Beige walls surrounded on all sides, with sunny overhead lights shining over the gleaming metal faucets and towel racks.  We were in the bathroom of the master bedroom, Jen was curved over the edge of the bath rub, its porcelain basin more like a swimming pool at my size, and deeper. She ran her hand through the rising water, checking the temperature, and then disappeared out of the bathroom for a moment.

In the meantime, I stood up on the polished resin surface of the sink countertop overlooking the bath, watching the water climbing up the inside edge.

She reappeared, now bundled with the roses of earlier, and, shutting the water off when it was very deep, began plucking all the petals off, tossing them in into the bath, until the water was dappled with curled, crimson pads like a lily pond. At my size, the petals were as big as lily pads.

She stepped over to me at the sink, her wet hands outstretched one moment and sliding around my torso the next. I was wrenched from the countertop, whirled around to face the bath tub and then – with a sickening plummeting – felt myself leave her hands, flying, falling, my arms pinwheeling, before – splash! – the water roared up over my ears.

I broke up through the water, velvety red petals sticking to my head, and began to tread the surface, while she towered over the bath, removing her t-shirt and underwear. Then her long smooth legs were sliding into the water, followed by a wall of toned stomach, her muscles flexing powerfully as the rest of her form sunk into the water to fill up one side of the bath while she stretched her legs out along the bath floor until her feet burst up out of the water on my other side, tendons flexing as the soles pressed against the inside edge. With her arms draped along the sides of the bath, she gave a deep breath as her form relaxed against the ceramic, her breasts heaving gently just on the surface of the water, red petals clinging to the undersides, nipples even darker red and pointing at me. She let her posture relax like this for a moment, her face still faintly flush with alcohol, and eyes dilated.

The pair of long, toned legs wavered around dimly beneath the red petals, stretching and shifting below the water, while at the end of the bath, the toes curled and wiggled. Starting to tire of treading water, I was about to lean back and float on my back for a little while when her massive form rose and scooted forward along the basin floor until her knees came up and surfaced out of the water, stuck with petals, on either side of me, whilst both of her arms came shooting towards me like two pale anacondas. Each hand gently clasped each of my palms between the velvety soft fingertips of her pointer and thumb, holding me level with the top of the water. Then she drew me back across the tub, dragging me through the water by my arms. As her straightened arms began to bend inwards, drawing me towards the swollen mounds of her chest.

Just as I thought she was going to lift me up onto her chest, she began to straighten her arms again, gently taking me backwards with her hands, moving me away from her. At the same time, she extended each of her middle fingers outwards against either side of my ribs to stabilize my torso, the long nails of each middle finger digging a little into spaces between my ribs, sharply uncomfortably but not painful. Then she sent me a tender smile that sucked the air out of my lungs.

When her arms were straight again, she began to gently draw me in towards her chest once again. She did this repeatedly, sweeping me in, and then out, tugging in and moving back, until I felt, a little uncomfortably, like a baby being taught how to swim or being accustomed to water though – even more uncomfortably – it struck me I was even smaller than a baby, much smaller, closer in size to a toy that a baby might play with.

Tilting my neck back until the water was lapping against my scalp, my eyes ran lazily over the enormous features of her face, and her dark dyed hair with white-blonde tip falling around one breast into the water. Telling myself this was the woman I was going to marry didn’t make it feel any more real. She continued to tug me gently in the water, I basked in her affectionate smile and her amused delight of steering me back and forth in the water by my arms, letting her enjoy the cuteness of it, even if it made me blush at my own tiny helplessness; unable to get my hands free of her grip if I wanted to.

Letting the hypnotic motion carry on, my relaxation deepened into sleepiness, my eyes wandered, she lost my attention for a moment and one of her middle fingers stroked my ribs, trying to draw my eyes back to her face again. Even getting these small spontaneous rubs below the water’s surface, without warning, thrilled me into awareness.

As she kept me held on the surface, it gave my legs and arms a much needed rest from treading water. Only my shoulders cramped a little from my arms being tugged back and forth, but I was too embarrassed to tell her to be any gentler when she was being incredibly gentle already.

Above, the air quavered with her soft humming as she continued to push and pull me in the water. The thrumming tones dampened my awareness again, my eyelids fell shut. My arms tightened as they were tugged forwards, and then the tips of her middle fingers gave my ribcage a soft, pincering squeeze, one on either side, I blinked and stared up at her again, and then my arms were tugged forward…

Suddenly I was being lifted by my hands out of the water, rising up past her breasts until I was suspended, naked and dripping, right in front of her eyes, which fixed on my face with curiosity.

