“I’m the biggest thing you’ve ever done, right?!”

My arms were out with puffed up bravado, making sweeping gestures at my body, on naked display as I strutted around on the queen bed mattress. This was somewhat ridiculous as our respective figures were very different, the beef in her musculature outstripped my own for miles. There was a moment where I inwardly considered if it wasn’t too late to switch on a movie and just cuddle. But she'd insisted, and when Jennifer Tomlin insisted you didn't refuse, or you'd be physically chased down and pinned.

All the mental pictures of her that had sustained me the past few weeks were nothing compared to the gargantuan vista of naked femininity; a real life, vastly scaled up Venusian sculpture sprawled out, in front, around, and past me, on the endless coils of silk sheets that covered the queen bed (the 'matrimonial bedchambers' as she had facetiously taken to calling it).

Nearest me, the massive soles of her feet slid lazily over the bed as she stretched and crossed her legs, arching and wiggling the toes, before the legs rose at the knee, the soles met the sheets again, and clenched, gripping the sheet, threading it between her toes. These small, anticipatory stretches and restless, almost reflexive movements accompanied her readiness of my body making contact with hers and finally, being consumed by her substantially larger one.

Her great womanhood bared itself to me without a trace of self-consciousness: the spiky pelt of the labial mound bordering the slit now beginning to glaze with a drizzle of its own self-produced luster. Every so often she shifted with repressed arousal, throwing me glimpses of the doorway slit as it pulled tightly between her legs, sometimes twitching with a flare of nervous anticipation. Her breath heaved as her back arched while her butt shifted position, making the mattress tug under my feet. It looked like irritation; like a tiny bug bit her or something, but actually was the desire mounting between her hips; it was starting to agonize her, like an infuriating itch. Her eyes met mine and there was a look I'd seen countless times now before, like I was a piece of food: her lips sucked in and her throat convulsed as she swallowed, while her mind wandered, only half interested in what I had to say anymore.

She leaned over gracefully, propping her head up on her palm. The engorged fruitlike masses of her breasts undulated faintly with each relaxed sweeping breath, hovering just above the mattress. If she lowered a single one of those lush, painfully tender organs onto my prone body, it would cover me up entirely, and probably sink the air clean out of my chest. The reddened swelling of each nipple was tightening with every passing second as her unblinking gaze held on my tiny body.

I began to flex my muscles, as – on the inside – I was sweating for an answer to my question – or in anticipation of what might be to come. What thoughts she had relied on to sustain herself during my absence?

“TRY: THE BIGGEST ‘FULL PERSON’.”

“I’m the only full person you’ve ever done.”

She mock winced.

“SLIGHT CORRECTION: YOU’RE NOT A ‘FULL PERSON’. YOU’RE A NOT-QUITE-PAST-THE-DECIMAL-POINT PERSON.”

“Harsh!”

I turned my back on her and strode to the end of the bed. A foot rustled over the sheets after me, as smoothly as a snake; the angular toes lifted and spread as the nail of the big toe whispered over my spine, trying to tickle me. I jumped away. The foot swung out again – she evidently couldn’t be bothered to reach for me with her arms – while the big toe angled at me, trying to deliver a tap against whatever part of my body was within reach, but aiming specially for the part of my anatomy most accessible to her raised foot; my head. I dived away as it came for me, narrowly missing. But she was faster; when I got to my feet, I found myself face to face with the ridged pad of a ballooned up big toe, and intimidating overhang of gleaming white nail tip pointed at me. Even as I stared it darted forward and delivered a soft tap to my temple that made me stagger on my feet.

From somewhere behind the great obstructing presence of her big toe, at the other side of the bed, she watched with leisurely amusement as I tried to jump and dive away from her foot and grasping, angular toes, which each singularly beat out my biceps for strength.

“Leave me alone!” I squeaked, dashing over the mattress, her foot in close pursuit. “You think this is romantic? It’s not!”

She let out a derisive laugh, her foot swooping at me again, the long leg creating a wall I couldn’t hope to jump, while the big toe angling out again, going for another tap at my temple, but I managed to twist my head away. Unfortunately, the toe tried to forestall me, also moving at the same time, trying to catch my temple at the new location but, in trying to outwit my evasion, accidentally delivering a sharp tap into my eyes. The pad of her toe was too big to insult the delicate surface of my eyeballs, but the sudden stamping sensation shocked me, I recoiled as my offended tear ducts made my vision blur.

“Eugh,” I grunted, patting my face.

