came with it, was just a perk. The real exhilarating part of her life, and one that she didn't think she'd tire of anytime soon, came in being the senior developer of the world-famous Syze app.

She had said as much on the air and at investor conferences countless times. But she never really explained the full, gory detail. Whenever she spoke publicly, she reassured her audience ceaselessly of the countless failsafes and protection measures that were integrated into her app, how even the barest hint of dangerous behavior would send police sirens wailing after everyone involved. Not a single word of it was a lie, and her ballooning userbase was proof of that fact,

But what she didn't say was that she could turn all of it off at a whim. With her exclusive, administrator copy of the app, she could hit a few buttons, enter a short, private code, and every protection that her match thought they had would vanish instantly. She could control them like no other match could, and, if she decided that she was done with them, she could literally end them without consequences. Now that was power that no amount of money could buy.

It was that power that allowed her to keep her cool in the face of even the most brutal grilling about her corporate practices, the knowledge that any human being who signed up to her app could become her property without their consent. She had entertained the idea of doing something like that to that perfectly-coiffed, insufferable idiot of a TV anchor that had tried ceaselessly to corner her. She dreampt, in the commercial breaks, of swirling her around her mouth like a two inch-tall piece of living candy, giving her brief teases of the fresh air of the outside before finally swallowing her and feeling her dissolve into nothing inside her stomach.

But a TV personality was too high-profile. People would ask questions. People would eventually find out. The nineteen year-old boy who lay spread-eagled in her panties, though? With his face pushed right up against her clit? Nobody would realize where he was, and, when she brought his pinky-sized body onto live television with her, she could fantasize that his pathetic struggles were instead those of the anchor who had aggravated her so badly.

She left the building, bidding a gracious goodbye to everyone who thanked her and wished she would come by again soon, quietly savoring the gentle struggles of the little man between her legs. When she finally made it out into the bitter New York cold, something about the blast of fresh air sent the man struggling anew, and she smiled. Her driver opened the door to the limo, and she slid gracefully inside, imagining that the frantic struggling between her legs was that of the annoying anchor, shrunken down to size and left to stew in the heat and stench between her legs.

After making sure that the reflective panel between her and her driver was closed all the way, Anita hiked her dress up to her hips and spread her legs wide. She slouched down a bit and slid her right hand down into her panties; oh yeah, that squirming little body could definitely be Linda McCallan. She closed her eyes and dreampt about what she was doing to that perfect hairdo as she started to masturbate.

Braden Plays it Safe by tallie
Author's Notes:

The story of the tiny man who found himself Anita's newest unwitting, unwilling toy.

Four days ago, at the insistence of his boyfriend of barely two months, nineteen year-old Braden Walsh installed the Syze app on his phone. He carelessly brushed through legal releases and user agreements, but was extremely cautious when setting up his profile. Every option about what kind of behavior he was going to allow, what kind of permissions he was giving both the app and his potential matches, was second-guessed and researched. He knew what the app did, but he didn't trust the assurances of either his boyfriend or the advertisements that nothing that happened while he used it could be done without his consent. Frankly, he didn't even want to install it in the first place.

But his boyfriend made a very compelling argument for using it. Over the several days that he was able to keep up his resolve, his boyfriend explained, both in and out of the bedroom, exactly what they could be doing at that moment if they had control over each other's size. Braden tried to ignore him, but he found himself daydreaming about the hypothetical scenarios, and he couldn't ignore the fact that they did, from time to time, get his dick hard.

Fuck it, he thought one Friday night afternoon after class, and downloaded the app before his boyfriend got home from work. After an hour or so switching between computer and phone, making sure that his settings were such that nobody could ever take advantage of him, he was sure that he had it right. And, when he heard his boyfriend unlock the door, he surprised him by matching with him on the app from his contacts. He heard, from the hallway, his boyfriend's phone chime with the notification, then, a second later, the excited shout of, "Oh my God! Braden!"

He jumped out into the hallway to greet his boyfriend, and was nearly bowled over by his joyous bear hug. "We're going to have so much fun!" he exclaimed.

They didn't leave the apartment at all that evening. With the endurance that only teenagers could boast, they explored the possibilities that Syze offered them for hours on end, pausing only briefly to cook up some grilled cheese before continuing late, late into the night. Braden was abused in ways that should not have been physically possible, and returned the favor with an eagerness that seemed almost sadistic. Surrounded constantly by each other's heat, breathing constantly each other's scent, they both loved every minute of it.

Finally, both of them exhausted, they finished the night with something that Braden had eventually grown adventurous enough to ask for specifically. He let his boyfriend shrink him down to the size of a grain of rice, then shove him bodily into his cock. Pressed in tight on all sides by smooth, wet walls, listening to the rapid heartbeat booming from all around, he was harder than he had been in his life. But he couldn't even move, and that sense of imprisonment made it that much more erotic.

All he could do was lie there as he felt his boyfriend stroke his cock. Slowly at first, then with more energy and more vigor as time went on, his heartbeat growing faster and faster and faster with every passing minute. Eventually, the giant was jerking off so fast that Braden felt like he was being buffeted on all sides, the walls around him pressing in every time he flexed his cock. He could feel the hot precum welling up underneath his feet, then, without warning, his boyfriend came, and he was shot with a glob of semen high into the air.

Shortly afterwards, they were both full size again, covered in sweat from head to toe, and breathing like they had just finished a marathon. They were both too hot to cuddle, and far too hot to go under the covers, so they just lay next to each other, letting the bedsheets soak up the sweat from their tired bodies.

"Holy fuck," Braden breathed. He laughed a bit, fondling his soft, sore groin, and cursed again. "That was amazing."

"I told you," his boyfriend whispered.

A long moment of silence passed between them, no noise but the whir of the apartment's heater and their slowly steadying breathing. Eventually, Braden started to feel the cool bite of air against his sweaty skin, and scooted a bit closer to the warmth of his boyfriend's body. "Do you think..." he started, then paused.


"Do you think we should try to get another person in on this?"

His boyfriend cracked that goofy smile that he loved so much, "Oh my god!" he exclaimed. "We totally could! Have you tried to match with anyone else yet?"

"No, just you!" Braden answered, picking up the excitement in his boyfriend's voice immediately.

"Oh, get your phone, let's see who we can find!"

Braden crawled just far enough out of bed to grab his phone off the nightstand, then crashed back onto the mattress, snuggling up next to the warmth of the man he shared the bed with and holding the phone up above both of them. He opened the Syze app and, together, they swiped left and right through all of the 'men seeking men' who seemed, based on distance, like they lived in Manhattan with them.

His boyfriend was more than vocal with his opinion, keying in on minor details about clothing, posing, or even the background of the photos to instruct Braden to swipe right or left. Braden didn't have as many opinions as his boyfriend did, but he enjoyed the experience, fantasizing about how they could use, or be used by a new partner. The possibilities of the Syze app seemed almost limitless.

By the end of the night, they had narrowed it down to about a three dozen potential matches, but only two of them had gone through yet. But these dating apps were all the same. In the morning, he'd wake up to a few more, and, by tomorrow night or the next night, all of the swipes would have resolved themselves into successes or failures. Three dozen men seemed like a wide net to cast given that Braden's size was the thing at stake, but he took solace in the fact that, no matter how many matches he had, none of them could do anything but chat with him until he explicitly gave them permission.

They both slept well that night.


Early in the morning the next day, Braden was grabbing a coffee from the Starbucks around the corner before heading up to class. Seated in the corner of the room, he swiped through the matches that had turned up overnight. Four of the men he had swiped right on had matched with him since he went to bed, but a fifth now seemed to have a picture of a woman in the half-dozen profile pictures. He didn't remember any of that, and he thought that he and his boyfriend had scrolled through all of the pictures of their potential matches. He scrolled through the man's profile, and nothing seemed to be amiss, just the one picture of a young-looking Asian woman, laughing at a party with a drink in her hand and her arm over the shoulder of someone out of frame.

All of the other pictures of the stranger seemed to be of the same person, a man identified only by the name 'Aaron.' The location said '<2 miles,' but, in this city, that could be any one of a million people. Even so, he looked around at the Starbucks, and didn't see the dirty-blonde high-fade that was in any of the pictures, so he shrugged and swapped back to Facebook.

The barista called his name, and he grabbed his coffee off the counter, making his way to the bathroom before he embarked on the twenty-minute walk to school.  Phone in one hand, coffee in the other, he shouldered the door open, then placed the coffee on the sink before turning back to lock the door. But, before he could reach it, he suddenly shrank by half.

His eyes boggled, and the suddenly too-large phone fell out of his hands, clattering on the tiles. He shouted in surprise, but he was already too small for anyone to hear him, and shrinking fast. As the door grew into a monolith above him, the handle receding far out of reach, he panicked, trying to figure out a way to save himself, but it was already too late. In seconds, he was standing naked in a sloppy pile of clothes that surrounded him like a mountain range. He stood there, frozen, looking up at a world that seemed to have grown a hundred times in size, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Then the bathroom door clicked open, and a woman slid in, shutting the door and locking it quickly behind her. She wore a tight pair of jeans, a loose red sweater, and a backpack. She was maybe only about five foot six, given where she stood in the doorframe, but she seemed a thousand feet tall to him. He jumped up and down and waved, screaming his lungs out. "Hey!" he shouted, praying she she would hear him. "Down here!"

As if his tiny body, probably only eight inches tall given how high his clothes seemed to rise up around him, would be any more noticeable than the pile of empty clothes in the middle of the bathroom. In this tiny cubby of a bathroom, there was no way she couldn't notice him, right?

The giant woman looked down at him, and his heart leapt with hope for a moment, before he saw the expression on her face. There was no surprise in her expression, no empathy, not even a degree of excitement. She looked at him like she expected to see him there. She crouched down, back against the door, studying him closely with a passive expression. And it was only then that he realized that this woman was the one that he couldn't figure out in that stranger Aaron's profile picture.

Holy shit. Had he been tricked? He had checked and double-checked his settings. Nobody should have been able to shrink him without his consent, right? He shouldn't even have been able to give that kind of power to a woman; he had been searching the gay side of the app exclusively. How the hell was this even possible?

No, it couldn't be possible. This was a dream, wasn't it? It had to be. But nothing about his surroundings let him continue to live in that fantasy. The subtle smell of ammonia wafting up from the bathroom tiles, the quickly-fading warmth from the clothes that surrounded him, and the very, very clear expression on the woman's face told him that he was experiencing a real, very real, reality, however impossible it may seem.

The woman reached down, and he recoiled instinctively, but there was nothing he could do. Her hand wrapped around his body effortlessly and lifted him into the air. He gained altitude at a dizzying speed, finally winding up right in front of the woman's face. Her fist opened slightly, just enough that her deep brown eyes could regard his entire body. Her thumb brushed against his crotch, and he tried in vain to push it away, recoiling against the palm of her hand.

She smiled subtly, then her fist closed back around him and she walked at a nightmarish speed over to the other side of the room, depositing him on the sink right next to his coffee cup.

He was shorter than the cup now, he realized, the warmth emanating off of it like a radiator. She seemed to be ignoring him for now, but what on earth could he do? It was a hundred feet down from where he was to the hard, cold floor. His only escape was into the sink, but, even if he was small enough to fit into the drain, what happened then? He had no idea how he had shrunk, and he had absolutely no idea how to grow himself big again.

The giantess shed her backpack and laid it on the ground, crouching down next to his discarded pile of clothes. She bundled up the clothes and stuffed them into her bag, using his shoes to tamp down the lot before zipping it closed. Then she grabbed his phone off the floor and stood up, flicking through his apps with the same disinterested look on her face.

His feeling of fear and confusion only magnified watching her. What the hell was she doing? His phone hadn't laid idle long enough to lock itself, so she had access to everything. His contacts, his apps, and every tracking service that could possibly key someone in to the fact that something was wrong. Finally, she alighted on the Syze app, which he could barely recognize from the color palate that he saw on the screen. She touched the screen a few times, and her subtle smile returned to her face.

Her gaze snapped to him, and he cringed instinctively. She cleared the distance between him and her in a few quick, short steps, and held the phone up so he could see the screen. On it was the image from Aaron's profile, of her laughing with the drink in her hand. Watching Braden's shocked expression closely, her smile broadened, and she held the power button on his phone until the device turned off. She stuffed the phone into her pocket and walked up to the sink, approaching so fast that his brain froze with the helpless fear of prey under a charging lion.

Her left hand shot forward, and he fell back, throwing up his arms and letting out a weak cry. But she grabbed the coffee cup instead, popping the lid off and pouring the entire thing into the toilet. She tossed the cup into the trash and flushed the toilet with a careless wave of her hand over the sensor. Over the roar of the water, he could hear her speak to him, her voice low, serious, and terrifying.

"My name is Anita Lee," she said, leaning over the sink until all he could see was her expressionless face, her dark, bottomless brown eyes. "And I own you now."

She straightened up, and undid the buttons of her pants. Rocking her hips back and forth, she shimmied the form-fitting jeans, and the thick leg-length winter underwear beneath them, down to her knees, revealing a tight pair of pink panties that hugged her waist. Then she straightened up, and her right hand came forward faster than he could react, her fist wrapping around him, lifting him up off the sink and carrying him down to her hips.

Her left hand pulled open the waistband to her underwear, revealing a clean-shaven crotch and allowing a heady, fishy smell to waft up from between her legs. He gagged, disgusted at the sudden, overwhelming odor, and struggled in vain against her fist. Was she really going to put him into that?

Her grip opened, slowly, and her wrist tilted slightly. He realized he was on the precipice, and kicked in vain against her palm, scrabbling for something to grab ahold of with his hands and finding nothing. Her pronounced pubic mound seemed like a fleshy boulder waiting to crush him between her body and her panties, but, no matter how he struggled, there was nothing he could do to avoid his fate.

Finally, he slipped downwards, bouncing off the tight skin of her belly and tumbling down into her underwear. He felt his feet slide into something hot, wet, and slimy, up to his knees, and looked up in horror at the giantess. Her face peeked just barely over the massive red field of her sweater, an expression of sick joy on her face.

"Goodbye!" she said, waving with the hand that had just dropped him. Then she let the waistband of her panties snap shut.

Two New Permanent Playmates by tallie
Author's Notes:

Anita chooses her shrunken playmate's fate, and a short story from the new world created by the Syze app.

Anita came hard. Her entire body, from head to toe, drew as tight as a bowstring. In that moment of ecstasy, she was sure that she was about to pass out, unable to draw breath amidst the mind-numbing pleasure that washed across her body. Her back arced, her toes curled, her fingers dug into the leather of her seat. Holy... Fuck!

Then it all came crashing down. She gasped a deep, ragged breath, and let it out in a pleasured moan as the world came back to her. Powerful aftershocks of her orgasm seized her body, leaving her twitching from head to toe, her hips bucking against the overwhelming sensation.

She wasn't sure how long it took for her to return to reality, but it was definitely longer than she wanted. She had let herself get a little carried away. Her skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her hair was a mess, and both her underwear and her shoes were in the far corner of the limo's cab. God... She never would have guessed that this little queer would be such a good toy.

She could still feel him struggling weakly inside her. At some point during her ferocious masturbation, she had decided that his body would feel better inside her vagina. But now, after it was all done with, she felt a bit embarassed. She owned the little man now, but she couldn't fully rid herself of the guilt of using him like a dildo. She thought, for a moment, what she could do to make it up to him, but quickly dispelled the notion. He was her toy, and it was only by her grace that he lived.

She slid her hand into her sore pussy and slowly drew the man out by his feet. A quiet moan escaped her lips at the sensation of his body leaving hers, her tortured vagina not willing to accept any more punishment. With a soft, wet sound, the tiny man's body slid out of her, and she brought him up to her face, studying his fluid-soaked figure.

Lunch? Maybe. She closed her mouth around the tiny man and sucked him down, depositing him in her cheek.

With the shrunken man struggling against the inside of her mouth, Anita crawled across the inside of the limo to recover her underwear and her shoes. Her panties were a bit wet, but not remarkably so. She slid them back on, flipping the shrunken man to her other cheek. He might not enjoy what was happening to him, but it was his fault, really; if he hadn't felt so good, she wouldn't have to do this.

She recovered her heels and crashed back into the seat. The little man was still struggling, but he had quickly weakened, maybe already having worn himself out. In any case, he was the size of a piece of candy; he could no better fight against her tongue than a toddler could take on Mike Tyson. She grabbed her phone and pulled up her calendar. That fucking interview had totally ruined an otherwise relaxed daily schedule, so she might not have time to grab a real lunch.

They were already pushing it to make it to the meeting with the Pfizer people, and they were so close that she could have walked there. After that, she had thirty minutes to make it all the way down to Goldman Sachs, a drive that would easily take forty-five minutes in lunchtime traffic. It was originally supposed to be a quick meeting, but she had come to New York with a few hand grenades that she planned on dropping on those stiff-necked bankers. She had kept her entire afternoon open under the assumption that the meeting would completely blow up.

When she first met with the Goldman folks, they had had bagels in the conference room. After meeting with them three more times and being greeted by nothing more than a lukewarm pitcher of water, she had decided that it was either a fluke or had been intended as a consolation prize for when Dave Solomon showed up twenty minutes late. A deliberate power play, she was sure, the kind of shit that New Yorkers got up to, but she could play that game too. She had saved the developing details of her partnership with Pfizer for today, her first meeting with Solomon since she had first shown up at their office four months ago.

She drew the man from her cheek and let him lie on her tongue, sucking gently on his tiny, weakly-struggling body. Did she really want to feel a little man fighting and dying in her stomach during an hours-long meeting that was guaranteed to turn into a shouting match? More to the point, did she really want to waste her time finding another match she could disappear without raising suspicion? Every new toy of hers was another link in the chain, another missing persons report, another wallet and phone she had to find a quiet way to get rid of. She had gotten this guy the day she landed in New York, and she wasn't sure she wanted to run the risk of accidentally turning the wrong person into her slave a second time.

A wicked idea occurred to her. She opened up Uber Eats and ordered a pair of tuna sandwiches, under the name 'David Solomon,' to be delivered directly to the conference room they were meeting in fifteen minutes after the meeting started. His lackeys at Goldman wouldn't dare turn away a food order with the boss' name on it, and, if he pulled the same shit he did last time, he'd walk headlong into a room that reeked of fish.

Grinning, she tucked her phone into her purse, then opened her mouth, plucking the tiny man off of her tongue and drawing him up above her face. Holding him upside-down by his ankles, she watched him try and fail to right himself for a few amusing seconds before he finally gave up. Arms hanging loose, neck straining upwards, he stared down at her, waiting for her next move.

Anita affected a disdaining, indecisive look, savoring his bald uncertainty and fear. He tried to hide it, tried to seem strong in the face of the woman who had been barely a second away from swallowing him alive, but, naked from head to toe, he couldn't keep a single secret from her. After a few seconds, she spoke her verdict aloud. "You got lucky," she said, making it seem like an off-the-cuff choice. "You'll live. For now."

The relief in his face was washed over again with fear at those last two words, but she didn't give him long to consider the moment. With her off hand, she peeled open the left bra cup of her dress, making sure that he could see her do it, then lowered him just enough that she could drop him, headfirst, onto her tits. She felt his tiny body hit her breast, then bounce off and end up tucked up between her bra and her skin. She could have straightened him out, put him somewhere more comfortable for both of them, but it would have spoiled the image of power. Instead, she just let him lay where he fell and then straightened up her dress.

He was positioned just close enough to her nipple that it felt good. A bit distracting, a bit arousing, but certainly better than having him struggling against her pussy the entire time. As he had been for the TV interview. Unfortunately, given what she was wearing, there weren't many other places she could keep him without having to worry about him escaping.

This little guy was going to be hers for the forseeable future, she decided. She knew how to sneak a tiny man through the TSA already, so she could definitely take him back to California with her, and, once they were both clear across the country and free from any suspicion from local law enforcement,  she could do some unforgivable things to him. She could abuse him for as long as she liked, or at least until she started to see signs that the police were starting to close in on his disappearance. But, with almost three thousand miles between his old home and his new one, that would take quite a while.

Yes. The more she thought about it, the more she resolved that letting the little man live was the right decision. This may very well be the start of the longest-lasting relationship in her life.


"So, just to be clear, you're only giving me twenty-four hours?"

What? Did she want more? He wasn't sure whether or not his answer was a deal-breaker, but he didn't want to give away anything unless she asked for it. He nodded, "That's right," he answered.

Emynda Polling, her name too unusual, too unique for a predator, nodded understandingly. The millimeter-sized shrinkees tethered to her earrings, one male, one female, waved back and forth as she did so. Adam couldn't really see their expressions at their miniscule size, but it was abundantly clear that both of them were naked from head to toe. How long had they signed up for?

Emynda was somewhat famous in the burgeoning world of size fetishes. She had turned shrunken matches into a fashion statement, and then had taken to the Internet to stream her exploits. Some of her so-called "human jewelry" were pure expressions of power, submissive individuals who wanted to be a passive audience to the rigors of a woman's routine. Sometimes, she would stream hours of her life online on end, focused entirely on the experience of the helpless shrinkee wrapped around her ring finger. Other times, though, the material was a bit more sexual in nature, and she would reserve her most interesting activities with shrunken volunteers for her Patreon feed.

"So I've got a few slots for you, then, and you get to choose which one," Emynda told him flatly. She put down her phone and drew a deep breath. As she did so, the ornament on her necklace rose just enough from between her cleavage for Adam to see that she had another spot filled by a shrinkee. Another woman, surprisingly, and suspended upside-down. In part because he was embarassed to be ogling the woman's breasts, he didn't get a close enough look at the living ornament to read her expression before Emynda leaned forwards. The necklace disappeared down her shirt as she did so, and her breasts pressed together, hiding the shrunken woman entirely.

His eyes drifted down to the opening in the woman's shirt, and he thought of what that brief moment had been like for the Emynda's living necklace ornament, and he felt his crotch stir slightly. He had one hell of a chance here. Twenty four hours with her? As a sex toy, an ornament, a piercing, whatever it was, it might very well be the hottest thing he had ever experienced in his life. And he had the choice; if she said something about her feet or her ass, or anything else unsavory, he could just turn her down and walk away without consequences.

"So you can either be a part of my belly-button piercing," Emynda said flatly, "Or I can fit you onto my clit ring. It's your choice."

The blood rushed to Adam's crotch immediately. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as his dick started to grow hard. He managed to force out the most obvious decision in the world. "Uh... Your clit ring..."

"Okay," she responded calmly, and pulled out her phone to swipe at it a few times. "Just to be clear," she added, a second later, "If I get laid tonight, it won't be by you."

Holy shit, that was even hotter. Adam nodded, and barely managed to croak out his answer. "Okay..."

Emynda didn't respond to that, she just swiped and pressed at her phone a few more times. After a few seconds, Adam's phone chimed the Syze app's unique "pa-ting!" sound from the inside of his pocket. He drew his phone out, and the notification on his screen merely read "take your clothes off." The fateful 'accept' button, the one that would make him this woman's slave for the next twenty-four hours, sat just beneath the notification, waiting for him to make his decision.

He looked up at Emynda with surprise, at she stared him down, waiting for him to move. Apparently, it took too long for him to do so, so she stood up, unbuckled her belt, and slid her pants and panties down all at once, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. His eyes boggled, and he couldn't help but stare at the clean-shaven junction between her thighs. The tiny, stainless-steel ring that penetrated the wrinkled brown flesh of her labia seemed almost like an invitation. He could spend the next twenty-four hours there, all he had to do was accept this woman's offer.

In an instant, he had tossed off his shirt, pants, underwear, shoes, and socks. He stood across the table from Emynda completely naked, and it took less than thirty seconds for him to get there. Eyeing the tempting gap between her thighs for a moment, he reached down and pressed the 'accept' button on his phone.

Her hand shot forward as soon as he did, grabbing his wrist. He started back at the sudden motion, but he was already shrinking, and he was already too small to fight her. In ten seconds, he was barely a foot tall, held up far above the ground by the giantess holding tight to his wrist. In thirty seconds, he had shrunk to barely a quarter-inch, deposited into the center of Emynda's palm. From here, it seeemed like a limitless field of skin, her fingers rising up in the distance like fleshy mountains.

A dizzying blur of motion, a disorienting shift of her hands, and he was barely inches from her crotch, trapped between her thumb and forefinger. The unbearable heat and overwhelming stench was so sudden that his body started to squirm against his will, but he may as well have been struggling against a brick wall.

Emynda carelessly slid him into the hoop of her clit ring, then, unbelievably, he grew just barely enough that he felt the stainless steel tighten around his waist like a belt. He was still less than half an inch tall, but there was nothing he could do to work himself free unless she shrank him back down. The giantess had positioned him so that his face was right against her clit, and now there was nothing he could do to escape it.

With Adam securely positioned, she slid her underwear up to her waist, then her pants, then tightened her belt and continued about her day. The pressure, the heat, and the darkness increased with every successive layer, and then everything was calm.

For the first few minutes, the overwhelming stench and suffocating heat, the feeling of her hot flesh and pounding heartbeat against his tiny body, were sexy beyond belief. His dick was rock hard, and he couldn't help but jerk off. He was certainly too small for her to notice, and how could she be offended when she had deliberately put him in the most erotic place in the world?

As soon as he came, his tiny droplet of semen lost immediately to the infinite universe of flesh that surrounded him, he realized how pathetic his situation was. This was it. This was the whole experience. For the next twenty-four hours, his entire reality was the claustrophobic confines of the giantess' panties. Best case scenario, he would have to watch her have sex with another man from his helpless perspective. And, maybe, if he got horny enough by the time it happened, he could masturbate to it, but what the hell did that do for him?

Less than five minutes after accepting his role as Emynda's living clit ring, Adam already wanted to go home. Only twenty three hours and fifty-five minutes to go.

I Accept the New Terms of Service by tallie
Author's Notes:

Why update any of my other stories? A snapshot of the reality of being Anita's tiny sex slave.

Braden was in a living hell.

Sweat coated his body from head to toe, overwhelming, suffocating heat assaulting him from all sides. He was pressed facefirst against soft, squishy flesh that seemed to emanate heat almost maliciously. Like it wanted him to suffer. On top of that, the thick, heady, fishy smell that surrounded him made what little air he had almost impossible to breathe without gagging. He had to pull his head back from the flesh just to inhale, and every breath felt like he was trying to suffocate himself under a mountain of dirty panties.

And it didn't stop. It didn't get any better. He could feel this giantess, Anita, going about her day like he wasn't even there. He had to suffer the nauseating unpredictability of her motion, the sway of her hips, the sudden shifts in gravity as she stood, sat, slouched, lay down. He was a hidden witness to her life, only he had no idea what the fuck was going on. He could barely hear the outside world over the steady pulse of her heartbeat that pounded against his body from all directions. And all he could see was the pink flesh of her pussy, surrounded by the wrinkled brown flesh of her labia.

If he struggled, if he tried to escape, all he earned was a slow increase in the slimy wetness that seemed to leak from all around him. If he really kept at it, he would be punished by the giantess crossing her thighs and squeezing them together. Hard. He would be pushed brutally into the pliant flesh in front of him, the pressure at his back foreceful enough to be a punishment in itself. And, when she relaxed, he'd be stuck just a little bit further between the lips of her pussy. Just a little bit more heat, just a little bit more pressure, just a little bit more of that disgusting stench.

And the goddamn fluid. It seemed like it was everywhere. Braden knew that, when girls got horny, they got wet, but he figured it was either one state or the other. They were either living their life like normal or lubed up and ready for a good dicking down. Apparently, that was not the case. Apparently, women, or at least this fucking woman, were always a little moist between the legs. It wasn't much, it wouldn't soil a pair of panties, but it was enough to make every breath he took a serious effort not to draw a lungful of slimy fluid. It was certainly enough to coat him head to toe, to make every motion feel like he was fighting against a wall of jell-o while covered in canola oil.

He had no way to figure the passage of time, but he knew that it had at least been three days. He had to endure long, sleepless nights in the same prison he had to endure long, uncomfortable days, and he was acutely aware of how many nights had passed. He had tried his first escape when he realized that she was asleep, but he was far too small. Apparently, his struggling was enough to wake her before it was enough for him to get free, and she had punished him by inserting him headfirst into her vagina.

He had learned his lesson. It was the only place worse than her panties. His first moment of real freedom had come when she stripped the next morning to shower. He saw that she was in a hotel room, and a very nice one at that. So she wasn't a New Yorker, and she was clearly wealthy. That didn't tell him much about his situation, though, and it didn't really help him escape.

And she didn't afford him the opportunity. She stripped carelessly, leaving him buried in a messy pile of clothing that it would take forever for him to navigate, then dropped her heavy purse on top of it so he couldn't get out from under it even if he wanted to. When she finished, she plucked him out of the old pair of underwear, barely even looking at him, then dropped him into a new one before sliding it on, then went about her day apparently without even thinking about him.

Over those three days, he had seen her use the bathroom more than a dozen times. She showed no modesty over it; she barely even seemed to notice him, just staring at her phone until she finished her business and cleaned up. If he tried to escape, she just tightened her legs together. Her bare calves closed hard around him and put an immediate stop to that. If he had managed to make it out of the crotch of her underwear, he would tumble right back down into it when she pulled it back on.

He wanted to die. And that was before she decided that she wanted to masturbate with him. In those long, long minutes, he was forced to experience every inch and every texture of her pussy, her fingers pressing mercilessly against his back, unable to pull his head free to draw a breath of what fresh air he could. Frothy bodily fluids slid down his throat, and he coughed and sputtered, but there was no relief. He punched, kicked, and screamed, but he had no chance against the giantess, who expertly manipulated him with fingers that were larger than her entire body. After a while of this wet, noisy torture, she shoved him headfirst directly into her vagina.

Heat and pressure enveloped his entire body. He screamed, and his scream was answered by Anita's booming heartbeat. When he drew breath, viscous vaginal fluid flowed down his throat and into his lungs. But, somehow, he barely even noticed the heat in his chest, and breathed normally despite the bubbly mix of air and lubricant that he sucked down with every breath. The deeply-textured flesh that enveloped his body on all sides grabbed at him as Anita slid him in and out, in and out, in and out.

Anita's vagina seemed to unfold hungrily before him with every thrust inwards. Tight, fleshy walls on all sides parting as he plunged deeper and deeper, then closing tight back together as he was pulled out. Thick, salty fluid welled up from all sides, coating his face and filling his mouth whether he was being pushed in or out of her.

The giantess hadn't done him the favor of telling him when she had started masturbating, but it was abundantly clear when she finished. The muscular walls around him clenched hard, driving the mix of air and lubricant from his lungs, and he heard, through the seemingly infinite flesh around him, Anita moaning in pleasure. The writhing motion of her hips was an undeniable sign of orgasm, but he could barely tell what was going on amidst the crushing pressure of her pelvic muscles.

Finally, it was over. Lungs full of lubcricant, body sore with abuse, Braden just wanted to die. Until he found himself being ripped out of the massive woman's vagina and hoisted into the blinding light of the outside world. His eyes adjusted slowly, blinking sticky lubricant from his eyes. By the time he realized what was happening, Anita was holding him over her head, staring curiously at his tiny body.

Her mouth opened, and he fell into it in an instant. The heat, pressure, and stench of her vagina was replaced by the heat, pressure, and stench of her mouth. He thrashed around, but her tongue played with him effortlessly. He had no chance to fight against it at his size. She tossed him into her cheek, sucked on him there, then tossed him into her other cheeck to even it out. The whole time, he was flailing desperately, kicking and punching in a completely futile effort to escape.

Saliva was everywhere. Hot, clear, and slimy, he could only tell the difference from the woman's vaginal lubricant by the taste of it sliding down his throat with his shallow, panicked breaths. The bodily fluids that coated his body didn't really make a difference to him, but she seemed determined to remove every drop of lubricant off him and replace it with a thick coating of spit.

When she let him lie on her tongue, pressing him up against the roof of her mouth to keep him from struggling, he could see straight down into the dark pit of her throat. She could just swallow him now, effortlessly, and there would be nothing he could do about it. What would happen to him? Would he die in her stomach or would the protection offered by whatever process shrank him keep him alive in the heat and darkness of her stomach? Stomach acid probably didn't taste great, but at least he would have a respite from her abuse.

Unless he died. Slowly. That was not how he wanted to go. In that moment, he would rather she keep him as her sex toy for life than be dissolved in her stomach. If you have to eat me, just bite down on my head, he begged. Get it over with quickly.

No point in begging, though. He knew, but hadn't fully accepted, that he wasn't a person to her anymore. You didn't treat people the careless, neglectful way she was treating him. You didn't leave them trapped in your underwear for long, uncomfortable hours. You didn't abuse them without warning just to get off. She treated him like an object, no more important to her than any cheap rubber sex toy. Was that all he was now? For how long?

Before he could start feeling too sorry for himself, the giantess opened her mouth and plucked him out, stunning him once again with the blinding light of the outside and the chill of the air on his skin. When he finally managed to get his bearings, he saw her staring up at him, studying his tiny body up and down. He was upside-down, so it was a bit hard to get a read on her actual expression. Despite his miniscule size and apparently insignificant weight, though, he couldn't right himself any more easily than if he had been full size in the same situation. Eventually, his core muscles failed him, and he just hung there, staring back at her.

"You got lucky," she decided. Relief and fear washed over him simultaneously. The tone in her voice and the look on her face told him that it had been a coin flip. She looked almost as if she wanted to pop him back into her mouth and swallow him now. "You'll live. For now."

How long? He wanted to ask. But her left hand came up and pulled back one of the bra cups of her dress, revealing her slight breast along with the the pad that she had stuffed in there to enhance her bust. Her dark brown nipple was just barely visible. He knew he was going in there, and he squirmed a bit, fearing the hot, claustrophobic confines of yet another piece of underwear, but he was a bit relieved that he'd be free from the slime and stench of her pussy for a time.

He tumbled down headfirst and landed... somewhere. He didn't have the time to figure out where before she closed the bra cup on him, enveloping him in heat and darkness and pushing him facefirst into the smooth skin of her breast. The first thing he noticed, when he finally settled, was her heartbeat. He could actually feel it against his body, and he realized that he was barely inches from her heart.

This wasn't great, but it was definitely better. It was better than spending the rest of the day stuck beneath her crotch, and it was far better than dying in a pool of stomach acid. But 'better' didn't mean much when he was still a slave. When the hell did this end?


Hours passed. Maybe? It could have barely been half an hour. It was impossible to tell, without a single sign of the passage of time beyond the giantess' heartbeat. And that rose and fell in pace so erratically that, even if he had been bothered to count, there would have been no way to mark time anyway. Stuck in her bra, the rhythmic motion of her gait took a very different character. There was no sway, no sudden, jarring shift as her heel struck the ground, there was just a slight, slow lift, a brief, equally slight fall, then the distant thump of her foot landing.

In short, despite the way that her breast bounced just slightly with every step, it was a much smoother ride.

He kind of fell into a bit of a lull, despite the oppressive heat and stench of her flesh. His awareness drifted off, and he didn't even know it had happened until he snapped back when he heard her speak, and suddenly realized that he didn't remember a single moment of the last.... how long? Hour?

Her voice was deafening. He could hear it as if it came from all around him, he could even feel it through the skin he was pressed up against it. He understood every word she said. And, even though she hadn't said anything more than "thank you," he realized immediately that he was in a unique position to learn as much as he could about this woman. Who she was, where she lived, what she did. At three inches tall, none of it would help him escape now, but there was no telling what the future held.

He was alert and aware as she carried on to whatever business was next. He knew that the 'thank you' could well have been someone holding open the door to her hotel, and his next experience would be the giantess fishing him out of her bra before disrobing to go to bed. But there was a chance, however small, that he would get some insight that would potentially give him a chance to escape from this giantess' life. Maybe even to drag her in front of a court of law.

Assuming she didn't eat him alive first.

Braden's Folly by tallie
Author's Notes:

Anita plays the billionaire's game, and Braden tries his escape.

The business with Pfizer went even quicker than she could have hoped. Apparently, her lawyers, and, more important, the rest of her C-suite, had not wasted the intervening days since her flight from California. They had rounded off all the corners of the deal, hammered out all the aggravating sticking points, and more or less finalized it in her absence.  She had walked into the meeting with a copy of the finished version, all signatures on the paper but hers, sitting ready for her on the conference room table.

The review took thirty minutes, the questions took less than half that, and then she was out the door and on her way downtown.

Her thoughts were barely on the little man in her bra at all anymore. One time, or only one time that she noticed, did he stir briefly, apparently trying to rearrange his carelessly-placed body into a more comfortable position. It wasn't the effort of a toy trying to please, nor was it the struggle of a slave trying to escape. It wasn't erotic, it wasn't even all that distracting. It was just a polite reminder that, at that moment, there was an unwilling, unwitting passenger trapped against her body. A slave that was her secret, even amidst the dense and highly-scrutinized metropolis of Manhattan.

That subtle, invisible expression of her power was enough for her to roll into the Goldman meeting with her head high and shoulders back, ready to take on that doughy fuck and all of his elitist Yuppie lackeys. The door to the meeting room swung open, and she was stunned to see David Solomon himself sitting at the head of the table, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded in his lap, all smiles.

"Ms. Lee!" he exclaimed. Casting a subtle look at his wrist. She already knew the time. Two minutes before the meeting was to start, and she had been lucky to make it this early. "It's so good to see you again!"