“WAKEY WAKEY,” she said, her voice booming directly into my face, “WHY ARE YOU SO SLEEPY?”

“I’m…I’m just relaxed,” I said, unable to shrug with my arms stretched up over my head. I didn’t understand her question; it was nearly bedtime and I’d been running around; I was entitled to be sleepy.

“CAN’T HAVE THAT JUST YET, DARLING…” she muttered as she lowered me.

She placed me down on the edge of the bath while she slid forward and fitted an extension cord over the faucet, attached to a handheld spray nozzle.

"What's that for?" I said, after she’d slid back against the other end of the bath, and placed me down in the water again.

"THIS,” she answered, “IS MY MAGIC WAND. IT'S GOT A LITTLE JOB TO DO. SO DO YOU, IN FACT."

She eyed me calmly, resting her arms over the sides of the bath again, gripping the nozzle in one hand.

"NOW YOU HAVE A CHOICE. ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO BE TAKING CARE OF MY BOOBS, WHILE THE OTHER IS GOING TO BE FIXING ME UP DOWN BELOW. THE WAND DOESN'T HAVE A PREFERENCE SO...WHICH IS IT GOING TO BE?”

“The first one,” I said quickly.

“DON’T BE SO HASTY. WE’RE YET TO DETERMINE WHETHER THOSE TINY LUNGS CAN BEAT OUT MY WAND.”

“What?”

“WELL, IF YOU’RE SO KEEN ON STAYING ABOVE SEA LEVEL, YOU HAVE TO WALK THE WALK.” She smirked. “OTHERWISE YOU’RE GOING TO SWIM THE SWIM.”

I was lowered past her body, and rotated until I was staring into the bath water, brought so close my cheek was almost lapped by the surface.

“TAKE A BIG GULP AND WE’LL SEE WHAT YOU’RE CAPABLE OF.”

Leaning out past her hand, I sucked in a mouthful of water, and pulled my head back. With my cheeks puffed out, I was lifted again, as her ballooning breast filled up my visual field, her swollen red nipple approaching my chest before I was stopped, meters away.

“GIVE IT YOUR BEST SHOT.”

I held the red bulb in my sights, concentrating, trying to line my head up.

“I’LL COUNT YOU IN,” she said, “ONE…TWO…THREE…GO!”

At ‘go’, her thumb dug up under my ribcage, causing the water to spill out of my mouth in a series of convulsive coughs, falling far short of her nipple and into the bathwater below.

“Y-y-ou—” I spluttered hoarsely, “y-you che—” my voice broke up into a breathless wheeze.

She observed me without reaction.

“AW. NICE TRY. BUT I THINK THE WAND CAN TAKE IT FROM HERE…”

As if rub it in, she angled the nozzle around at her breast, and depressing the trigger, sent out an eruption of pressurized stream that I could never match with my mouth. It struck the nipple and her eyes acquired a dreamy cast for an instant. Cutting the water again, she rounded on me again:

“—AND YOU, LITTLE SQUIRT, ARE TAKING A DIVE.”

“I can’t hold my breath over than eight minutes – what if you take longer?”

Again she depressed the trigger on the handle, this time sending a sharp spurt of water that tapped at my head with a hiss. I shook my head and coughed.

"THEN…MAKE EVERY SECOND COUNT."

The smooth back of her hand came parting through the water, then fingers were slipping in close, manoeuvring my middle dexterously between them to get optimum grip. The blunt pad of a thumb braced against my groin, stirring it to life. I managed to take one deep breathe before the world did a complete one eighty revolution, and the water became the ceiling.

Water was surging past as I was shooting down, as the powerful masses of her thighs parted, a gush of water sweeping inwards. My member was given an anticipatory tickle by the thumb, right before my face was touched to giant fleshy folds, which peeled apart slightly.

Rather than penetrating any further, the flesh was made to pass back and forth across my face repeatedly, as if she was trying to identify and hone in on the sweet spot. The knob of the clitoris bumped over my face, immediately followed by a small ring that must have been the urinary sphincter, and then the larger and more familiar purse slit. My face was rimmed around the slit to the bottom, passing over the perineum below, pausing here for a fraction as if to playfully suggest my face was on the cusp of being driven to that even lower orifice, before drawing back the way I came, repeating my path in reverse.