For her the gesture might only have been careless and reflexive, but she didn't realize that her toe blocked out my view of everything, like some rude stranger jumping up in front of me as I was having a conversation with someone else. The fact that it was indiscriminately making contact with my facial perimeter only deepened the offence. Her toe pad was a surface of her body that she pounded unthinkingly on floor, dirt, scum and floorborne trash particles, yet she had no objection to treating my face as just another kind of floor surface for the toe to touch down upon. And she enjoyed every second of my belittlement.

But now that I’d stopped ducking and dodging her foot, she tired of the game. She shifted; with fluid gymnastics she drew her legs in and curled around on the bed until her forearms framed me on either side. One hand cupped around me while the thumb of the other tenderly dabbed around my eyes, consoling the sting.

“I HATE TO TELL YOU, DARLING, BUT—“ with my back to her, her first two fingers,  coming from behind,  hugged around my chest lightning fast while her ring finger slipped between my legs and tucking my bulge in the crook of the joint, “—YOUR GRAND WORLD RECORD FOR SIZE ISN’T FOR MAGNITUDE.”

I scoffed, slapping her fingers with resentment; the first two of which were keeping me enclosed around the torso while the ring finger swatted my member around.

Warm air trickled directly down over me as she kissed the top of my head, and added sincerely:

“YOU ARE THE BEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO MY G-SPOT.”

Frissons of pleasure shivered through my member as it was swatted and tugged about with the idle flicks and flexion of her ring finger, even as the sight of the long varnished nails glimmering so dangerously close to my balls made my insides skip.

Her voice grew keen and penetrating.

“WHAT’S IT LIKE IN THERE, ANYWAY?”

I didn’t reply at first. Impatient, the fingers lifted delicately as the nails of the first two fingers began to drum against my ribs, and into my diaphragm, trying to playfully beat a reply out of me. It tickled and slightly winded me at the same time, and I wrestled with her hand, trying to liberate myself. The tiny touches and twitches of her strong fingers had such an alarming impact on my tiny form, gentle pushes displaced me bodily, and I lifted so easily from the bed, I was a mere toy between her hands.

“It’s like trying to swim through a wet blanket.”

She laughed, her breasts jiggling over my head like giant coconuts about to spill from the tree. Her weird sense of humor made her difficult to offend even if I wanted to.

“REALLY."

She said this in a smugly satisfied way, like I'd just told an outlandish, entertaining story and she wanted to hear another just like it.

“Yes.”

The air was thickening with a musky aroma. It was becoming painfully aware that this entire magnified vista of feminine sex was growing tired of my blathering attempts to stall. She was hot with laser concentration on my form, as the sole catalyst for imminent carnal release. Just the thought of my cute toy body being squished in never-ending vaginal bear hugs was making her butt clench with desperate restraint. The only thing that stood between her and unadulterated euphoria was me; and the only serious question in her mind was how quickly she could persuade me to line up and enter her tunnel of delight and submit totally to its vigorous munching.

“I THINK I CAN BEAT THAT.”

“What?”

The ring finger returned between my thighs and cranked upwards until I was practically riding it.

“IMAGINE, LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO SWIM UP MY PUSSY,” she explained, as the inside of the finger rubbed along the inside of my thighs and under my buttocks, attending sensitively to my balls, “BUT THEN YOU DISSOLVE INTO MY BLOODSTREAM AND SPREAD OVER MY BODY. AND, YEAH,” her voice got a slight flutter like she was smiling or holding back another laugh, and my balls were given a little tweak, “THAT'S WHAT IT'S LIKE FOR ME, SO I DON’T THINK WE’LL BE SWITCHING ROLES.”

She extricated my member from the joint of her ring finger, and now slid the thumbnail in at my thighs, sweeping up my shaft and balls until they rested on the glossy plate while she examined my expanding girth with interest, loving the physical proof that she’d got me to rival her arousal.

Then fingers clambered eagerly around my back, sharp nail prods materializing in various places as my anatomy was variously probed with curiosity. One of the nails – accidentally or not – stuck itself between my butt cheeks and slid along my crack, causing my balls to hunch. There was something about my size that seemed to make feminine fingers apt to wander with disregard and stake claim over my physical terrain, like I was a little piece of Play-Doh and the giant invasive hand had an ache it was keen to knead away.

As if I was nothing more than a little toy, her fingers spun me around with incredible ease to face her again. Directly in front sat the shelf of her breasts, pressed together against the mattress, creating a center cleft big enough to have swallowed me up whole into the tight throat of her cleavage. The red knots that were the nipples made rhythmic, almost imperceptibly faint jolting motions in time with her heartbeat, it has a hypnotic effect and I lost myself, staring.