David had a considerable physical presence, something she had seen him use, along with classic New York bluster, to cow lesser men into submission. Along with his expensive shoes, expensive watch, expensive suit, and expensive necktie done up in an amateurish schoolboy knot, he seemed to take up an outsized portion of the cramped, conservative, windowless meeting room. More New York bullshit, she supposed. But she had come to the table, more or less on accident, with the appropriate gear as well. Her knee-length red dress with the plunging neckline and matching flats, completely inappropriate for the New York winter but totally necessary in the glare of a TV studio, made her the most colorful thing in the room.

"David Solomon," she said warmly, approaching the front of the table. Another, somewhat insistent stirring against her breasts. Oh, right. She had come with more statements of her power than just her clothing, even if nobody present could see it. She shook his hand firmly, keenly aware of how the single, brief motion made her breasts bounce, and the little man in her bra slide down a hair. "It's a pleasure."

After shaking her hand, showing none of the interest in the bounce of her tits that a younger man would, David sat back down and scooted up to the table, unfolding a binder that was in front of him. "So, let's get started. Your IPO is scheduled for March 16th. All of the appropriate disclosures are in place at this point, and..."

"Dave, I'm sorry," Anita interrupted. She hadn't taken her own seat yet, and she affected the air of someone ashamed of something they had done. "I ordered a couple of sandwiches from a shop down the road for this meeting. I heard from a Bloomberg reporter that tuna fish was your favorite, so..."

David eyed her with a look that she couldn't quite read, then shrugged and declared, "It's a working lunch, then. So, we have these documents that..."

"Oh, and I entered a medical deal with Pfizer. I don't think I told you."

David Solomon stopped mid-sentence, his bag-eyed stare snapping up to her. She maintained her look of innocence, and kept her joy buried deep, deep down as she saw the veins in his bald head start to surface. Anita broke his gaze to take her seat, getting herself all situated, then looked back up at David's murderous look. "Oh," she said, "Was that not..."

This was when it got exciting.


Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

David Solomon, who sat the throne of one of New York's most powerful banks. Anita Lee, his high-profile client who warranted his personal time and could risk pissing him off.

Anita Lee, the superstar Silicon Valley genius who had built the Syze app from nothing.

That was his woman? That was the woman who had turned Braden into her property? The woman from his textbooks? The scientist-entrepeneur who he had been taught was everything he wanted to be? That was the person who had turned him into their living, breathing, unwilling sex toy? He couldn't believe it at first, but, as he slowly worked his way through the facts, starting from his helpless position in the hot, stinky confines of her bra cup, he realized that it was absolutely, irrevocably true.

The app was built to protect its users. Nothing could happen without their consent, and anything that did would alert the cops immediately. That was the key point that had rocketed it to success. But that whole safety net was just programming, wasn't it? Who controlled, at a fundemental level, all of that programming? Who could circumvent every protection that the users thought they had?

None other than the creator of the whole thing, Anita Lee. America's latest and greatest billionaire. The woman herself was the subject of a seemingly infinite quantity of deepfake porno, most of it size-related. The lascivious social media attention had made the news more than once, but it only served to make the woman that much larger than life. In the worlds of tech, business, and sex simultaneously, she was a superstar. She was Scarlett Johannsen and Mark Zuckerberg rolled into one, and here he was, trapped in her bra just an inch below her nipple.

How the hell did that happen? Braden knew for a fact that the Internet was flooded with people who were practically begging her to make them her slave. Men and women alike. From coast to coast and around the world. She had brought the size fetish to the mainstream in a way that he would have never believed. She had even managed to rope in those who were not really interested, but were curious enough to try. Through her efforts, she had turned a niche interest into something bigger than Tinder.

She was the standard-bearer of a new mainstream fetish, and there was an army of people willing to sacrifice their entire lives to her. He had seen it on the news, no less. People who begged her on every accessible social media platform to shrink them, to take total control of their lives, to do unspeakable sexual things to them. She could have a hundred slaves in the sole of her shoe with a snap of her fingers, and they would thank her for the privilege. How the fuck did he end up here?

Whatever it was, it had to be bad. He thought back to that moment when he had shrunk so abruptly in that Starbucks bathroom. Anita had burst in fully prepared, an empty bag on her back big enough for all his clothes, and she had turned his phone off less than a minute after entering, ensuring that nothing about what was happening to him could be tracked to his phone. As far as the outside world knew, he had disappeared in that bathroom with no explanation, and he was sure that nobody would even be able to investigate far enough to reach that conclusion.

That wasn't the behavior of someone who decided, spur-of-the-moment, to abuse their powers as the app's administrator for their own pleasure, especially given that she had been hidden in the profile of one of his own matches. That was premeditated, practiced behavior. It was the behavior of someone who knew exactly what they were doing and, more importantly, how to get away with it.

It meant that she had done it before. He couldn't imagine that her other victims had met happy endings. Best case scenario, they were sitting in a jar on a shelf in her house back in California because she couldn't risk traveling with one. Best case, absolute best case, she had felt like grabbbing a new toy for the few days that she was in New York, and he had been the unlucky one.

If that was true, there were only three possible end states for him. She could discard him in a way that would keep him from ever resurfacing, even if he was immortal as the Syze app claimed. Otherwise, she could store him somewhere safe, and he'd have to endure ages trapped in a soundproof lockbox until she returned to New York to retrieve him.

Or she could just kill him. A brief fling turned into a tiny snack.

Braden had no idea, so far, whether that third option was even possible, but it terrified him all the same. He had endured some impossible shit so far at his size, so maybe there was truth to the advertisements about the invulnerability offered to shrinkees. Maybe it was something she couldn't even overcome. But, even if that was the case, the picture wasn't great for him. He had to find a way out, and fast.

Maybe now was the time. In the middle of a meeting that had, by now, turned into a shouting match between Anita and David. If he somehow managed to pop out of her clothing and onto the floor, people would notice. Questions would be asked. He might very well earn his freedom and Anita's imprisonment at the same time.

But he could struggle for a year and not claw his way out the top of the woman's bra, with how much she was moving about. Every step, every gesture, every shouted word sent a vibration through her breast that pushed him further down into the bottom of the cup of her bra. At his size, he stood no chance of fighting against that, so there was only one other way out.

He tried, failed, tried, failed again, and tried again to reorient himself. He cursed the weakness of his size, that he was unable even to push aside the compressive force of the giantess' bra to position himself. But, eventually, through several minutes of back-breaking effort, sweating from the exertion and the heat that surrounded him, he managed to get to the point where he could wrap his hands around the wire frame of the bottom of the woman's bra. All he had to do was squeeze through that and he would be free.

The effort was punishingly difficult. The constant bouncing caused by Anita's energetic motion was too chaotic for him to handle, and the fit of her bra against her breasts was too tight for him to fight against. He had to force his body out inch by inch. He got his head out, and then she made a sudden move, and the solid frame of her bra closed violently around his neck. He choked, gasping futilely for air and flailing desperately before he was able to free himself, and edge his body just another few inches further downwards.

Inch by inch, minute by minute. Eventually, he was hanging upside-down, the massive woman's bra holding him by his shins. As she moved about, he swung freely in the relatively spacious confines of her dress, red silk on one side and smooth, tanned skin on the other. The light filtering through the cloth of her dress colored the whole world around him a deep, romantic red color.

Finally, she made a too-sudden movement, and he fell free of her bra. He tumbled down her dress, striking her body once, then falling the seemingly infinite distance to the carpeted floor below. He had the unfortunate privilege of seeing it happen facefirst, watching her legs recede behind him and her feet quickly rush up to meet him, until he hit the ground with a deafening THUMP.

He lay there, gasping for breath that wouldn't come after the violent impact. Stars danced in his vision, and he had trouble remembering where he was or what the hell he had just done. Eventually, the stars faded, his vision returned, and he finally caught his breath. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the incredible sight of the woman's thighs and panties beneath her dress. Her legs were spread beyond shoulder-width, and she was leaning forward on the table in front of her, presenting an unmatched view of the gap between her thighs and the slightly-damp spot in the crotch of her panties.

He was gay, but he knew that that was an impressive sight. Either way, this was his first and best chance to escape. There were no other faces that could see him; Anita was alone on her side of the table, so he had to get moving, and fast. He struggled to his feet, trying to ignore the titanic movements of the giantess above him, and started running.

Then, without any warning, her right foot, bare but for the thin mesh of pantyhose, slid effortlessly out of her shoe and crashed down on top of him, driving him facefirst to the floor in an instant. He should have died, he knew, just from the blinding pressure that he felt in that moment when the woman's weight came bearing down on him. But, somehow, he survived, the heat of the woman's foot at his back and the rough texture of the carpet on his face.

Anita slid her foot back, slowly, until his head was caught between her toes, and then she lifted him up. Slowly, carefully; he could still hear her and David screaming at each other far above, and she obviously didn't want the motion to be obvious. He could shout all he wanted, but nobody would hear it. Eventually, he was suspended by his neck over the mouth of her fancy red flats. Just do it, bitch. Just make it..

Anita opened her toes and let him fall. He crumpled into the hard sole of her shoe, the impact as confusing as it had been when he had fallen from her bra. After a few seconds (minutes? hours?) of disorientation, he found himself staring upwards at the sole of the woman's feet, ready to come slamming down on his helpless body.

He let out a brief yelp, but it was immediately smothered as the woman's foot filled her shoe. Suddenly, her entire weight pressed down onto his face, with only hard leather at his back. He should have popped like a grape, but, somehow,  he survived.

Survival was no blessing, he realized. Anita took a few steps, only a few, but each one sent her entire body weight slamming down on top of his fragile body. He felt like his eyes were about to burst out of his skull. He couldn't move, he could barely even draw breath. What little air he could suck down, with desperate, shallow breaths, was thick with the nauseating stench of the woman's sweaty feet.

Holy shit.

He had made a mistake. He shouldn't have tried to escape. If he thought life in Anita's bra or her panties was torture, this proved that he was a fool. It could get so much worse. Her foot came crashing down in a new spot, and her weight settled down on top of him, leaving him unable to breathe for ten, twenty, thirty, sixty, a hundred seconds.

Every step up was a too-brief reprieve to the too-long torture of her weight being planted firmly on her foot. The pressure always lasted longer than he could stand, longer than he thought it could possibly have gone on, and then his short relief was over before he even had the chance to recover.

When he had been trapped inside her panties, he had at least been able, slowly, to get used to the suffocating heat and stench of her crotch pushed directly up against his face. But now, his brief breaks from the crushing pressure of being trapped beneath her foot were too unpredictable and irregular for him to get used to it. Every time she raised her foot, the relief was too short, and every time it hit the ground, it came as a surprise. The misery never ended and never lessened, and there was absolutely no escape.

The next time her foot lifted from the ground, Braden wasted precious seconds sobbing, tears welling up in his eyes, drawing choking, heaving breaths of the hot, sweaty air that surrounded him. Please, God, just make it end. Just let me die.

Rule 34 by tallie
Author's Notes:

The first half of a short story about the world surrounding the incredible technology of Syze.

"And... Action!"

Ignoring the cameras, the awkwardness of her own nudity, and the imposing stature of the woman towering over her was a challenge for Zadie Brown. Fortunately, her role was more passive in this, so she didn't have to deliver a terribly convincing performance; she just had to not look directly at any of the cameras and keep from trying to cover herself. Instead, she stared up at the massive woman, who looked down at her with a little smile, her legs shoulder-width apart and her hands on her hips. She had the privilege of starting the scene with clothes, though the skimpy outfit, with the sheer black dress that barely covered the top of her thighs, would not be something that anyone would wear in public.

"Look at you!" the woman exclaimed cheerily, "Where did you come from? Oh, aren't you just the cutest little thing!"

The massive woman, Sarah, delivered her poorly-scripted lines in the uniquely-unconvincing way that only a porn star could. Zadie's reaction was unscripted, and didn't really matter. The camera panned to her only briefly, as the giantess was the focus of the entire act. She certainly wasn't going to tank the filming by reacting in an unrealistic way.

Sarah started to tilt her hips back and forth in an exaggerated way, slowly running her hands down her thighs as she leaned forwards. One of the cameras pulled back to provide the best perspective of her ass while still keeping Zadie in frame. Sarah's face approached at a terrifying speed, and then hovered over her for a few seconds. The woman bit her lip, and said, "Do you want to have a little bit of fun?"

Zadie didn't respond, and she didn't have to. After a second of silence, Sarah decided, "I know you do. How about this?"

She straightened up and turned around, waving her ass for Zadie and for the camera, looking over her shoulder at the leather armchair that Zadie stood in the middle of. Her sultry smile was as cheesy as the whole situation, and, after a pregnant pause, she slowly, carefully sat down.

Zadie gave her one scripted response, throwing her arms up like she was trying to protect herself, before the giantess' ass came crashing down on top of her.

The woman's weight hit her harder than she could have ever anticipated. Even under the generous give of the plush leather seat, the pressure was incredible. Heat from Sarah's body filled her entire world, and every breath she took was filled with the combined rancid stench of the woman's ass and the heady smell of her pussy. She knew, unfortunately, that this was just the first taste of the twenty minutes she was going to spend between Sarah's legs.

The giantess' black thong barely covered any part of her ass, so she was trapped between flesh and leather. She heard Sarah let out an exaggerated moan, then she started to gyrate her hips around in the chair. With sticky leather on one side and sticky flesh on the other side, Zadie didn't slide back and forth as easily as the viewers might be led to believe. Instead, she was brutally rolled around, guided by the deep crack of the woman's ass. Her limbs were twisted in impossible positions, her body sliding deeper into the giantess' butt with every motion.

Sarah, to her credit, recognized what she was doing, and was careful to pull her ass cheeks apart before she stood up, letting Zadie fall back onto the cushion when she stood up. She didn't look back, though, when she delivered her next line. "Oooh, I bet you like that, don't you?"

The massive woman leaned forward, and slid the thong down to her knees, exposing the dark flesh of her pussy to the camera, which eagerly zoomed in for a closer shot. The other camera was fixed on Zadie, and she didn't have to fake her look of dispair at the reveal of the flesh that she was about to become intimately familiar with.

Sarah waggled her bare ass for the benefit of the cameras, then sat back down onto the chair.

This time, there wasn't even the thin protection offered by her underwear. The hot, soft flesh between her legs came plummeting down and drove her brutally into the leather at her back. Zadie was trapped directly underneath Sarah's pussy, a thin sliver of vulnerable pink barely visible through the dark brown wrinkles of her vulva. Sarah settled into the seat, driving down like she wanted to make Zadie a permanent feature of her crotch.

Then, instead of the careless rolling around from seconds before, the giantess started to drive her hips back and forth. Her pussy slid noisily, painfully over Zadie's face. She struggled to breathe, and every breath, shallow as it was, was thick with the fishy scent of the giantess' vagina. She felt like she was suffocating, and she knew that it was only the start.

Far above her, the woman let a moan that she could just barely hear. She held there for a moment, her weight pressed down on top of Zadie's helpless body, then stood up. Zadie wiped the transluscent white vaginal fluids from her eyes and looked up at the giantess, waiting for the next step.

"Mmmm, did you like that?" the giantess asked. Both of her hands were on her tits, stroking them slowly in a false expression of horniness. She eyed Zadie for a moment, then grabbed the bottom of her dress and pulled it over her head, revealing the full glory of her naked body. She tossed the dress into the corner of the room, then her hands went to her hips, rubbing the space just below her waistline in a slow, sensual fashion.

"Mmm, you'll love this," she said. Her left hand drifted a bit further down between her legs as her right hand shot forwards, grabbing Zadie by the waist and lifting her into the air. She parted her legs just a bit, and her left hand came down to part the lips of her vulva, revealing the bright pink flesh beneath.

Zadie just barely had enough time to regret her choice of employment before she was plunged headfirst directly into the massive woman's vagina. The tight pink walls parted eagerly as she slid between them, the hot, soft embrace wrapping close around every curve of her body and coating her skin with slimy lubricant. Sarah pushed her in slowly, savoring the insertion, all the way up to her waist, when Zadie saw the hard mound of the giantess' cervix emerge from between the walls in front of her.

Sarah let out a breathy giggle. Zadie could just barely hear it, but she could feel it, the muscular walls convulsing around her. The giantess said something that she couldn't hear, but she knew was the next step in the script. Gravity shifted as the woman slouched in the chair, spreading her legs for the cameras, and she adjusted her grip on Zadie's lower body.

Then Sarah started to masturbate, using Zadie's tiny figure as a living dildo. Slowly, she pulled her out until Zadie felt her tits flop out into the open air, then she slowly pushed her back in, all the way until Zadie's head pressed up against her cervix. In, then out, in, then out, the pink walls sliding wetly over her body, a full-body massage of a uniquely comprehensive and disgusting form. After only a few seconds of this, Zadie's instinct to hold her breath in the suffocating, wet environment finally gave out, and she sucked down a lungful of the thick, salty stuff that clouded her vision.

The slow pace didn't last. Zadie could feel the jerking motion of Sarah's off hand rubbing her clit, and soon she fell into the throes of passion. A convincing act at first, then the real thing in short order. Her hips squirming, gasping for breath, she drove Zadie in and out of her pussy with ferocious, desperate speed, completely heedless of whether or not Zadie enjoyed it. She drove her in seemingly deeper every time, even though she refrained from letting the tiny woman strike her sensitive cervix again.

After a few long, chaotic minutes of this, Sarah came. The muscles surrounding Zadie seized, and the giantess' hips bucked uncontrolled. Muffled by the massive bulk of the woman's body, she heard her gasping and moaning amidst the throes of pleasure. The whole time, she was buried firmly in the giantess' vagina, hot, twitching flesh enveloping her allt he way down to the middle of her thighs, and the giant fist clenching powerfully around her legs.

Finally, it was all over, and Sarah let Zadie slide gracelessly out from between her legs, plopping down onto the leather seat of the armchair. She cleared the cloudy, slimy fluid from her eyes and looked up at the giantess. Her face was flushed, her skin was sweaty, and her chest heaved with deep, desperate breaths. The incredible columns of the woman's thighs surrounded her on both sides, guiding her gaze to the bright pink slit between them, which oozed thick, white fluid that, by now, had coated her entire crotch.

Zadie's first, animal instinct was to try to escape. But she suppressed it and held her ground, though she was acutely aware of the fact that the giantess could crush her between her thighs. Her basic instincts were secondary, though, with the camera closing in on top of her. She knew the script, and she knew that she just had to endure for a few more minutes.

Sarah finally recovered from the throes of her orgasm, and the looked down at Zadie, her expression awash with pleasure. "Did you like it in there?" she asked. "I know you did."

She leaned forwards, bearing down upon Zadie's tiny body with her imposing figure. "How about you spend some extra time there?"

Sarah leaned back and grabbed her phone off of a surface Zadie couldn't see. She tapped the screen a few times, then Zadie's stomach dropped as she shrank to a quarter of her previous size. In an instant, the giantess' body went from impressive to terrifying in size, and the wet, pink monolith of her pussy grew into an incomprehensible scale.

"Oooh, do you like that?" Sarah asked, her voice dripping sexuality. "You wanna be in there, don't you?"

Zadie didn't really have to respond, her voice would have been too small for the cameras to pick up anyway. But her reaction, instinctive panic at the abruptly massive size of the other woman, was more than enough. Sarah giggled, and her hands drifted down to her thighs, grabbing at the flesh and pulling it apart to further expose the soft, vulnerable textures of her vagina. "I might just keep you there," she said. "For the night... For the weekend... Maybe you'll be so fun that I'll keep you there forever.... Who knows?"

Sarah scooted her hips forward an inch, and the movement was so sudden, so massive, that Zadie fell back, shielding her face instinctively. Sarah giggled again, and said, "I think you'd like that, won't you? You want to live in my pussy?'

Her right hand shot forwards, wrapping Zadie in her fist with just her head poking out. She drew her close, until the heat of her massive body seemed to fill the air. "Come here," she moaned.

Sarah brought Zadie down between her legs, and slowly slid her, headfirst, into her vagina. The tight walls parted before her as they had when she was a dildo, but the deep texturing of the flesh seemed much more significant, and the cloudy white fluid that filled every space seemed like an ocean now. She gasped in surprise at the sudden assault of heat and pressure, and nothing but vaginal lubricant slid down her throat.

Zadie coughed and sputtered, but there was nothing but fluid, and there was no reprieve coming. Sarah followed Zadie's insertion with her middle two fingers, shoving her as deep in as she dared. Soon, Zadie was surrounded head-to-toe by the tight, muscular flesh of the giantess' vagina. She couldn't have escaped even if she spent hours trying.

Fortunately, this would only last for a few minutes. The script said the next scene was 'four days later,' but Sarah just had to change her underwear and lie down on the bed. The cameras would switch to the next scene and everyone's time would be saved, most of all Zadie, who didn't want to spend a minute longer in this hot, slimy hell than she had to.

She felt Sarah's every move as she stood up, walked to the lockers, and changed her clothes. The giantess' pounding heartbeat was a constant rhythm, pulsing at her ceaselessly from all sides, the only sound that she could hear. Zadie had watched enough porn to be a little afraid that Sarah, an experienced porn star and voracious nymphomaniac, would take the moment of privacy to masturbate. But, fortunately, she didn't have to suffer the abuse of another of the woman's orgasms.

Eventually, gravity shifted in such a way that Zadie knew that Sarah had lay down in bed for the next scene. A few seconds later, she heard the giantess' muffled speech, talking to Zadie more for the benefit of the cameras than for her. She couldn't make out a word of it, but she knew the lines. 'Good morning, toy,' and 'Did you have fun last night,' the kind of dialogue that entertained the viewers.

The giantess rolled over, and suddenly her massive fingers came plunging into Zadie's pink-saturated, fluid-soaked world. Each of her fingers were larger than her arms, and they grabbed her legs and pulled her out in an instant. She had a brief flash of the woman's pink panties before she was dragged into the blinding light of the outside. In quick order, her entire vision was filled with the massive woman's face, still flushed from the ecstasy of her sexual rigors barely minutes before.

"You know, I think I really like you," Sarah said. "I might just keep you forever." She thought for a moment, biting her lip in a thoughtful, somewhat sexy way. "Do you want to be mine forever?" She paused, and Zadie offered no response. She didn't really have to. "Well, too bad," Sarah decided. "I'm keeping you."

Zadie's stomach dropped as Sarah lowered her slowly down the length of her torso. Finally, she was hovering around her belly button, and she looked down and saw Sarah holding open the waistband to her panties. "Goodbye!" the giantess said, and dropped her in.

The fall was short, but the landing was brutal. She hit the springy cloth of the woman's panties and bounced straight back up into her pubic mound, the impact leaving stars in her vision. The giantess didn't even give her a moment to recover, either. She let the waistband to her panties snap shut, slamming Zadie's head against her body again and leaving her disoriented for a worryingly long time. She'd be concerned about a concussion if she didn't know that shrinkees had endured far worse with no ill effects.

Eventuallly, she managed to regain her bearings, and she figured that she had plunged headfirst into into Sarah's panties, and her momentum had carried her far enough down that her head was somewhere between the massive woman's clit and the dark, tight opening to her vagina. Slimy fluid, residual from the sexual workout that she had endured just minutes ago, coated the front of her body all the way down to her hips. She realized, with a note of disgust, that, given where she was in the Sarah's crotch, that her head was more or less right underneath the woman's urethra.

It didn't matter now; she knew that she was going to be freed in short order; but it would be one terrible place to spend the rest of the day. She could just imagine that little drop of pee leaking out, for any one of half a dozen reasons that many women couldn't control, directly onto her face.

Sarah delivered her last few lines, too muffled for Zadie to make them out, then she felt the motion of the giantess walking out of frame, and that was the end of the scene.


Sausage-Makers on Break by tallie
Author's Notes:

The second half of a short story about the world surrounding the incredible technology of Syze.

"So was that really your weekend?" asked Sarah.

Zadie nodded, letting the hot water run over her for a bit more before she finished up. "Uh-huh," she replied.

Sarah didn't respond for a moment, and Zadie shut the water off. She tore the towel off the rack and quickly dried herself; after the filming was over, she had had a bit more clean-up to do than Sarah did, but she certaintly wasn't the dirtiest person that had sought to wash off in this locker room. That was why she wore flip-flops into the shower.

"Who the hell did you get to agree to that?" Sarah asked finally.

"Some guy, I don't know," Zadie answered, wrapping the towel around her body and tossing the curtain aside. Sarah was seated on the bench, running a comb through her wet hair. She barely cast a glance Zadie's way as she emerged from the shower. "He didn't really seem up for a second date after that."

No small wonder, she thought. Her shrunken match had agreed for a weekend at first, but she had convinced him to add Friday night and Monday morning to the deal. After meeting up with him and deciding that his body was up to snuff, she shrank him down and had no less than four hours of fun with him in her apartment by herself, guzzling tequila between every orgasm and eventually passing out with the little man buried head-to-toe in her pussy

She spent most of the next day working off the booze, too hungover to do anything despite the persistently erotic struggles of the tiny man in her vagina. Eventually, after a full day of downing glass after glass of water to work off the hangover, the little man's writhing became too much, and she worked through the headache to masturbate with him still trapped inside her.

That wasn't enough. It took some time for her to recover, her head pounding painfully, but she did it again two times before she fell asleep that night. She woke up well-rested and totally sober, so she masturbated again as soon as her eyes flickered open, and once more while cooking breakfast. Afterwards, she masturbated in the shower; how could she not? Then she waited an admirable twelve hours before ending up in a nightclub, and masturbated again while giving a stranger a blowjob in the stall of the men's bathroom.

God, the little man was just so active. He never seemed to stop moving, and it never stopped making her horny. If he could just lie still for a bit, she wouldn't be interested in him, she may have even let him go home early, but he couldn't stop squirming. She could barely make it a few hours before the constant motion made her crave a cock inside her. But she couldn't afford to hook up with someone, lest the little man fall out of her pussy. If he was able to state, aloud, that he was tired of what was happening to him, then her phone might pick it up, and put a premature end to her fun.

He had signed up for four nights, and she intended to use every one, even if it meant that she had to settle for rubbing herself off.

And she took every opportunity to do so. The moment she got home, she came before even taking her shoes off. Then, naked in her bed but for her panties, she came five times under the powerful force of the Hitachi before her pussy became too sore to continue. Her shrunken toy had to endure the entire exercise; with the vibrator pressed against her crotch, she sized him up to six inches, then back down to three, and even down to a single millimeter. He got to experience her orgasm from all sizes and all angles, to the point that she almost started to feel jealous about how thoroughly intimate his experience with her body was.

Almost jealous. She woke up the next morning to the ten-minute warning chime from the Syze app, and quickly worked her way up to one last orgasm before she had to give up her shrunken toy. After fishing him out into the real world, he almost immediately grew back to normal size. She could stand to come one more time, and she would just love to do it under the weight of a full-grown man. But he didn't acknowledge her advances for one minute, even when she pressed her naked body against his and slid her hand between his thighs. He just quietly showered up, dressed himself, and disappeared from her life forever.

Despite the disappointing rejection, Zadie had thought that the four-day interaction was so hot that she had to share it. She explained it to her director, who immediately drafted up a script, compressing the weekend-long sex bender into twenty minutes, with a bit of unaware/unwilling flair to appease the fetish community. Zadie, sure that the experience had been the hottest thing the little man had ever seen, eagerly volunteered to be the shrinkee after reading the script.

Holy shit was she wrong. Enduring merely twenty minutes of this shit was pure torture. The time spent idle, doing nothing in the giantess' pussy, was catastrophically boring. The crucible of her masturbation sessions was painful, chaotic, and panic-inducing. The uncertainty of what she would do next, what body part she would be ruthlessly subjected to, was a constant source of anxiety. Everything about this was miserable.

So no wonder that the little man had bailed as soon as his time was up.

"I think I might try to grab someone for this weekend. Do you think I could?" Sarah asked.

"I mean, there's always someone willing. A whole weekend is a bit long for most people, though."

"Hey, maybe I could keep one forever!" Sarah said with a giggle.

Zadie echoed the giggle, but it was tempered by the thought of how hopeless she would feel in that situation. Trapped forever, for the rest of her life, in the giantess' pussy? Fuck. "I don't think there are many people signing up for life."

"Oh, I don't know," Sarah replied, "I can be very convincing."

"Most people only want to go for it for a single night," Zadie explained. "At most. A few hours is typical. You might be able to convince them to add some time, if you're convincing enough."

"How about you? Did you enjoy it from that side?"

Zadie shrugged, grabbing a comb of her own and starting to brush the tangles out of her hair. "It was okay," she lied.

Sarah saw through that immediately. She paused from brushing her hair, staring at Zadie for a moment, then her face lit up. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, slapping her thigh with the hand that wasn't holding the brush. "You hated it!"

Zadie blushed deeply, avoiding eye contact and focusing singularly on brushing her hair. "Yeah..." she admitted.

"Oh my God..." Sarah repeated, all giggles. "That makes it so much better!" She put the brush down and grabbed the other towel, wrapping it around her lengthy hair. "I think I can get someone for life."

Zadie frowned. "You know, the app..."

"Yeah, I know, I know. But there's gotta be some guy out there who actually wants it," Sarah said. "Maybe he doesn't know what he's signing up for, but he'll sign up for it. I just have to make sure I use him exactly the way I describe in my profile."

Zadie said nothing, just continuing to brush the tangles out of her hair. There were more than she liked, but that was one of the consequences of being used as a human sex toy. Sarah could hardly be expected to care about her hair while she was the size of a dildo. If she managed to get one who would volunteer to spend his life at her pleasure... She couldn't imagine what that would be like, but she was sure she would see it soon; they worked in the same studio, if not always in the same films, and Sarah wasn't wrong when she said that she could be 'convincing.'

"Do you wanna match with me?" Sarah asked.

Zadie was almost offended that she'd ask, after what she had done to her while under the glare of the cameras. She kept her voice level, though. "I don't think so." She thought for a moment, running the brush through her hair, trying to work through the pain of all the snags. "Or do you mean that you want to be my tiny?" she asked.

"I could try it," Sarah replied levelly.

Oh, holy shit. Zadie glanced at Sarah, who was still consumed with the exercise of wrapping her hair. She didn't seem like she was messing around with Zadie at all. "You want a weekend?" she asked experimentally.

Sarah giggled as if Zadie had made a joke. "Oh, no," she said. "One night, at most."

"Okay..." Zadie replied. She thought. Every word she said here mattered, if this actually went through. "Just us? If I bring home a guy... or a girl...?"

Sarah paused, squaring up right in front of Zadie, who was still seated on the bench. She looked down, a slight smile on her face, the swirl of a towel atop her head and another wrapped around her torso. "You do what you want," she said. "Just make sure to let me out before you go to bed."

"No problem," Zadie said, not trying to seem too eager. This wasn't quite payback, but it was definitely an opportunity to show the other woman what her prospective lifetime toy would be going through. Maybe she could keep Sarah from inadvertantly ruining some horny dude's life. She grabbed her phone from her locker and pulled up the match she already had with Sarah.

A bit of thumbing back and forth through the settings, she was able to create an agreement that was more or less exactly what Sarah had asked for. The match, and Sarah's shrinking, would start as soon as she agreed to it, with a Cinderella timer that would put a stop to their fun at midnight. Until then, though, everything was fair game.

She sent the agreement to Sarah, who was already in her profile from the match that they had agreed to for the porno filming. The Syze app's distinctive 'pa-ting!' notification rang from the other woman's locker, and she replied with a calm, "Later. Just let me clean up first."

Cleaning up won't matter where you're going, Zadie thought. I'm going to do some unforgivable shit to you.

Kid in a Candy Store by tallie
Author's Notes:

Anita shops the wonderful world of size-related accessories, and Braden suffers the consequences.

Once her app had received nationwide acclaim, a cottage industry of size-related toys had sprung up seemingly overnight. More than eighty percent of the sales were done online, an outlier for retail broadly but not remarkable for adult products, and the business was so impressive that, just last week, her company had entered a partnership to peddle 'official' Syze accessories, hoping that the weight of the brand name would drag out considerable market share. The few brick-and-mortar stores that peppered the country seemed, universally, to have an aesthetic that was a cross between an Apple store and an 'adult supermarket.'

Anita had never really had a need for any of the stuff. She used the app, of course, but she rarely held onto shrinkees for long enough to get experimental. It was always a brief fling, the delightful experience of complete power over someone else, followed shortly afterwards by the last and most absolute expression of that power. But there hadn't been that many of them, and none of them had lasted very long. Buying gear focused to the shrinking seemed unnecessary, and potentially incriminating, given that, on paper, she didn't have a presence on the app.

She could fix that, obviously. She could fabricate a match history in the server to back up the purchase, but then she'd have to undo a lot of the stealth that she had put on her profile. Right now, her profile was only visible to people she had matched with beforehand, and there was a delay before they saw that the match went through, so she could catch people by surprise if she wanted.  Furthermore, her profile adaptively copied the profile pictures of people that she had tried and failed to match with, but who lived outside of the geographic search area of the person who saw the profile. She thought that the mechanic was exceptionally clever, and, since she traveled a lot, she had a deep trove of profiles to work with, from both genders.

The only evidence that she was in the system at all was the real photo of her that was added to what her match could see of her profile, when she finally let them see that they had matched. That was nothing more than an ego play, and, since she quickly disposed of their cell phones, and her matches were wiped from the server as soon as she shrank them, it could never come back to her.

But, if she had to establish herself as a user of the app to cover up ownership of any size-releated toys, all that careful planning would have to go out the window. Or, maybe, she could have one 'public' profile, hidden to other users but visible on the server, and another 'private' one, that she could use to snare her new toys.

All this was going through her head as she stood opposite the street of one of the few size-related toy shops in downtown Manhattan. Unusually, it was on the third floor, and you had to take an elevator in a back alley to get up to it, but it was still a place that she really didn't want to be seen in.

The problem was that her meeting with David, which had gone surprisngly well given the fact that it went ninety minutes over schedule, showed that she had to be worried about her tiny toy escaping, given enough time. She had gotten lucky in that she had been able to scoop him up and deposit him into her shoe without anyone noticing, but now, two hours later, her foot was screaming at the uncomfortable intrusion. She didn't want to take another step with her foot cramping up, and she could feel blisters forming in new and unexpected places. Worse, she knew that, next time that happened, she might not get so lucky. She might have her illicit activities exposed to the world by a shrunken toy climbing out of the top of her bra in the middle of a live TV interview.

So she needed a better solution. And she knew, from her consultations with her partners, that a good portion of the size-related toy industry was focused on keeping the smaller passenger safely and securely fastened, with minimal discomfort to the larger partner. She also knew that plenty of people carried their bondage fetish down to the millimeter level, so there was plenty of gear that could hold a shrunken match indefinitely.

Anita was a bit proud of the fact that she had applied the lesson learned from Uber so successfully. She didn't waste time insisting that government should stay out of her and her customers' business completely, because that would have eventually brought the feds down on her head, circling in from these side businesses to ultimately ban her revolutionary technology entirely. Instead, she got ahead of the regulators and tirelessly encouraged cooperation with law enforcement, enabled by top-shelf Silicon Valley data analytics, to nip in the bud any objections to the safety of her app.

These days, only a handful of libertarian think tanks objected to her practices, complaining that corporate cooperation with law enforcement was a privacy violation. They were right in more ways than they knew, since a lot of her app's user-safety practices were kept hidden from the general public. But the political objections never quite made it into the mainstream, so that was, by far, preferable to the stranglehold of regulation.

After all, were it not for her careful approach, this wonderful satellite industry would not have been around for long; someone surely would have complained that the carefully-constructed toys that completely immobilized submissive shrinkees served to enable sex trafficking. Then, Anita, who existed outside the gravity of her precise, data-driven enforcement mechanism that caught all that nasty behavior before it could get serious, wouldn't have been able to use these toys for her own self-indulgent sex trafficking.

After some deliberation, and some weak but annoying protests from the tiny man trapped beneath the arch of her foot, she decided to go into the store.

"Xmart" was a less-than-subtle name, and it could very well have been some moldy adult video store, but the marquee gave the truth to its purpose. It was also a little clever; in order to seed the ground for her new size-related merchandise side business, her lawyers had taken up copyright lawsuits against any company with names that invoked her app. Most of these would settle just before her new product line dropped, but the owner of this particular store had caught the winds of change early and kept any mention of her app off his storefront.

It had the same design as all the others, though. Mannequins, with barely-explicit anatomical realism, stood proud on pedestals, displaying two or three different pieces of gear each. Male mannequins on one side, female on the other, with shelves behind them that carried a broader assortment of toys.

There was a dizzying array of products here, things that provided opportunity to do things that she didn't even realize could be done with shrunken matches, and things that didn't even seem that erotic. She was more or less alone in the store, so she didn't feel too bad gawking. She had no idea that she had created such an expansive world.

There was a whole catalogue of underwear, for both men and women, that could hold a shrinkee comfortably in any spot you wanted them. And there were underwear insterts that could do the same thing with any regular pair of underwear. There were cocksleeves, dildos, buttplugs, cock rings, condoms, and even a vaginal diaphragm that incorporated shrunken toys in some way.

There were insoles that had cutouts for shrunken people, and Anita had to admit that she considered using one after the hours of discomfort with the tiny man in her shoe. There were pantyhose with pockets all over, from the calf to the inner thigh just below the hips, that could store a tiny person. There were even necklaces, rings, belts, bracelets, and body piercings of all kinds that could integrate a shrunken match.