At frequent intervals, my stiffening penis was rewarded with powerful strokes by the thumb, ensuring my pleasure was inextricably tethered to hers, training my rod to respond to having my face buried in her neitherregions as the height of pleasure, my tiny soft body being compelled back and forth as a sensual pussy rag.

As my face was used for this delicate exploratory probing, her great lower body responded in delight; the flesh quivering and tensing as the bordering thighs twitched, rippling the water. With each lap up and down, the clitoris tightened almost stone hard, the urinary sphincter scrunched, and the vaginal rim getting thick and rubbery as it swelled up with arousal. As these various organs massaged my face, at the other end of my body, I was receiving a separate massage to keep me writhing into her swollen flesh. The flat of the fingerprint was rolling back and forth and around the end of my penis in a polishing motion, sometimes switching direction without warning. Holding my breath to this was torture, but she wasn’t yet finished.

The process was speeding up; water surging past, soft flesh grinding back and forth until I felt like a giant eraser was trying to rub out my face, and little by little, air quality stored in my lungs rapidly diminishing…

My head was pushed inside the vaginal tunnel, probed around, and then continued to the bottom of the slit, passing over the perineum. But this time, instead of pausing teasingly, my head was forced down, her pillowy buttocks pressing in on either side of my cheeks, hugging my head. My face was touched into the wrinkled fissure, which puckered tight. As I was stroked into it, it responded with a series of shivering muscle twitches, pinching my cheeks and brow as it did so. At the same time, at my other end, the thumb was revolving around my girth, twisting it, as if grooming me to not only enjoy this intimate face time with the darkest part of her anatomy, but take rapturous pleasure in it. 

My face was now being handballed between four different erogenous zones, each with a startlingly different texture and response to contact with my face, but all equally greedy for my touch.

I was traced back up along one of her engorged pussy lips, and shut my eyes a moment before the pulsating scrunched up urinary orifice passed over my brow. The rock hard clitoris bumped my chin, and she spent a moment using the angle of my jawline to scratch at the throbbing nub, trying to work my chin in under the clitoral hood. Then I was moving back down, over the pee slit, which sucked and clung at my face like a defensive sea anemone, around the rim of the pussy, before my head being driven between the giant moons of her buttocks, which flexed me inwards, and my face landing square on the tight puckered anus. Then back up…

The rubbing motions sped up, then slowed right down and sometimes paused entirely, savouring a plateau to prolong the climb. To give her achingly sensitive clitoris a rest, she would pause my head against her pee slit or anus, either of which, at the physical contact, would screw up tight and grip my face. Meanwhile, one of her other fingers had looped around to join the thumb at my groin, capturing my member between them and rolling it back and forth between the pads. As my hips bucked, the motion slowed until I was calmed, and then started up again.

My heart hammering in my chest, I turned my head, keeping my eyes shut, and at each pause of activity, praying each time the motions would start up again soon. I was running out of breath.

But my raging hard-on was soaking up blood flow, and demanding more fresh oxygen to sustain itself. I was running over eight minutes and my lungs were trembling and sore. As the pee slit scrunched over my face again, I squeezed my diaphragm as hard as I could, and sent a jet of stored up air squarely into her clit. My diaphragm muscles were powerful enough to make an impact: her pelvis seemed to seize up and my head was mashed against her ferociously until my ears rang. Then the water was rotating back around until my head broke the surface and I spluttered for air.

The creamy boulders of her breasts hung right in front of my face, bobbing and jiggling over the water as she took great shuddering gasps, her face flushed and radiant, her back slumped with relaxation against the inside of the bath.

“HI AGAIN, BABE,” she finally sighed, flashing me an easy grin, “SURE DON’T WASTE YOUR TIME, DO YOU?”

Studying me calmly for a second as she recouped her breath, she then muttered:

“GAVE MY TINY WATERSLIDE A LITTLE ACTION, TOO.” She was referring to the urethral opening that had moments ago been scrunching excitedly over my face. “KINKY. I LIKE. THAT I LIKE.”

At my back, the water surface rippled as the creamy dome of a knee lifted up out of the water to create a platform which I was lifted and put upon while she recovered.

“CATCH ANY FISH WHILE YOU WERE DOWN THERE?” She gave my belly a jab with her thumb, which then crooked under my erection and pinned it to my belly.

“Just sea anemones.”