Breaking my trance, the tip of a huge index finger hovered close, blocking the view as it tilted in underneath my jaw, to make contact with my left pec and stroke the tattoo affectionately.

“HAVING A STARING COMPETITION WITH MY NIPPLES?” she said lazily. “WHO’S WINNING?”

“Uhh…”

The bed groaned as she lifted herself onto her hands and knees. Nearest me, her palm sunk the mattress down, causing me to stagger.

“THE BOOBS CAN WAIT. I HAVE ANOTHER COMPETITION FOR YOU, AND THE PRIZE IS YOUR FREEDOM.”

Her forefinger and thumb plucked up my chest and then my head was shooting at the cleft between her thighs, touching the center of the slit with a wet smooch, and driving powerfully inside. The hot damp purse flesh folded in around my body, admitting me further while sticking and contouring to my shape. The slit glided down my torso and legs. Finally, she let go of me, and tickled the bottom of my feet with her pinky, forcing me further inside her to escape it.

The walls of the muscle flume trembled. Then pulled utterly tense. 

I had no defence, my puny body surrendered wholly to the whims of her mega anatomy.

My penis had swollen up and was forced to grind along the taut tunnel.

The inside of her vagina was structured like a play tunnel composed of connected rings, except each ring was a muscular band that pulled tight like a drawstring loop. A persistent tapping sensation ran through the walls and down my length – a pounding pulse rate – and unbearably through my groin. As the pulse amplified, I came in a sudden spasm and the tiny emission was immediately lost, blending into the generous soup of musky fluids pumped like machine oil all throughout the tunnel. I was awash in it; all over my skin, through my hair, in my stinging eyes, up my nose and in my mouth. It squelched under my armpits and between my legs, and caused my body to make a sticky smooching sound every time the walls collapsed against me, making me feel and sound like a wad of gum crammed beneath a tongue, getting sucked and smacked on.

In the hot heavy dark, it was hard to tell what was going on; I could be still or in motion, and be anywhere in the labyrinth of Jen's build; her mouth, her stomach. Because of her earlier association, I had the strange thought that I had been injected beneath her skin via hypodermic needle, to fill a tight space between layers of flexing muscle. Or pushed into her bloodstream to flutter in loops around her system to the rhythm of her cardio workings. I was struggling to beat back waves of light-headedness, and the delirium made it increasingly difficult to differentiate myself as an entity separate from her. She was pressed so tightly to me I felt like part of her body, a tiny extra slab of muscle enlisted to contract in shockwaves in time with her building climax. As a section of the tunnel cinched my waist and groin, one of these shockwaves rippled through my penis, forcing my balls to expend even more.

The tunnel was oozing generously with fluid, until her elastic tunnel was nearly bulging trying to contain both me and all the fluid running from her glands. I struggled to wipe the goo from my face, but she could appreciably feel my vigorous but ineffective struggles inside her all-surrounding anatomical prison, it only stimulated even more fluid.

As the whole tunnel was gushing, I began to slip up and down her chute freely, sluicing through her juices, but never entirely out. Her twitching vaginal opening had amazing reflexes and always caught me just as my head popped free, drawing tight around my neck and holding until another series of convulsions vacuumed me back up into the darkness, and if her opening did not, the top of my head quickly received a last-second poke to send me back where I came from.

She managed to plateau, further delaying the inevitable and extending my ordeal, taking me through another series of crushing manipulations. Every time the muscular wall drew inwards like a compression sleeve, my body turned to dense stone, locking me stiff as if I'd been frozen in ice. My chest turned into a scrunched fist, unable to expand even a fraction to breathe. Every time the muscular wall released, a wave of pent up juice sluiced down my head and body. This cycle carried on in rhythmic oscillation, getting faster, the contractions morphed from gradual squeezes to sudden snaps of immediate pressure. The contractions were so sudden that each snapping pinch winded me a little more; my chest became too cramped to expand for breathe even when the pressure lifted briefly, I was being pushed to the brink of passing out even as she, by pure impulse, indulged in another act of climactic delay, resulting in another round of being pumped by the vice of her pelvis.

The tunnel enlarged, shuddered, then in one quick movement pushed into me with the force of a tackling football player, halving the circumference of my ribcage with one blow, and cinching hard like a tourniquet. The wind squeaked out of my chest as I gritted my teeth in pain, begging for the pressure to relax.