The most ridiculous thing she saw was a pair of panties with a thin, nylon chain across the crotch that would leave her pussy completely ventilated unlesss she filled every link with a quarter-inch man. She'd need nearly a dozen to cover herself, and she knew that those men would be subject to torture unlike anythinig they had ever dreamed.

Her head was spinning with the possibilities offered by this massive field of toys. She had a credit card and a checked bag; she could assemble a fucking playground for her new shrunken playmate and take the whole thing back to her Silicon Valley apartment. She knew that she was going to keep him for a while, so what did it hurt to have her options open?

She second-guessed herself, though. She couldn't afford to splurge on a sex dungeon, on the off chance that the outsized purchase might attract attention in a theoretical law enforcement probe. She had disappeared enough people already that, no matter how well she covered her tracks, someone would eventually catch on. But her position, her power, and her wealth would dissuade most cursory investigations unless she left some glaring piece of evidence behind.

So, eventually, she wound up at the counter with a package of conservative panties that just so happened to have a tiny cloth harness right in the crotch. She could pull a few knots tight, and have the little man harnessed helplessly to the inside of her underwear, his face positioned directly underneath her crotch. She knew that it would be miserable for him, but, fortunately, if she sized him right, his feet would be right on her clit. All of his struggles would be just barely stimulating enough to be interesting, but not enough to make her lose control in a public space.

As an added bonus, the underwear had a bit of extra padding to keep him from being visible even if she was wearing yoga pants. She was impressed, and she walked out of the building with a black plastic bag containing her new prize, and an improved vision of the opportunities offered by the world of shrink-related accessories.

She made it a block down the road before her limo driver came up to the curb, and she slid quickly into the car. She barely even bothered to make sure that the window between her and the driver was closed before she started tearing open the package to her new set of underwear.

The mechanism that was intended to hold the little man fast in her crotch was fairly straightforward, and surprisingly creative. She could guide the shrinkee's arms into one hole, and his legs into another, and tighten him down with a pair of thin, silk pullstrings in the front of the underwear. She tried it with her pinky finger, and found, to her surprise, that she was only able to undo the trap by tugging on the waistband.

God, that was better than she could have hoped. She had only purchased three pairs, and, even though they had cost her more than a hundred dollars, she already wished that she had bought three times as many.

The helpful booklet that came with them was specific to the size she had bought, so that was a sign that she had at least gotten her money's worth. It had brief instructions on use, and the size range that would work with the panties, along with a color-coded scale of how much stimulation she could expect based on the size she chose. It even had simple diagrams showing, given various sizes and orientations, where the little man would rest in her crotch.

God, even this simple piece of clothing offered some impressive options. Maybe she'd eventually find her way back into a store like this to figure out what else she could do to her little toy.

Anita kicked her shoes away, hiked up her dress, and slid her panties completely off. The tiny man fell out of her shoes as they sailed through the cab of the limo, ending up sprawled out on the carpet a few feet away. Eventually, he recovered enough from the fall to notice her crouch-walking towards him, a pair of her new panties in her hand and her bare pussy clearly visible beneath her dress. He panicked, and tried to scramble away, but he was too slow. Her hand shot forwards and wrapped around him before he could even get to his feet.

He struggled only for a few seconds, but went still when she clenched her fist; not much, nothing that she would have thought was serious, but enough to calm him down immediately. "Stay still," she ordered, looking directly at his fear-stricken face.

He obeyed, but his expression clearly said that he wanted to get the fuck out of there. His fear of crossing her while she was clearly engaged in something she cared about must have kept him from struggling, especially after he had suffered more than two hours of punishment under the sole of her foot. She had no plans to put him back there any time soon, given how much her foot was hurting now, but he didn't have to know that.

Holding his arms together over his head, he guided them into one side of the panties, then slid his ankles into the other side. At about four inches, he was right in the middle of the scale, and he would be held tight by his elbows and his knees. More importantly, his face would be right underneath her vagina, and her clit would get to feel the sensation of his kicking legs.

Once she had him positioned, she slid the panties on, and immediately let out a gasp. Holy shit, it felt amazing. So much more comfortable than having him in her panties normally, and with a much more intense sensitivity to his tiny, struggling body. The part of his body that was exposed had slipped directly between her labia, his entire body becoming a living, breathing part of her pussy.

Oh, God, he was going to hate this. He had full exposure to every fold of skin between her legs, but, to her, it felt like he was just a part of her panties. If he kept still, she could leave him there for days and barely even think about him, and he'd have to fight his ass off to be even slightly distracting.

She pulled the drawstring tight, trapping him firmly in place. The waistband tightened a bit when she did so, but, otherwise, she couldn't feel anything.

She had definitely got her money's worth. She slid her dress down, crossed her legs, and started massaging her aching right foot. Have fun down there, little guy.


In that abrupt moment when the knots drew tight around his elbows and knees, Braden deeply regretted not having made the effort to escape when he had the chance. He squirmed, he punched, he kicked, but he was bound so thoroughly that even his greatest efforts were completely useless.

His legs were sheathed in a cotton prison, with barely any room to move. His arms were held fast by a punishingly tight knot that gripped his elbows. He could struggle for a year and not be able to move an inch, but, given where Anita had left him, it would probably be best not to struggle at all.

When she had slid her panties on, the brown, wrinkled flesh of her labia parted eagerly at his presence, and he was driven bodily into the wet, pink flesh that was protected by that thin outer layer. In an instant, he went from looking up at the stunning juncture between her legs from the middle of her thighs, to being buried in the seemingly infinite flesh of her crotch, staring at the dark, twitching maw of her pussy directly over his face.

He had spent days trapped in the woman's panties already, but this was much, much worse. The elaborate trap that she had put him in, that he had just laid back and watch her set up rather than taking the opportunity to try to escape, seemed purpose-built to ensure that he would be held fast in the worst place possible, without a single chance of repositioning himself.

Heat completely surrounded him, enveloping his tiny body completely in a way that he hadn't experienced except when buried completely inside the giantess' vagina. Above his elbows and below his knees, he was wrapped in cotton, but every other inch of his body was trapped in a soft hug of slightly-wet flesh.

Braden fought fiercely to pull his arms or legs free for as long as he could, until he eventually came to the depressing realization that there was nothing he could do to move. No way for him to escape. He lay there, breathing the frothy mix of bodily fluid and hot, heady air, rich with the stench of Anita's pussy, and resenting the fact that his body wouldn't just let him hold his breath forever.

The opening to the massive woman's vagina hung directly over his head. Rippling pink flesh pressed tightly together, glistening with fluid, pulsing just barely with every thump-thump of her heartbeat. Braden knew that every filthy drop of discharge that slid out of that hole would land directly on his face, and, unable to free his arms, it would fill his eyes, his nose, his mouth.

Anita had kept him as a sex toy for the last few days, choosing between her underwear, and then her bra, and then her shoe as the most convenient storage space. He might have suggested her pocket or her purse, but he never would have thought that she would turn him into a living panty liner.

Fuck. Why hadn't she picked a straight guy?

One Night Stand by tallie
Author's Notes:

A brief return to Adam and Emynda's twenty-four hour 'adventure' together.

Adam endured a long, boring day surrounded by heat and stink. Emynda carried about her day without a single regard for any of her shrunken passengers, least of all Adam. Every time she sat down, every time she crossed her legs, every time she farted was a uniquely miserable experience. For the first few hours, he deeply regretted what he had done, but, eventually, he learned to get used to it, and was able to endure his disgusting reality, counting down the minutes until it was finally over.

Once or twice, light flooded his fleshy prison, and he was just barely able to twist his head far enough to see a phone camera pointed right at him. With a tinny, camera-shutter sound effect, Emynda captured his tortued existence for her throngs of thirsty Patreon fans. Then she let the waistband of her panties snap shut, leaving him to stew in the thick mix of odors and fluid between her legs.

Adam knew that he wasn't the only person who had been reduced to a mere passenger on this woman's body, but he couldn't reach out to any of the other people who suffered like him. The man and woman who dangled from her earrings, the girl who was trapped in her necklace, maybe even the volunteer she had managed to grab as a navel piercing. He felt a solidarity with them and their boring lives as living ornaments, but he had no way to communicate it. None of them probably even knew he was there.

After a while, Adam heard the distant but unmistakable throbbing bass of club music. He wasn't sure what it meant, until he felt Emynda's erratic dancing tossing him chaotically back and forth, with brief breaks that seemed completely detached from the beat of the music. Fuck. She was in a nightclub, and she was looking to get laid. And, like she had promised, he'd have a front row to the entire spectacle.


Emynda identified her target almost as soon as she walked through the door. A tight-bodied black dude, fully a foot taller than her, bold enough to wear a pair of sweatpants that clearly showed off his swinging dick in a nightclub. When she slid up to him, he seemed into it for a moment, until he noticed the shrinkees swinging clearly on her earrings, then excused himself and disappeared without a trace.

Fuck. She found another guy, a frat bro-looking type, complete with the collared shirt and boat shoes, and let him pump a few drinks into her. But his eyes kept drifting down to the shrunken woman on her necklace that rose from between her breasts with every breath. He grew a bit distant, and, after a short while, he escaped to the bathroom, and never came back.


'They all want to be there,' she wanted to shout at the club. Syze didn't let her do anything to anyone without their consent, but there was still plenty of apprehension surrounding the technology. After an hour or so, she got desperate enough, and drunk enough, to wind up twerking on the dance floor, hoping that someone, anyone would show enough interest to be worth taking home.

Eventually, she found herself chatting up the guy who had grabbed her hips while she was dancing. He was a bit shorter than her, which was a turn-off, but not as much after how much vodka she had downed. More importantly, he had a solid, weightlifter body, and didn't cast so much as a glance at the shrunken toys that dangled from her jewelry. He may also have been drunk, but that didn't really matter.

They made out in the corner of the bar for a few minutes. The man; he had told her his name but she didn't remember it, Mike? Jake?; paid special attention to her shrunken accessories, licking her earlobes, sucking on her earrings, even pinning her necklace under his middle finger and sliding it gently up and down her sternum.

It didn't take much time of this for her to decide that this was the guy for her. The rest of the night progressed in a drunken haze; she remembered inviting him back to her place, but wasn't sure how they had gotten there. She played around with him for a bit, his hands wound up in her panties for a moment, then, suddenly, she was naked, his head buried between her legs.

Emynda remembered that orgasm, if nothing else. She remembered her thighs squeezing hard around the man's head and her fingers tangled in his hair. But she didn't remember how that led to her facedown on the bed, her ass in the air, and his hands on her hips.

The only other thing she remembered from that night was the sudden, almost heavenly moment when his massive cock slid effortlessly into her.


Emynda's increasingly slurred speech, increasingly sloppy movements, and increasing frequency of quick photos snapped of Adam's helpless situation told him that she was getting very drunk, very quickly. He was a captive audience to her evening, with only a vague impression of what she was actually up to, but it was enough for him to figure out that, eventually, the night was going to end uncomfortably for him.

He had thought, at first, that she had stuck him in the most erotic place in the world. But that feeling had not returned in the intervening hours. Even the thought that she could bring home someone, either man or woman, and he'd get a front-row seat to their delightful adult fun, failed to stir up any excitement. Her other shrunken accessories probably felt the same way, but at least the rest of them had the privilege of breathing fresh air.

After a long while, the throbbing beat of the club music faded away, but he could still hear the giantess speaking to someone, bubbly, giggly, and drunk. He couldn't hear the response, so he wasn't sure even what gender the person she was bringing home was. Based on her social media presence, she had already proven herself capable of enjoying the company of both men and women, and he couldn't help but think that a night of lesbian sex would be a little less torturous for him.

Unfortunately, the rough pair of fingers that came plunging into Emynda's underwear without warning, pushing him carelessly into the flesh at his face, were unmistakably those of a man. He didn't have to endure the sloppy fingering too long, but it was a sign that the next hour or so was not going to be pleasant.

Emynda's panties came off, but, buried facefirst against her vulva, he couldn't tell what was coming next until the man's mouth clamped down on her pussy. His tongue slid wetly over Adam's tiny body and all the flesh that surrounded him. It was noisy, chaotic, and almost painful. He sucked greedily on her clit, leaving Adam gaping like a fish out of water as all the air around him suddenly disapperaed. The unpredictable, violent motions of his eager cunnilingus twisted Adam around inside the shackles of her clit ring; when the giant finally finished, and the giantess finally came, he was staring down the dark pit of the man's throat, the soaking-wet flesh of Emynda's vulva at his back.

Finally, the massive man backed off, and Adam got his first good look at Emynda's hookup. He was completely naked, a rock-hard erection bobbing up and down between his legs. With the broad shoulders and meaty arms of a guy who spent a bit too much time at the gym, he had a chest full of hair, but he had clearly recently shaved his pubes, a distinct border of hairless skin on his pelvis and upper thighs. His hands were out of view, arms outstretched, apparently holding Emynda by the hips.

He guided her into a new position, and Adam's world turned upside-down in a brutal whirlwind of motion. By the time he regained his bearings, he realized that he was hanging upside-down; Emynda was on her knees, and the giant was about to do his date doggy-style.

The man slid his cock inside the giantess, and Adam heard the moan escape her lips just a second before the giant's balls slapped directly against his face.

Really? That was the humiliation he had to endure? But there was no fighting it. From where he lay, he had the privilege of watching the man's massive, building-sized dick drive powerfully into the giantess' vagina, and then, at the last second, his balls slammed against his tiny body with a deafening, painful slap.

Over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over. Fuck. How long could this dude go for? Once or twice, he paused, his cock all the way in, and Adam let himself believe, for one brief moment, that it was finally over. But the giant was apparently just pacing himself, because, a few seconds later, he started to pound the giantess with a renewed vigor.

Adam realized, too late, that trying to guess when this ordeal would be over was a waste of effort. The giant reached climax with a throaty, gutteral moan, and finished by driving his penis as deep into the giantess' body as he could. For a few, brief seconds, the giant's balls pinned Adam against the giantess' pussy, and he couldn't hear anything over their rapid, competing heartbeats pulsing at him from both sides.

Finally, the giant let out a shuddering gasp, and, slowly, he pulled himself out of Emynda's pussy. The wet, sliding sound of flesh on flesh seemed to fill Adam's entire world, until the giant's softening cock came springing out into the world, and a thick rivulet of cum ran down from the giantess' vagina and consumed his entire body.

There was no fighting it. Within seconds of being drowned in that thick, opaque white fluid, Adam had filled his lungs with it. The hot, sticky mess surrounded and filled him. There was no escape, no reprieve. He was, in that moment, nothing more than a piece of jewelry for an uncaring giantess.    

It was past midnight by now, it had to be. Eight more hours, maybe nine? It would be far too long.

First-Class Passenger by tallie
Author's Notes:

Anita arranges her cross-country smuggling operation for her new shrunken sex toy.

With Anita's official business in New York finished, she just had a little bit of... unofficial business to wrap up before catching the flight back to California.

This was far from the first time she had snapped up an unwilling shrinkee in a distant city. Hell, in her time as the superstar behind Syze, she had stolen half a dozen people from the anonymous masses of New York alone. Risky, but not terribly; her fame was of the type where only a few people, usually industry insiders, recognized her by her apearance. And most interactions with strangers were of the type where she would give her name, and they would look confused for a moment, as if saying, 'I recognize the name, but I don't know why I recognize it, and I don't know how to ask you why I recognize it.'

In any case, it didn't really matter if the tinies recognized her. Matching with her on Syze was always a one-way trip.

The more concerning part was the possibility that someone might catch on to a pattern in the disappearances, or irregularities in her behavior if she was already under suspicion. After working with the FBI to develop Syze's integrated system for user safety, she learned a lot about the feds' methods to identify untoward behavior on her app, and what she could do to avoid getting caught by that net. She didn't know all of their tools, but she knew how they thought, and had developed a set of procedures to make sure that she could disappear people without arousing suspicion.

In addition to how she had made herself more or less invisible on the app itself, she had to make the matches disappear as well. That was easy to do on the app; once they had been submitted to her control over their size, their profile, and all evidence that it had ever even existed, was wiped from the servers. Any credit card transactions that had occurred from paid users would be a loose end, so she had to generally limit herself to matches who were using the sixty-day free trial.

Since the match was always in person, she had physical control over their phone, too, which had to be disabled and disposed of as soon as possible, before she entered the nexus of warrantless federal surveillance that was airport security. Being the woman in charge of a size-control app, who seemed to travel with two phones a lot of the time, in conjunction with a mysterious disappearance in the city from which she was traveling, was a suspicious enough set of coincidences for even a local cop to get warrant, to say nothing of the shadowy world of FISA courts and FBI investigations.

On her last day in New York, and in the relatively private confines of her hotel room, she pried Braden's phone apart with a multi-tool, cut the battery out, then removed the memory chip and the SIM card, snapping both into a tiny pieces before wrapping them up in a wad of toilet paper and flushing them down the toilet. No need to worry about electronics that small clogging anything along the line in the municipal sewage system.

Then she wrapped up the battery and the phone up in some greasy fast food trash. She'd toss those in a trash can in the hotel lobby on her way out, just before the end of breakfast, around when they'd normally be emptying the trash.

Her new panties, purpose-built to torture the shrunken man, might raise suspicion if someone searched her bag and figured out how they functioned, so she stuffed them into a laundry bag with her dirty workout clothes, hoping that a formless bundle of sweaty clothing wouldn't attract too much scrutiny even if her bag was searched. There was always the remote chance of a pervy security worker digging through her dirty panties just to get his rocks off, but that was just a risk she had to accept. In any case, the circumstances surrounding such an accidental discovery were sketchy enough that she could probably keep it buried with bribery or blackmail.

Only one last piece of incriminating evidence to take care of.

Getting the shrunken man himself through the TSA would normally be a massive challenge. However much it frustrated her, she had to subject herself to the same bullshit as everyone else. She still had to remove her shoes, her jacket, and her bag to get X-rayed. Then she had to endure the naked-body scanner, and, after all that, she still stood the chance of having to submit to a whole body pat-down. With all the rigors of that security, there was only one way for her to smuggle the shrunken man onto the plane.

Alone in her hotel and fresh out of the shower in the morning hours before her flight, Anita wore nothing more than her fancy new pair of panties as she let her hair dry, making sure her new little toy got to enjoy as much time with her as she could afford him. Once she had taken care of the rest of the remaining evidence that could clue the world into the little man's continued existence, she stood up from the chair and slid her panties down to her knees.

She bent forwards slightly so she could see the tiny man, then waved down at him. "Hey there! How you holding up?" she asked. He didn't need to respond. "Actually, I don't care," she said. "So we're going to fly to California together, but I could only get one ticket." She smiled down at the little man, and undid the bounds that held him, scooping his body out of the crotch of her panties.

He was a bit wet, ew. She resisted the tempation to take a sniff to figure out what the hell he was coated in. Instead, she endured the slimy feeling on her fingertips, and said, with a smile on her face, "But don't worry! You'll get to enjoy First Class too, in your own way. But, first..."

She made sure that he could see when she grabbed her phone and opened up her own Syze app. She put it down on the desk, shooting him a sultry grin, then hit the 'size down' button until he was a bit less than three inches. Noiselessly, and slowly enough that even he didn't even notice it happening for a few seconds, he started to shrink. Quickly, he was too small to fit into the panty trap, but just large enough to fit comfortably in his new home.

She cocked her legs out a bit and bent down a little further, positioning the tiny man just below her crotch. A wicked thought occurred to her, and she flipped him upside down, then guided his legs, followed quickly by the rest of his body, into her vagina. It was the same motion, the same sensation, as inserting any tampon; quick and easy, but uncomfortable, her unwilling pussy accepting the tiny object with only the slightest complaint, a sensation she'd be able to ignore quickly.

That might change if he started to struggle. She had shrunk him down to the smallest size she was sure would be secure in the confines of her vagina, but she couldn't be sure that his struggles wouldn't be distracting. She had done this before; she had left shrunken men buried in her vagina for hours, even days at a time. Sometimes, she had been able to ignore them indefinitely. Sometimes, they had left her insatiably horny, and she had used them for her own pleasure until their tiny bodies were completely broken.

Maybe it had been their position, maybe it had been their energetic struggles, or maybe it had just been her own chaotic hormones. She wanted to keep this new toy though, so she was hoping that he wouldn't bother her too much. Hopefully, with the little man's position, he would learn quickly how miserable life could get if he made her wet. So long as she allowed him to retain the near-invulnerability offerered by the shrinking process, he could swallow as much vaginal discharge as her body could produce without ill effects. If he had any senses, that would teach him not to be too annoying.

She slid her panties back on and gave her crotch a quick rub, feeling for any irregularities. None. His entire body was inside her, completely hidden from the outside world, and she could barely feel him in there but for the small, dull pressure of the bulk of his body.

Anita gave her pelvic muscles a little squeeze, and his sudden but brief struggle in response was a practically electric sensation. She giggled. Maybe she was a bit more horny than she thought. Perhaps she could...

She eyed the clock. Nope. Too late. She took a deep breath and shook her head to clear her mind, but that animal instinct remained tucked away in the back of her brain. She started to dress, her cheeks a little too hot, her breath a little too quick, her heartbeat a little too rapid. Fuck, she wouldn't be able to keep her focus for the entire trip home if this kept up.

"Keep it up, buddy," she muttered. She knew he couldn't hear him, but a part of her hoped that he would. "Maybe we can have some fun when I get back."

What Happens in Vegas... by tallie
Author's Notes:

When you match with your shrunken playmate, you had best honor the terms of your arangement.

Through one half-open, drunken eye, Zach swiped through the offerings on Syze, looking for something to take immediate advantage of, and almost sure that there would be nothing there.

It was almost one in the morning. His buddies, Ted and Marco, had already gone to bed, but he figured that, hell, it was Vegas, why not make the most of the night? Unfortunately, most of the chicks on the app were either looking for some weird, long-term shit, or looking for sadistic play that he wanted absolutely no part of.

Swipe left, swipe left, swipe left. Fuck's sake. Every profile was either "looking for long-term panty pet" or some variety of "can you handle being under my foot?" Some distant, slightly lucid part of his brain was grateful that, with the settings he had input into the app, he wouldn't be able to match with those weirdos even if he tried.

But, fuck, they really needed to clean this app up. A picture of a woman who was clearly Emma Watson, with the caption "Be my sex toy! Live in my pussy! Much sex now!" What kind of a fucking idiot would fall for something that was so obviously a scam? And how could it persist on an app that kept reminding him how safe and above-board everything on it was?

Swipe left, swipe left, swipe left. That was definitely a frank photo, if a little staged to make it look sexy. "I need a man to live in my stomach," the text read. "I'm fasting, so I want to swallow someone so I don't feel hungry for a week."

No thanks. What kind of person would even want to spend a week just chilling in some woman's stomach? It was always women who wanted that kind of shit, too. Zach had the men's side of the app enabled as well, and almost all of them wanted a shrunken toy that they could use while they fucked their wife or girlfriend. To be honest, if he had seen any offers that meant real action now, he might have taken it. But, so far, all of them were people trying to set up future dates.

Swipe left, swipe left, swipe left. Women who were surprisingly open about their masochistic tendancies were frighteningly common. "See how long you can survive under my ass," one profile claimed. One of the pictures even featured the woman's naked body, a millimeter-tall man stuck to the round flesh of her butt. A second woman was looking for a butt plug to be her 'workout partner.' "I need some chewing gum," another profile stated bluntly, “Maybe a day, maybe two, maybe a week. I’ll chew on you when I’m bored and I’ll store you where I like other times. Maybe my pocket, maybe my bra, maybe my pussy. Match with me to find out.”

Women can really get away with anything on this app, can’t they? Swipe left, swipe left, swipe left. Finally, he alighted on a profile that he almost ignored after the sheer mechanical monotony of swiping left over and over again, but it caught his eye due to the three sets of naked tits that were in the first picture. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if one of the chicks was shaven bare below the waist.

“Be our bachelorette toy!” the profile exclaimed. “We’re here for one night, and there’s no rule saying a shrunken man can’t join the party! The bride wants to have some fun! Be the lucky man to join us in our hotel room!”

Zach was skeptical at first, but he actually recognized the background of his hotel in some of the pictures. The same tacky wall art, the same nondescript carpeting. He checked what the profile was looking for, and it had none of the cruel dominatrix stuff that others were after. Vaginal play, mouth play, sex toys, and the full range of sizes from a millimeter to three feet.

That was something that might be interesting. He swiped right and the match went through almost immediately. He fired off a 'wyd' message and got a reply before he could even go back to swiping.

'It's a party! We're drunk lmao'

'Room for one more?' he asked.

'Only if ur tiny lol'

'Where are u?'

In response, he got a photo that he had to click on to see, but even the blurred preview clearly had a lot of flesh tones in it. When he uncensored it, he saw a naked woman laying spread-eagled on a bed, her face blindfolded and her arms bound. A slight-breasted Asian woman, wearing nothing but lacy pink thong, straddled her face and was leaning foward, her own face buried in the other woman's pussy.

Both of the chicks were incredibly hot, and Zach felt a stirring in his pants just at the image. The girl followed the image with the answer to his question. 'The palazzo'

'Im there too,' Zach fired back.

'Come over! We're getting bored lol'

Zach was rolling out of bed and headed for the door before she even said what room they were in. Five minutes later, two floors up and three rooms over, he was in front of their door, barefoot and with nothing but sweatpants, his phone, and his room key. Clothes weren't going to matter.

He could hear the screaming and laughing on the other side of the door pretty clearly, and it all fell to a silent hush when he knocked. He heard someone speak, then another chorus of giggles. The door opened, and the woman who greeted him was naked from head to toe.

The sight was a shocker. The burnette woman was not actually in any of the pictures on the profile, but, with stark tan lines on her breasts and crotch and a towering, lithe body, she was one of the most beautiful women Zach had ever seen. They both looked each other up and down for a long moment, and then, clearly satisifed, she grabbed his hand and dragged him into the room.

The smell was the first thing that hit him, a heady musk of sweat and pussy. Empty wine bottles were laid out on and underneath the windowsill, and more were on the dresser. R&B music videos from YouTube were playing on the television, casting shifting colors across an otherwise dim room. The woman, presumably the bachelorette, had slipped her bonds and was drinking from a glass of wine, her blindfold lifted to her forehead.

The other three women in the room saw him come in and cheered. Zach felt like the luckiest guy in the world; he didn't even bother to hide his erection. "You ready?" the woman who greeted him asked.

"Uh, yeah," he said, fumbling for his phone. When she turned to grab her own off the dresser, he cast an eye at her ass, and noticed that she had a butt plug in. There were more sex toys on the bed, a dildo, a few vibrators, and another butt plug. He opened up Syze and, with another glance at the brunette, gave her consent to control his size.

Immediately, he started to shrink. Slowly, inch by inch, so he had time to pull off his pants before they fell off and to set his phone on the dresser. His half-mast boner popped out of his underwear like a spring-loaded doorstop, and he heard one of the girls, a redhead nursing a glass of red, giggle at the sight. It was a bit emasculating to watch himself literally diminish in front of these women, but he just tried to stand up straight and endure it.

Finally, when he was about a foot tall, the woman leaned down and plucked him off the floor, still shrinking. It was even more emasculating to be handled almost like a baby, frankly, but there was nothing to be done about it at this point. She plopped him down on the bed and, towering over him, hands on naked hips, said, "That's our blushing bride to-be. Jeanne, meet your new toy."

Zach was still shrinking but it had slowed. He had to be less than six inches tall at this point. What had she reduced his size to? He waved at the giantess with the blindfold, and she waved back, a cute, drunk grin on her face, teeth stained red from wine.

"So, new toy," the woman said. She knew his name, right? "We've got a game for you. You've got to get that lovely lady off. And, every time you make her cum, we make you a bit bigger, okay?"

Jeanne downed the rest of her wine and lay back, spreading her legs across the bed. The motion sent a wave of instability across the matress that almost caused Zach to lose his footing. Struggling to stand up straight, Zach looked up at the stern-faced, naked brunette, and nodded, not without a little bit of fear. Fuck, he couldn't have been more than two inches tall at this point.

"If you get big enough, you get to give that girl the dick appointment she's been craving all night!" the massive woman exclaimed, spreading her arms wide. The other women let loose a cheer, their shrill voices deafening at his tiny size. He heard a muttered 'oh shit' follow, but couldn't see what had happened.  Another woman, the redhead with a tanktop covering an impressive pair of tits, leaned over the bed, fastening the bride-to-be back into her bonds.

The redheaded giantess made eye contact with him a few times as she did her work, and her gaze was practically dripping with lust. As she finished her work and put the blindfold back over Jeanne's eyes, she squeezed one of her boobs with her right hand, giving him a wink before letting it drop. It would have been hot as hell if it weren't for his size.

"What are you waiting for?" the brunette asked.

Zach looked up at her, then at the giantess spread across the bed. Her pussy lay hot and swollen between the massive, smooth-skinned pillars of her legs. A thin sliver of pink emerged from between the woman's brown, blood-flushed labia. The bumpy texture of freshly-shaven skin surrounded that thin, wrinkled slice of flesh, and a deep, heady stench filled the air even from his distant position.

Fuck, he was barely two inches tall at this point. How the hell was he supposed to do anything?

He looked back at the brunette, who eyed him expectantly, then at the prone bachelorette's vulva. The debate raged briefly within him, maybe he should just give up, but he ultimately wound up running forwards, trying to meet the challenge posed by the giantess as quickly as he could.

But, the closer he got to Jeanne's crotch, the more he realized how pathetic his situation was. Lying as she was, he could barely reach her asshole. If he tried really hard, he could maybe clamber up her skin and get to her vulva, but there was no way he was going to be able to pleasure her from here. The best, the very best he could do, was to crawl into her vagina, and even that would take nearly fifteen minutes of work, and then the most he could hope for would be to be a slight annoyance.

As he stared up at the monument of flesh between the giantess' legs, wondering what the hell he was going to do, he heard a new voice behind him. "Maybe he needs some help!"

He whipped around, and saw the Asian chick that had been in the photo on the app. Still wearing that lacy pink thong, she now stood in front of the brunette, her brown eyes staring hungrily down at him. After a moment's deliberation, she slid onto the bed, her knees creating a deep depression in the mattress and shifting the world underneath Zach's feet. He lost his balance the moment her weight hit the bed, falling straight to his ass.

And she didn't waste a moment. She leaned forwards with terrifying speed, her mouth open and tongue out. She came crashing down so quickly that Zach barely had time to react, and her tongue scooped him up off the bed and shoved him facefirst against Jeanne's pussy.

In that brief, terrifying moment of wet, chaotic motion, he heard another voice, syllables slured by wine. "Grab his phone before it locks!"

Lori thumbed through the tiny man's phone, watching with mild amusement as Winnie went to town between Jeanne's legs. What man wouldn't want to be in his position right now, she thought. He was in the wet, sloppy center of the threesome of his dreams.

She had to indulge her curiosity for a moment. They weren't doing anything they weren't allowed to, but who knew what the night held in store? Until then, she could take a look through the guy's phone and see what kind of person had willingly subjected himself to the horny whims of a bachelorette party.

The last few calls were just spam numbers, and the ones before that to male friends. The last text was some political bullshit, and, scrolling through the ones before, it seemed like there weren't any that were dated anything older than two months ago. She scrolled through the camera gallery, mostly dominated by extremely recent photos of him and his friends in Vegas. He had a Tinder profile in addition to his Syze profile, but no active matches. Even his browser history was a disappointing mix of social media and the news. This must be a new phone.

But she had control over his Syze app. He had allowed for a very narrow kind of sexual play, but she could totally change that, now that she had his phone. He opened up the settings on his match with her, and hit every single checkbox she could. Vore? Sure. Foot play? Hell yeah. Giant sex? Duh. Watersports? She didn't even know what that was, but why not? Scat? Now, she knew what that was, and she couldn't imagine that any one of them would be even remotely interested in it, but why not keep their options open?

More important was the timeframe. He had been willing to subject himself for one night. Specifically, a hard stop at 8 AM the next morning. That was fine for the bachelorette, but what about the rest of them, who had no husband to look forwards to? She slid that timer out until November of next year. The little man was about to experience a lifetime of fun with more women than he could have dreamed.

Lori heard a desperate, pleasured gasp, and looked up from the tiny man's phone. Winnie had already made Jeanne cum, and hard. Her legs sought to squeeze around the Asian girl's head, but the ropes kept her from doing so. Her chest heaved and her hips bucked, but Winnie kept her mouth clamped on Jeanne's crotch.

Where the hell was the shrunken man amidst all of that? She had promised to make him grow if he made Jeanne orgasm, but it hadn't really been him, had it? That was mostly Winnie, and he just happened to have the good fortune to be in the middle of it. She let it lie, and turned back to the tiny man's phone.

She had basically done all that she could to the little man's Syze app. What was his name again? Zach, right. "Hey, Kayla!" she said. "Download this Syze shit and match with this dude."

"Why?" the other woman asked, cradling her glass of wine in both hands.

"Because I made it so that he wants to be shrunk until next November. If you want a shrunken toy..."

"Oh shit!" she muttered. She looked briefly for a place to put down her glass, couldn't find one, and downed what was left before grabbing her phone. Lori watched the scene with amusement; she could have just used her other hand to pick up her phone. She laughed a little, but kept it suppressed. A part of her wanted to tease the girl about how drunk she was, but her own reality was currently swimming in alcohol, and she didn't really want to invite accusations of hypocrisy.

Ah, right. She opened up Zach's Syze app again and set the match range down to the minimum, to help Kayla get the match she needed. The only thing left was to make sure that the man's phone would never lock, so that they would never need his password to let Winnie and Jeanne get their chance to match with him. That was easy, just set it so the screen never turned off and she could basically control his phone until it ran out of battery.

That done, she set his phone down and grabbed her own glass of wine, watching as Winnie had her way with Jeanne. Fuck, that skinny Korean had a bigger appetite for pussy than she did for food. Surely she had to give the little man his chance to actually meet the challenge they had given him, right? If she really wanted to go down on someone, there were two other girls in the room who were naked and neglected.

Jeanne came a second time, straining hard against her bonds, tears streaming down her face as she gasped in desperate pleasure. Every muscle in her body tightened, and her hips bucked frantically, Winnie keeping her mouth securely clamped on the gap between her legs. She begged for it to stop, curses streaming forth, but could barely form a coherent sentence.

But, finally, Winnie gave her reprieve. She sat up, bodily fluids glistening around her mouth, looking down at Jeanne's twitching body with satisfaction. The shrunken man was nowhere to be found, though. "Wait," Lori said," Where is the guy?"

.Winnie giggled. "As far deep as I could get him," she answered.

It took Lori a moment to comprehend the answer, and then she laughed. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed.

Winnie joined her in the laughter, and Jeanne offered a weak, exhausted giggle. "How is he supposed to do his job down there?" Lori asked.

"That's his problem," Winnie answered, stepping off the bed and wiping her face clean.

"Oh my God, do you think she killed him by squishing him with her pussy muscles?" Kayla asked. She stumbled over every syllable, definitely the furthest into the wine among them.

"No, he's invincible, remember?" Winnie responded.

"Oh, right," Kayla said, giggling. "Give him to me, then."

Lori ignored her. "Can you feel him?" she asked Kayla.

Jeanne's breaths still came deep and hard. "Yes," she gasped. "Fuck, he's really struggling."

"Maybe he can actually pull it off," Winnie remarked.

"Oh... God!" Jeanne gasped. Her wrists strained against the ropes, and her hips bucked desperately, a sudden, unexpected wave of pleasure hitting her body hard. Her mouth gaped, trying and failing to draw breath as orgasm tightened every muscle in her body. Her whole body twitched; Lori could see the tendons straining against her skin; and finally she came down, letting out a throaty moan as she squirmed around on the bed.

"Holy shit..." Lori muttered. That guy pulled it off, and did it surprisingly quick.

"Fuck, I want him," Kayla said. She stood up, a little shaky on her feet, and set her wine down on the window ledge. She missed, but ignored the almost-empty glass hitting the carpet with a soft clunk. As Lori grabbed the her phone to size him up; he had earned it, after all; she didn't pay that much attention to the redhead as she clambered onto the bed and buried her face between Jeanne's legs.

"Oh no, please, stop," Jeanne moaned, somewhat unconvincingly. Lori looked over and saw Kayla holding Jeanne's legs far apart, sucking on her crotch with a ferocious will. "No, no, no..." The words escaped Jeanne's lips in a barely-comprehensible gasp. "Please. Stop. No.... Stop..."

Fuck. That little guy had really spiced things up. Lori started to feel a bit of warmth between her legs. This night was about Jeanne, but that little toy was hers, or theirs, for the next eighteen months. Eighteen months spent as her sex slave, pleasuring her however she demanded at whatever size she liked. She was going to do some absolutely unforgivable shit to him, and the very thought that there would be nothing he could do about it set her heart racing.

Kayla leaned up before Jeanne had apparently reached her next orgasm, the sudden interruption in a now-familiar rhythm grabbing Lori's attention as she navigated her phone. The tiny man's legs were poking out of Kayla's mouth, kicking ferociously between fluid-stained lips. She looked at Lori, grinned, then slurped down the tiny man like he was a string of spaghetti. She tilted her head back and swallowed him whole.

Lori almost dropped her phone in shock. "What the fuck!"

"What?" Kayla asked with a giggle. Lori thought, for a moment, that she had faked it, but her mouth was clearly empty as she spoke. "You said he's invincible."

"Yeah, but now what? Do we have to wait for tomorrow to fish him out of your shit?" Lori demanded.