“UNDER MY PUSSY…YOU KNOW..." she was referring to her butt, "...THINK YOU MIGHT HAVE SLIPPED AROUND A COUPLE OF TIMES…PURE ACCIDENT…”

I scoffed in disbelief.

She knew that I knew that she was full of bullshit and didn't care. Her lips curled with a smirk. Her thumb rolled my shaft back and forth against my stomach, coaxing me to get even harder, while the nail tips gently teased my scrotum. Now that she was satisfied, she had no motive to finish me quickly.

I rocked around on her knee, clawing at her fingers as they took me to the limit, then stopped, squeezed my shaft hard and held it, capping my ability to come, before I was relaxed enough for the process to repeat, pressure varying experimentally to elicit the response she wanted. This happened in seemingly endless cycles, my balls getting insufferably tight, before the teasing strokes finally made me yield my load, while the energy seemed to drain out of my body with it.

As the air chilled, I slid down her thigh, splashing back into the warm water and swam up to one of her breasts, pressing myself against it and taking the nipple in my hand to secure myself, and an instant later, splayed fingertips skimmed through the water surface, playfully fanning warm water into the back of my head.

She spent some time washing herself as I treaded around in the water above her thighs, so tired I could barely keep my head above the water. As globs of body wash and foamy suds began to sprinkle down like hail, I paddled clumsily to the other end of the bath for refuge, where her feet emerged from the water, pressed against the ceramic inner basin and rubbing languidly against each other.

Clambering against her right foot, I hooked my arm in around the second toe for stability, and she helpfully splayed her toes for me, and once my arm was secured, gave it an affectionate squeeze with a gentle flex of her toes, keeping me gripped in place so I didn’t have to tread water.

Once she’d finished washing herself, she collected me up and began scrubbing me up and down with soapy lotion, practically moulding my pliant flesh between her fingertips, and dipping me underwater at intervals to rinse it off. Cradling me in one cupped hand, her fingertips massaged my neck, and then lowered to my chest. As a soapy fingerpad smoothed over my left pec, inspecting the tattoo with curiosity, it ignited the inflammation again. I winced, and the fingerpad hesitated.

“STILL SORE, HUH?” she said gently.

“It stings a little.”

“YOU AREN’T ANGRY AT ME…?”

“Guess it’s done now.”

I was too tired to argue, and anyway, she was now peering into my face with a look of tender sympathy; it stole all my remonstrations.

“IT CAME UP PRETTY NICE,” she offered, as if in condolence. “JUST HAVE TO WAIT FOR THE REDNESS TO GO DOWN.”

With one last look at the tattoo site, her fingertips kneaded more soapy lotion into my belly, and without a pause, captured my penis and began scrubbing and stretching it to full length in the process. My feet skidded against her upturned wet palm as I squirmed, which she ignored as she continued to stroke me, whilst using the pad of another finger to work more lotion around my balls. As I came again, she dipped me underwater, and while I was helplessly submerged, she swiped her fingertips around my aching glans one last time to clear all the ejaculate, and ensure I was milked completely dry.

Out of the bath and towelled off, she applied some Cortizone cream to her fingertips before rubbing them around my left pec to attend to the inflammation. Then I brushed my teeth with an interdental brush, and she with a regular toothbrush, and then she put me down on the mattress and went back into the bathroom. As the hairdryer began to whine, my feet padded over the velvety satin sheets towards my side of the bed where I lay down. Actually, it was a mistake to say one side of the bed was ‘mine’; I took up so little space that either side of the bed was hers to claim, and my body fit in whichever nook against her that was leftover.

My eyes began to shut.

The hairdryer switched off.

The mattress depressed as she mounted the bed and on all fours began to crawl past her own side until her shadow passed overhead. My tiny body rocked back and forth as pockets of the mattress sunk under the pressure of huge palms and knees. Her form descended until her belly came to rest against the mattress while her upper body was propped up on her forearms directly above. Like me, she was naked, and the dark length of her hair glittering, still slightly damp.

A giant hand swept into me to flip me onto my back with ease before each of my palms were pinched up between the massive fingertips, spread out and pressed against the mattress, not different from the position of earlier, stretched out on the kitchen table.

Her huge visage hovered directly down over me, more sober than before. With her hands busy restraining my arms, it allowed strands of hair to fall down past her shoulder and against my legs, the tips brushing against and tickling my groin.