From outside, Jen let out a wail that almost sounded like an expression of my pain, except she was sunk into an enviable ecstasy, and sinking further, and with rocking thrusts, I was released only enough to plunge further up her canal, drawn along the trail of her slimy secretions. My penis was briefly caught between wrinkles in her tunnel, and transformed into a series of thick pulses and blinding jolts of sensitivity by the raw power of her pelvic contractions. The stimulation pushed me to come again, my balls being exercised beyond rationality.

There was a buzzing noise and suddenly the tunnel turned into a shaking washing machine. The pungent fluid bubbled and churned all over, foaming over my face in a thick whipped lather even as I shook my head to clear it, it came frothing back.

My thoughts were scattered and blurry, but I had just enough sense left to realize she was working her clitoris with the vibrator to finish herself off.

The tunnel was seized by a powerful jerk; the walls attempt to slam together, catching me in the middle and almost knocking me stupid. I twitched helplessly.

Her climax roared like the ocean, accompanied by the squeaking, bubbling sound of fluid in my ears. Her knees squeezed together with pleasure, as she rode the climax down, her pelvis hugged in on me, running me towards the end of her pussy like a spurt of toothpaste, until my head emerges with a small squish. The soft, wet pussy lips stuck to my face; I pushed them out of the way with an arm, before the rest of my body pulsated out from between her thighs, onto the bed, dripping in her warm syrup.

The air grew cold as the moisture on my body was cooled immediately.

The canyon of her thighs spread apart; and craning my head back as far as I could see, far out past the canyon walls of her long legs, at the other end of the bed, her feet shifted idly, the nails of one row of toes scratching the arch of the other foot’s sole. Then the feet rolled over the mattress, scooping up bed sheeting to slip beneath. The canvas of sheeting under my back rippled and began to drag me. As one of her feet yanked the sheet up, the whiplike snap of sheet created an improvised trampoline, flipping me into the air like a pancake. I let out a startled yell before crashing into the meat of her thigh, and bouncing onto the mattress in a heap of limbs.

Her body slumped as she fell into surprised laughter.

Then the satisfied rumble of her voice intoned with emphasis:

“CONFESSION TIME…”

But my brain was whipping forward: ‘confession time’ with her sounded like a risqué game of truth or dare. I twisted around, whipped the parachute like sheet over my head and began to run along the mattress into the dark.

 “—NO YOU DON’T—!”

What felt like a mattress dropped from the ceiling, collapsing my body against the bed in an instant. She’d slapped her hand straight down upon my moving form, which must have looked like a fleeing lump under the white sheet. With the weight resting powerfully against my body, keeping me trapped in the dark, under the sheet as if it was cling wrap, her other hand rustled in after me, poking me unceremoniously with fingers to distinguish my body parts. One of my feet was grabbed and, as the weight lifted against, yanked from under the sheet. Next second I was swinging gently upside down from one ankle. The air was cool, and then rushed with warmth from her breath as she spoke again:

“NOW, HOW DO YOU THINK YOU DID?”

“Better than last time but not better than next time.”

The mega lips quirked. The soft surface of a pair of fingerpads rose up under my head, creating a gentle platform for the crown of my skull as the other hand had its grip on my leg and suspended me from above. A nail from below tapped the side of my head idly.

“IS THAT A PROMISE OR A DARE?”

“Can I sleep now?”

“GETTING AHEAD OF YOURSELF. TELL ME SOMETHING YOU LIKE ABOUT ME,” she insisted. I wished she’d stop. I didn’t want to talk, just drop dead asleep. And with the blood rushing to my head, I was starting to want to pass out, too.

“I like your smile.” If only because her lips were right in front of my face and my thoughts were blank.

“WHY?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Why? It makes me hard.”

“PRAISE SOMETHING UNUSUAL.”

Groaning, I swung my fists at her mouth and she retaliated by directing a surge of hot air into my face until my lungs ached, and made me even more dizzy from the resulting hyperventilation.

“What do you mean?” I said tightly.

“I MEAN IT WAS A BORING ANSWER. TELL ME SOMETHING I DON’T KNOW.”

The fingerpads supporting my head regrettably disappeared again, leaving my head hanging from my spine once more. The hand didn’t vanish, but a slender pointer finger uncurled, straightened and the nail tip began tickling around my thighs and waist, not at my groin but deliberately close, without touching. My spine jerked and single free leg kicked at the finger.

“How about I tell you something I don’t like?!” I gasped, flapping around in the air.

She compounded my vulnerability by running a nail up and down my back to tickle my spine, until my voice was reduced to a series of sputtering gasps. Only once my body hung limply, like a cut of meat, completely spent, the ordeal ended.