Winnie stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a bathrobe and holding a half-empty glass of wine in her hand. "What happened?" she asked.

Before Lori could answer, there was a startlingly loud pounding at the suite's door. "Police!" a muffled voice yelled from the other side. "Open up right now!"

Whatever mood existed in the room prior to that was scooped out instantly, replaced by abject terror. The three of them looked in complete confusion at each other, while Jeanne tried desperately to free the blindfold from her face without her hands. No words were spoken; nobody could think of the words to speak.

The door pounding with heavy strikes a second time. "I'm giving you five seconds to open up!" the voice exclaimed. "Five! Four!..."

"Get dressed," Lori hissed. The other girls scrambled away, looking for anything to cover themselves with. There was no time for her, though. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could stun the cop with her sheer nakedness and win a chance at reprieve. She wasn't comfortable with it, but it was the only thing left with only three seconds remaining.

As the count reached two... one... She swung the door open and took a massive step back. On the other side of the door were three cops. One man, two women. In the instant that the door opened, all three of them scanned her body up and down, shock on their faces. Though the man's eyes lingered a little longer, all three carried guns and seemed deathly serious.

"Hands up!" One of the women shouted. Lori complied, and was forced to her knees by a rough, gloved hand on her shoulder. "Lori Holm, you are under arrest for aggravated sexual assault. Where is Zach Smithfield?"

Lori looked over her shoulder, not sure what to say. The other two, those not blindfolded, also turned their gaze to Kayla, who stood frozen in the process of wrapping a towel around her torso. The cops caught on quickly, and the other two turned their guns on her. "Where is he?" they demanded.

Cold handcuffs wrapped around Lori's wrists, and her arms were wrenched behind her back. She was acutely aware of how the violent motion sent jiggly waves through her naked body, and wanted nothing more than some fucking clothes. But she didn't have a choice anymore. She could only watch as the cops demanded that Kayla puke up the shrunken man. Tears streaming down her face, the drunk woman admitted that she couldn't do it.

They fed her a pill, and, in seconds, the shrunken man came forth amidst a wave of wine and half-digested food. She wasn't sure what happened next, though, as the cops wrenched her to her feet and escorted her, naked and barefoot, out of the hotel room and towards the squad car.

Holy shit. How had it gone so wrong so quickly?

Now Boarding... by tallie
Author's Notes:

Anita has some more fun with her new toy in the airport. Vaginal insertion, giantess masturbation, and almost-vore.

"No, he doesn't own this company, I do," Anita said. Her voice was getting loud, and there were eyes turning towards her. "Pfizer doesn't touch him, so he shouldn't get his panties in a wad over it."

A voice of dissent, a totally reasonable voice of dissent, buzzed into her ear from her phone. Annoyed at the airport's delays and flushed with sexual frustration, Anita didn't give the voice the chance to make its argument, cutting it off after only a few seconds. "No, no, no. I'm not going back to Goldman just because that fucker says that pro bono shit should torpedo the IPO unless he gets a bigger share. We had our facetime, and he's got my signature on a piece of paper, so you tell him that he has until next week. I've got a dozen emails from Credit Suisse I've been ignoring for a month."

As if insisting that he was also party to this conversation, the shrunken man inside her started struggling violently. Anita drew a sharp gasp at the sudden sensation, and struggled to keep her base instincts suppressed. Her little toy would be punished for distracting her like this, but it would take a while for her to follow through.

Anita missed the first half of what the dissenting voice said, but it sounded too reasonable, too measured for her. "Look," she said, "Dave needs us way more than we need him. We don't budge, and, if he breaks off, we sue for the travel expenses, got it?"

There was another stirring from the shrunken man. Anita felt her heartbeat quicken, and it was quickly followed by a wave of annoyance. Know your moment, she thought. You can't make me horny, and you don't want to see what happens if you try. The voice was talking, still, but she lost track of what it was saying with her focus between her legs. The line fell silent, and she realized with a start that it was her turn to talk.

"I don't care," she said. Hopefully, it was the right thing to say. "You have my position, so make it happen."

She hung up the phone with a huff and shoved it into her purse, pausing only briefly to check the time. Five minutes until they started boarding. Her heart was racing; she could practically feel the beat of her pulse in her pussy. She ground her teeth; the flight was six and a half fucking hours and there was no real privacy on an airplane. Even the bathrooms, cramped and uncomfortable as they were, were easily unlocked from the outside. Take that with the delays once they landed, and the trip back to her own house, she'd have to deal with this tiny man aggravating her for nearly eight hours before she could take care of it.

After a moment's deliberation, she approached the gate agent. "Hi," she said, her tone as bubbly as she could get it; she wasn't trying to make friends, she was just trying to keep the lust out of her voice. "I have a business call that just came up. When is the next flight to SFO? Could I change?"

The agent had barely made eye contact for a moment before he turned down to his computer, not halfway through her question. He typed for a few seconds, then said, "The next flight leaves in an hour and... nine minutes, from B31. Would you like to change?"

"Please," Anita replied, tossing her hair back with a breathy giggle. She didn't need to play ditzy if not for the fact that her living toy had suddenly started squirming even harder.

"Okay, for first class, that'll be eleven twenty-five."

Anita had her credit card out before he had even finished quoting the number. Nearly twice as expensive as the ticket had been in the first place, but whatever. She was rich. And she wanted this transaction done with as quickly as possible.

The gate agent charged her, passed on her ticket, and she snapped it out of his hands. The only place she could get any real privacy was at the airport lounge, a terminal away, but she had an hour. She had just paid a thousand dollars for an orgasm, so that little man had better not disappoint.

Terminal, escalator, tram, another escalator, moving sidewalk, more terminal, noisy crowd of cheerleaders who didn't seem to realize they were fucking up all airport foot traffic, lounge entrance. A frustrating exchange with the lounge employee who verified her identity and ticket. Finally, Anita was headed to the relative privacy of the lounge bathrooms, her heart racing, pounding in her ears.

Fourteen minutes after being upcharged more than a thousand dollars for the privilege of being delayed an hour, she slammed shut the door to the spacious bathroom in the Delta lounge. She paused a moment, hand on the lock, to listen. Save for the soft white noise from the fan, it was nearly silent, all sound from the outside completely muted. She grinned, turned the lock, and slid down her pants.


Braden's experience was long, unpredictable, but somehow boring. The world that surrounded him was hot, dark, and wet. The giantess' steps reverberated powerfully through her body, shaking his fleshy prison even harder than the periodic flexing of her pelvic muslces. And, though they seemed rhythmic at times, they would start and stop without warning, and would vary wildly in intensity. Sometimes, the dull, steady thudding of her foot hitting the ground would just be the drumbeat for the gentle swaying of her hips. Other times, the impact would be so jarring that he was sure that he would be shaken free from his fleshy prison.

The only constant was the heat, which pressed in from all sides, making his already claustrophobic confines almost nightmarish, and the fluid, which filled every tiny gap between him and the flesh around him. The slimy, salty taste filled his mouth, his nose, and his lungs with every labored breath. It covered every inch of his body and every texture of the squishy surface around him. Over the subtle thudding of the giantess' heartbeat and the noisier pounding of her footsteps, every move he made created a disgusting, squelching sound of wet flesh against flesh.

He hung upside-down, the blood pooling in his head. It made her swaying gait that much more confusing, and it was really difficult for him to make sense of where he was or what was happening. Was she walking? Was she sitting? Lying down? He had lost all frame of reference. Only the rhythm of her heartbeat helped to tell the time, but the chaos of her motion told him nothing about what was happening in the outside world.

He fought and kicked occasionally, when he got so frustrated with the boredom that he couldn't take it anymore. Anita would quickly punish him for his efforts, her pelvic muscles squeezing around his tiny body like a vice. He didn't realize that the soft, pliant flesh of her vagina could turn so hard so quickly, but he learned quickly how strong this woman was. The breath was forced from his lungs and his limbs, already pinned to his sides, cracked painfully under the pressure. He was sure it would have killed him if he hadn't already survived worse.

It was when he heard her speaking that he really fought, refusing to still even under the brutal pressure of her pelvic muscles. If she was speaking, there was a chance that there was another person in the room with her, and he might be able to set her off-kilter enough that the other person would realize something was wrong. He paid for his efforts in the constant, suffocating flow of lubricant from the walls all around him, and the painful, crushing force of her vaginal walls clamping down on him, but it would be worth it if he could escape.

The giantess' fingers plunged suddenly into his flesh-filled world, barging in with a deafening sound and a sudden rush of light and fresh air. They clamped around his chest, and he was dragged out into the open world in an instant.

The transition was so violent that he didn't even realize that he was falling until he had hit the ground. Gasping like a drowned man, squirming like a fish out of water, he completely failed to comprehend the situation around him until his senses finally adjusted to the jarring transition.

Braden spent a long moment in dazed confusion. Cold tiles at his back, a giantess standing over him, naked from the waist down, with fluorescent lights above her. He could smell the sterile scent of cleaning fluid. He could even see a door just overhead, and it was... smaller, somehow.

It took a moment to click. Anita had pulled him out of her vagina, and, in that brief moment of disorientation, she had sized him up. He was a foot tall now, maybe even two.

Large enough to escape! He fought to get to his feet, opening his mouth to yell, when Anita, her naked legs straddling him, came crashing down with frightening speed. Her knees hit the floor just as her crotch hit his face. He felt the wet smear of lubricant on his forehead just before his skull cracked into the tiles beneath him. Stars danced in his vision at the impact, and his shout died in his throat. It took a moment for him to recover his senses, and, when he did, the giantess' massive hand was on the back of his head, and pushed him relentlessly into her crotch.

He yelped in surprise, but his voice was muffled by the flesh that filled his mouth. In an instant, all he could see and taste was the pussy that he had been trapped in not moments before. He was bigger now, sure, but the thin line of wrinkled flesh that was her labia seemed a foot long. His entire head fit comfortably in the palm of her hand; he couldn't fit inside her at this size, and he couldn't do anything to really please her, so what the hell did she want?

"Eat me," she ordered, pushing his face a little harder into her crotch. He squirmed and sputtered, but he couldn't escape her. "You have five minutes. Eat me, or I eat you."

What the hell did he know about eating out a woman? That was for straight dudes, you bitch, and you picked a gay one. Still, after she punished his flailing by squeezing his shrunken head brutally between her thighs, Braden settled his tiny hands on her crotch and started licking and sucking as best he could.

The clit, right? That was what he needed to find? But where the hell was that? Up or down? Was it inside? He had no idea. He didn't really have any control over the matter; the giantess put his head wherever she wanted it to be, moving him back and forth at the same time that she ground her crotch over his face. The flesh between her legs was a brown blur, and the noise was so loud and wet that he was sure someone would hear.

Braden just had to endure, to keep licking and sucking and hope that Anita would put him in the right spot. He had suffered under this heat and smell and taste for days now, trapped either in her panties or in her actual vagina, but it was worse, somehow, to know that the fresh air was right there. He could feel it on his skin, almost chilling, but he was denied the taste of anything but the giantess' pussy. He fought not to gag.

Finally, and probably through no effort of his own, the giantess came. Her entire body shivered; he could feel that happen; and her legs squeezed hard around his head. Hard. Had she orgasmed or was she trying to crush a watermelon between her thighs? Her gasps were so loud, so desperate, that he was sure someone would hear, and at least think that someone needed to be rescued.

No such luck. When the massive woman finally stopped shaking, Braden felt that drop in the pit of his stomach that said he was shrinking again. Sure enough, her pussy grew even more terrifying in size, until he could once again slide effortlessly into it and be lost forever.

And Anita didn't waste any time. She pressed his tiny body, four, maybe five inches, between her labia, until his face was pushed hard against the slimy pink flesh beneath, and her middle finger guided his legs into the warm, wet tunnel of her vagina.

Not again, please. She slid him in slowly, and he dreaded that moment when his view of the outside world was replaced by the darkness of her body, but she stopped just before then. His arms dangling over his head, he was just barely free of her body; he didn't have the position or the leverage to free himself, but he at least could enjoy the privilege of fresh air, for as long as it lasted. Below him, the giantess' bare legs seemed like smooth, fleshy pillars, stretching far down to her bare feet on the floor. Bare feet in a public bathroom. Interesting.

Anita's hand came back down and pinched his dangling arms between her fingers, dragging him out of her body in a terrifyingly rapid action. The fresh air hit his fluid-soaked body in a sudden shock, and then there was a blur of motion. Brown flesh, dull-painted walls, fluorescent lights, a blue T-shirt, and then suddenly the giantess' face. Her dark brown eyes seemed to bore directly into his soul, her expression unreadable. Whatever came next, though, it couldn't be good.

She lifted him further up and tilted her head back, opening her mouth. Braden stared for a second down the fleshy pink tunnel of her throat before his brain finally realized the threat, and he started to kick and squirm. But, by that point, she had already lowered him down, and his legs were kicking against her teeth. Her lips closed around his lower body, her hand let go, and, with a sudden jerk, he was sucked into her mouth all the way up to his neck.

She could bite his head off right now. Or could she? She could swallow him, surely, but how immortal was he? His right arm was still free, but his left had been sucked in between her lips and her teeth. But even through the panic, he knew that, at his size, there was nothing he could do to fight her. He was totally at her mercy. If she wanted him in her stomach, on the floor, or just as a piece of human chewing gum, he wouldn't be able to do shit to stop her.

That knowledge, even after all this time, didn't quell his instinctive struggles. Below his shoulders, he could feel the giantess' tongue tossing his body around effortlessly, the giantes demonstrating, maybe not even on purpose, her total control over him. In a sudden, terrifying movement, he was tossed upside-down, left staring up at the giantess' nostrils, before her tongue twisted him back around again.

Just finish it, bitch, he thought. I'm not your plaything.

Her hand came out of nowhere, grabbing his free arm between thumb and forefinger. The pressure was tremendous; it should have shattered his bones, but he barely felt any pain. In a single, violent jerk that absolutely should have ripped his arm from its socket, he was pulled out into the open air, hanging by his wrist above the giantess' face.

At his size, in his position, the massive woman's expression was extremely difficult to read. Every facial feature, every wrinkle, was a landmark, so it was hard to take the full picture in. Except now. Anita was horny. There was no other way to put it. The way she chewed on her lips, the way she cast her eyes towards him, even the red flush to her cheeks that shone through her darkened skin.

Braden's heart sank. It was nowhere near over for him.


It took a minute for Anita to catch her breath, staring hungrily at the tiny man dangling in front of her face. She had no idea how good it would feel to force him to eat her out at a fifth of normal size. Maybe it was his shrunken face, maybe it was his earnest efforts, maybe it was her own desperation, but she hadn't come that hard in her entire life.

Lost in lust, she had shoved him bodily up her vagina, then sucked the fluids off his body. The taste was rich and more than a little salty, and it only helped to stoke the fire of her libido.

That was a thousand-dollar orgasm, she thought with a sigh. He owed her at least one more, and she had time to make it happen. Holding the little man in front of her by his wrist, she swung him back and forth playfully. His frightened expression and panicked scrambling was nothing if not entertaining. Should she tell him what was in store?


Anita leaned against the wall, spreading her legs and bringing the shrunken man between them. She rubbed his tiny face against her clit in fast, brutal circles, turned on as much by the stimulation as by the idea of torturing her shrunken toy. Within minutes, her masturbation had turned furious, and she was plunging the little man in and out of her vagina over and over again.

Fuck yeah, you little bitch. Take it. You belong to me now.

An Adventurous Couple by tallie
Author's Notes:

In which I indulgently update a story I enjoy writing rather than the ones I have neglected. Couples sex, micro unbirthing, bodily fluids, cuckolding, oral sex, and a bit of female domination.

"Thanks again, so much, for coming early," Vicky said, glancing lovingly at her husband. "We really wanted to get to know you before... well..."

Liam smiled, "You know, I didn't expect to meet such generous people through this app." He laughed, looking down at his lap. "Honestly, I swiped left on you guys the first time."

Vicky laughed, and Garrett joined her. "So you've got Premium, I guess?" Garrett asked.

"So do we," Vicky said, reaching across the table with her hand. Her husband grabbed it and squeezed it affectionately. "But we've never tried anything like this..."

"Me neither," Liam admitted. A lie, but the first time was an awkward mess. It was fair to call a mulligan, right? "I probably wouldn't have even offered, but I was bored... and drunk..." He spread his arms. "I'm not proud of it, but here we are!"

Vicky and Garrett laughed again. Liam continued, "And now I'm glad it happened. You are such a lovely couple."

The pair of them looked lovingly into each other's eyes for a long, uncomfortable moment that made Liam feel like the third wheel again. He was, but he didn't enjoy feeling that way. He shifted his chair, creating a noisy squeak of wood against wood.

At the sound, Vicky broke her gaze and said, without missing a beat, "Maybe a glass of wine?"

"Maybe two?" Garrett responded, a wicked grin growing across his face.

"You are too kind," Liam told them.

Within an hour, or maybe two, they all had wine glasses in front of them that had been filled and emptied six times over. The empty bottles stood proud at the center of the table, bearing price tags from ten to a hundred dollars. Regardless of the cost, though, it had done more than enough to loosen up their tongues.

"Do you think we should film it?" Vicky asked, giggling.

"I don't want to," Liam said, "But if you do..."

"Oh, God no," responded Garrett. "I'm sure someone is gonna find it... and then it goes on Pornhub... and then we all lose our jobs..."

"Don't be such a narc, Gare," said Vicky. She was all smiles, and starting to get a little sloppy. "Liam..." She leaned towards him and raised her nearly-empty wine glass in a salute, "Is our guest."

"I don't see..." Liam interjected.

"Fine," Garrett said. "I'd love to see it later. But it'll be on my phone, got it?"

Vicky didn't say anything in response, she just smiled, and then bit at her husband. Even through the wine, Liam had the presence of mind to wonder what the hell he was getting into.

But it didn't matter. After the seventh, maybe the eighth glass, they were all in the bedroom together. Garrett's phone was propped up on the dresser, already recording what was going on in the privacy of the couple's bedroom. Liam and Garrett were both naked from head to toe, and Vicky lay luxuriously on the bed, wearing nothing but her panties. Liam couldn't help but steal a glance at her tits whenever he had the chance.

She definitely noticed, and she liked it. Her right hand came down to caress her own breasts slowly, sensually. "You ready?" she asked.

"Ready," Garrett said breathlessly. His stiff erection wasn't the only one in the room.

"Take my hand," Vicky said. Garrett complied, his penis bouncing comically with even the slightest movement, as Liam grabbed his own phone and hit the 'shrink' button.

Garrett began to fall into himself with stunning speed. In a second, he was barely three feet all, struggling to hold onto his wife's hand. In five, he was so small that he was swinging helplessly by his arm trapped in Vicky's fist. After only ten seconds, he was nothing more than a mote of dust stranded in the vast field of his wife's palm.

Vicky smiled with love and lust. She plucked her tiny speck of a husband out of her palm, and opened up the waistband of her panties. Liam's breath quickened as she lowered her hand down between her legs, into her underwear, and did... something.

Where the hell was her husband now? Did it matter? He was practically invincible, and he had signed up for this. Liam's heart was racing, and his penis was painfully erect at this point.

"I want to feel him inside me," Vicky moaned. Her fists gripped the bedsheets beneath her, and she spread her legs wide. "Come on, put my husband all the way inside me."

Oh, fuck yes. Liam all but ripped Vicky's panties off, leaving her stark naked with her back against the mattress. And she fucking wanted it, her face flushed and her breath fast. He grabbed her legs and dragged her towards him, and she gasped like he had already entered her. Just wait, you horny bitch.

Her pussy was spread wide before him like a fleshy-pink flower. Somewhere down there, maybe in there, was her husband. He slapped his erect cock against it once or twice, he rubbed it up and down, and she loved every minute of it. Finally, bracing himself against her hips, he positioned himself, and rammed his cock as deep as it would go into her.

The moan that came from her lips would have been guaranteed to make her husband jealous, if he could hear it. But he couldn't. He was an insignificant dot between two giants making love, and he had no control over whatever happened for the next two hours. It was time to give this cuckold the fantasy he longed for.


Vicky wasted no time. As Garrett shrank with frightening speed, she barely waited until he was the right size before she pulled open the waistband to her panties and shoved him into her crotch. By the time he had finished shrinking, the tip of her middle finger was ten times large as his entire body, and had shoved him as far into her vagina as he could go.

With a noisy, wet, fleshy sound, his wife's finger retreated, leaving him stranded amidst an infinite world of fluid, flesh, and heat. The stench, the taste, he knew it well; this was his wife; but the intimacy was like nothing he had ever experienced. He was in her, he was a part of her, her heartbeat pounded at him deafeningly from all sides. He felt like he knew her better than any husband could hope. If only she could come to know him like this.

Her body moved chaotically. He could feel it, though the heat, the fluid, and the pounding of her heartbeat was constant. He knew what was coming next; even though he had signed up for it, he wasn't sure he was ready.

The giant's cock plunged deep into the giantess' vagina with stunning speed, shoving him forcefully against the soft flesh, with a rock-hard body pressing relentlessly against his back. In that moment, with his wife fully penetrated, he could feel two competing heartbeats pulsing against his skin and pounding in his ears. The massive body at his back and the elastic flesh on his face had him completely pinned; he couldn't move if he wanted to.

Then the giant pulled out. Garrett was caught beneath the head of his cock for a moment, then rolled brutally along before he was deposited on the walls of his wife's vagina as the giant's penis slid out effortlessly.

That wasn't at all as fun as he had hoped. It was torture, to be honest. Could he call it quits now? Tell Liam that he wanted no part of this?

No, of course he couldn't. He was the size of a grain of sand. He'd survive everything, but he had no control over anything. Liam would have his way with Vicky, his wife, and Garrett had no control over it. Worse, he realized, he had volunteered to do this.

With that bitter realization, the giant's cock came plunging back into his world of flesh. Then, in a blur of fluid and noise, it left. And then it came back. And then it left, and came back, and left, and came back...

It was never-ending. Holy shit. Garrett was tossed around helplessly by the chaotic motion of the giant and giantess, too small for either of them to even feel his presence. Only once did he even have a chance of escaping. As Liam pulled his cock out, Garrett was rolled helplessly betwen the the giant's penis and the giantess' vagina, and found himself caught to the tip of Liam's cock, stuck beneath a sticky layer of lubricant.

Why the giant had pulled all the way out was a mystery to him, but he could see, through the haze of his wife's vaginal fluids, what was going on in the outside world. Vicky's legs were spread wide, her back on their bed, and Liam was leaning over her, sucking hard on her tits.

Garrett's indignation was short-lived, as his vantage point disappeared when the giant's cock slid effortlessly back into the giantess' vagina. And the chaos of their sex continued unabated. Garrett breathed deep lungfuls of his wife's bodily fluids as he was tossed brutally back and forth inside her vagina.

Finally, it came to its inevitable end. Pinned beneath the head of the giant's dick, Garrett had no escape. Rapid, competing heartbeats pressed against him from all sides, and then a massive torrent of hot, white cum came shooting out of the man's cock, right into his face.

At his size, the release was a torrent, a tidal wave of bodily fluids. The hot, salty taste was inescapable; it filled his mouth, it filled his lungs, it surrounded his entire body. The powerful flow carried him helplessly along, slamming him painfully against every nearby surface and leaving him completely disoriented.

He wasn't sure at what point it was clear that he had passed through Vicky's cervix and into her womb. Maybe it was when the giant had finished, maybe it was before, maybe it was after. All he could say for sure was that he suddenly found himself floating at the top of a pool of cloudy white fluid. Smooth, deep red flesh surrounded him on all sides, pressing down to create a surprisingly small chamber.

As if from miles away and through tons of flesh, he could hear his wife breathing deep, pleasured gasps. Each subtle motion of her body sent chaotic waves through the thin pool of bodily fluids he floated on top of. He had to fight to keep on top of it, to breathe the humid, reeking air of the space above rather than the hot, slimy fluid below. But it got way worse when she decided to move.

In an abrupt and unexpected shift, gravity tilted in the wrong direction, and he crashed against the opposite wall of Vicky's womb, the sticky pool of cum following immediately after him. The fluid hit him like a waterfall, leaving him drowning in opaque white liquid that flooded his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his lungs. He tried to struggle his way back to the surface, but the giantess was moving too much. He was tossed around with the bodily fluids, sucked beneath the surface every time he managed to get above it, unable to catch a breath of anything but the hot, salty mix of human excretion.

He felt as if he was a shipwrecked sailor trying to tread water in a throes of a hurricane. But he was merely a shrunken man trying not to swallow another man's cum in a pathetic, milliliters'-thick pool at the bottom of his own wife's uterus.

It was a nightmare, but it was the hottest thing he had ever experienced.


Vicky was no bitch. Her fingers were tangled in Liam's hair, and she sat on top of his face. "My husband has to taste your cum, so you do too," she ordered. She pushed his head between her legs with force, "And God help you if you swallow him."

Liam's face was buried in her crotch, his head caught between her thighs. He had fucked her good. Shit, she wouldn't forget that orgasm anytime soon. But he had agreed to more than a single fuck. Just as he had total control over her husband now, she had total control over him.

He had fucked her with Garrett inside her, the size of a mote of dust. She loved the idea, and she wanted nothing more than to have her husband trapped in her uterus; he'd be a total slave to her body, imprisoned inside her, totally invincible until she decided to make him small enough that he'd be carried out with her period.

But now she had a new man, one whose body meant nothing to her, and one who had agreed to a near-lifetime of her control, intermittent though it was. He thought it would only last for two hours, but he had missed the fine print; her Syze match had control over her husband for two hours, but she had control over him for every weekend for the next twenty years. Maybe she'd force him to live in her vagina, as vestigtes of his own cum dripped onto his body. Head up or head down? She liked the idea of those hot, viscuous drops sliding down his body, enveloping his face with slow inevitability.

Or maybe she could shrink him down to the insignificant speck that her husband was. She could recover Garrett and do some absolutely unforgiveable shit to Liam while he remained trapped inside her. She could leave him in there, and force him to not only taste his own cum, but her husband's as well.

Ooh, Garrett would like that.

But here he was, probably not even noticing that Vicky had shrunk him about a foot shorter than normal, with his head trapped between her legs. Her thighs held him fast and her hands pushed him against her crotch. He wasn't putting any effort in, so she just slid up and down across his face. She didn't even bother looking down, but she gasped, imagining that she was smearing him with his own cum.

"Yeah..." she moaned. "You like that? Taste it. That's you, maybe with a little bit of me. Maybe with a little bit of my husband. Don't you dare fucking swallow."

At that moment, his tongue entered her, and she held him still with a sudden gasp. "Oh, yeah... Put it back in me..." She was getting there, and started rubbing against him again. "You like that, don't you?" The man who fucked her silly was under her total control now. "You wanna be in there, I bet... Fuck yeah..." It was getting faster. "Come on..." Faster. "Please!" Faster! "Oh..... Fuck!"

She came hard. Again. Her legs squeezed hard around Liam's head even as her hands sought to push him away. It seemed to last forever, her entire body lost in ecstasy, the suffocating man trapped against her pussy totally lost to her mind as every muscle from head to toe seized up. An eternity spent in Elysium, then, in an instant, back to earth.

She went limp, letting Garrett go as she gasped for breath. He fell backwards, wiping his face and breathing heavy. "Christ," he said. "That was..."

Vicky already had her phone in hand, and had hit the button to shrink him down to even smaller than her husband before he even started speaking. It took a second for it to kick in, but he was half his normal size before he could even finish speaking, and shrinking fast.

She sighed and rolled out of bed as he shrank. Don't want to lose him in the carpet. He was doll-sized by the time she grabbed his arm, and kept shrinking until she had him pinched between thumb and middle finger, the size of a grain of salt.

She crashed back onto the bed and spread her legs. She could feel the cool air on her soaked crotch, fluid dribbling out with every breath. A little bit had dripped onto the floor when she climbed to her feet to grab her rapidly-shrinking weekend toy. Now, trapped against her middle finger, she shoved him carelessly into her vagina, as deep as she could go, moaning uncomfortably at the sensation of penetration through sore flesh. Christ, every pulse of her heartbeat was a dull, painful throb between her legs.

With the shrunken man secured deep inside her body, Vicky breathed a deep sigh, and her head fell into her pillow. She had her lover-turned-sex-toy drowning in his own cum deep in her pussy, and her cuckold husband was living, helpless, in her womb.

She was a goddess. And, if anyone disagreed, they could join the two men inside her and ask them.

Your Flight Has Been Delayed by tallie
Author's Notes:

Anita enjoys a high-cost moment of intimacy, and Braden suffers under her base desires. Domination and some vore, but mostly plot.

Anita managed to get it down to just a hair over two hundred dollars an orgasm before her body just wouldn't take it anymore. Breathing heavy, her hair a mess, she couldn't even bear the thought of laying a single finger on the sore flesh between her legs. Even the idea of stowing the shrunken man in her panties seemed painful.

She was slouched on the toilet, her pants, underwear, and even her shoes piled up in the corner of the stall, gripping her living sex toy loosely in her right hand. She couldn't take any more, but fuck that was fun. Exhausted, she raised her right hand and looked at the tiny man, soaked from head to toe in her own bodily fluids. "Was that too much for you?"

He didn't respond, at least, not that she could hear. She huffed, and heaved herself to her feet with a grunt. All she knew about this guy was the sparse details on his Syze profile, and he had given her more sexual satisfaction than any man in her entire life. She checked her watch. Twenty-three minutes to boarding. Maybe she could get to know a little bit about this man that she owned.

She slid his tiny body into the sink and pulled out her phone, sizing him up just enough that she could hear his voice, but that he wouldn't be able scale the walls of his porcelain holding cell. He was a little over six inches tall when she leaned down, a satisfied grin on her face. "You did good," she told him. Thinking about the last twenty minutes, she let loose a breathy giggle and tossed her hair aside. "Real good. Tell me about yourself."

In response, the tiny man raised his tiny middle finger and said, in his tiny voice, "Fuck you."

Anita didn't let her disappointment show on her face. She brought her left hand down to the shrunken man and brushed the side of his face with her forefinger. He recoiled visibly. "Come on," she purred. "I've never felt that good before. Just tell me your name... Please?"

He paused, but her tone of voice clearly got to him. "Braden," he admitted eventually. "Braden Walsh."

"Well, Braden, it's good to meet you," she said. "I'm Anita. Seems weird to have introductions after..." she checked her watch, and chuckled, "Oh, God. Seven days! Have you had fun?"

"No," he responded.

"No?" Anita asked, feigning shock. She leaned forward, bringing her face down to the point where she knew that it would be all the little man would be able to see. "Don't you like me?"

Braden took a step back. His expression was nothing if not deeply uncomfortable. "No, I..." He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why are you doing this?"

Anita smiled, as if explaining something obvious to a child, "Well, because I own you, silly." She shrugged innocently. "I wanted to do it, so I did. Didn't you like it?"

The shrunken man had nothing to say for a long time. Eventually, he finally spoke up in a sheepish, almost desperate voice, "So when can I go home?"

"Home?" Anita asked, as empathatically as she could manage. She stared at him like she imagined his own mother would. "You are home. You belong to me."

The dispair on his face was clear, she could practically watch him working through the stages of grief. She stroked the side of his face with her massive finger again, "Oh, come on," she said gently. "It's not that bad. I don't hate you. I just own you. And you're my most treasured posession."

She straightened up, squaring herself up against the sink. "Now, come on. We've got a flight to catch. Where do you want to go?"

Braden stared up at her, speechless. Fuck, was he crying? She chose to ignore it. "Come on," she said, her voice low and dripping with sensuality. She hiked one leg over the side of the sink, then the other, resting her entire body weight on the porcelain. The tiny man's head was level with her clean-shaven crotch. "You wanna go in there again? Just a few hours? Maybe we'll have some fun in the bathroom?"

The shrunken man was already drifting backwards as she spoke, and fell flat on his ass when he hit the far end of the sink, staring at her pussy with fear and disbelief. "Come on," she purred. "Just get in there."

Again, he didn't respond, so she lowered her hands between her legs and spread her vulva open, baring the soft flesh beneath to the cool outside air. Fortunately, he didn't see her wince at the discomfort of touching the overstimulated, blood-flushed flesh. "I'll help you, if you need it. It's warm... and cozy... and safe..."

Braden didn't move. If anything, he curled up a little tighter against the wall of the sink, as if he could somehow escape someone twenty times his size. Anita had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes.

"You don't wanna go in my vagina?" she asked. She giggled. "Well, it's a long flight, I've gotta keep you somewhere safe."

She slid off the sink and moved to grab her discarded clothes. "Tell you what," she said. "I'll swallow you. That way, no matter what happens, you'll be safe inside me, and I won't get tempted by that awful airplane food. Win-win, right?"

Whatever the little man said, she was too far away, and the sound of her clothes sliding up her legs was too loud, for her to hear it. She didn't care, anyway. "Yeah, I like that," she decided. She grabbed her phone and shrunk him down to a single inch in size.

Braden, trapped in the bowl of the sink, tried and failed to escape her seeking fingers. She pinched him between thumb and forefinger and stuck him in her mouth without a second thought.

He could live there until she got bored with sucking on him, and then she'd swallow him and size him up to keep him from sliding further down into her intestines. You failed your interview, little man. This is a one-way relationship from now on. You will take whatever the fuck I want, and you will enjoy it, or you will suffer the consequences.


What the fuck.

The giantess' tongue was a force of nature, completely unbeatable. It rolled him around, shoving him into her cheek, pressing him against the roof of her tongue, even sliding him underneath its slimy, twitching body. But, no matter what it did, he was powerless to resist. The heat was suffocating, and her saliva coated his entire body, but, worst of all was the knowledge that, at any moment, she could toss him around inside her mouth without warning. She was playing with his body like he was nothing more than a piece of hard candy.

What the fuck.

That had been a moment of sincerity from the giantess. Or so he thought. In the midst of his disorientation, his exhaustion, he didn't realize that it had been the expression of some kind of twisted, perverted domination fantasy until it was far too late. There was nothing he could have done, short of voluntarily shoving himself into her vagina... the very thought of it gave him the shivers... that would have changed what happened.

What the fuck.

This couldn't be his life, could it? He downloaded a dating app and suddenly he was a slave to a billionaire? A billionare who had absolutely no accountability for whatever she wanted to do with him? It seemed impossible, and yet here he was. A human being, with a life of his own, with a boyfriend who had no idea where he was, and he was being treated like a piece of hard candy by a woman who clearly didn't care whether he lived or died.

After five minutes, thirty, maybe even an hour of this torture, Anita's tongue twisted around and, in a chaotic motion, tucked him into her cheek. And then she spoke. Braden knew nothing about what she said, why she said it, or who she said it to, but the words she spoke shook his bones.

"What the fuck."

Exactly my point, he thought. But no context was forthcoming, as her tongue scooped him out from her cheek and pressed him up against the roof of her mouth. There was a moment, trapped between the hard surface of her palate and the soft muscle of her tongue, where he was completely sealed in flesh and the next move was a mystery. And then she swallowed.

He plummeted headfirst down her throat, and, aided by the pulsing muscles of her esophagos, he was sucked deeper, deeper, deeper into her body. The deep, bassy pounding of her heartbeat was deafening, rising in volume as he sank down towards her stomach, and then fading slightly as he fell even further down. The wet, fleshy sound of flexing flesh was the only constant, until he slid headfirst into her stomach.

He hit the slimy, deeply-wrinkled flesh hard, as if her throat had propelled him into it. By the time he had recovered his bearings, he was already growing.

It was slow, but he had entered the giantess' stomach as such a pathetically small figure that even a minor change in his size was noticeable. The already tight chamber grew smaller and smaller, until it was pressing him on all sides. The hole that he had slid through on his way in was now so small that he wouldn't be able to force his way through it even if he tried, and whatever path led deeper into her body was completely out of the question.

Braden screamed in frustration, but his voice was lost to the tons of flesh that surrounded him, drowned out by the pounding heartbeat that filled his world. Was this it? The freedom and fresh air of the outside world would never exist for him again? He had to live fastened to the flesh of this woman, or worse, inside her, forever?

What the fuck.

Pet the Tyger by tallie
Author's Notes:

An interim from the shady interior of a west-coast size-related sex shop. An exploration into the extended world of the size-related service economy. Almost no real sexual content whatsoever, but an endless realm of possibilites.

"Well, did you bring a shrunken match with you?"

Kayley fidgeted nervously, chewing on her thumb, looking at the dizzying array of colorful products that surrounded her in the cubbyhole shop. "No..." she muttered.


"No," she said, a little louder. "Should I have? I mean..."

"Oh, you don't have to," the sales clerk said cheerfully; what did she say her name was again? Right, Katrina, it was written right on her chest. "Some people just like to try things out to see if they fit."

"You mean like..." How could she phrase this? "Like in the dressing room?"

"Oh, no, we're not allowed to do that," Katrina said with a giggle. "People just want to see how their match fits. Here, follow me."

Kayley followed Katrina uncertainly through the narrow shelves and to the checkout counter at the back. There was a man waiting there, a hoodie over his head and glasses on. He glanced briefly at Kayley, but she shied away from eye contact. "One moment," Katrina said, bouncing behind the register to help the man check out whatever it was he was buying. Kayley wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was.

But she couldn't help but see it, apparently. In transparent clamshell packaging, a silicone penis sleeve, disturbingly realistic in texture and color, that had a clear, conspicious insert for a shrunken human being. Was he going to be in that, or was he going to be using it?