“Come down here and give me a kiss, gorgeous girl,” I said, straining to project my voice as more confident and self-assured than I felt. Gut instinct was telling me that if I sweet-talked, she might go easier on me.

She just watched me idly as if I hadn’t even said anything, her eyes roaming my naked body, my biceps bulging up in strain against the restraint of her fingertips, and tiny ribcage going in and out with my breathing, with the black label of her initials plain on my pectoral, my member starting to expand and rise. In spite of my attempted flirtation she was in control and knew it.

Her mouth twisted in a faint smile.

“HERE I COME…”

She kept my arms still against the mattress as she dipped her neck over me so it seemed my face was zooming towards her plush expectant pout. I had no power to stop it even if I wanted to, and there was no time to even think.

Her lips were all over my head, taking it in a soft suctioning grip, stamping sticky, newly applied moisturizing lip balm all over my face in repeated nuzzling motions, indiscriminately embossing my delicate features with pink luster until I felt like my head was drowning in hot, melted wax. Sharp toothpaste mint condensed on my skin, keeping the balm moist. The tongue worked around my face leisurely as if trying to polish it in a film of bubbly saliva. My lungs were able to seize two quick bursts of air in a tiny gap before the tongue tip began keenly tracing my features, trying to identify my eyes, nose and mouth, and lingered over my mouth, nudging with a slight flicking motion, as if trying to goad me to respond. I opened my mouth to return the kiss and got a thick mass of bumpy tongue between my lips as it smeared over my face.

My hands were then released and I turned my head sideways, trying to roll my body, but a fingerpad mashed at my brow, turning it back into the path of oozing tongue which lapped twice before I could wrench my head away again. But the finger came back, poked my head back into position, ready for another point-blank licking by the greedy red tongue, and pausing only for a microsecond for me to take a breath.

Then the tongue careened into my temple, pushing my head sideways, quickly squirming under my jaw to force my head back in order to push my head the other way, where the tip drove down powerfully against my cheek, over my ear, relishing in keeping my head pinned sideways to the mattress as if to underscore my defeat. Straining all the muscles in my neck and shoulders wasn’t enough to liberate my head.

With enough of this, the tongue lifted, I turned my head face up only for the lips to ring my face in a perfect seal, forcing the surface of the tongue flat against my whole face, and conforming to my features like a wet towel. A huge bear trap of incisors rapidly drew inwards against the top of my head and under my jaw, enough to give my skull one rapid, alarmingly firm squeeze. My breath hitched; I still couldn’t breathe with her tongue masked over my face. Grunting, I smacked at her chin – the only thing in my reach – in response, the teeth began to grind my head a little between them, with the slightest force. Still, it unnerved me; my skull had no chance against her jaws if she was too rough.

As the teeth continued to grind, her hot breath gusted my hair around, fingerprints shifted restlessly over the flesh of my lower abdomen before a fingernail scratched lightly along my erect shaft, tickling like mad, and I thrashed my spine in an effort to dislodge my head from the steel trap of her teeth.

Finally her jaw loosened while the tongue unstuck from my face and thrust my head out from the seal of her lips. The mattress slapped up against my back and my lungs working in and out.

Propped up on her folded forearms, she gazed down at me serenely under her lashes, brushing her hair behind her ears while I stared at her, dazed.

“GIVE ME A LITTLE MORE FIGHT,” she said coyly.

I looked up at her in puzzled amazement.

“That’s what I’m trying to—!”

Her lips glommed onto my head once more, pulling my face between them with powerful sucking force. As soon as my head popped free with a wet smack, I thrust one arm straight between the lips, clawing for the tongue, grabbing the tip and holding on for dear life. A spurt of surprised hot air rapidly issued into my face, followed by a giggling rumble.

A finger hooked around my arm and squeezed my bicep, the constriction increasing gradually, weakening my grip until my hand released. And as if in punishment the flat of the tongue ran with leisure squarely over my face.

Upping the ante, firm fingers were bulldozing around my torso, effectively ironing out every last cubic inch of my breath. It seemed to go on forever: smooch after aggressive smooch against my face, and dense wet licks, over and over without pause between, so powerful that they rocked my head as they swept over my face, all inadvertently sealing up my mouth and nose with the smothering flexion of her impassioned tongue muscle.

Drowning out my panicking cries were the exultant moans erupting from her throat, sounding more dramatized than candid, as if to provoke and annoy me.

Can’t breathe…Need air…!

The ceiling went as dark and cloudy as the night outside…