Katrina didn't even seem to care about the question, checking him out cheerily and sending him on his way with a nondescript black plastic bag. The stranger looked at Kayley only once more on his way out the door, but there was no expression visible behind his glasses. With the quiet jingle of the bell at the door, the man was gone.

"Zoey here can help you," Katrina said, looking up at Kayley, and gesturing down to the countertop. There was a shrunken woman there, a pair of eyes that Kayley had failed to notice until just now. She almost jumped out of her shoes in surprise.

The shrunken woman, Zoey, apparently, who assuredly posed no threat to her, waved in response. She was barefoot, only four, maybe five inches tall, wearing clothes that, by their shape and texture, had clearly been ripped off a Barbie doll. With her somewhat smaller size and physical proportions that were actually humanly possible, they fit poorly, but Kayley was grateful she was wearing them anyway; she wasn't ready to handle brazen nudity in this environment.

Kayley waved back, more than a little uncertain. "Are you after something specific?" Katrina asked.

"No... I don't think so..."

"Well, take your time. We'll be here if you need help."

Kayley just nodded in response, meandering down the aisles and looking at the products on the shelves. Every box featured a garish display of the product's intended use, which usually just fell a hair short of sexually explicit, but not every cover artist showed such restraint. Most of the time, there was imagery that showed shrunken men or women, fully-clothed, in innovative or somewhat suggestive positions, and the viewer's imagination could do the rest. Occasionally, an enterprising artist would show them interacting with a mockup of a human body part that had all the biological fidelity of a sexless crash dummy.

The massive rack of dildos and buttplugs that could hold a tiny, for example, tended to have little more information than a picture of a shrunken person photoshopped into the body of the sex toy. On the other hand, the jewlery that would keep a shrunken match, or multiple matches in some cases, trapped against her most sensitive body parts showed their product interacting with a diagram that had the vaguest intimation of female anatomy, complete with a featureless stick figure playing the role of the tiny. The bra that had cups made almost entirely of strings of dozens of one-inch shrinkees made her giggle; who the hell had the time for that?

It was those few products that showed explicitly, graphically, damn near pornographically what the shrunken person would do to a larger person's genitals that set her off-balance.

Although she had to admit that it wasn't all bad. She caught herself staring for an inappropriately long time at some cover art that showed a shrunken man, caught immobile and upright in a crafty, vaguely phallic silicone coffin, with a plastic tube shoved up his ass, and a fountain of opaque, white cum lube erupting from his mouth.

A shrunken man reduced to nothing more than a penis, complete with a messy spray of slimy fluid. How appropriate. But to imagine herself used that way? A river of sticky fluid pumped up her asshole, running through her entire body, and spraying from her mouth without her will or consent? And, of course, it would happen while she herself was subjected to the brutal heat and pressure of a stranger's insides. It was off-putting, but it wasn't as disturbing as she thought. Hell, she was surprised to learn that a tiny could even survive it.

God, she hoped that wasn't a new fetish.

It wasn't what she was after, though, and she was a bit embarassed to even be looking at it, so she continued on her search. There were shoe insole prisons of all types and sizes, variety that she could barely believe people even wanted. There were underwear, for both men and women, that held a shrunken toy of every conceivable size in every conceivable position. More than a few involved vibrators. One particularly intrusive design would keep an inch-tall tiny fastened permanently against a woman's clitoris, able to move but unable to escape. That was intriguing, but it wasn't exactly what she was after.

Maybe it was the best thing available, though. She headed back to the register, "Excuse me," she said, still deeply uncomfortable to be discussing this to a stranger, or to two, "But I'm not sure..."

"What are you looking for?" Katrina asked cheerfully, after Kayley's voice trailed off. "Is it for him or for her?"

"For her," she muttered. "Something that puts the tiny in control. You know..." She pointed between her own legs, "Down there."

"Oh, that's exciting!" Katrina exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Is it forced orgasm or edging?"

"Oh! I don't... I can't..."

The sales clerk continued without skipping a beat, "Tell you what, I'll show you what we have and you can choose for yourself. Just wait right there."

Kayley nodded, and Katrina practically skipped through the store, grabbing one or two products off of each shelf, with a cheerful whimsy that made her seem like she was auditioning for a Disney cartoon. Her bubbly energy did lighten the mood a bit, and Kayley had to let herself crack a smile. It was an awkward place and it was an awkward thing that she was doing, but Katrina made the whole thing seem much more comfortable.

The clerk dumped the pile of boxes onto the counter, and held one up for Kayley to see. "Look at this. Little guy is stuck on your clit. It feels great when he moves, but he can't escape and nobody knows he's there."

"I don't think so," said Kayley.

"How about these?" Katrina asked, tossing the box, unopened, to the floor. "Zoey, come here. Neither of these are great for the tiny, but, here..." She opened a box and pulled out a bizarre contraption built from an inoffensive pair of panties and an inventive silicone shape. Kayley watched, captivated, as Katrina scooped the shrunken woman up off the counter and expertly fit her tiny body into the silicone protrusion, then lifted the toy up for Kayley to see.

"Look! Every step you take, they rub up against your G-spot!" She rocked the panties back and forth in a cartoonish show of the rhythm of her walking. "They can't move, but they're stuck inside you, and they'll be edging you all day. We've got another one that works on your clit, but the tiny has to be smaller."

Kayley was barely able to focus, her eyes fixed on Zoey's completely submissive position. Spread-eagled, trapped in a rubber prison, doomed to rub her face against another woman's G-spot without any chance of reprieve... What went through her head in that moment when Katrina had fastened her into the toy? When she had been tossed cartoonishly back and forth to show how her misery could provide some small pleasure to a giantess? Kayley shook her head. The other woman's comfort with this stuff did nothing for her in figuring out how to communicate what she wanted tactfully. "I don't think so," she said again.

"So you want the tiny to be totally in control?" Katrina asked. "All the time? No matter what you do?"

Kayley nodded; thank God she didn't have to say it herself.

"Oh." The clerk removed her shrunken coworker from her silicone prison, set her down on the counter, and tossed the panty toy carelessly behind her. Kayley couldn't help but be captivated with the simple act; Zoey had been shoved bodily, helplessly, into a purpose-built prison embedded in a sex toy, and dislodged just as abruptly. What was that like for her? What was it like to be so helpless in such a dangerous, intimate situation? "We definitely have that, but it's gonna be more expensive."


"This one is complicated," she said, producing a brochure from under the desk and opening it up. "Official Syze brand. Take a look."

Inside the brochure were several tasteful, relatively inoffensive line drawings showing multiple arrangements of multiple toys against a woman's anatomy. Every conceivable arrangement of penetration and stimulation seemed to be included, with every possible position for the tiny, and an unsubtle graphic indicating where the vibrating element, or elements in some cases, were located.

"This is the best one," Katrina said, pointing at the most complex, most expensive model, commanding an eye-popping price tag of nearly two hundred and fifty dollars. "There's one part for your clit, one part that goes inside you, and another part that tickles your asshole, and the tiny can go wherever, depending on his size. Look, each insert for the tiny can be filled with a little vibrator, and the tiny can control all of them with these miniature buttons that are built into their inserts."

"Wow," Kayley said, looking at the impressive layout. It even had straps, like it was its own piece of underwear, to keep it hoisted up on your hips. "Seems... heavy."

"It depends on how big the tiny is. But people seem to love it," Katrina responded. She dropped her voice to a whisper and leaned forward, "Zoey got caught with one inside her for the whole work day. That's why she had to be the shrink demo."

"Hey!" called a voice, weak, tinny, and indignant.

"I'm teasing, Zoe!" Katrina giggled. "She actually did it for a week."

The shrunken woman on the counter tried to look mad, but, at her size and in her ill-fitting Barbie outfit, she just looked ridiculous. Kayley didn't want to diminish her outrage by finding it funny, but she couldn't suppress the smile.

"Anywho, all the rest of the models are kinda just like that, you know?" Katrina said, flipping through the pages and pointing at the others. "The tiny controls the vibration, and you can put them wherever you want." She looked up at Kayley and winked. "Or you can go wherever you want, if that's your thing."

Kayley giggled nervously. She still wasn't that comfortable about it. She made a show of looking really intently at the brochure, absorbing no information whatsoever while she tried to suppress her embarassment. She caught herself chewing on her thumb again, and shoved her hand in her pocket. After a moment, she pointed at one of the models and said, "That one looks good."

The one hundred and forty-nine dollar price tag didn't, but it would be worth it, she hoped. There were four spots for the tiny in this one; the clit, and three places on the bulk of the body that was supposed to go into the vagina. Besides the one that would be positioned on her clit, there was another for her G-spot, a third at the base of the flange, right at the entrance to her vagina, and the last on the very top of the dildo. All but but the spot at the very tip could be replaced by a vibrator, which seemed, to her, like the best place from which the tiny could watch the fruit of their orgasm control.

"Alright," Katrina replied. She grabbed a box from the wall behind her and tore it open right there on the counter. Kayley looked around the empty shop and giggled nervously. "That's not necessary..." she said.

"I have to show you that it works, we can't do refunds," Katrina explained. "It'd be grody."


The clerk produced the pink silicone toy, mostly smooth curves but with bumpy ridges in exactly the right spots. A smaller baggie had a set of silicone inserts and a few bullet vibrators for the places where the tiny was supposed to fit. "I think I'll have to shrink Zoey outside of her clothes for this. Is that okay or would you rather do this in private?"

"It's okay..."

Katrina hardly skipped a beat, producing a phone and tapping the screen a few times. "Look, there's no buttons that you can control, only the tiny can control it," she said. Zoey had already started to strip her Barbie uniform, and started slowly shrinking down before the clerk had finished speaking. "You'd better hope they're gentle."

The clerk slid a pair of AAA batteries into the base, the only hard plastic part of the whole toy, and screwed it shut. Then she gingerly picked Zoey's tiny body, now barely half an inch tall, up off the counter, and slid her into the insert at the top of the dildo, where she would be staring directly into the depths of a giantess' vagina. At that size, the fleshy prison would seem cavernous, every muscular twitch a clear and intimate experience, every orgasm an earth-shaking event. Were it not for the proven invulnerabilities of Syze's shrunken users, Kayley would be worried about the tiny's survival amidst the heat, pressure, and fluid that they would be subjected to.

The three vibrators went into their slots next, and shortly after, they all started humming quietly. The flat tongue of the toy, in particular, that was supposed to be pressed up against her clit, was rapidly shaking in a way that Kayley did not doubt would be quite enjoyable.

"I, um... I think that's good," Kayley said quietly. "I'll take it, I guess."

"Coolio!" Katrina exclaimed. She set the toy down on the desk and grabbed her phone. A few taps later, and Zoey started to grow, bulging out of the tip of the dildo until it could no longer contain her growing body, and she sprang out, landing on the plexiglass. It looked like a painful fall to Kayley, but the shrunken girl jumped effortlessly to her feet and began putting her shoddy Barbie outfit back on.

"Look," Katrina said, "When the tiny isn't in there, the vibration stops. It's a safety feature, right?"

"I guess."

The clerk didn't say anything more, quietly folding the toy back into its packaging, then running the barcode over the scanner. "With tax, that's one sixty-three, fifteen. Do you want to try our Testers Program?''


"Our Testers!" Katrina responded brightly. "Just give us your Syze profile, and we'll connect you to volunteers who are willing to help show you how to use your new product for the night!" She looked around conspiratorially, leaned across the desk, and added in a low voice, "It's just for us ladies. Almost all the volunteers are men. But they really know their stuff."


Katrina uged Kayley closer, and Kayley obliged, almost against her will. The clerk continued, in an even quieter, furtive tone, "Sometimes, I pretend like I bought something just to use them. It's sooo good."

The blood drained from Kayley's face. "Uh... No... I'm fine..."

Katrina straightened up and smiled broadly; the transition from sexual conspirator to bubbly sales clerk was so swift that Kayley was left stunned, unable to really process what she had just told her seconds before. "Anything else?"

"I don't... think so," Kayley said uncertainly. "Should there be anything else?"

"Hell yeah!" Katrina exclaimed, beaming. She reached over the counter and punched Kayley playfully in the shoulder, prompting a weak, but genuine smile. "You should have fun out there, girl! And thanks for shopping at Pet the Tyger!"

Kayley felt her smile widen, "Thanks a lot. Really."

She dragged her nondescript black bag, with its salacious and expensive cargo, off the counter and headed straight towards the door. Just as she placed her hand on the handle, she heard the clerk's bubbly voice, "Enjoy your toy!"

"You too!" Kayley responded.

Ah. Fuck.

Please Accept this Meal Voucher by tallie
Author's Notes:

Anita's flight is delayed until tomorrow. Vore, with a little bit of full-tour talk.

The flight was canceled. All flights for the day had been canceled for the weather. Her indulgent masturbation session had not only cost her a thousand dollars, it had also cost her more than twenty four hours, and an unfortunate night in some dingy Long Island hotel. It had also been phenomenally stupid, she realized, now that her frustration with her delay had cleared her head of the excitement and eroticism that had polluted her judgement before. Sure, lounge bathrooms were the closest approximation to privacy that one could get in an international airport, but to masturbate in one? Using a missing person as her toy? If she was trying to fly under the radar and bring her new companion home as her lifetime slave, that wasn't the way to do it.

Well, what's done is done. She had no indication that anyone had caught her doing it, so she was in the clear... Probably. She had spent a ton of time working with law enforcement while designing her app's protections, though, and she knew that they wouldn't swoop in until they had something absolutely bulletproof on you. If she had fucked up... really, truly fucked up... she wouldn't know until it was too late.

God, she couldn't wait to be done with New York.

After half an hour waiting for the airport shuttle, twenty minutes driving to the hotel, and another twenty minutes standing in line behind all the other people who had been consigned to a similar fate, Anita was standing in her tiny room, staring at the pathetic accommodation. Two beds were packed beside each other, a thin nightstand with a kitschy lamp to separate them, with a window-mounted air conditioner humming obnoxiously in the corner. When she parted the curtains, she had a wonderful view of a half-empty parking lot, and the dumpster that filled three of the spots in it.

She snapped the curtains shut and groaned. What a shithole.

She crashed onto the bed and held up her phone, tapping over to her special version of the Syze app. Maybe, if she was stuck here for the night, she could have at least a little bit of fun. She had that little man... Braden, right? He was stuck in her stomach, but she was getting a little bit peckish despite the bulk of his body filling her belly. She could order a pizza, or she could try to find someone on the app to fill her appetite.

The cruelty of it brought a grin to her face. She could find another woman, shrink her against her will, and swallow her whole. After an hour, maybe two, Braden and the strange woman would eventually decide that, hey, we're both trapped here together, let's fuck. There would be no way for Anita to knew when it happened, but it would happen eventually. And then she would rescind the other girl's protections entirely.

Her stomach, starving and teased for hours by a body that it could not digest, would make short work of the girl. Braden would have no choice but to watch as the woman, his lover of convenience, was slowly murdered by his goddess; her flesh would blister and slough off her bones as she begged for help. She would squirm, she would kick and punch and howl and scream, struggles that Anita would barely feel but Braden would experience firsthand. Her muscle and bone would bubble into liquid in a pool of acid that somehow refused to touch him, and he would have to watch it happen for many long minutes after her eyes had gone dead.

He would be forced to watch the power of his new mistress, the casual, effortless way that she could kill. He would know that it was a power that he could be subjected to at any time. That was what she wanted him to know. You live by my grace, little man. You die at my will.

Another part of her snapped suddenly into place. She was swiping through the app too quickly, her breath was too fast and her heartbeat was too rapid; she was losing control. The illusion shattered. She was getting way ahead of herself, and she wasn't thinking properly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another, and tossed the phone onto the other bed.

There was no need to prove herself to her tiny slave, and it would be the height of stupidity to do it in a way that would create another trail for law enforcement. She just had to suffer this quiet night in her hotel room, and make it safely back to San Francisco. No trapping unsuspecting users of her app, then. She would order that pizza.

With a grunt, she kicked herself out of the bed and grabbed her phone. She was starving, but, at the same time, her stomach seemed full with Braden still struggling inside it. She put in an order for a pizza from a local shop; Hawaiian style, of course; and then switched over to her new slave's Syze profile, shrinking him down to an eighth of an inch. At that size, he would slip easily into her digestive tract, and she could recover him tomorrow morning.

Half out of curiosity, half out of boredom, she actually took her first good hard look at the profile of the man she had turned into her property. Because she had matched with him, and because she had actually shrunk him, it had disappeared off of the servers; as far as Syze was concerned, he only existed on her phone. As she flipped through photos and the brief snippets of information that he was allowed to provide in his bio, she was stunned.

Holy shit. Her sex slave was gay?


Braden was large enough to fill most of the massive woman's stomach, but that just made his reality more disorienting. The bright-pink, slime-covered, deeply-wrinkled flesh that surrounded him was constant, but her body was anything but. She walked, ran, jumped, sat, stood, crouched, kneeled, and lay down. Every single movement was chaos to him, and it came without warning and without context. He had absolutely no idea what the massive woman was doing, but, whatever it was, it was torture.

He was tossed around in her stomach like a roulette ball with every move she made. Only it was somehow worse. A roulette ball had no power over where it went, but, while he was cast forcefully against the fleshy walls that surrounded him, he instinctively fought every single motion. His arms thrashed, his legs kicked, and it worked, to some extent, dulling the violence of the giantess' chaotic movements, but was nothing like solid ground. In fact, all it did was exhaust him, making him that much more miserable.

And this bullshit continued for hours. He could feel her speaking more than he could hear it, and he had no idea what she was saying or who she was saying it to. He kept waiting for it to be some order for food, for mushed-up bits of pizza to plop down into his hot, wet universe, or for steaming coffee to scald his naked skin. But it never happened, and the suspense of it was brutal. Any time she sat still for too long, any time she spoke to someone, that could have been the first sign of the fact that he would be forced to endure the humiliating experience of her meal, but it never came to be.

You bitch. You absolute whore. Just kill me already. But he knew that no amount of cursing, no amount of struggling or screaming could change his reality. Only Anita could do that, and so he had to wait for her generosity to relieve him of his tortured existence.

Her generosity. What a fucking joke.

The moment that thought crossed his head, he shrank. He shrank abruptly, and he shrank violently. He had suspected a lot from the giantess, but he hadn't expected this. In less than a second, he went from filling her stomach to a fraction of an inch tall, plunging down into the pool of acid at the bottom of her stomach.

God, she didn't even need to move to drown him. The walls of her stomach squirmed and pulsed constantly, disturbing the thin puddle that was suddenly an ocean of hot fluid to him. He tried to tread water, he tried to keep his head above the surface, but he was a grain of sand. The constant motion sucked him underneath, and he could barely see through the opaque fluid as he was swirled around, drawn deeper and deeper, his escape growing more and more impossible. It felt like he had slipped beneath the surface of a river, and there was no way for him to tell which way was up. There was just darkness, chaos, and the swirling sounds of dense fluid.

Oh, Christ. This was a nightmare.




A rush of fluid.

A rhythm. A distant heartbeat.

A sudden stillness.

But there was still noise. A wet-sounding, almost-rhythmic churning. Braden opened his mouth to breathe, and fluid rushed in. He thrashed instinctively, but realized quickly that he was unharmed. He had been here for a while, submerged in hot, slimy fluid. It couldn't hurt him. He was, somehow, safe.

The semi-opaque fluid offered only some hints as to where he was. He was floating in an ocean of heat, but he was in a discrete chamber. The walls were soft, a yellowish-pink color, and coated in fur. Where the hell was he?

No, not fur. He didn't know the word for it, but he had seen pictures. This was the inside of Anita's small intestine. Fuck. He had slipped into her digestive tract. And, at his size, there was only one way for him to go. Only one outcome, and only one room in her house that she would release him into.

It was disgusting. But it was also a release, however brief, from her arbitrary sexual torture. He could have some time to himself, some real privacy without the looming threat of the violent or degrading activity that he had been forced to suffer while subject to her whims for the last few weeks. Compared to what he had suffered so far, he would eagerly accept the occasional inglorious emergence into the outside world if it meant he would never have to be used as the giantess' sex toy again.

Sure, he dind't want to be shit out into a waiting toilet bowl along with the mass of what was left from last night's dinner, but if it meant that he didn't have to endure an entire day trapped inside her vagina?

It was a hard call, but he had to admit that it seemed like a fair trade.

Katrina and the Waves by tallie
Author's Notes:

Revisiting the awkward pair from the west-coast sex shop. Insertion from GTS perspective and some lesbian sex.

A vegan udon place? Kayley didn't even know that this spot existed, but it apparently had great reviews, and wasn't that far from her own house. As the door jingled shut behind her, she sailed past the greeter; her match apparently already had a table; and took in the intimate, dimly-lit interior of the restaurant.

Low-hanging lamps with rice paper shades? Check. Bamboo growing from a planter somewhere? Check. Japanese calligraphy featured on the wall? Check. Bonus points for the red backlighting on the sculpted letters. Kirin Ichiban was on tap at the bar, and the walls featured minimalist, stylistic reinterpretations of classic Japanese artwork, including that piece with the big wave that she couldn't name.

Classic LA. She scanned the crowd, looking for her match. The place was packed, people sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at tables that were jammed so close together that the wait staff had to turn sideways to maneuver. Despite that, the volume in the restaurant was relatively low, and Kayley started to feel a little awkward already. She was here on the weirdest date of her entire life, and she had to endure it with a dozen strangers able to overhear?

She pulled out her phone and sent a single message to her match. 'Where are you?' The response came back almost immediately, 'Corner by the bar.'

Kayley looked up and saw exactly where her match was seated. It was as private as you could get in a place like this, a two-person booth tucked away in the corner, close enough to the entrance to the kitchen that no other tables were near it, but far enough that it wouldn't be constantly disturbed by the passage of the waiters. It was the best she could ask for.

Clutching her purse, Kayley weaved her way through the restaurant, and, as she approached the table, her match set down the phone and twisted around to look at her. She froze in place, recognizing the face for the first time.

Katrina, the impossibly bubbly sales clerk from the sex shop she had literally been in not two hours ago, spotted her, and her face lit up like the sun, and she waved cheerily. "Heeyyyy..." she sang.

Something in Kayley screamed at her to leave. It told her that it was already an uncomfortable thing she was doing, and that this was the last straw. Just turn on your heel and, if you can ever overcome the embarassment, find a new match later. But, at the same time, she had come this far, and the embarassment of running away would be worse than the embarassment of enduring an awkward night. After all, if things got bad, she could just say no, right? She hadn't agreed to anything in the app and nobody could force her to.

So, with some hesitancy in her step, she made her way to the table and slid into her chair, setting her purse on the floor as Katrina's bright face grinned at her. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe it was you! I thought you looked familiar!"

"Yeah..." Kayley said, looking down at her menu. The whole thing was in Japanese, for some reason, so she flipped it over to the English side.

"Hey... Look," Katrina said softly. Something in her tone caught Kayley's eye, and she saw nothing but pure, earnest encouragement in the other woman's expression. Her palms were up, reaching across the table in an offering. "We're just here to get to know each other, right? No pressure at all."

Kayley hesitated, but took one of the other woman's hands in her own. "Sure," she said, forcing a grin. Katrina's smile widened in response, and her own grin suddenly seeemed less forced. "Sure," she repeated, more enthusiastically.

"Are you vegan?" Katrina asked, snapping her own menu off the table.

"I was, but..." Kayley trailed off. Who hadn't experimented with social consciousness these days, and who hadn't been lured away by the smell of bacon?

"If you're still on the bandwagon, the Suzuki is great," Katrina said.

Wait, what? She scanned the menu, and, sure enough, there was a meal called 'Suzuki.' "Wait, what?"

It seemed like Katrina's smile couldn't get any wider, but it did, and she leaned in close, "Between you and me," she whispered, "I think the owner is actually from Arkansas."

That got a laugh, a real laugh, a laugh that finally broke the tension, and Katrina joined in. "Oh, god," Kayley said with a sigh. "I think I'll just get the Nokia instead."

Katrina giggled. "Don't tell him that. He might actually put it on the menu." She looked around conspiratorially, and gestured for Kayley to lean in closer, "Look, the truth is... And keep this secret," she added, speaking quietly, "The truth is that the guy is from Mexico. He couldn't point out Japan on a map."

"How do you know that?" Kayley asked, leaning back.

Katrina rolled her drink between her palms, looking sheepishly down at the table. "Promise not to tell anyone?"


"Okay, so... Remember how I told you about the Testers?"

Kayley's jaw drapped. "No!"

Katrina caught onto her energy immediately. "Yeah!" she exclaimed. "That's how I met him!"

"Oh my god..." Kayley said, collapsing back into her chair and covering her laugh. It was too much.

What on earth had she been worried about? They got along better than she could have hoped, and the awkwardness at Pet the Tyger was totally forgotten. They both ordered a glass of Sapporo and the 'Suzuki,' suppressing giggles the whole time, and spent almost two hours at the table talking. Professionally, they had little in common, but, personally, they got along wonderfully.

Eventually, they closed out the check, and Kayley hopped into her car to follow Katrina to her apartment. Being able to decompress from the invigorating, high-energy experience in the restaurant just made her want whatever was coming next even more. But, Burbank being what it was, parking was a bitch, and so Katrina hopped into Kayley's car to help her find parking after she had taken up the only spot allotted to her at her apartment buildng.

It was ten more minutes of searching, and then a fifteen minute walk, before they finally slammed the door shut on Katrina's shoebox apartment. The moment the latch clicked closed, they looked at each other for a moment, then Katrina reached up, grabbed Kayley by the back of her head, and brought her down for a kiss.

"Mm!" she exclaimed in shock, but she was totally on board. Katrina's tongue wormed into her mouth, and she returned the favor, until the other woman suddenly disengaged and trotted happily over to the kitchen. Or whatever passed for a kitchen in four hundred square feet. She ducked behind the counter, and then emerged with a box of wine and a giggle. Her expression was a little eager, but also a little embrassed; Franzia wouldn't impress any socialites, but that's not who they were. They were just a couple of girls who were unfortunate enough to be sober, and they needed to fix that problem as soon as possible.

White wine served in mason jars, and they cuddled up together on the bed that was also the closest thing to a couch someone in a studio could afford the space for. They watched the first episode of some incredibly cheesy, ridiculously over-sexed Netflix reality show, and spent the whole time laughing with each other at how stupid it was. When it ended, Katrina stopped it before it automatically started playing the next episode, and leaned over for another kiss. Kayley fell completely into this one, despite her subvocalized moan of surprise when she felt the other woman's hand slide, ever so gently, between her legs.

When the kiss finally ended, Katrina leaned back and bit her lip, looking up and down at Kayley for a long, heated moment, "Did you bring it?" she asked finally.

There was no longer any reason for Kayley to pretend that she didn't know what Katrina was talking about. "Yeah..."

"I want to see it."

"Are you sure?" Kayley asked. "I mean..."

"I just want to see it," Katrina purred.

Kayley smiled, and brushed her knuckles against the other woman's cheek. She responded by flopping onto her back like a cat, stretching in a way that drew Kayley's eyes to the hard, smooth ridges of the muscles of her thin limbs. "Fine," she said finally, and slid off the bed, headed for her purse.

She wasn't at all subtle when she bent over to fish the toy out of her purse, and cast a glance back when she was... in the position. Katrina didn't even show a shred of shame when she met Kayley's eyes, and, the gall of it, she winked.

Looks like the bubbly cartoon princess that manned the shop had a dirty side. An unabashedly dirty side that only took a few glasses of wine to let loose. Kayley straightened up, fished the rubber toy out of the box, and threw it onto the bed. She had to confess that she had already prepared it a bit in the hopes that tonight would turn out as well as it had, washing it off and plugging in the vibrators and batteries; she couldn't wait to use it.

Katrina grabbed it as Kayley slid back into bed, inspecting its curves and ridges. She rolled onto her back and held the toy above her, turning it over for a few seconds. "Wow..." she said. "Where do you think I should go?'

Kayley's head popped up off the pillow. "You?"

Katrina made a spectacle of rolling her eyes, and climbed up onto her knees. "Yes, me," she said, walking on her knees across the mattress and straddling Kayley's hips. Kayley felt her hands drift instinctively up to the other woman's hips; she didn't seem to notice. She held the toy up between them, inspecting it like a jeweler might study a diamond. "Oh, it all looks so fun, I can't decide," she said finally, throwing the toy aside and looking down at Kayley. Her hands drifted down and slid over Kayley's, firming them up against her hips. "You choose."

Kayley gulped. God, this was too much, but she fucking loved it. "The match..."

"Look, just change it," Katrina said. She leaned forwards, dangerously close, one of her hands coming up to cup Kayley's chin. They stared into each other's eyes for a second, then Katrina gave her a peck on the lips. "It'll be fine," she whispered, "I promise."

That was... Fuck... Kayley was frozen for a second, then reached over to the nightstand to grab her phone. Katrina was still planted firmly on her hips, so she couldn't move very far, but she could still reach her phone, and she had enough control over the match to satisfy the other woman's wishes. What was the right size for the toy? One inch, she thought. If it seemed like a tight fit, she could always change it down.

Her finger paused over the size button, looking up at Katrina. "You sure?" she asked.

Katrina didn't answer, she just grabbed the phone out of Kayley's hand and hit the button herself. "There," she said, throwing the phone aside, "I'm sure. Happy?"

That last word had barely left her mouth when she started to shrink. Kayley felt it first as a lightening of the weight that was seated on her hips, and then the shrinking became abruptly obvious. Katrina was hardly a large woman to begin with, but she fell into herself so rapidly that Kayley was worried she might disappear. From five feet, to two, to one, to five inches, and even shorter. All in seconds. Faster than it could be believed, Kayley was left with nothing more than a thin pile of underclothes on her waist, crumpled up on top of each other, with a tiny woman buried somewhere underneath them.

The size difference was a power and a responsibility that Kayley just wasn't ready for, certainly not in the heat of the moment when Katrina had seemed about to take control. But she knew well enough what to do. Carefully, she dug through the layers of clothes until her fingers closed around the tiny woman, and lifted her into the air; her thumb was nearly the size of her entire torso. Those tiny limbs, thin as toothpicks, flailed around hilariously with every movement... It was hard not to feel like she was playing with a toy.

But that was exactly what Katrina had volunteered to be; Kayley grabbed the actual toy up off the bedsheets, and held it up next to the shrunken woman, studying the various inserts that she could fit into. What about the top one? The one that would go as deep as possible inside her? Yeah, that seemed good.

She popped the vibrating insert out with her middle fingernail, and carefully slid Katrina's tiny body into its place. She did not fail to notice that the shrunken woman kept her limbs limp the whole time, careful not to fight the will of her giant goddess. Quickly, Katrina was a tiny, spread-eagled artifact at the top of a dildo, her pale brown flesh surrounded by dark blue rubber. In fact, she fit into it so seamlessly that, were it not for the color, Kayley would hardly have noticed her presence.

"Is that comfortable?" she asked. She meant it, too. "Are you good?"

In response, the toy started to vibrate in her hands, only briefly, then it cut out. Kayley knew that the shrunken woman could control it, but what did that mean? One for yes? Such were the vagaries of the shrinkee trying to communicate with their giantess. Her mind started to wander; what if it had been her in that moment, trying to speak the only way she could? What if she had been misunderstood? How would she know if her meaning had been taken correctly, and what would be the worst thing that would happen if she had been misunderstood?

Kayley had one idea, and she felt the blood rush between her legs at the thought. "Fine," she said out loud, then brushed the pile of clothes off her waist and raised her legs, sliding her underwear off.

The dildo in her hand buzzed once more as she did it, but was otherwise calm. That seemed like consent, right? Surely objection would be stronger. She slid her middle two fingers between her legs; soaking wet already from the constant teasing; and brought the sex toy down below her waist. "Is that what you want?" she asked, angling it so that she knew that the shrunken woman had a good, up-close view of her pussy.

No response. Silence was basically consent, right? With her free hand, she spread the lips of her pussy wide, and slowly slid the dildo all the way inside her, until the tiny vibrating element at the bottom of it was nestled comfortably against her clit.

That moment of penetration was too much, and she collapsed back onto the bed with a breathy gasp. That thing was thicker than she had anticipated. She looked down at her waist, running a single finger across the smooth skin. She wanted to imagine that she could trace bulk of it inside her from the outside, but she knew that was a fantasy. Still, it was big, bigger than she had been ready for. Settled inside her, it felt good.

And that was when the vibration kicked on. She let out a yelp, her legs slapping together, hips squirming on the mattress. God, the feeling was positively electric. She knew that the toy was going to be stimulating, but she hadn't anticipated this.

Her fingers dug into the sheets. She couldn't handle it. The sensation was far too strong, and it didn't let up. She just hadn't been ready for it; this much pleasure was nothing short of painful for her.

Just hold on, she thought, digging her heels into the mattress, her hips wriggling around and her eyes screwed shut. God... to think about the little woman trapped on the dildo, all the way up there. To imagine herself in that position, buried helpless and immobile deep in the body of a goddess... Unable to do anything but pleasure her, unable to see anything but the response of her pleasure...

Oh... Fuck!  Her entire body, from head to toe, tightened up, and ecstasy drew her every muscle tight as tight as a bowstring. She could barely see; she couldn't evan muster the strength to draw breath for one, two, three seconds. Then her entire body released all at once, and a sound, inhuman, gutteral, absolutely primal, ripped its way out of her throat.

In that moment, when she fell from Nirvana, the vibration between her legs abruptly ceased, and she was left sprawled across the bed. Her skin was slick with sweat, her heart was pounding, her face was flushed and her hair was an absolute mess. She just lay there, gasping deeply, as her senses slowly returned to normal. Jesus, her skin was tingling; she had had sex before, but she had never experienced that part of the afterglow.

That toy was definitely worth the money.

She lay there... How long was it? Until she finally caught her breath... And then lay there for a few minutes more, until Katrina reminded her forcefully of her presence with a brief, but strong pulse of vibration. Kayley let out a yelp at the electric sensation, bolting upright. The way the dildo shifted inside her as she did so was a little uncomfortable to her over-stimulated flesh, so she carefully spread her legs and slowly, gingerly, pulled the dildo out into the open air.

"Wow," she said breathlessly. She could just barely see the shrunken woman still trapped in the little slot at the head of the dildo, but now she was smeared with a glistening layer of cloudy white slime. Could she see Kayley through all that? Could she even hear her? Kayley giggled, "That was... Whoo... That was something else."

No response. She tilted the dildo back down, pointing the tiny, spread-eagled woman down at her crotch as she ran a single finger across the red-hot flesh. "Do you want to go back in there?" she asked huskily.

The vibrator buzzed in her hand, once, twice, three times, in a quick staccatto. Consent or protest, she couldn't say, but Kayley was only teasing anyway. She reached over, grabbed her phone, and sized Katrina back up to her normal size.

The dildo in her hand grew abruptly heavier for a moment before the other woman's rapidly-growing body popped out of the rubber sleeve and landed on her bare chest. Katrina exploded in both size and weight; in only three or four seconds, Kayley was being pressed into the mattress by the weight of a woman laying on top of her, staring into her eyes as if she had not been barely half an inch tall only a few seconds before.

Apparently, the slimy covering of bodily fluids did not size up with her; the hot flesh that pressed up against her entire body was smooth and clean.

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments, Katrina's gaze one of lust and longing. Finally, wordlessly, Katrina pushed herself upright and settled into a position she clearly found comfortable, straddling Kayley's hips and looking down with an expression of naked desire.

But, this time, there was no layer of clothing to protect them from each other. Kayley could feel the blazing heat, and the slick wetness, between the other woman's legs pressing down on her hips, only a few precious inches away from her own sensitive intimacy. The promise... The closeness of it... Despite her tender flesh, it was difficult to keep her excitement under control.

"I could hear everything," Katrina whispered, leaning down sinuously over her. A single, delicate finger traced up Kayley's sternum, tickling her chest and sending goosebumps all over her body. "I could see everything."

The careful caress of her finger ran its way up her neck and to her chin, and Kayley closed her eyes and let her head fall back, savoring the tingling, hair-raising intimacy of the moment. Without warning, Katrina took abrupt advantage of her exposed neck, and her wiry fingers closed around her throat with predatory speed.

Kayley's eyes opened wide in shock, and she saw the other woman's face only inches from hers. "I could taste everything," she whispered into her ear, before she had the chance to react. "And you are a naughty girl." Her voice dropped to something even lower than a whisper, to the point that Kayley had to strain to understand a voice that was speaking almost directly into her ear. "You want to try it, don't you?"

Kayley didn't respond, paralyzed, terrified, and turned on beyond her wildest dreams. "Don't you?" Katrina demanded, straightening up.

Kayley only nodded, not trusting her voice in the moment.

"Then you're going to come with me tomorrow," Katrina said. She said it with no uncertainty, and no room for argument. It was an undeniable fact, as true as two plus two equals four. As she spoke, she slowly walked her way up Kayley's body, keeping her weight pressed down to ensure that the wetness between her legs was smeared along her skin, and to ensure that Kayley had no chance of escape.

"You are going to pick a spot in that little toy, and you are going to come with me to work," she continued. She paused, towering over Kayley with her legs straddling her shoulders. Kayley tried to participate, in her own small way, by raising her arms to grab the other woman's hips, but Katrina shut her down seemingly effortlessly, pinning her arms to the bed with her shins. She was in complete control, and she knew it, and she wanted Kayley to know it.

Katrina grinned, looking down with pure, unadulterated lust on her face. The sex-starved creature that loomed over Kayley right now was so far removed from the bubbly sales clerk that she had met just a few hours ago that it was terrifying. But it was also exhilerating; this was what she wanted, to surrender herself entirely to this woman. And, with that toy, she would have her own, private, intimate control over a goddess.

"You'll pick a spot, and you have to make me cum," she ordered. "If you pull it off, then you get to pick a new spot. Got it?"

"Uh-huh..." Kayley breathed.

"Look, there's only four spots," Katrina told her. "If you pull it off in all of them..." She left the statement open-ended with a quiet hum, and dug her fingers into Kayley's hair. "Why don't you have a taste?"

She slid her hips all the way forwards until she was seated firmly on Kayley's face. Kayley, pinned down, incredibly horny, and desperate to please her new goddess, started eating her like she was starving to death.

God, a whole night of this, and a whole day spent inside her as a tiny passenger on a sex toy? It exceeded her wildest dreams.

It's a Committment by tallie
Author's Notes:

Anita learns the unfortunate truth of her last decision. Nothing but plot, uploaded the same time as the next chapter.

Anita was getting frustrated. It had been two days, and the shrunken man she had eaten was still stuck somewhere in her body. How long was this supposed to take? She had no idea, and it wasn't like she could ask someone.

Every time she used the bathroom, she very, very carefully sized the tiny man up, and, every time, she felt a distinct pressure in her belly that told her to lay off. Under normal circumstances, profiles that indicated that they were going to have vore play had an upper size limit for the tiny which would be guaranteed not to perforate the tightest part of their intestines. For most people, that size limit was a little less than three inches, but Anita knew that it was smaller for a girl her height.

But that size limit didn't exist for her admin version of the app. If she wasn't careful, she could grow the shrunken toy until he burst out of her stomach like an alien. But she had to grow him; she had kept him at millimeter-height for the entire time since she ate him, and she didn't want to accidentally flush him away.

He had to be getting stuck somewhere, even at his microscopic size. The problem was that this was the first person she had ever eaten without having revoked the protection that came with shrinking. He was, put simply, the first man to enter her stomach who wasn't supposed to dissolve away and disappear forever, so she had no idea what to expect.

The last thing she expected was that, despite her impatience at his refusal to leave her body, she would find the entire situation just a little bit arousing. He was thoroughly a part of her, in a way more absolute than even her other methods of carrying him about, in her pocket or in her bra or even in her vagina, could achieve. Her body kept him trapped, impotent and ignorant, without any effort from her whatsoever. And, with the push of a single button, it would kill and process him, sucking what little value was to be had from his diminutive body, without a second thought.

She had always loved the absolute power that this app gave her over her prisoners; she loved it so much that she risked spending quite a long time in a federal prison every day just because it got her off. She couldn't believe that this, the most absolute, most perpetual, most thoughtless form of domination over another human being that she could manage had never occurred to her until now.

But her impatience was mixing with her arousal to make her deeply annoyed. Annoyed at her shrunken sex toy's refusal to come out and play, annoyed at the fact that she couldn't just scoop up another person, or two, or a dozen to treat the same way, annoyed at the fact that more than one meal had passed into and out of her body, while the tiny man gave no indication of when he was coming out, or even where, in the twists and turns of her digestive system, he was hiding. All she had was the dull pressure that she felt when she experimentally tried to size him up, which she thought was slowly moving downwards with time, but how could she know for sure?

Maybe, once he finally emerged from her body, she would eat him again, just as a punishment for taking so long. Maybe she would just eat him over and over again forever, maybe he would spend the rest of his life in the prison of her digestive system, owned wholly by the passive functions of her body. Maybe she would shrink down a new toy, and Braden would serve as a living reminder of what would happen to him if he were to defy his new goddess.

Or her new goddess? Anita had one gay slave; would a lesbian make a more or a less eager sex toy?

By the evening of the third day, she got horny enough to finger herself to orgasm while watching porn in her office.     In the wash of clarity that followed the body-shaking pleasure, she realized how profoundly stupid what she had just done was, and was also able to suppress the thoughts of bringing another shrunken slave into her life. San Francisco was a big town, and she could surely find someone who nobody would miss, but it was still far too risky.

She sat there, in her office, silent for a few moments, regretting her lust-addled mistake and wondering if anyone had heard her make it. Shit, even if they did, what did she expect? That one of her employees would bust down the door of the CEO and shout, "I caught you masturbating!" Not likely.

She sighed, and stood up to straighten herself out. Fuck. She had fucked up, and there was no way around it. She'd just have to pretend like nothing happened, and live with the nagging feeling that everyone she worked with was pretending the same thing.

The door was, thankfully, still locked, so whatever noises anyone else heard would remain rumors alone. God help her if, a week after she went on Bloomberg to hype her IPO, someone had footage of her masturbating in her office. She walked over to the door to unlock it, then paused, and stepped back around her desk to crack open the window. Just because she couldn't smell it didn't mean that anyone else walking in wouldn't.

A thought occurred to her, and she paused. She had all the data, and she had god-like admin powers over it, to the point that she could make it so that nobody could even see what she had deigned to look at. Why was she stressing out about what the little man was doing inside her body, when she had a million lived experiences right at her fingertips?

She sat back down at her desk and pulled up the data management utility on her laptop. The Syze app was an incredible tool, but what really made it powerful was her company's ability to harvest reams and reams of data from its users. It not only helped ensure that they could keep any of them from getting injured by their truly outlandish sexual adventures, but it allowed them to fine-tune their matching algorithm, and even to determine how best to market the app to new users.

And that was leaving aside the gobs of money that advertising firms paid for the data. They had the names of their users, their photos, their phone numbers, email addresses, near-constant location data, and the most intimate knowledge of their personal fetishes that anyone could possibly imagine. Who they shrank, to what size, and for how long; what they wanted to do with them, what they actually did with them, and even how often the difference between the two kept their partnership going.

It was all anonymized, of course, as California law required, but enough anonymized data loses its anonymity if you have the right tools. Thirty million customers, almost eight million daily users, and more than five million paid subscribers. Even though she had to legally strip the names and profile pictures from the data when the company sold it to advertisers, enough cross-correlation would eventually reveal the truth.

And, of course, that was before she moved the company to Texas. Free of the privacy laws, she could correlate names, faces, fetishes, even their fucking dick size. Who knew what the advertisers would pay for that sort of data?

But it wasn't what she needed right now. She just had to filter through her thirty million users to figure out the answer to the question of how long this tiny piece of shit would hang around in her intestines.

Vore fetish, that was an easy filter, and that knocked off 90% of the users. There were still millions of names left after that, so she started filtering out those who had actually matched with people who also had a vore fetish, and those who had carried their match into the fun part of actually shrinking one of the two of them down. That was a pool of about six hundred thousand people, most of whom had done so with a heterosexual match.

Unlike most of the fetishes they managed, vore seemed to be about equally split on a gender basis, with barely a two-point skew towards men volunteering to be the shrunken party. Because so many heterosexual people used her app to interact, in some way, with the other gender's genitals as a tiny, almost all of their fetishes were heavily tilted in favor of one gender or the other being the shrinkee. Vore, apparently, was one of the few exceptions.

But there, once she had filtered it down to the couples who had kept a person shrunken down for more than one day, the data basically spoke for itself. There was something of a standard deviation, but the first peak in the number of people who were returned to full height happened ten days after they had been shrunken down. Interestingly enough, there was a second, smaller peak at twenty days, and even a third at thirty. Apparently there were some people who wanted another pass after the first.

But ten days was clearly what she should expect. Anita slumped back in her chair, rubbing her stomach with no small amount of disappointment. Ten days? After a tantalizing whirlwind of domination and sexual gratification over her three-day work trip to New York, how could she wait ten whole days to play with her tiny man again?

The thought of it made her start to reconsider her better instincts; maybe a new shrunken toy was worth it. She could dispose of Braden in an instant; literally with the push of a button and without a second thought; and go out into town to find a new plaything to own. It wouldn't be the first time that she had disappeared someone for her own personal indulgence, it would just be the first time that they had lasted longer than a single day.

But she knew, unfortunately, that she really had to put a stop to that sort of behavior, and sooner rather than later. She knew, by now, what the FBI got up to, how they were able to tease abstract patterns out into criminal cases, and she also knew that, in her work with them to make the Syze app safer, she was definitely on their radar.

So gone were the days when she could carelessly dispose of someone. Honestly, in retrospect, that sort of behavior had been deeply irresponsible even then, and she constantly ran the risk of it all coming back to bite her at some point in the future. Hell, the FBI might even be assembling a case against her right now, but there was no way to know for sure. But it wouldn't help her case to keep kidnapping new strangers to die inside her body.

Like it or not, Braden was a long-term commitment.

Emynda's Easter Stream by tallie
Author's Notes:

Emynda plays the role of sex 'influencer.' Foot stuff, mouth play, and an absolute submission story. Uploaded at the same time as the last chapter.

Emynda sat in front of the sink, her phone propped up against the mirror in selfie mode. "So this is Urban Decay, Blackest Black. And, God, I just love it. Love it, love it, love it."

She dragged the waxy pencil carefully across the top of her eyelid, then drew it away, blinking rapidly. She held the pencil up to the camera, making sure the logo was visible, and said, "This was a gift, so thank you, Unus202. I never would have picked it otherwise, but I think I'll use it forever. If you ever come to Utah..."

The bathroom door banged loudly, and Emynda looked back at the door with horror. Locked, fortunately, but still... "Are you ready, Em?" the voice shouted from the other side.

"Just a minute, mom!" Emynda yelled back. Ah, fuck. She'd have to edit that part out, and probably splice in a new thank-you message for the donor who had provided the makeup. A little view into her personal life played well, which was why she was doing the makeup routine bit in the first place, but nobody wanted family drama, and she surely didn't want to seem like a little kid on an adult video.

Well, her footage was fucked, and she had almost finished recording it as a single unbroken scene. She breathed a sigh, slapped the eyeliner pencil down onto the counter, and looked at the camera like she was a character from The Office. If she had to splice footage together, there was no point any more in pretending that this was an organic, natural event.

"Shit..." she whispered. Nothing to do about it now, though. Just keep rolling. She brightened up and carried on applying her eyeliner. "It took so long for me to get this right," she said. "I used to be terrified of coloring my waterline, I always thought that there would be an earthquake or something and I would poke my eye out."

She finished the pencil-thin line and giggled, "But look, doesn't it look so much better?" she asked, leaning into the camera to showcase her work. "Just a little bit, especially with a color this dark."

She straightened up and tossed the pencil into her makeup organizer, opening up the bottom drawer and producing a tiny jewelry box. "One last thing," she said. She popped open the lid of the box and showed the contents to the camera. "Look at our volunteers!"

A quarter inch-tall woman tumbled out of the box and onto the counter; apparently she had been too aggressive in showing them off to the camera. "Oh, shit," she muttered. She put the jewelry box down, carefully plucked the woman up between her thumb and forefinger, and placed her back in the container. The other passenger, a man who she had stored at closer to a third of an inch, because of the roles that they had picked beforehand, apparently had a kind heart, helping the woman to her feet after she sprawled out onto the plush velvet of their shared prison.

She turned the box so that the camera could see the pair. "So here's our lovebirds. We'll call them... Oh... Harry and Sally..." She was playful about it, but they had been very specific about not letting anyone know their real names as a condition for matching with her for the video. "They've been in there for quite a while..." Since she started putting on her makeup, actually. So, like, thirty minutes, at most, but the implication of a shrunken prisoner played better. "Do you think they... You know?"

She let the question hang, and looked down as if discovering them for the first time. "Oh, he's quite a bit bigger, isn't he?" she giggled. "Oh, Sally, you poor thing... Now..."

Emynda reached over to her makeup organizer, bending over far more than was necessary; she wanted her cleavage in the shot, and she wanted her breasts to loom threateningly over the shrunken pair. She grabbed two pieces of jewelry and straightened up, holding them up for all to see.

"Now, we're going to church, you two, so no weird stuff," she said, making a show of lecturing the shrunken pair in the jewelry box. "I've got a tongue piercing, and a toe ring." She placed the two pieces of jewelry, both quite a great deal larger than the shrunken pair, in their velvet prison. "So you pick where you go."

A lot of this was for show. They had already agreed beforehand where they would go, and they had agreed that they would make a show of arguing about it. She had to admit, getting to see him be scared off by a woman three-quarters his size was pretty amusing. The jewelry pieces were specially-designed alternatives to her normal jewelry, built to carry shrunken prisoners as comfortably as possible. But the fact remained that they were subjecting themselves to a painful, humiliating experience, and every part of their existence, while trapped in it, would be in her control.

For the next few hours, despite the deals they had made to keep things professional, they were her property.

After about half a minute of a hilarious but somewhat unconvincing scuffle, the woman stood straddling the tongue piercing, and the man stood, seemingly a bit dejected, in the middle of the toe ring. "There we go," Emynda said. "And good work, Sally!"

Emynda lowered her head down to the counter and opened her mouth, stretching out her tongue and displaying the hole where the piercing was supposed to go. "Aaah!" She leaned back up and said, "Are you ready? Strap in!"

The shrunken woman obeyed, maybe with a bit of reluctance, or maybe Emynda was imagining things. But she bound herself, head to toe, along the straight metal rod of the tongue piercing.

Emynda reached down and grabbed the piercing, and the round barbell that would fasten it into her tongue. A quick press of the rod, and the spring-loaded binds wrapped fast around the shrunken woman's wrists and ankles, and, as an added bonus, her neck, holding her immobile, as comfortably as possible, but helpless to whatever Emynda designed for her.

And Emynda treated her as mechanically as any other tongue piercing, save for the fact that she wanted the camera to see every part of the routine. She wove her rigid body headfirst through the hole in the bottom of her tongue... God... that never stopped feeling weird... And laid her tongue flat against the bottom of her mouth to push her all the way through.

Then came the barbell, which she screwed down until it wouldn't turn anymore, just a millimeter away from the shrunken woman's head. Her little toy was securely fastened now, and she stuck out her tongue at the camera to prove it.

"There you go, Sally!" she exclaimed. She knew damn well that every word was pure chaos to the little woman now, and she loved it. "Now, Harry, it's your turn!"


Hunter had been plagued with regrets ever since Emynda had locked him in the jewelry box with Sheryl. He had thought he had gone into this level-headed about the experience, but being this small, this naked, this vulnerable... It wasn't a great feeling.

He hadn't expected to have a woman with him, either. And Sheryl had definitely caught his eye when they had met Emynda together at that Starbucks, but, now, whatever sex appeal had come with this shared experience was gone. Both of them were stark naked, but she had been shrunken down even more than he had, and they had to just sit there and wait as the giantess, whose voice they could hear but not understand from within their dark, cushy prison, decided to use them as her props.

Every once in a while, they looked at each other, as if sharing the same thought. We're both stuck here, we're both naked, and we're both basically sex toys... Should we? But the words were never spoken and the deed was never done; she was too small, he was too big, and the future was too uncertain. They knew that, the moment the top came off this box, they would have a camera on them, and that would be the worst possible time to be trying to figure out how he could fit inside her.

So it had been curiously stinging when the giantess taunted them about the sex that they hadn't had. Hunter let himself imagine that it would have been better if they had just gone ahead and done it, but there was no point. They were both in this mess for the rest of the day.

Sheryl fastened herself into her piercing prison, and the giantess, each of her fingers the size of skyscrapers, and her mouth a bottomless pit of wet, writhing pink flesh, expertly fastened her into a permanent position as her tongue ring, making sure the world could see her work by opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue. Hunter knew his own crucible as shrunken ornament was soon to follow, and the goddess didn't disappoint. "Now, Harry, it's your turn!"

The ring at his feet, larger than he was, was a simple creation. It was a straightforward, tension-bound adjustable ring, but with fasteners on either end for his wrists and ankles. He could slide into it comfortably, but, the moment she put it on her toe, it would stretch out, spread his limbs and trap his body against her foot.

He still wasn't sure he was doing the right thing here, but he looped his legs into the fasteners anyway, then his arms afterwards. The giantess watched as he did so, her face the picture of excitement. When she was satisfied that he had sufficiently immobilized himself, her grin broadened, and she reached down to grab the ring.

Her fingers closed around him with terrifying speed for their size, and the world span with a sudden and dizzying motion as he was lifted into the air and brought down to the massive woman's foot. The fasteners were still loose, so he had to hold on tight to keep from sliding out and being thrown off into oblivion in the chaos of the motion. But then, abruptly, the motion stopped.

Looking up, the giantess was in a deep crouch with her legs held together, her flexibility reduced by a dress that was certainly not appropriate for church. Her head was visible over her bare knees, her phone in the other hand and pointed down at him. He was so small that, even though he could make out the toe ring on the screen, he couldn't even see himself in the selfie view.

The binds on his arms and legs grew tight, and smooth, surprisingly cool skin pressed against his back as she slid him onto the second toe of her right foot. The tugging at the bonds grew almost painfully tight as he slid over the first knuckle, but it settled into a comfortable captivity when she left him about halfway on her toe.

"There, doesn't that look cute!" Emynda exclaimed, bringing the phone down so he could see his own prison up close. Spread-eagled, bare naked, and pinned against a toe that was five times his own size, his position looked pathetic to him, but he had to admit that it was a bit exciting. The moment she stood up, she would forget about him, a helpless, motionless ornament, albeit with a hell of a view.

"Do you want to know a secret, little guy?" she asked conspiratorily. Her voice was low, nearly a whisper, but her phone was right next to her head; her audience would hear what she said as clearly as he did. "I don't like panties."

My God.

She stood up, and, true to her word, Hunter was treated to an incredible view up the knee-length, dark blue, form-fitting dress that she was wearing. Smoth, toned legs ascended skyscraper-like seemingly into eternity, meeting at the junction of her hips, with a gap between the two split down the middle by a narrow line of dark brown, wrinkly flesh.

It was right there, but it was an eternity away. Hunter felt an erection growing that he knew that, for the next few hours, he wasn't going to do anything about.


Sheryl was bound to the tongue piercing like a witch at the stake, her legs tied around each other, her arms tied behind her back, and a bind fastened tight around her neck for good measure. The binds were not tight enough to be painful, but they were tight enough to be a little arousing, and more than tight enough to keep her from moving, no matter what happened.   

And there was a lot happening. The giantess' tongue, a red-hot, pulsing muscle that wrapped around every curve of her body like a fleshy glove, seemed like it never stopped moving. It flexed as it squirmed around, hardening intantly around her body with such force that she could barely breathe, then relaxing without warning. It moved chaotically, ripping her across what seemed to her like massive distances with lightning speed, the dark interior of Emynda's mouth becoming a blur of motion.

It even changed in shape as it moved, flattening out or bunching up seemingly at random, and Sheryl, trapped in place, had to endure it all. When it flattened out, she was exposed all the way down to her navel, but there certainly was no respite from the heat in the tiny chamber of the massive woman's mouth. The stainless steel barbell that held it in place, larger than her head, was just above her, but she was spared being pushed up into it by the bindings.

At its thickest, the muscular flesh consumed her entire body, burying her in darkness and presssing down on her every curve with unbelievable pressure, forcing the air out of her lungs. It happened suddenly, without any warning, and multiple times a minute. And each time was terrifying, claustrophobic, and incredibly erotic.

At her size, in her position, she functionally was the giantess' tongue piercing. She lived in her mouth, and the tongue was an unruly roomate, a merciless jailer, and a carniverous predator all at once. But Sheryl knew that, despite the chaos that she experienced in every waking moment, what Emynda was doing to her was not only totally natural, but completely thoughtless.

And that really turned her on.

But, when Emynda spoke, the experience ascended above pure eroticism, and she found herself communing with the divine. Blinding light and chilling air flooded in from open lips, and a booming voice, so loud, so present, so dominating that she couldn't even make out the words it spoke, shook her to her bones. And all of that came with the most furious, most unpredictable motions of the tongue that held her prisoner.

She was nothing to the goddess. Less than nothing. Barely deserving of a single thought, a piece of jewelry that most people forgot they were even wearing. But, at the same time, she was here, in the heat of her body, a witness to her private life that nobody else could ever have experienced. Exhibitionism and voyeurism, subjugation and domination all wrapped in one.

It was the most erotic thing she had ever experienced. Her hands were tied, but she had been very deliberate about positioning her legs when she slipped them into the binds. Her right leg was wrapped around her left, her knees crossed over each other and her thighs pressed together. She didn't have much purchase, but, if she moved her hips just the right way and flexed her thighs with the just the right rhythm, then she could stimulate her clit just barely enough. She was sensitive enough down there that, with patience, and with the aid of the constant erotic stimulation of being trapped inside the giantess' tongue, she could work her way to orgasm. She had done it before, both in the comfort of her own bed and so surreptitiously in public that her own boyfriend had failed to notice, and now she would do it while living as a tongue piercing for a goddess.

What she didn't expect was that the constant motion, the way that the single, massive muscle that consumed her body would squeeze her tight and then relax, over and over again, would do her work for her. It did not escape her when she felt her pussy grinding against the top of her thigh, the electric sensation that started to fill her at the stimulation, that she was doing almost nothing to make it happen.  If this was going to carry on, she wasn't going to be able to do anything to stop it. Her bonds, and her flesh prison, were too tight for her to fight against; she was just along for the ride.

She tried to suppress it, tried to wriggle out of it. But, every time the giantess' tongue twitched, every time it flexed, it bent her body around just slightly enough to delicately massage her crotch against her thigh, and she just didn't have the freedom of movement to pull away. And, eventually, she didn't have the willpower to do anything but go along.

It was only about twenty minutes before she came for the first time, her entire body tightening helplessly against her bonds and her mouth opening to let out a gasp. But, at that moment, Emynda's tongue surged to the roof of her mouth, plunging the tongue piercing down, and Sheryl was engulfed in flesh that tightened brutally around her entire body.

She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. Her entire body was twitching helplessly, immobilized, wracked with pleasure that she desperately wanted to vocalize but physically couldn't.

Oh fuck... Oh, fuck... Oh, fuck!


From down here, the giantess' motions were a thrilling ride and a hypnotic sight. Emynda was wearing dress sandles, so Hunter was not spared a single part of the experience. He could watch the world rush by as her foot lifted off the ground, feel the plunge in his stomach as he soared with it across what felt like miles, and the booming, jarring impact of her step landing.

There was so much about it that he had never thought about before. The way her foot flicked outwards when it came up off the ground, the double-impact of her heel and the ball of her foot, the way that her weight rolled forwards as she carried on, and how it caused the soft flesh of her foot to flatten outwards, tightening the ring just enough for him to notice.

Trapped on her right foot, his world was a steady rhythm of motion, impact, sudden stability and a brief pause before it all started again. He watched, fascinated, at the incredible but completely thoughtless motion. Her foot hit the ground, sending a shock up her entire leg and her thigh muscles tightened up, all the way up to the curve of her ass, as her leg bore her weight. Then it all let up abruptly and he was swung forwards a thousand miles to a new spot to watch it all happen again.

He could stare at it for hours. The way her ass flexed and her hips rocked... It never got old. She had also asked if he wanted to be her nipple ring, but, once she confirmed that she was going to wear sandals, he had to admit that being stuck in the stuffy confines of her bra would get boring pretty fast.

What made it so much better was that he was here, watching this incredible sight, in plain view of everyone she came across, and nobody even bothered looking down at him. Not her parents, not passers-by, not even the people she was chatting with in church. He even got to see up more than a few other skirts over the course of the first hour or so, including some that he didn't particularly want to. Was she doing that on purpose, or was that just what it was like having an ant's eye's view?

His erection was painfully hard, and completely shameless at this point. He was a voyeur to the entire world, but he only had eyes for one pair of hips, and the thin slice of nirvana between them. Would she agree to use him as a sex toy once this was over?

It would be a hell of a way to end Easter.

He rode along as a silent witness to the normal rhythms of a church service. Greetings, music, a prayer, and, finally, everyone settled in for the sermon. Emynda took her seat, and Hunter was deprived, unfortunately, of the most exciting part of his experience. She crossed her left leg over her right, and he was left there on the floor, staring up at her shins crossed over each other, and little else.

It was quiet for a little while, even a little boring. Then her big toe, which so far had been a relatively placid neighbor, despite being easily ten times his size, flexed in a move that took him completely by surprise. Even after being this small for this long, even she had shown that even minor moves were mountainous in scale to him, the sudden motion was terrifying. Her toe reached over, as if it had a will of its own, pressed down on the ring just inches from his legs, and rolled it over.

Suddenly, he was no longer facing up, but sideways. The thin gap between the knuckle of her big toe and the toe that he was on, widened by the strap in the sandles, was like a cavern, and he was hanging over it feetfirst. And he was completely helpless as the toe repeated the motion, this time pressing against his face and rolling him completely underneath her toe.

With the ring flipped around a full hundred and eighty degrees, Hunter was now caught between the weight of her foot at his back and the leather surface of the sole of her shoe at his face. The light and fresh air of the outside, his view of heaven, was gone, replaced by darkness, and the heat and the sweat under her foot.

She wasn't putting any of her weight on him, but the pressure was still substantial. It wasn't painful, but what freedom of motion he had before was squashed underneath the bulk of her toe. Every breath was somewhat laborious, laden as it was with heat and the taste of sweat. But if she left him here when she started walking...

As if she read his mind, she pressed her weight down into her shoe. The pressure immediately increased a hundredfold, crushing his body with force that should have broken every bone in his body. He couldn't breathe, the blood pounding in his head was deafening, the hot, sweaty flesh of her foot sank deep into the sole of her shoe, driving him helplesly down along with it.

It lasted for a three second-long eternity, and then she abruptly let up. Stars danced in his vision, and the sudden relief was amost euphoric. He took a deep, ragged breath, heavy with her stench. He almost wanted her to do it again, and he felt his cock flex almost involuntarily.

God. Stimulated almost constantly for the last few hours and with almost no chance at relief, his libido had reached stratospheric heights. He even found this... torture... the hottest thing in the world. And when she started walking...

Oh, fuck. When she started walking, the rhythm, the pressure, the rubbing of her foot against her body, of his body against her shoe, and with it the deeply erotic and careless way that she treated him like just another piece of jewelry... He would cum under her foot almost inevitably, and he wouldn't be able to do anything to stop it.

And she would have no idea.

Walking on Sunshine by tallie
Author's Notes:

Don't bring your fetishes into public. Some shrinking, mouth play, insertion, and good old-fashioned lesbianism, both big and small.

Kayley followed Katrina around her apartment through her morning routine, such as it was given that it started at noon. Every step took a little longer than it probably would have normally, because, at Katrina's insistence; or rather, at her command; they both went about it completely naked.

Even after the long night of exploring all the heat and the flesh of each other's bodies, Kayley still felt a bit self-conscious about just walking about naked, keenly aware of the parts of her that bounced and jiggled with every move, but the ease with which Katrina carried herself made her a bit more comfortable. It also helped that Katrina had a body worth admiring, but the other woman wasn't content merely being admired. The very first thing she did when they rolled out of bed was to stride right up to Kayley, all smiles and bare skin, and slide her middle two fingers directly into her vagina.

Kayley gasped at the sudden, but not-unwelcome intrusion, and found the woman's other hand wrapped around her throat. Katrina's bright eyes looked up at her, commanding her attention and serious as a heart attack, and waited a beat before she ordered, "Make the bed."

Kayley could only force out an affirmative croak in response, and another gasp when the hand between her legs gave her a forceful squeeze, and then Katrina bounded off, humming a tune quietly to herself.

For a woman who liked to start her mornings slow and with a cup of hot tea, Kayley felt a little overwhelmed, but she did as she was bidden. She found her eyes gravitating downwards every time she looked at Katrina, at the smooth, V-shaped junction between her legs, watching every one of her careless motions with fascination, and imagining what it would be like to ride it all out from inside there. Katrina had teased her with the prospect more than a few times last night, but promised her that she would get more than her fill as she... joined her... at work.

The apartment still reeked of the fishy, heady smell of sex. Even as Katrina cooked up some eggs, it just made it smell like breakfast and sex. It was suffocating, intoxicating; it made her long for more, even if she was a bit too timid to just walk up and take it like Katrina would. It was suffused into her clothes, she was sure, and she was almost certain that Katrina would carry it with her when they left.

After breakfast, they showered together in the broom-closet shower that was in Katrina's apartment. Katrina used her match with Kayley to shrink herself down to a little more than half of her original height, at head level with Kayley's crotch, and, as soon as the hot water turned on, the other woman grabbed her ass and buried her face between her legs.

She had surprising strength for her smaller size, and her tiny tongue went straight to her most sensitive flesh like a horse right out the gate. Kayley just relaxed and let it happen. Katrina went after her with a will, following her increasingly erratic, pleasure-driven writhing around and keeping her mouth clamped on her pussy no matter what. The orgasm hit Kayley hard, and she was barely able to keep standing on her own two feet.

Katrina just kept going, though, and Kayley's legs gave out under the electrifying pleasure. She fell back against the shower wall and slid down to the ground, and Katrina followed her all the way down, tongue working relentlessly on her clit. She gasped, trying to twist her hips away from a woman who just would not be deterred.

The second orgasm came less than a minute after the first, and Kayley couldn't take it anymore, forcing her hands between the shrunken woman's face and her crotch. Then she just lay there, trying to catch her breath with hot water running over her, cool tiles at her back, and Katrina, not even three feet tall, still somehow managing to tower over her.

So this was what it was like to be the sub.

The moment of truth came shortly after they were both out of the shower, all dried up, and Katrina had sized herself back up to her full height. She cleaned the well-used toy off in the sink, and held it up for Kayley to see.

"Look," she began, "It's ready for you. Are you ready for it?"

Kayley had to admit that she found it hard to keep her eyes on the toy when there was so much woman behind it. She nodded her assent.

Katrina held up her phone in her other hand, and paused before shrinking Kayley down.     "Look, my shift today is four hours. There's four spots. Surely you can make me come four times in four hours, right?"

"You made me come twice in two minutes," Kayley told her.

Katrina only giggled in response. "Where do you want to start?"

Kayley had been thinking about it for a long time. "Right on top," she answered immediately.

"Right here?" Katrina asked in response, putting her finger on the slot at the very tip, where she would be facing directly into the giantess' vagina.



Katrina tapped a few buttons on her phone, and Kayley felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as the world around her slowly, but noticably, started to get larger. She had no idea what she expected that shrinking would feel like, but this sensation was absolutely bizarre. It was a sense of strange, adventurous helplessness, as the world grew larger and larger and more and more things gradually seemed to grow out of reach, or so large that they suddenly became threatening in their scale.

And looming over it all was Katrina, who watched her shrink with rapt attention and a broad smile on her face. Even when Kayley had been at full height, the shorter woman had seemed dominating, but, as she shrank, her head falling to level with her breasts, then her waist, then her knees, she seemed to grow into a goddess. Still naked, feet apart, she treated Kayley to an absolutely incredible view up the length of her body that, at her quickly diminishing size, was somehow both more distant and more intimate than the same view she would have had from the foot of her bed.

Kayley's perspective grew narrower as the world, and the giantess, grew ever larger. At full size, Katrina had just been Katrina, but now each part of her body seemed a separate entity in itself, each posessing divine powers, each worthy of divine worship. She grew smaller and smaller, until the fabric loops of the carpet started to rise up around her, and she found her focus falling on the giantess' feet. The rest of her was just so far away by now, but her feet were right there, mountains unto themselves, both capable of squishing her flat without a second thought.

Finally, she stopped shrinking. She couldn't have been an inch tall at this point, of a height with the giantess' big toe. The carpet was practically a jungle around her, the rest of the world a universe away, Katrina towering over it all like a goddess reigning over her creation, her focus centered directly on Kayley and her now-microscopic role in this place.

It was a religious sense of powerlessness. Kayley was captivated in awe, in terror, of the awesome and the terrible. She was absolutely frozen in place, unable to move a muscle under the all-seeing gaze of the giantess looming over her.

And Katrina hadn't even moved yet.

But she knew. She knew what Kayley was experiencing, and she stood there in silence for a moment, her smile unmoving, allowing her miniscule subject to marinate in absolute, primal submission.     And it was only when Kayley began to take stock and come to her senses that she made her first move.

In an act of casual power that only a goddess could muster, she tossed her phone onto the bed, and crouched down, knees spread wide, until she was sitting on her heels. Kayley couldn't help but stare at her crotch, now many times larger than her own body, as it crashed down from heaven and landed right in front of her, bringing with it a wave of heat and smell. Lingering traces of floral soap laced with the heady stench of a pussy that was begging to be filled.

It was an incredible experience. Katrina could have ordered Kayley to crawl under her feet and she would have obeyed. But she took action instead. With the hand that wasn't holding the dildo, she reached down and carefully closed her thumb and forefinger around Kayley's tiny body. She was sure the goddess was being gentle, but the pressure between fingertips that were nearly as large as she was was suffocating. Even if she had tried to fight, it would have been worthless, so she just went limp and let it happen.

Her stomach dropped as she was whipped across an infinite space that she couldn't see for the finger pressed up against her face, and then the finger at her back departed, replaced by hard, cool rubber. Then the finger pulled away from her face, and the first thing she saw was the massive, absolutely massive face of the giantess, staring down at her with a wide, toothy grin. Her teeth, her lips, they were so large... She felt like a prey animal under the gaze of a T-rex, just completely helpless.

But she knew what she was supposed to do. The rubber at her back had a shape in it that was now just large enough for her, and she lay back, spread-eagled, against the mold. When she did, Katrina's finger came down again and pushed her into place, and, with a quiet pop, Kayley was entombed in the mold, flush with the tip of the dildo, with cool rubber wrapping around every contour of her body.

Katrina's finger departed, and her grin somehow even wider this time. She didn't say a thing, but opened her mouth wide, and Kayley was hit with a wall of hot breath, still minty-smelling from toothpaste, before she was plunged into a world of darkness, heat, and chaos.

It was an unbelievable experience. The sound of her was everywhere, each breath a skin-peeling gale. Her tongue was a monster that moved with predatory speed, coating everything with a layer of burning-hot saliva. Kayley was, of course, its first target, pressing its wet, squishy bulk hard against her to make sure that she was firmly in place on the dildo, but it went everywhere, moving with lightning speed and amazing dexterity.

Katrina wasn't merely a goddess. Her tongue was itself a goddess, and Kayley had no doubt that, if it wanted, it could pop her out of her flimsy rubber safe space, play with her for as long as it wanted, and send her tumbling down the back of Katrina's throat. And she would be commuted down into the realms of her equally powerful esophagos, stomach, intestines, and whatever else her body had in store.

No, every part of this giantess was divine in its own right, and Katrina was the queen who sat the throne of the pantheon.

Kayley's world span around as Katrina made sure she got spit on every nook and cranny of the dildo, and pushed it way back into her mouth so that Kayley could get a good, hard look at the dark maw of her throat. The giantess swallowed a pool of excess saliva once, then again, muscles bigger than her moving with frightening speed, slapping together with a wet gulping sound, and showing her exactly what they would do to her if they had the chance. Then, finally, Katrina brought her out into the brightness of the real world with a soft exhale.

Stuck motionless in rubber, she couldn't even wipe her face clean of the saliva, but she could see more or less clearly through it. She was lowered down, down the length of the giantess' torso, until she was right underneath her crotch. The tendons of her inner thighs framed a puffy mound of soft flesh, even darker than the skin around it and covered in the sandpaper texture of recently-shaven pubic hair. Square in the middle of that lay a thin line of wrinkly brown flesh, which Katrina gently placed two fingers on either side of and slowly spread apart, revealing the bright pink flesh beneath and, even further beyond, the inner sanctum.

Truly a temple worth worshipping in.

No more foreplay for her, though; she was a toy, a servant to a goddess, and she would be treated however her mistress desired. Katrina pushed her freshly-lubricated toy right up into her vulva, and Kayley had a front-row seat as the wet, slimy flesh rubbed against her entire body, working her down, hunting, it seemed, for the entrance to her vagina.

She found it, of course. She found it effortlessly, how could she not? Textured, bright pink flesh, covered in glistening fluids, seemingly pressed so tightly together that they would take no visitors, parted willingly for Kayley. Or at least for the dildo, on which she was merely a helpless rider. The bulk of the toy was so large, and she was so small, that the flesh never actually touched her, somewhat to her disappointment. She just watched it spread open and run past her like she was driving down a tunnel, and it continued for what felt like miles.

She knew that the phallic part of the dildo was only about four inches long, but, to her, it felt like she was plunging deep into the heart of the goddess. Deeper and deeper she went, until she suddenly stopped. There was nothing around her that could show her why the giantess had stopped pushing her further in, so she had to assume that Katrina had managed to insert the entire dildo into herself.

There was still air to breathe, at least for now, but it was suffocating with heat and the stench of sex. The sounds of the woman's body; a pounding heartbeat, the squelching of wet flesh, the growling of a digestive system hard at work; were deafening. Kayley felt a rush of motion, the bottom falling out of her stomach, and knew that the goddess had done something, but, when nothing around her really changed all that much, it was impossible for her to tell what.

Her imagination ran wild, trying to interpret every little move, every change in the woman's steady heartbeat, to figure out what on earth the giantess was up to. She had been in a relatively uncomfortable position, crouched down close to the floor, so she had probably stood up now that the dildo was comfortably inserted inside her. But then what was she doing? Was she walking? Was she sitting down? Was she just standing around, letting Kayley explore all the crevasses of her new position before the real fun began?

There seemed to be something above her, actually. Something that peeked through the tight press of flesh that was different, in color and in texture. Was it her cervix? Was she really that deep inside her?

Oh, right. Her new home was a vibrator. One that was specifically designed to give the tiny full control. She felt out the confines of her rubber prison, and realized that there was something like a pressure button at the end of all four of her limbs. She pressed each one experimentally, held them down for a few seconds, with no results.

Were the batteries dead? She stretched all the way out to hit all four at once, and the vibrator came to life with a deafening buzzing. The rubber mold that enveloped her body began vibrating as well, with force, including the part that was pressed up right between her legs.

She let out a yelp at the sudden bolt of electric pleasure, and her entire body seized up. She turned the vibrator off as quickly as she could and lay there, gasping in shock. That was something else. Could she get away from that? She twisted her hips, squeezed her legs together, tried her best to relieve the pressure of the rubber against her crotch, and, with an uncertain breath, turned the vibration on again.


The pleasure was instant and overwhelming. For a moment, Kayley's body took over, and she couldn't even coordinate herself well enough to turn off the vibration. She groped and twisted and squirmed for a second, before she finally managed to get herself together and switch the vibrator back off, and finally relaxed, breathing deep, desperate breaths. Even those few seconds had been exhausting. How was she supposed to get Katrina to orgasm from here?

But Katrina had managed to do it to her. She had even been able to use the vibration as a method of communication, if an imperfect one. Kayley wasn't even sure she could pull that off.

Four hours... She could do this. She could make the giantess orgasm at least once, she just had to endure some of the strongest, most insistent pleasure of her entire life to do it. And, if she pulled it off, maybe the next spot that Katrina put her wouldn't be so bad.

Just... Not now. She needed to catch her breath.


Katrina twisted around in front of her bathroom mirror, wearing nothing but a pair of pink boyshorts, trying to get a good look in the tiny window at herself to see if there was any evidence of what she was doing. The vibrator was a little heavy, a little bulky, so she needed the extra security of the boyshorts to keep it in place. It was big, too, bigger than she thought, impossible to forget. It felt like she should have been able to see it poking out through her belly, but, in the mirror, it wasn't really noticeable at all.

Good enough. She could wear a pair of men's pants and light sweater, and nobody would even know that she had a little passenger on board, trying desperately to please her.

Well, maybe not desperately. In the twenty minutes since she had left Kayley inside her, Katrina had only felt the vibrator buzz for a few seconds, and then cut out for a long while. It felt good, but it wasn't much. Maybe the little woman was just trying to get her worked up in preparation for a bit of real fun later. She closed her eyes and smiled, tracing her fingertips across the waistband of her underwear, wondering what it was like for her in there right now.

Was she enjoying it? Katrina had. Being completely immobile, trapped in a world of such overwhelming heat and stench and pressure and motion as to be completely alien. Insignificant in size, powerless in position, but at the same time absolutely in control, able to bring a goddess to her knees at a whim...

The vibrator started again, and she let out a little squeak of surprise at the sudden sensation. Even if it was weaker than before, it was definitely hitting the right spot. With a breathy giggle, she was able to suppress it, just barely, but if it continued like this for long...

Then it cut out again, and she sighed in relief. The stimulation, however brief, had left her with a bit of a hunger, but she would have to wait a while to deal with it. More likely than Kayley trying to edge her, Katrina had been successful in sizing her just right when she shrank, so that she would fit in the mold on the vibrator, but poorly enough that it would stimulate her as well.

She had known that that would be possible after her ride inside it last night. The vibration had been all-consuming at her tiny size, overwhelming every other sensation, but it had felt more like being in a car going down a particularly bumpy road. She knew, though, that if she had been a bit larger, if she fit just a little bit tighter into the mold, then the part of the cutout that went between the tiny's thighs would have pressed directly up against her crotch, and the vibrator would have been more stimulating for her than for the giantess she was trying to bring to orgasm.

Which was apparently what was happening to Kayley. The thought gave Katrina a wicked grin. Dominated again; even when she thought she was in control, Kayley would have to torture herself with a universe of completely debilitating ecstasy to communicate even the smallest amount of it to her goddess.

The very thought of it made her horny, and the halting, unpredictable stimulation that the vibrator provided her only made things worse. God, by the end of her shift, she would be practically begging for the tiny woman to put an end to it and let her cum. If Kayley couldn't pull it off even once, Katrina would bring the tiny back home, size her halfway up to her full size, and clamp her face between her thighs for so long that she'd evolve gills.

Katrina danced through the rest of her morning routine, and the dildo lay quiet inside her until she had sat down in her car. Almost the moment her ass hit the seat, it started buzzing, with force, and she screwed her eyes shut, twisted her knees together, and waited for it to stop.

Kayley lasted an impressive thirty seconds before finally cutting it out, and Katrina carried on as if nothing had happened. Although she would be lying if she said that it didn't get her a bit worked up. Her drive passed by in a daze, fantasizing about what she was doing to the tiny woman, what she could do to her once she finally got home after her shift. The thought made her so wet that she was almost worried that she would drown her little toy.

She made it all the way to work without being bothered again by her shrunken rider, pulling into the parking lot more or less at the same time as Zoey. Her coworker, after almost a full week having to play the shrunken barbie doll for every customer who wandered in and wanted to see how a sex toy "worked," was understandably not in a good mood. Katrina was all smiles, though, as bubbly as she had ever been, practically dancing around Zoey as she unlocked the door and they set to opening the store.

Her cheeriness put Zoey in a bit of a better mood, but Katrina hardly even saw her as a person; all she could think about was the fantasies she could indulge in once she had control over the size of two people. The toy already inside her could carry four, but that seemed so uninspired; what would it feel like, she wondered, if she set their sizes so one could use the other as a dildo, while inside her? Fuck, she could bury the smallest one all the way in her vagina, and leave the larger of the two to hunt her down, a game of cat-and-mouse, and hold both their sizes hostage until they figured out how to make her orgasm.

Once the shop was open, Zoey reluctantly stripped off her clothes and sat on the stool behind the counter. Katrina activated the match with her coworker on Syze and shrank her down, down, down, until she was barely a quarter of an inch in size.

That was far too small, she knew, and she let out a plausible "Oops" when she did it. But, when she moved to correct the problem, she let her gaze linger on the tiny woman, she let her finger hover over the phone, for just long enough to let her lust show.

Zoey was too small to vocalize her dissent, but she started to jump up and down, waving her arms around, and Katrina hurriedly sized her back up to about six inches, dropping her phone on the desk and trying to look as innocent as she could with the blood rushing to her face.

"Don't you fucking dare," Zoey's tiny voice squeaked. She kept a harsh eye contact with Katrina as she made her way to the cash register, where the barbie clothes that she was supposed to wear for the job were stored. She dug the sloppy attempt at a jean skirt out from underneath the cash register and slipped it on. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she demanded.

"Sorry," Katrina said, crossing her arms in front of her, trying to look sheepish. Even at that size, though, Zoey was a tempting little thing...

Zoey didn't respond, sliding on her tiny shirt and slumping up against the cash register. She didn't even make eye contact with Katrina, who loomed over her but wasn't sure where to go next. "Look..." she began, and paused.

Zoey's gaze snapped up to hers, and Katrina had to force herself not to cringe; the other woman was barely six inches tall, what did she have to be scared of? "What if..." she started, and faltered again. How could she say this?

"What?" Zoey demanded.

"Look, you're tiny..." Katrina muttered, "And..." she couldn't put the words together.

"I don't swing that way," Zoey said sternly.

At that moment, Kayley set the dildo vibrating, as strong as she could. It hit Katrina like a freight train, and, as far as she was concerned, she did a damn good job keeping it suppressed. But her knees buckled, her legs crossed, and an involuntary moan escaped her lips, and Zoey saw that for exactly what it was.

"Oh, you bitch," she said.

The vibration cut out only a few seconds later, and Katrina recovered with a breathy gasp. "Look," she breathed, and was tripped up by the husky, desperate tone of her own voice. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Look. It's just you and me today. If I lock the door..."

"Jesus Christ, no," Zoey replied.

Katrina felt a bit deflated at the way her coworker rejected her proposal. It's not like she was asking for a serious relationship; what was a freebie between coworkers? Hell, Katrina was even bringing a plus-one.

Even so, 'no' didn't necessarily really mean 'no.' She had total control over Zoey's size for the day, after all. All she had to do was lock the door, and...

"This is my last day like this," Zoey told her. Even at her size, she managed to put enough severity into her squeaky voice to grab Katrina's attention. "If we can pretend like the last five minutes never happened, I won't say anything to anyone, okay?"

That was enough to put Katrina back into her right mind, the subtle reminder that the day did not begin and end with whatever her sex drive thought was an appropriate way to treat her coworker. Hell, she might even find herself in legal trouble if she did the wrong thing.

She shook her head, breathed a heavy sigh, and said, "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Forget about it, please?"

Zoey crossed her arms and turned her gaze away, and Katrina's heart sank. She was hoping that she could earn quick forgiveness, but it was clear that Zoey had taken her advances more personally than she had intended. Katrina was about to shrink away, take shelter in distance by lingering in the far corner from the cash register,  before Zoey finally spoke up.

"Fine," she said. "It didn't happen. Let's just..." the tiny girl breathed deep, and let it out all at once in a weary sigh, "Let's just do our job, okay?"

Katrina's cheeks burned with shame, her libido totally evaporated. She looked at her own feet, at the walls, the ceiling, anywhere where she didn't have to make eye contact with Zoey. But, when she glanced at the tiny woman, she didn't seem to eager to meet her gaze either. Dammit. Now she had to deal with four hours of this awkwardness.

It was extremely inconvenient that, at that moment, Kayley turned the vibration back on. Katrina nearly jumped right out of her shoes, letting out a squeaky yelp that attracted a hostile look from Zoey. All she could do was slink away to the other side of the store in embarassment.

Erik's Long Vacation, Pt. 1 by tallie
Author's Notes:

Introducing Erik, and his discovery that, like the whole wide world of sex, Syze has its dark underworld too. Giantess insertion and masturbation by way of roleplay, mouth play, and some plot to pad the word count.

Erik had been plying this girl Kim over the text chat on Syze for the last two days or so. Between the booze and the steamy direction their conversation quickly took, he had let himself hope that he might wind up in her bed the very night they connected, but she had gone totally quiet without warning, leaving him to wonder if she had ghosted him. And then she had started messaging him right back first thing the next morning, as if no time had passed at all.

Rather than feeling rejected, he reveled at the fact that she came back for more. He didn't want to admit it about himself, but the hard-to-get routine only served to raise his interest. So he layed on the charm and the sly sexuality to try and close the deal, hoping that he could secure a time, a place, and, hopefullt, a new and exciting size.

Eventually, he found himself roleplaying over text. He had never done that sort of thing before, in a size context or otherwise, but he had to admit that it was a turn on to casually explore all the possibilities offered by Syze, and learn a bit about Kim's kinks as well. She seemed only interested in being the larger partner; that was fine with him, but, from the way that she was getting into the roleplay, he got the sense that she would really get off on taking charge, even dominating him as a tiny.

Given the profiles he had seen while first swiping through the app, he wasn't too surprised by that. But what really surprised him was how much he liked it.

I shrink you down to three inches. She wrote to him. And I stand over you, looking down. How are you going to prove to me that you're worthy?

Erik, lying in his bed and naked but for his underwear, flicked back to the woman's profile, trying to imagine what that scenario would look like for him. She was barely over five feet tall, so, at that height, he wouldn't even come all the way up to her ankles. He tried to imagine her towering overhead like a skyscraper, looking down with harsh judgement, waiting for him to make his move. It helped to imagine that she would be totally naked; she had a bikini photo on her profile that helped him to fill out the details. He felt the blood rush between his legs.

I throw myself at your feet, begging for my goddess' mercy.

He thought for a moment, then added a second line.

My voice is too small for you to hear. I secretly hope you'll crush me.

Kim, for her part, did not seem interested in letting him control the narrative line, but wasn't afraid to crank up the eroticism either. After a few seconds of the little bubble that said she was typing, during which Erik's mind swam with the possibilities of what she wanted to do with him, she finally sent her reply.

I pinch you off the ground between my thumb and forefinger and hold you over my panties, pulling open the waistband. Do you deserve to serve my pussy, little man?

I will serve it to my dying breath, goddess.

I drop you headfirst into my panties and let go of the underwear. How do you prove your worth?

It felt like a school creative writing prompt, but they normally didn't make him this hard. He typed furiously on his phone to keep the energy up.

I find your clit as quick as I can. I grab it with both hands and squeeze it and push it and rub it. Does it feel good, goddess?

I can feel your struggles, but they feel more like panic. Are you just trying to escape? Have you given up?

Hard to get, and hard to please. He wasn't sure what she was expecting out of him, but he figured she would take control, just as if it were real life and he was as small as she had described. The thought of it, the very fact that they could make it real if they would just meet in person, was electrifying, a and he had to take his hand off his dick to respond, drawing on poetry and libido in equal measures.

I push my hands deeper into your flesh. I love the smell and the taste of you. All I want is to please you.

Your struggles are pathetic. I reach into my waistband and shove you headfirst into my vagina without a second thought.

God, she was escalating fast, and he loved it. What would that even feel like? He tried to imagine it, being entombed in flesh, drowning in heat and stench... He allowed himself a few strokes at the idea of it before typing out his response.

I kick and push as hard as I can. I know where your G-spot it and I want to make you lose control.

The squirming of your tiny body is just enough to remind me that you're there. I guess I'll have to do the job myself.

Erik's mild annoyance at how Kim seemed to be ignoring him was overcome by the sheer eroticism of the scenario she was laying out. Would it actually play out like that, or would he be able to please her if she left him up close and personal with her most tender flesh? They would have to meet in person to find out, and he absolutely couldn't fucking wait. The bubble popped up that she was still typing, so he let her get a second line in.

Can you hear that, tiny man? That's my vibrator. Having you trapped inside me is making me so horny...

Erik wasn't sure how to respond to that, but he liked the sound of it, and she didn't really seem to care about his input anyway. God, he hoped that this was a preview of a real-life experience to come. He threw out another line, just to keep things flowing.

Over your heartbeat, I can barely hear the buzzing. I keep kicking and punching, stronger than before.

I lay down on your bed and pull off my panties. From the outside, there is no sign that you're even inside me.

Your bed, she said. That was promising. Was she hinting at something? He hastily typed out an agreement.

I am surrounded head to toe in your flesh. Can you feel me, goddess? Am I pleasing yuo?

Ah, fuck, a typo. Erik thought about correcting it, but the bubble popped up that she was typing already. No point in ruining the mood.

Try not to get crushed by my pussy muscles when I cum.

Could that even happen? Syze was pretty explicit about how tough the tinies were, but maybe she just got off on the fantasy. What was the harm in indulging her?

My body is yours, goddess.

My vibrator touches my clit, and my pussy muscles immediately clench hard. Can you breathe in there, little slave?

Erik thought for a moment. Did she want him to play like he was dying in her pussy, or should he insist that he was as invincible while shrunken as the app promised? Being crushed to death by a giantess' orgasm was one hell of a way to go, but it couldn't actually happen on the app anyway, so what was the harm?

Your vagina is so strong. I can't move, I can't even breathe. When it lets up, I panic. Let me out!

So that's what real panic feels like. It finally feels good, little man.

Goddess, please, have mercy.

I push my middle finger into my vagina, shoving you even deeper. It's so much stronger than you.

Erik was already at the point where he was masturbating aggressively. It was weird, but it was hot as hell. He stopped only to type his replies.

I reach up and try to grab onto your fingertip, but I lose my grip. I'm trapped all the way inside my goddess.

He realized only belatedly that, in the roleplay, he had gone inside her head-first, so he had impossibly flipped around inside her. She was typing again already, though, so she didn't care.

I push the vibrator up against my clit. My pussy squeezes again, harder this time.

The pressure is too much to bear. I try to scream but your muscles squeeze all the air out of my body.

I turn the vibrator up, and my pussy clenches hard. Did I just feel your bones break inside me?

Erik paused, phone in one hand and cock in the other. What a twisted bitch! Thank God that Syze made the tinies nearly invincible, or men everywhere would be getting ground into paste by sadistic women with over-trained pelvic muscles. It was still pretty hot, though.

I hear a crack, and pain shoots down my left arm. I try to scream, but there's only flesh and fluid. Goddess, please!

The typing bubble appeared again, and stayed there for a while. Kim must be up to some really perverted shit, but Erik didn't care, he could keep stroking himself while she churned out the next turn in her fantasy.

I laugh, and my pussy squeezes you hard with each giggle. "I'm almost there, little slave," I shout over the vibrator. "Stay alive and I'll keep you around for round two!"

Erik had been with his fair share of women, and not a one of them was capable of monologues while approaching orgasm.  Whatever. He was having fun too. She was already typing again, but he slid in a quick response just to keep things lubed up.

I try to shout back, but I can only cough.

I finally come, and my entire body convulses to crush your pathetic form. I feel your bones crunch inside me with the first contraction, and I feel more crunching with the second. When my orgasm finishes, I lean up, and what's left of you slowly starts to leak out of me.

Holy shit.

At least you were good for one orgasm. Where do you live?

Erik paused only briefly, hand on his dick and mid-stroke. He wanted nothing more than to have her come over, but the fantasy was so vivid... Could she actually do that to him?

He checked his Syze settings. He wasn't going to die even if she ran over him with her car. Just to be sure, he Googled "Syze" and "crush" and every other combination of words that covered that quick roleplay session he could think of. Everything corroborated what he already knew; once she shrank him, there was nothing she could do to harm him.

Satisfied, but incredibly intrigued, he punched in his address. Her response was almost immediate.

I'm coming over.

Erik lept out of bed, his erection bouncing around comically but temporarily forgotten. His apartment was absolutely not ready for her. Bedsheets. Dishes. Clothing. Ah, fuck, laundry. No time for that. Second best clothing then. He wouldn't be wearing it for long anyway. Vacuum the pubes out of the corner of the bathroom. Shove the mess on the table into a drawer.

He was just about sure that the apartment was presentable when he heard a knock at the door. God damn, that was quick. He passed by the mirror in the bathroom just to make sure he was as presentable as he was going to get, and opened the door to see Kim standing there, wearing an athletic shirt, short shorts, her phone in her hand and a bag over her shoulder, looking for all the world like she had just finished murdering a man with her pussy muscles.

"Hey," Erik said. Confidence, confidence, ignore anything wrong about the apartment that you missed. "Come in."

Kim strolled in with all the confidence that Erik wished that he had, and kicked the door shut behind her. She looked around briefly, then at him with a pointed expression. She hoisted her phone, and showed him the screen. The Syze matching option was displayed prominently, and she had clearly already selected 'match' on his profile.

"Oh, right." Erik fumbled for his phone, and pressed the 'match' button on her profile as well. He heard the distinctive 'pa-ting!' notification, and Kim smiled a toothy grin at him.

"Clothes," she ordered.

Erik stripped like he had spent every night of his life in the Fashion District, throwing his clothes as far away as he could manage. Once he was in his birthday suit, Kim looked him up and down, satisfied, and then he started to shrink.

It was quick, and it was highly disorienting. It wasn't just that he was getting closer to the floor. That would have been easy. But not only did the floor rush up at him from below, but everything around seemed to get farther away, growing incomprehensibly, turning his shoebox of an apartment into a vast cathedral. The air seemed colder, the smells grew weirder, and all the background sounds of his apartment, the whirring and buzzing of electronics he never thought about, seemed to be coming from farther away. In seconds, he found himself staring up at a true goddess. He didn't even come up past the soles of her feet.

It was absolutely nothing like he had expected. Her legs, smooth and pale, were infinite in height. Her eyes, huge and brown and wicked, were so far away that it seemed impossible that she would see him, but her gaze was fixed on him. It was all the breathtaking scale of a mountain with the heart-stopping, awesome terror of being in the water with a giant predator.

Her right foot shifted back slightly, and he watched the shock of the motion travel all the way up her leg. He could see in between folds of her loose-fitting clothing, her bare belly, the underside of her bra, even a sliver of her panties visible up one of the legs of her shorts. But they were so huge, and so far away, that they seemed more like careful details in a divine monument than teases of the eroticism to come.

She leaned forwards, depriving him of the view, and her hair spilled over her shoulders, creating a halo of free-waving dark strands around her angular face. Her right hand, the one holding the phone, came down, and he was so captivated by how he could see all the way up the sleeve of her shirt to her bare armpit that he didn't even notice her fingers until they wrapped around him.

Thumb and forefinger, just as she had promised. They pinched him mercilessly around the chest, effortlessly driving the air from his lungs. His mouth gaped like a fish caught out of water, unable to draw in air amidst the pressure. Was she squeezing him deliberately, or was he so small that it was impossible for her to truly be gentle?

God, could she actually make that fantasy of hers a reality?

In a single movement, so massive and so disorienting that his brain found it easier to pretend that he had more or less teleported, he found himself standing on top of the giantess' phone, held up like a little table for him. Underneath his feet, the screen glowed gently, and it took a second for him to realize that the image underneath him was his own Syze profile.

God damn. That photo he used as his headline was right underneath his feet. The touchscreen was so sensitive that it moved, ever so slightly, under his naked feet whenever he shifted around to look at it. His own face on the tiny screen was bigger than he was.

The phone shook slightly underneath him, and the screen turned off. He looked up at Kim, making eye contact with the giantess for the first time since he shrank, but she was digging through her purse. She produced a small tin of mints, and then set it down next to him on top of the screen. As if standing on top of a smartphone that was the size of a bus wasn't enough, when she popped open the mints, washing him in an overpowering scent and showing a half-full case of treats that were as large as he was, he started to really appreciate exactly how small he was.

Thumb and forefinger attacked him again, catching him totally off guard yet a second time, but it only lasted a second. She pitched him forwards into the case of mints, and he didn't even have the time to react before she slammed the lid shut, encasing him in darkness.

He coughed uncontrollably. The peppermint odor was eye-wateringly powerful. He could almost feel it in his skin. Before he could get his bearings, gravity shifted, and he tumbled sideways into the bottom hinge of the tin, an avalanche of mints following him down and burying him at the bottom.

The rhythm of motion that followed was fairly tame, and easy to get used to. The subtle lifting of her stepping forwards and the gentle bump of her foot hitting the ground. It wasn't enough to disturb his mint-filled prison, so he was able to try to push the candies that covered him aside and climb back to the top. He expected it to be difficult, but they were surprisingly light. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced; boulders fell aside like they weighed as much as beach balls. It wasn't anywhere near as hard as he had thought, but getting out from underneath didn't do a lot for him; his blanket of mints was now a bed; but he was still trapped in the same suffocating metal prison.

Erik wasn't totally sure what Kim was up to now, but it was easy to imagine that she was still just playing with him. She had captured him, and was going back to her place to play the cruel goddess with her new slave. In the boredom of his tiny prison, probably buried at the bottom of her purse, he let his thoughts run wild with the idea, listening to the sounds from outside and imagining where she was and what she was doing.

How would he react once she really got started? In a casual few seconds, she had shown him the incredible power she had over him while he was at this size, and how disorienting, how all-encompassing the experience of being this small could be. It was impossible to be cool-headed when he was tumbling head over heels through space, and fingers the size of tree trunks were darting nimbly around him. The near-invincibility promised by Syze was easy to forget, and all he could think was how small and vulnerable he was.

If anything, she had already shown him that his imagination had been wholly insufficient. What would it be like to be this size while she was getting up to something more exciting? Or while she was explicitly trying to make him suffer?

All he could do was wonder as he listened to the sounds from outside. Walking, car door, engine, driving, Top 40 radio, more driving... He honestly expected her to at least say something, but she was treating him like she treated all the mints in the case with him. Minutes crawled by, boredom and anticipation leaving Erik uncertain what to feel, or what to expect next.

The engine cut out, keys rattled, the door opened, and back to the rhythm of walking. Were they home now? More walking, walking, walking. For a very long time. Voices, the sound of a crowd... Where the heck were they going?

"Unattended baggage is a security risk, and may be removed and destroyed in accordance with TSA regulations."

The echoing voice, female and totally devoid of emotion, took a second to connect in Erik's brain; it was the kind of background noise that he almost never paid attention to in the real world. But, when he finally realized that he had heard it at all, it was confusing at first, and then he started to connect all the rest of the sounds around him, and a sudden panic set in.

The airport? What? This was not part of the deal. He wanted out, or at least he wanted her to explain himself. But his sudden change of mind didn't change the fact that he was still trapped in a tin of mints, with neither the size nor the strength to break free. And, even if he did he was still at the bottom of her purse. And, even if he got out of that, he was still smaller than a fucking breath mint, and she controlled his size. Did she have his phone with her?

A rustling, a click, and light flooded his metal prison, along with a wash of fresh air. He looked up, and all he could see was her thumb and forefinger coming back down through the open mouth of the mint tin. They were massive, fast-moving, and absolutely merciless. He didn't even have time to think about dodging before they pinched together around him, and one of the mints, like a vice.

He was lifted rapidly out of the case, as her other three fingers closed the lid dextrously behind him, and then he was ripped out across the open air, too fast to process. Crowds, noise, fluorescent lights, nondescript carpet, shoes, a flash of cleavage, lips, teeth, tongue, saliva, heat...

Her mouth closed down around him, and her fingers disappeared, leaving him and a single mint alone in his new prison. It happened faster than it could be described. One moment, he was in a cool, minty, metal cage, and the next, he was in a cavern of flesh and teeth, stifling heat and stench.

His bed of uneven, rocky candies was replaced with the heaving, twitching wet muscle of her tongue. And, almost as soon as he hit it, it showed its incredible dexterity by tilting the mint to the side and depositing it in her cheek, on the other side of her solid white teeth, and then heaving upwards to press him mercilessly against the roof of her mouth.

God, it was so fast, and it was terrifying. He felt the bone-deep fear of a prey animal. He was already inside her mouth, and it had happened too fast for him to even resist. There was no escaping now, her tongue was a thousand times stronger than him; she could swallow, and that would be it for him.

And then she did. It was a deafening, gulking sound, wet flesh slapping against flesh, muscles churning, something slipping down into the unknowable depths of her throat, but it wasn't him. He was still pinned up against the roof of her mouth. She had just swallowed a little extra spit, that was all.

But he was next. Or she was toying with him. Or she was savoring him like a living mint, as the real mint started to dissolve in the hot spit that surrounded him. The saliva turned slightly sweet, and the hot, sour air of her breath mingled with the overwhelming stench of peppermint from his previous prison. He looked around in panic, waiting for the end to come. Her teeth were everywhere, her tongue was hyperactive, the darkness at the back of her throat seemed as inevitable as death. Her tongue heaved upwards again and pressed him mercilessly against her palate, and she sucked on him briefly. The hot air in her mouth disappeared when she did so, sucking away the saliva that coated his body and even pulling their air from his own lungs. He gaped like a fish dying on the docks, and then she swallowed again, sucking it all down.

But, again, he was spared. Air came back, and he took a ragged breath, rich with the taste of peppermint.

Her tongue tilted, he slipped through her teeth, and was quickly tucked away underneath her bottom gums, right beside the rapidly-dissolving mint. It felt almost safe, like she was satisfied just to suck on him instead of swallowing him whole, but his lizard brain was still in full-blown panic mode. It's not like he could fight, though; her cheek pressed in from outside, holding him fast against her gums.

The noise was incredible. He couldn't hear anything coming from the outside world over the chaos of flesh and fluid, the measured, cavernous sound of her breathing, the distant but omnipresent pulsing of her heartbeat. Every once in a while, she sucked down more of her tasty mint, and his ears popped at the massive and rapid change in pressure, before she swallowed with a deafening gulp that drowned out everything else.

It lasted forever, or it lasted just a few minutes. Erik was locked in a state of permanent panic, so he had no idea what was going on. The more rational side of his brain knew that, if she was actually going to eat him, she would have done it by now, but the rest of his body was acting out the million year-old instinct of a mouse trapped between the jaws of a T-rex. And, like the tiny mammal who met its end as a monster's snack, absolutely nothing he did would change whatever Kim chose to do to him.

After an hour... Or was it a day? Or had it only been a few minutes? The mint was all gone, that's all he knew... Her tongue slipped between her teeth and sought him out, scooping him out from her cheek and tossing him effortlessly, chaotically around the inside of her mouth.    

He spilled down to the front of her tongue, pressed up the unyielding enamel of her lower teeth, and then her thumb and forefinger came into her mouth with him, seeking him out effortlessly and grabbing hold of him without mercy. They had almost the entire lower two-thirds of his body pinned, and dragged him out of her mouth and back out into the open air.

Again, the motion was absolutely chaotic, too much and too fast for him to handle except as stitching it together as a series of linear events after the fact. The air was freezing cold against his wet skin. Dim fluorescent lights, clean white floor-to-ceiling tiles, the faint smell of an especially aggressive air freshener, a toilet...

Kim was seated on the toilet, her shorts and underwear a bundle around her ankles. She wasn't even looking at him, her purse in her lap, her phone resting on her left knee, a small case of mints open in her left hand. He span acrosss an infinite expanse of empty space in half a second, and slammed into an uneven bed of rocky candy, as suffocating stench of peppermint rising from around him.

Thumb and forefinger let go of him, and he could finally look back up at her. She was hardly even looking at him, disinterested expression looking just past him, maybe at her phone? Her fingers shifted, grabbed one of the mints from beside him, and she popped it into her mouth.

Then those big brown eyes of hers, rich with the experience of her casual cruelty towards him, fixed on him like a laser. He cringed involuntarily, waiting for the next thing to come, but all she did was waggle her eyebrows. She stuck out her tongue, showing the mint resting right in the middle. Just long enough as if to say this could be you, then sucked it back into her mouth with a quiet slurping sound.

The lid on the mints slammed shut, plunging him into darkness and locking him into the suffocating atmosphere of peppermint and sugar. Just like last time, gravity shifted, an avalanche of candy came tumbling down on top of him, and then all was finally, blessedly still.

The whole thing took less than five seconds; so quick that his skin was still wet with her spit; he had to lie there, absolutely still underneath a pile of boulder-sized mints, trying to stitch it all together into something his brain could make sense of. Okay, she had popped him into her mouth, just like that mint, sucked on him for a few minutes, or a few hours... or maybe just a few seconds... It felt like forever but he knew it couldn't be that long, then decided she was tired of him? Back into the mint case he went?

The bathroom was unusually nice, but it was still an airport. Maybe she was trying to make it onto the plane, and didn't want to put him through an X-ray machine with the rest of the things in her purse. Was that to save him, or was that to hide him from the authorities? Did she still have his phone on him?

Or maybe she just liked toying with him. The bone-deep, heart-wrenching terror was gone, but, as he lay there trying to process all that had just happened to him, he found it being replaced with a certain sense of... desire? She could do it all over again in an instant, maybe even swallow him this time, and, unbelievably, his dick started to grow hard at the thought.

The mint that she had shown him on her tongue... That could have been him. For a minute, it had been, and he kind of wished that it could be again.

But he had to wait. He could hear, muffled through the fabric of her purse and the metal prison that he shared with the mints, the continued background sounds of the airport. A vague mass of noise that was a thousand conversations, a child crying, the anodyne female voice of the PA echoing overhead...

The boarding announcements, the wide sounds of the airport collapsing into the confined space of the boarding bridge, then the even smaller space of the airplane itself... Fans, more conversations, more announcements, jet turbines, rumbling down the runway...

These were the rhythms of travel he had heard and felt a hundred times before, but he had no idea where he was going. Sitting at the bottom of a tin of mints, with literally no way to escape and nowhere to go even if he did, so, once the fear of being almost eaten, and the surprising realization afterwards that it was his fetish, had faded, all that was left was skull-numbing boredom. He couldn't even muster the energy to be afraid or curious about what was going to happen to him.

For a very, very long time, absolutely nothing changed. He didn't have a watch, and he didn't have anything to do. He never got particularly hungry; he tried taking a bite out of one of the mints, but it was like trying to eat a boulder made out of pure peppermint; and he never got thirsty. He never even really had to use the bathroom, which she had to know, right? Did she want her new toy pissing all over her mints?

Apparently, shrinking did more to you than just make you invincible. Human needs, even the simple fragility of the flesh, were irrelevant. That meant that there was nothing that he could do, and nothing that he needed to do, but to be the perfect little sex toy for his mistress. The thought of it, and the possibilities it opened up, made his mind spin and his cock hard.

When he worked up the energy to masturbate, it was a very normal amount of semen that came out. So he actually could do someting to her mints even if he never had to use the bathroom. An atom of cum; she wouldn't taste it even if she knew it was there, but it was something.

But, by and large, all there was for him was boredom. He slipped into a nap every once in a while, and that was even more disorienting. Waking up was a groggy experience of rediscovering how small he was, where he was, how he had gotten there, and then a leftover, unanswered mystery of how long it had been and where he was going. Hours, he was sure. Maybe one or two, maybe ten, maybe a hundred? What was the longest flight in the world? Or had he been asleep while she had disembarked and moved onto a second plane? He thought he would have been woken up by such a disturbance, but he had no way of knowing.

He hadn't traveled a ton, but he was reasonably sure that there was no flight that was longer than twenty-four hours, and he had never taken one that was shorter than one. So, assuming that he hadn't missed it when she moved onto a second plane, it couldn't be longer than a single day since he had been shrunk. That still left open a world of possibilities, and, with every minute that passed, an increasingly large distance from home that he could have been taken.

Maybe she was going on vacation, and had decided, in her dominance fantasy, that he would be coming with him, whether he liked it or not. He couldn't imagine going on a vacation with a first date, but the rules were different with Syze, weren't they? He didn't have to pay for a ticket, he didn't have to pay for the hotel room, and she knew by now that he didn't have to go back to work until the school year was back in session. She could just snap him up and take him wherever she was going, for business or for pleasure.

Hopefully for pleasure.

Hawaii would be nice, but did it really matter for him? If he was lucky, all of his scenery would be the inside of a hotel room, the inside of her clothes, or the inside of her body.

Would it be this boring, though? If she left him inside her vagina to serve her for an hour, or two, or however long this fucking flight was, would he get bored of it? Would he slip into and out of dazed naps?

His dick started to get hard again just thinking about it. Yeah, a giantess' pussy was way more exciting than a tin of mints.

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up again. This time, the sounds around him were different. Very different. There was no steady background whine of an airplane, there wasn't even the busy, noisy rhythms of an airport. There was just... silence. Or near to it.

In his post-nap groggy confusion, he stretched out his senses, trying to figure out where was or what was happening. The rhythm of her walking, he knew what that felt like... But nothing else. Just the quiet tap, tap, tap of her feet hitting the ground, matching the gentle rise and fall of her gait.

Were they in their hotel now? Had he managed to sleep through the tedium of landing, baggage, and the Uber? Straight to the action, right?

Voices. He didn't know what they were saying at first, too muffled... No, wait, not too muffled. That was a totally different language. He didn't know a word of it. He didn't even know what it sounded like. His heart sank, all the anticipation that had built up over the last however many hours vanished, and the fear he had felt at first came rushing back.

Where the fuck was he?

Gravity shifted again, and whatever sense he could make of the outside world was replaced with the noisy, rattling chaos of being tossed around inside the case with all the mints, like an ant trapped in a rock tumbler. A moment of stillness, just long enough for him to get his bearings, and the lid of the tin opened up, washing him in blinding light and freezing fresh air.

He threw his arm over his face, trying to shield himself, his entire body, from the sudden exposure to the punishment of the outside world. As his eyes adjusted, he gradually relaxed, and looked up.

Overhead, loose dark brown hair framing her angular features, Kim stared down at him with a smug half-smile on her face. And then, to his horror, a second face came into view. Her amber brown hair was pulled back, her bright brown eyes seemed like the picture of innocence, and her grin, filled with perfect white teeth, split her entire face from cheek to cherub-like cheek.

"Alright, little slave," Kim said. The first words she had spoken directly to him in hours, if not days. "Meet your new mistress."

The other giantess' grin spread even wider, narrowing her eyes to joyous slits, and she waved cheerily. Her greeting, however, was not in English. He didn't even know what language it was, but it sounded... Chinese? Japanese?

By the time it all set in, and the unbidden "Oh, fuck," came to Erik's lips, the mint case had already slammed shut again.

Anita's New Approach by tallie
Author's Notes:

Braden shows himself, right on schedule, and Anita tries her best to be a good goddess. Micro panty entrapment.

Anita leaned over the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror and seething at her own indignity. Barely ten minutes ago, she had been perfect. She had a five hundred dollar haircut along with hours of makeup work, artful enough to make her look ten years younger and subtle enough to make it seem like it wasn't there at all. Her dress had been set aside for months for the special occasion, brilliant red and form-fitting, but flexible where it mattered, padded in places, see-through sheer in others, to make any picture of her look like she had the body of an Olympian. She had barely eaten anything all day, and she had deliberately dehydrated herself to keep her belly flat and her bare arms looking toned.

It was supposed to be perfect. It also wasn't supposed to last long. She was a human being, after all, and no amount of money would save her from having to piss and shit like the rest of them. But she thought she could hold out for a few hours, at least, just long enough to make herself seen and then have her bus take her back home.

But she wasn't alone, unfortunately. The shrunken man inside her, who had apparently been more than happy to sit inside her intestines for days on end without complaint, chose that very moment to make himself known to the world. And it wasn't in the straightforward, subtle way that told her that she might have to go to the bathroom later, like she had expected. Instead, she had been standing in a circle of conversation, everything totally normal, then her stomach had growled so loudly that she watched everyone she was speaking to politely ignore it, and her legs nearly went out from underneath her with the sudden urgency of it.

She barely had time to excuse herself from the conversation as she raced to the bathroom with as much dignity as she could manage. There was nobody in either stall, so she locked the door behind her, and just barely got her clothes just far off enough that she could bring her little man back into the real world in the noisiest, most humiliating way she could have imagined.

And so now she loomed over the sink, her panties around her knees and her dress a rumpled mess, hiked up over her hips, letting the cool air flow around her waist after she had wiped herself raw. She stared angrily at her own reflection, and muttered a quiet "Fuck." All that effort for this get-up, and she had barely been able to use it for fifteen minutes, and there was no recovering it now. Had anyone even taken a picture?

Her annoyance was not entirely directed at him, even if she felt like he was an appropriate scapegoat for her to take it out on. She had looked at the data, after all, so she knew exactly what to expect. Her experience was just like everyone else's; it was her fault, really, for having convinced herself the night before this event that she was going to be any different.

She knew that, of course, but part of her rebelled at being held responsible for her own mistakes, and she reached for any reason to be blameless. Obviously, that meant finding someone else to blame, and the only other candidate in the bathroom with her at that moment was curled up at the bottom of the sink, his skin rubbed pink by her rough cleaning. And if it was his fault, then, given that he was supposed to be her loyal little slave, he had to be held accountable for misbehaving.

But there were problems with that, or so she had learned. While she had lingered, waiting for her shrunken man to rejoin her in the real world, she had done a little bit of research. There were, unsurprisingly, entire online communities dedicated to couples' advice for people who had based their entire relationship on the technology of Syze. And, among them, there were a substantial subset of those communities who were trying to make long-term, nearly-permanent size roles work.

Partly to learn what this new shrunken toy offered her, and partly for the quality masturbation material, she had spent hour after hour poring through the community offerings. The fundamental problem was that, unlike her, Syze had to operate within the four corners of the law, and no dating app could survive without ironclad assurances of consent. As a result, almost everything that was in these communities was colored by the assumption that these relationships were fully knowing and fully consensual.

Which meant that none of it applied to her.

And it never would apply to her; even if her little shrunken man spent the rest of both of their natural lives serving her, he would always be a slave. Nothing he did or wanted really mattered to her. That didn't mean that she didn't have the capacity to care about him; that's why she was doing this research, after all; but she would never, ever have the incentive that a normal Syze user did to try to preserve their relationship with their tiny.

And she had to admit that she found the the incredibly graphic stories, and even the intimate pictures that existed on these forums thrilling. These people were way too trusting of internet strangers.

There was a subset of that subset where the relationship of permanent, unwilling shrunken slave was the kink, even if it could never be the explicit reality that she enjoyed. Syze had literally tens of millions of users, but that group barely numbered in the hundreds. That was just the number of people posting about their experiences online, of course, but, if she filtered her admin-side metadata down to relationships where the shrinkee remained small for a month or longer, she found that it really couldn't be a whole lot bigger than that. For people who stayed small for a whole year, there were less than a dozen, but the app itself was still young; she had no idea what the maximum size of the 'permanent slave' community would be, but she bet that it was very, very small.

A few hundred people, maybe just hair shy of a thousand, trying their best to live out a fantasy that was her real life with Braden.

Nearly all the posters were women, and more than 80% of those, according to her metadata, were women talking about their shrunken male partner. Counterintuitively, that actually meant lesbians were fairly over-represented in this group, since relationships on her app were normally only ten percent female-to-female. Surprisingly, a small handful of posters were the shrinkee who described that they had been "permitted" to speak to the public about their experience, and an even smaller number were men who were talking about their shrunken partner, either male or female.

And, to be honest, all of them gave her ideas. But they were ideas that she would have to wait to act on. The idea that she, alone on earth, could actually live out their fantasies, was enough to make her feel powerful, but what she was really after here was their collective wisdom.

She was, after all, an app developer. And the one thing she had learned was that the data generated by crowds was firm. So long as you were comfortable never really knowing the "why" of things, you could get the answer to every other question with enough data. And what she wanted to know was how to keep her own long-term, master-slave relationship healthy.

It was a spirited community, with lots of room for disagreement, but a few tenets seemed to float to the top, creating a kind of Hippocratic oath for giantesses. One subgroup even went so far as to put a variant of those rules in the FAQ channel of its Discord server. And more than a few of these seemed so obvious that she was kicking herself for having unwittingly violated them.

First, "Don't punish the shrinkee for anything outside their control."

Typically, that rule was followed with some pseudo-psychological mumbo-jumbo about how the size relationship was different than a normal dom/sub relationship. It made sense, but, again, Anita didn't care about the "why." If these people had figured out it was the key to success, then it was. But had she ever violated it? She didn't think so.

Second, "Don't punish the shrinkee with any part of your body that you don't want them to hate."

Had she ever done that? Braden had tried to escape her once, while she was having a meeting at Goldman, no less, and she had been forced to reside to shoving him into her shoe. If it had been a punishment, it had been hers to endure; at his size, he had left her entire foot a mess of blisters and cramps after barely an hour. But, really, it had been her only choice of surreptitiously recovering him. Maybe he saw it as a punishment?

But she would surely have to punish him in the future. God knew she had wanted to a few times already. But this rule meant that, for her, every punishment that involved a part of her anatomy was off the table. She wanted little Braden to love every part of her body, or at least tolerate them all enough that he would be able to serve her exactly as she wanted him to. Fortunately, the community seemed to think that, paradoxically, deprivation from their master's body was a suitable form of punishment. Based on what she had seen of her little slave's behavior so far, it seemed like it would be a reward, but, collectively, this group had more experience than she ever could, so...

There was more advice in there that didn't really apply to her, or she didn't feel like it did, but there were a few suggestions that were supposed to help endear the tiny to their master. Again, she didn't really care about what he thought about her, but a willing slave would be a more fun one. Notably, "Explain what you are doing to them and why - more frequent check-ins make for a closer relationship."

That one gave her a chuckle because she knew that she had done it already, if a little tongue-in-cheek, and maybe less frequently than was healthy. Was he secretly growing to like her and she didn't know it? When she had described to him why she was going to eat him, did today finally feel like a job well done to him?

What made her and Braden different from all these relationships was that, at some level, no matter how long of a commitment any other giantess' slave signed up for, their relationship was consensual. No matter how much humiliation they wanted as the shrinkee, the giantess had to walk a line or risk losing her toy at the end of the period. But, because it was always at least mostly consensual, the shrinkee was always at least mostly willing to serve the giantess.

For Braden, his relationship with her was truly permanent. He was her property, as wholly as the clothes she was wearing, and he lived or died at her will. He knew that, or, if he didn't yet, he would soon. If he decided that he would rather die than serve her, then there was nothing she could really do to stop it. So her challenge was, in a sense, inverted. Unlike the app users, who had the luxury of a consensual relationship that they just had to keep alive, she didn't have any problem keeping the relationship permanent. All she needed was to keep it willing, or at least willing enough that her toy didn't reduce himself to an inanimate object.

So, now that he had finaly come out from his tour through her digestive system, it was time to apply what she had learned.

"Alright, little man," she started, using her best boss voice.

He uncurled slightly, and his gaze drifted up to hers. There was no shortage of emotions that ran across his face when his tiny eyes met hers, but none of them looked anything looked particularly like endearment.

Okay, how the fuck was she supposed to react to that? Well, she didn't have the forums to consult at that moment, so she had to improvise. "I hope you enjoyed your little trip. You tasted good! But, I'll be honest, you caught me at a bad time. I'm at a party, and I can't leave just yet, and I don't have a very good place to put you. That means..." She stood up straight, drawing her naked hips up to the sink, "That you get to go for a ride in my panties again! Isn't that fun?"

The shrunken man didn't exactly leap to his feet in excitement. She didn't expect him to, but she at least expected something. She felt compelled, for a moment, to explain herself. To say that, look, what she really wanted was to punish him, brutally, for spending ten days lounging around in her intestines when his purpose in life was to be her living sex toy. She had all sorts of ideas, too, and he was invincible so why not try them out? But, hey, some pervs on the internet that she had never met said that that was a bad idea, so she was trying something else, something friendlier. So why don't you appreciate the effort and reciprocate? Just a little bit?

And then she felt a wave of resentment at the little man for making her think that he deserved a justification for her actions; she was the master, he was property, and that was that. This dress she was wearing... the dress that he had ruined, by the way... was far more valuable to her than he was, and she didn't have to waste time explaining to her clothes that they was about to be worn. So why exactly did he deserve to continue existing?

She shook herself of the thoughts, took a deep breath, and carried on. "Now, I might have to make you just a little smaller than usual," she emphasized the point by squeezing her fingers together. "Because this get-up doesn't leave a ton to the imagination. But, if you do good down there, I can give you a few inches back and we can have some fun tonight, okay?"

The shrunken man didn't leap to his feet with exuberance at the proposition, nor did he immediately set to some ill-fated escape attempt in fear. At his size, any reaction between the two extremes was basically no reaction at all. Which was exactly what she would expect from a good sex toy.

He did shrink back a bit when she reached for him, but that was to be expected. She picked him up, pinching his waist between her thumb and middle finger, then pressed a few buttons on her phone to shrink him slowly, slowly, slowly, until he was about... Half of the the size of a grain of rice, his entire body able to rest on the tip of her middle finger. At that minuscule size, his entire body would be smaller than her clit. So small that, even if he managed to work his way around between her legs and find it, his most desperate efforts wouldn't feel like anything more than a pleasant stirring.

"Sorry I have to make you so small," she purred, "But it's the only way I know you'll be safe! Now, if it gets a little wet down there..." She made a show of thinking about it, then shrugged, "You'll be fine! Have fun!"

She lowered her right hand between her legs and slid her middle finger deep into the soft flesh between the lips of her labia. It was somewhat uncomfortable, and she spent far too long pulling and pushing at sticky folds of damp flesh to find a safe place to deposit him. Eventually, she found the slightly-wet flesh that was so deeply hidden from the world, and smeared her finger across it to make sure the tiny man was left inside. She could hardly even felt where he went, and she had her doubts that she would ever find him again at this size.

As for Braden, well... Her pussy could be his universe for now. He could live in it forever, explore it for the rest of his life and never fully understand it. And she would be the goddess, dominating his world while ignoring his prayers for help, for understanding, for meaning.

She withdrew her finger and inspected it. A cloudy white fluid clung to her fingertip, drawing out in a tenaciously long line when she touched her thumb to it, but it didn't have a shrunken man on it. She rinsed it off in the sink, slid up her underwear, tried her best to straighten out her dress, and went back out into the party.

Braden had spent what felt like a lifetime doing nothing more than suffering inside the giantess' digestive tract. Surely, Anita knew how long it had been, but, when he was finally extruded from her body, and she spent an uncomfortably long time cleaning him off, she never really got around to explaining to him how long he had spent inside her body before she decided to start using him for whatever else her perverted mind could come up with.

So he figured it was about a month. It seemed right, because it had been just long enough that he had gotten used to it. He had gotten used to the pounding rhythms and strange sounds of her body, to the overwhelming heat, even to the heavy and sour taste of living in a thick, suffocating slurry of chewed, swallowed, but undigested food. And then half-digested food, and then fully digested food, and then just shit. It was a slow, seamless process, and he was trapped inside her body for so long that he didn't even notice it was happening.

Which made it less terrible... maybe? The revulsion of being buried in a bog of thick, sour-tasting slime that slowly turned into solid feces was softened and spread out by the sheer weight of time. He never had to sleep, so every moment was filled with the next, smallest step in her digestive process. He experienced nothing but the next, smallest millimeter of movement down her intestines and towards the inevitable end, so the changes were so gradual that it felt as if nothing was happening at all. It was only in retrospect, when he considered the relative freedom of when he had been trapped in her stomach, or even in the chaotic, wet confines of her mouth, that he realized how far he had come.

Maybe it wasn't a month. Maybe it was a year, or two, or ten. Every minute felt the same as every hour, every day felt the same as the last. And he just couldn't fucking die.

When he finally dropped out of Anita's body, she sized him up just enough so that she could recover him from the toilet bowl without getting her pretty hands dirty. With his bizarre, confused sense of how much time he had actually spent inside her body, he almost expected to see the face of an old woman looking down at him. But, somewhat to his surprise, the face that loomed over him was the same one that had swallowed him, down to the haircut that he remembered so vividly.

So it hadn't been that long, and Anita seemed to act as if it hadn't been but a few days, when she finally finished scrubbing him off and started talking to him... Or, really, talking at him. He was way too small to really be counted as a participant in a conversation; even if he shouted, Anita wasn't likely to hear him, so he just sat back and stayed silent, hoping that his body language could communicate enough.

As if the giantess cared.

But the things she said seemed unusual. A bit less like herself and a bit more like... well... like a script from a porno. A little too bubbly, a little too sexual, a little too interested in the relationship her shrunken slave had to her as a toy rather than anything else.

Braden had no idea what she was up to, but he didn't trust it. Wherever it ended, it was probably inside her sock, her bra, or her underwear, and it was probably for her benefit, not his. And, just as he predicted, she snapped him up between her fingers, and then he started to shrink.  

It took a while, interestingly enough. Her fingers only moved off of him once he was small enough to rest on her fingertip, but then he kept shrinking. The rest of her body, or at least what he could see from his perspective, was so gigantic that he could barely see it change. But her finger seemed to grow at a terrifying rate, the rough flesh drawing closer while the rest of her hand drew farther and farther away. Eventually, the ridges of her fingerprints seemed so deep that he would roll his ankle if he were to try to stride across them.

And then his world span, his surroundings became a blur and his back was pressed into the flesh of the giantess' fingertip. In an instant, he was face-to-face with Anita, her massive brown eyes looking down at him like a predator. One lick, and he would soon be sent back down into her stomach, ready for another week, another month, another year inside her intestines.

"Sorry I have to make you so small," she screamed. Her tone of voice was cute, but the volume was so extreme that it nearly vibrated Braden to death. He clamped his hands over his ears, his body tensing for more, but it made no difference, "But it's the only way I know you'll be safe! Now, if it gets a little wet down there..." She continued, the noise penetrating him to his very bones. Braden expected more, and was braced for it, but nothing came for a second, just long enough for him to actually consider what the giantess had said. A little wet... Wait...

"You'll be fine!" she bellowed, blasting hot air down at him and leaving his brain spinning and ears ringing. "Have fun!"

The experience of being spoken at by such a powerful force left Braden dizzy, unable to fully comprehend what was happening, where he was going, until he saw the dark brown, wrinkly lips of her labia right in front of him, and the smooth flesh of the rest of her body towering far, far above.

Oh no, not again.

Without warning or explanation, Anita shoved her middle finger, and him as a helpless passenger, between those fleshy lips, imprinted with the pressure marks of a tight dress and tighter underwear. In a deafening squishing and sliding, he was smeared all over the flesh, dark brown giving way to light brown, giving way to bright pink, and getting hotter all the time.

Finally, some tiny hook of flesh caught him, and he was stripped from Anita's finger. Almost immediately, the flesh came collapsing around him, and the pressure of her middle finger at his back was replaced by the all-encompassing, jello-like pressure of her vulva. His tiny taste of fresh air was completely replaced by the overwhelming fishy stench of her pussy; every breath came with a frothy mix of air and fluid, forcing him to cough violently as the slimy mix invaded his lungs.

But he knew that there was no escape. And he knew that his body would eventually accept the steaming-hot fluid sliding down his throat as equivalent to air, once there was no air to be had. And, as the giantess' flesh slowly tightened around him, the amount of air available quickly disappeared, leaving nothing but the thick, white, extremely salty fluid that flowed from her vulva even without arousal.

At his size, that fluid was extra thick, so thick that his natural breathing could barely draw it into his mouth. He had been here before, of course. He knew the difference between the sparse, slimy moisture that existed between her legs while she was just doing her business, and the slippery, clear fluid that came pouring out when she was horny.

But he had never been so small in this situation. He had no idea even where he was. Was he lost on her clit, her urethra, or somewhere in the depths of her vagina? All he could see was pink, burning heat squeezing at him from all sides. Whatever thick, salty fluid he was breathing right now, surely some of it had to be his own sweat.

He tried, briefly, to find a new place, a more comfortable place. Fighting valiantly against the pressure that surrounded him, he dragged his limbs forward, one at a time, and pulled his way to what he hoped was a safer place, a cleaner place, a cooler place.

But there was nothing. There was only more flesh, more fluid. Did Anita know what he was doing? Could she feel his desperate struggles? Did she have any idea he was fighting for his life?

Who was he kidding? Of course she didn't. That was the point.

Sausage-Makers on their Day Off by tallie
Author's Notes:

Revisiting the porn stars Sarah and Zadie, and the reversal of the roles they had under the stage lights. Panty entrapment, insertion, and some low-key exhibitionism.

Zadie was very deliberate about her tiny passenger's size and her position. She wanted Sarah to be unable to do anything, but to feel everything, and Sarah was more than happy to oblige. The giantess wore a set of long-legged boyshorts, maybe a size too small, to make sure that Sarah would be well and truly trapped. So, facing upwards towards her navel, with her hands spread wide, she was all but hugging Zadie's dark brown vulva, her hands wrapped around where the soft flesh folded back into the insides of her thighs.

She was positioned perfectly, so her hands were trapped in the tight fold where the tendons on the insides of her legs met the soft flesh of her vulva. And so she got to feel those tendons flex, carrying her leg forward with every step; left, then right, then left, then right; every time she walked.

Her torso was just a bit shorter than the dark, wrinkly length of Zadie's vulva, so, curved as she was along the crotch of her panties, Sarah's bare feet were either touching or dangerously close to the giantess' asshole. She couldn't tell by feel alone, but she could tell that it was the powerful muscles of her butt that kept her legs pinned together, gripping her mercilessly from the knees down.

Zadie had one hell of an ass, and it was truly worthy of worship when she was shrunken. And she could feel it when she walked, too, the way that the muscle flexed powerfully and slowly every time her foot hit the ground, then relaxed as the weight came off, just in time for the other to flex in turn. Sarah felt the rhythmic flexing around her feet, the giantess' buttcheeks rubbing and squeezing her relentlessly.

And, of course, every time Zadie's foot hit the ground, her hips tilted. It was quick, it was subtle, and it would have been mesmerizing to watch if Sarah hadn't been trapped right in the middle of it. But, at her size, each step felt like it flung her sideways, slamming her mercilessly into the top of Zadie's thighs just as the impact of her foot hitting the ground sent ripples across the smooth flesh.

Put together, it was an incredible, indescribable symphony of motion that Sarah got to experience with her entire body all at once. From her incredibly sensitive position, she knew everything that Zadie's body was doing. But, with her faced pressed up hard against the wrinkled brown flesh of her labia, she had no idea what was actually going on.

And, when Zadie sat down for the first time, Sarah felt her goddess' weight pressing down on her through the world of soft, pliant flesh that enveloped her. Her arms and legs had nowhere to go, but the giantess' labia opened slightly, parting the dark brown to reveal a sliver of bright pink. And that thin sliver quickly became Sarah's entire world when Zadie shifted her hips back and pushed even more of her weight down on her shrunken slave.

She was fully enveloped in heat and wet. So much wet. Sarah had spent enough time on set with her coworker to know her body, and she knew that her very presence between Zadie's legs was making her dripping wet. She knew it from the slick, sucking way that the giantess' flesh schlick-schlicked around her body with every step, and she knew it from the seemingly infinite volume of salty, slimy fluid that seeped from every square inch of the world that surrounded her. The fluid that filled her mouth and sank down into her throat, deep into her lungs, with every breath.

Sarah honestly thought that Zadie would hardly make it an hour before she dove into her bed and used Sarah's tiny body as a sex toy. She was ready for it, she wanted it, but, to her surprise, Zadie didn't quite seem up to it just yet.

If anything, Zadie seemed determined to continue about her life heedless to the tiny woman trapped spread-eagled between her legs. Sarah had a keen awareness of when Zadie's legs lifted and when they hit the ground, but that told her absolutely nothing about what her goddess was doing. She thought that Zadie had just been tending to house chores, working herself up until she felt like masturbating with her living toy, until, to her surprise, she heard voices.

Not just any voices, either. It wasn't that Zadie was out in public, happening to walk within speaking distance of strangers who weren't interested in her. These were people that Zadie knew, and who knew her. Sarah couldn't make out more than a word or two at a time; the flesh that pressed up against her ears, and the noises of the giantess' body, especially when she moved, made it almost impossible to be fully aware of what was going on in the outside world. But Sarah could hear voices. She could know that they were male or female, and she could tell that their conversational, friendly tone was that of people who were speaking with someone that they knew personally.

And that someone was Zadie. She could feel Zadie speaking more than she could hear it, but she was still the only participant in any conversation whose words she could make out, and the words that she spoke told her that she wasn't just engaged in a bit of casual, secret exhibitionism. She was bringing her shrunken slave out into the real world and daring her friends to notice.

Notice me! Sarah dared the strangers. I'm right underneath your nose! But she was buried in flesh, trapped within the elastic prison of underwear, and hidden by who knew how many extra layers of clothing on top of that. She was a helpless prop in Zadie's secret exhibitionism. Only the giantess knew that there were two of them bound up in the same set of clothes, and nothing Sarah could do would change that.

The whole situation was making her wet, almost as wet as the woman whose fluids she had been breathing for the better part of an hour now. But her body was pinned, her arms spread and her legs trapped. There was almost nothing she could do, so, for now, she was content to wait, fantasizing about how she could get off when Zadie finally decided to strip naked and let loose.

But she wasn't doing that. Sarah could hear the voices, she could feel the giantess' every move, and she was waiting for the moment when it was clear that she was leaving and heading into a more private place to have some fun with her secret passenger. And yet, despite the seemingly endless fluid, despite the oppressive heat and the booming heartbeat, it never seemed to happen. Zadie never even hinted at a desire to make it happen. Whatever that hint might be... There were a dozen ways that Zadie could communicate to her shrunken sex toy that a night of wild abandon was only a few minutes away, but she never used any of them.

It was getting unbearable. Every time Sarah felt those tendons on the giantess' inner thighs tighten... Every time she felt the butt muscles that trapped her ankles flex... Every time she felt any shift at all, she was sure that her goddess was finally stepping away to rub one out in the bathroom, but, every time, she was left frustrated. And left desperately horny.

And then she heard the clinking of silverware, the tone of voices shifting towards something that sounded like settling in. Then, to her despair, Zadie sat down and crossed her legs. That simple action, unremarkable to anyone outside, was chaos to Sarah. Weight beyond anything she could believe pressed down around her, turning the soft flesh that she had lived in into a hermetic seal around her entire body, deafening her almost entirely to the outside world. And, when her left leg lifted up and crossed over her right, the massive muscles of her thighs pressed in from outside as well, leaving Sarah well and truly pinned.

Brunch? Really? Zadie was out for brunch with her friends, and her roommate-turned-living-sex toy was just along for the ride? It was going to be a very long time before Sarah was going to be able to enjoy any privacy with Zadie, but she was still literally buried in her intimacy.

The gall of it, the sexual thrill, set Sarah's heart racing. This was such a strange experience, the asymmetry between her experience and that of the giantess was astounding. She was experiencing an intimacy that nobody else on earth could enjoy, while the woman whose body she was enveloped in barely had to give her existence a single thought. Zadie was just living her life, but in Sarah's position, the eroticism was unbearable, though so was the boredom. There was, at least, one thing that she could still do.

Laboring heavily against the pressure of the flesh that surrounded her, Sarah twisted her right leg around her left, trying to get the top of her thigh to press up against her crotch. If she worked her hips just right and flexed her quads, she could massage her vulva against the inside of her thigh. It would be slow going, but, with enough patience and work, she could get herself to orgasm. At least it was a way to fill the time.

The moment that she started, Zadie finally acknowledged her existence, in what way she could discreetly, by squeezing her buttcheeks. Once, then twice. Sarah felt it as a temporary, but bone-crushing pressure around her shins and ankles, the part of her body that, despite her efforts to shift position, was still trapped in the giantess' tight ass. Sarah paused only briefly after she did. Was that a message? One for yes, two for no? Or was it one for no, two for yes?

She decided that she didn't care which one it was, or whether it was a message at all. Zadie had brought her out in public, after all. Her brunch guests had no idea that there was an extra person at the table with them, and they would have no idea that extra person was busy getting herself off underneath the table.

It was slow and patient work, grinding her pussy against the inside of her thigh, but it felt good, and she didn't have anywhere else to be. She slowly worked herself up, savoring the suffocating pressure of the flesh around her by reveling in the way that this was the most profoundly close experience that Zadie could possibly offer her. The only way that Sarah could enjoy the giantess' body any more fully would be to literally be inside her.

But that would come soon, and her mind span with fantasies about what would happen to her when Zadie finally tore her pants off and brought this hours' long teasing to its glorious conclusion.

Zadie stood up right when Sarah was starting to get going, knocking her off her rhythm and causing the building pleasure to evaporate. The pressure all around her let up, allowing her to breathe what passed for fresh air while trapped inside the goddess' panties. From her position, she felt the giantess' hips shift, her leg lift, and then the boom of her foot hitting the ground as she started to walk.

Where was she going? Zadie walked for a few minutes, voices fading in and out as she navigated her way through the restaurant, but Sarah still had no idea what was going on. She was tossed back and forth with the rocking of Zadie's hips, massaged up and down her body by flexing muscles. A return to the cacophony of motion after what felt like an hour of sitting still.

She could feel, from the way the clothing at her back started to shift, that Zadie was getting undressed just before the wall of fresh air and light hit her. The first thing she saw was the unbelievable sight between the giantess' legs, the smooth flesh of her thighs, the curve of her ass, the crinkly line of her vulva, and all the lines and wrinkles that were imprinted on soft flesh that had been trapped in suffocating clothing for hours on end. They were the very features she had endured face-first for the last few hours. And then it all rapidly drew away. Zadie's toned legs filled her point of view, and Sarah knew that she had been lowered to the giantess' knees, or even below. And then her perspective of the massive woman disappeared, replaced by a view of ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights.

Zadie was using the bathroom. And Sarah, nestled inside her panties, was along for the ride. She was comfortable with this; this whole experience was hot as hell; she just had to wait for it all to be over and position herself in the right way when the giantess put her clothes back on. Given where she was, she might wind up swallowing a tiny dribble of piss, but it was totally worth it.

Then Zadie's face appeared, looking down at Sarah. "How are things?" she asked. "You feeling good?"

Sarah didn't expect that at all. But she nodded. Hell yeah. Just hike these pants up and give me more, please.

To Sarah's surprise, Zadie didn't seem too pleased with her nonverbal answer. Her face turned a bit; not hostile, but definitely a bit confused; she paused for a second and then asked, out loud, "How about some time inside?"

Inside? Inside where? Her pussy? It was the only thing that made sense. Sarah nodded vigorously, and made the best expression of excitement with her body that she could, spreading her arms and legs wide. She wanted nothing more than to feel that hot flesh squeezing her tiny form, to test what she could do when she was totally absorbed inside the body of her coworker.

Zadie smiled a wicked grin in reply. "That's my girl," she said out loud. She reached her hand down, and, for a moment, Sarah thought it was coming for her, but it flew past and dug down into the pocket of her pants, crumpled up on the ground beneath her.

She produced a phone, and, ignoring her tiny toy entirely, touched it a few times. Then a few times more. Her brow furrowed, and she swiped, touched, swiped, and finally hit it with a flourish.

At that moment, Sarah started to shrink. The thin strip of the crotch of the giantess' panties, that had previously suspended her as a living liner against the woman's most sensitive organ, grew from cradle to hammock, and then from hammock to an enormous, woven cotton field. If Zadie had pulled her pants up, Sarah would have been lost as a mote of dust between the burning-hot lips of her pussy, but the giantess clearly had other plans.

So far away, so powerful, so inscrutable, Sarah had to watch as Zadie rifled around inside her purse. After a minute or so, she procured a sex toy. A bright-pink, all-rubber thing, shaped like a C, with a bulbous head on one end and a much smaller head on the other. She shoved the bulbous head into her mouth, and made a big show of licking it up and down, occasionally making eye contact with Sarah. Then, with a quiet *pop* sound, she drew it back into the open air and brought it down for Sarah to see.

"You can ride on the tip. And the other end?" she said, pinching the thinner end of the C, "That's the antenna, so I can control the vibration with my phone. Or..." she grinned toothily, "Or, someone else can control it."

She waggled the vibrator playfully. "Someone who doesn't know you're there..." she said in a singsong voice.

Who would that someone be? Sarah could wonder, but she was too small to be heard if she asked the question now, so she kept her mouth shut. She could ask when she was full size again.

Zadie licked the tip of her middle finger, then reached down to retrieve Sarah from the bottom of her panties. The approach of her finger really showed how small she had become; maybe the giantess was doing it slowly for effect, or maybe it was a quirk of being so tiny, but her finger seemed to loom over her, growing larger and larger as it grew closer and closer; impossibly large, like the moon come crashing down to earth. It filled her entire field of vision, and then just kept getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger...

And then it landed. The thin layer of spit that rested atop her fingerprint absorbed her with a sound not unlike plunging into a pool. And, with the noise of the outside world muffled and muddled by the fluid surrounding her, Sarah was lifted effortlessly into empty space, stuck to Zadie's fingertip by simple surface tension.

She couldn't see anything but the ridges of the goddess' finger in front of her face, but she could feel the motion. She was flung across the universe and back, and then, without warning, she felt the hard pressure of the vibrator at her back. Pressed between the giantess' finger and the toy, she thought the unbelievable pressure would bust her like a grape, but then the massive finger slid away, smearing her microscopic body against the tip of the toy.

Through the layer of spit that covered the tip of the vibrator as well, she could see the hazy appearance of the giantess looking down at her, eagerness written clearly on her face.

Then her stomach dropped as she was moved again, carried along helplessly with the dildo the short distance to her pussy. Sarah only had a brief look at that alluring view, the dark brown, wrinkly flesh splitting the giantess down the middle, smooth and toned legs on both sides and a tight belly above, before she was rocketed back upwards into it.

Zadie's pussy had been thirsting to swallow the tiny woman that had been torturing it for so long, and now that its prey was microscopic, it parted eagerly to admit Sarah to her new home. The dark brown slits of the giantess' labia gave way immediately to hot pink, pressing down on her like a steaming wet blanket, and then flesh was ripping by her.

Zadie slid the dildo all the way inside her in a single, effortless move, aided by the lubricant that had been practically dripping from her for the last few hours. From the outside, you could have missed it if you blinked, but, for Sarah, it was an unbelievable, chaotic, noisy process, overwhelming in sight, stench, sound, and heat.

But Zadie's thought that her miniature toy could ride comfortably at the tip was entirely wrong. Even as the tight, wrinkled flesh of her vagina parted to admit the bulk of the dildo, it still hugged its rubber surface like a glove. And, despite the lubricant that surrounded and filled everything, an errant fold or wrinkle snagged Sarah's tiny body almost as soon as she slid inside, and she was dragged off the head and deposited somewhere deep inside the giantess' infinite body.

The comet that was the head of the dildo carried on deeper without her, the wet, schlicking sound of its penetration following as the walls of the goddess' vagina closed back around the thin rubber tail. Sarah was a helpless mote of dust, her entire body weaker than the surface tension of the goddess' bodily fluids, so she was transferred from the body of the dildo to the walls of Zadie's vagina, looking out from the hot flesh at her back.  It took a minute for those walls to close all the way back up again, so Sarah was treated to the view of the shape and texture of the massive woman's deepest depths.

The unbelievably bright pink flesh was deeply ridged, the size and shape of rolling hills at Sarah's size, every peak covered and every valley filled with glistening, slimy fluid. It was arranged almost like a cave, with a floor, walls, and a ceiling that was quickly collapsing, with a pink rubber pipeline thicker than her entire body laid on the ground. It took a long few seconds, but the ceiling that Sarah was stuck to was falling down onto the floor; the living flesh of the giantess' vagina seeking to wrap around every curve of the rubber intruder like a latex glove.

Some twist of fate of how Sarah had been stripped from the head of the dildo left her positioned somewhere off the center of her vagina. She was far enough away from the rubber body that, with time, a few folds of flesh closed tight enough that she totally lost sight of it, leaving her isolated in her own, rapidly-closing pocket of air.

And it did close. It took a minute, maybe two, maybe twenty. Sarah tried to count the heartbeats that were pounding around her, shaking her bones with their bass pulses and vibrating the flesh at her back, but she lost track pretty quickly. Eventually, though, her face came in contact with the boiling hot flesh on the other side of the cave, and it quickly formed an impenetrable seal around her body, wrapping around every curve like a weighted blanket, only burning hot and slick with fluid.

And, all the time, Zadie was moving! Sarah could have savored this experience with the giantess lying in bed and snoozing the day away, her body motionless but still unconsciously abusing its tiny human passenger. But she got to enjoy it with the motion, the sounds, the gentle rhythm of the giantess living her life. Every step sent a vibration quickly shooting up through her body, competing with the booming of her heartbeat. Her hips tilted violently, throwing Sarah to one side, then the other, over and over again, creating a pattern of motion that was both unpredictable and rhythmic.

This was like nothing she could have believed. Sarah was sealed up tight inside the giantess' body, her body a morsel for the soft, muscle-bound walls of her vagina. Somewhere, a million miles away in this world of heat and flesh, there was a vibrator, a force that could bring this goddess to orgasm, and Sarah would be unable to do anything but ride along as it happened.

Zadie stopped moving, and Sarah could only imagine that she had settled back down in her seat, returning to her brunch audience. Or maybe she had gotten into her car and was driving home. For Sarah, at her microscopic size, and buried deep inside the giantess' body as she was, she had absolutely no sign of what was going on. Barely five minutes ago, she would have felt the pressure of the massive woman's weight as the clear sign she had sat down, but now, she was protected from that kind of treatment. She had been swallowed whole by Zadie's vagina, little more than a crumb, and she no longer had to endure the treatment she had to experience inside her underwear.

She couldn't even hear the giantess speak. It had been a while, after all. If she was back at her brunch date, surely she would have said something by now, right? But all Sarah could hear was the booming heartbeat that surrounded her, and there was nothing...


A violent, sudden vibration seized Sarah's entire body, the noise drowning out her thoughts, the sensation overwhelming her.

The flesh that surrounded her started to vibrate without warning. Her entire body was enveloped in those tight pink walls, and they suddenly started to massage her tiny figure from all directions. It was mildly ticklish, mildly pleasurable, but, most of all, it was deafeningly loud.

And then it suddenly cut out. Sarah breathed a sigh, drawing more fluid than air into her lungs, and relaxed. Or at least relaxed as much as she could be while trapped inside the giantess' vagina. The vibrator had stopped, but how long had it lasted? A second? A minute? An hour? The experience was so chaotic that Sarah couldn't be sure. The flesh that consumed her body was just as hot, just as wet, and the heartbeast that pounded around her was only slightly faster than it had been before.

At this size, in this place, Sarah was totally subjugated to the will of the giantess. Whatever she was doing, wherever she was, she was apparently going to bring herself to orgasm. Based on the last words she had shared with her, Sarah was confident that Zadie believed that she was trapped on the head of that vibrator, and intended to show her shrunken passenger the full force of her orgasm.

Was she trying to get herself off, or not? Or...

Who controlled the dildo?

Zadie sauntered back to her table, grinning from ear to ear. Half of it was performance, but the other half was genuine. The vibrator that she had stuck Sarah to, that she had shoved into her body, was barely noticeable as a soft sense of pressure in her belly. She could handle anything the shrunken woman, and the toy she was a passenger on, could give her.

She settled in next to her date, gesturing for him to pull out his phone. He caught on to what she was implying immediately, shielding his screen from the rest of the people at the table and opening up the app she had made him install before they went out together. The dildo she had put inside her was available for him to sync to now. He tried once, and it failed to connect. The second time, she uncrossed her legs and spread them a little bit, and it went through. Fortunately, she was wearing pants, so nobody would have seen the vibrator even they had been looking under the table.

Her date smiled at her and moved to put his phone away, but she grabbed his arm. "Try it," she whispered.

He paused for a second, but obliged, opening the app back up and switching to manual control. He dragged the slider all the way to the top, and, instantly, the dildo started to vibrate with full force.

Zadie felt it through her entire body, like a live wire had touched her between the legs, shooting pure, electric pleasure all the way through her. From head to toe, every muscle tensed up and she nearly bounced right out of her seat. She barely managed to stifle a yelp, trying, and failing to disguise the noise that did squeak out of her as a giggle.

The vibrating continued at full strength for a few, shocking seconds, leaving Zadie unable to draw breath and trying very hard not to double over, her legs squeezing together. And then it cut out just as abruptly as it had started. The relief washed over her, and she let out a sigh, wiping an errant hair off her forehead.

Everyone at the table almost surely knew what was up, but they were too polite to say anything about it out loud. One of the other women cast Zadie's date a harsh eye, but Zadie could let herself be convinced that she had managed to be sly about it, despite the fact that she had practically orgasmed right in front of all of them.

But she could be moaning and panting for the next hour, and nobody else here would even know the full extent of her daylight depravity. Even her date had no idea that there were actually two women riding that remote control vibrator right now. That was a secret between Zadie, Sarah, and the vibrator.

Even so, she probably wasn't going to be invited out again.

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