“I guess…I like your tongue.”

Her eyelashes batted at me with sarcasm.

“CLASSY.” 

“I was going to say something nice!” I shot back. “Being in your mouth would be kind of lonely if your tongue wasn’t there. It’s like a big, affectionate puppy. And it reminds me in the dark that you’re out there, somewhere.”

“AND IT GIVES YOU FREE BLOW JOBS THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE SAYING.”

“Well, you say something about me.”

“MMM, OKAY THEN…” she said, as her brilliant green eyes ran over my body like I was a tiny piece of dangling food she was contemplating dropping onto her tongue.

“…I LIKE YOUR EYELASHES.”

“What?” There were probably a bunch of other things I had expected her to say.

“WELL, YEAH. THEY’RE KINDA LONG AND MAKE YOU LOOK REAL CUTE.”

This answer disturbed me, but before I could ponder over it, her thumb was suddenly right up against my face, stroking my brow, trying to brush against my eyelashes. Even though she was being incredibly delicate, my toes still curled at the proximity of her long nails as her thumpad attempted to stroke at my eyelids, the traction of the print tugging and stretching my brow and cheek.

“Arrrgh!” I swatted and slapped at the shiny keratin invasion and then shielded my eyes with my forearms in defeat and the probing stopped.

“DON’T LIKE MY ANSWER?” her voice came lazily. "SO THEN IMPRESS ME WITH ANOTHER PART OF YOUR ANATOMY." 

There was a moist smack followed by wet pressure around the base of my shaft. This was gradually transferred to the tip, pulling my entire body forward with a small tug as it did so. Reaching the tip, there was a tight screwing sensation ringing around the glans as her lip sucked with maximum force, before the pressure returned to the base, and began climbing the shaft to the tip again, and screwing tighter and tighter, to unbearable levels, until it felt like my whole body was going to pop and take all the air and life and organs out of me, deflating me to one tenth my size. I twitched and grasped at the puffed seal of her lips as they continued to pump my member, and give the tip a pinching twist causing it to throb helplessly in her grasp.

Once my balls had hardened to cement, the pressure lifted from my shaft, and then I was being tickled again, up and down my ribs and spine. I kicked and moaned with frustration as her exultant, teasing laughter beat in my eardrums.

“Goddamn it,” I grunted.

A nail tip flicked my belly, snapped downwards against my half-erect dick.

“OKAY, LITTLE MAN, I’M GOING TO MAKE A TINY MESS OF YOU. AND IT MIGHT HURT A LITTLE BIT.”

“It already hurt—urrgh!”

Her lips parted and her tongue spilled out, at the same time she brought her hand towards her, zooming me through the air upside down until my face impacted the bumpy wall of her tongue with a soft slap, and everything went dark. The burly muscle flexed over my puny face, indiscriminately squashing my soft, sensitive features as it went, rolling over my jaw, slimeing down my chest, driving itself stubbornly straight to the fork of my legs, swirling my member up before it was captured in a tight moist embrace between her lips.

Her lips drew in viciously around my girth, slurping my entire length in until my hips jolted against her, and keeping me trapped me there as a series of mind-numbing vacuums ran up and down my length. Her mouth utterly subjugated my tiny manhood, lashing it with her tongue while repeatedly commanding it to stretch as long as possible, puckering her lips tighter and tighter, drawing out every inch of my erection. My hips bounced and grinded violently against her mouth with bone-shaking jolts.

There was an almighty pull and this time it did not let up. Twitches ran through my body as my shaft was forced into an unnatural stretch and held there for a long time. Drops of saliva rolled down my belly and chest, finally running thickly over my face like honey. With my rod achingly taut, the tongue wagged sharply, applying a couple of deft slaps to the tip of my dick, and the pressure in my balls released in a rush.

The lips gripped my shaft for an extra few minutes, tugging to ensure I was completely spent, and sliding around the tip to clean everything up. Then the cool air ran over my shaft as it came free, and before I could react, I was lifted slightly so her lips could press a kiss over my face, painting it over with a soup of my own fluids intermixed with her saliva.

As I heaved for breath, my back was laid upon the mattress, while she rolled over and got comfortable under the blanket. The light went off.

While she drifted into uncomplicated sleep, I rolled over, stared at the ceiling. Rolled over again. Beside me, deep, steady breathing with the tug and flow of ocean wind. I huffed, and kicked the sheet off. Then, as the hair on my legs stood up, I wrenched the sheet back again. The combination of Kolade I’d chugged earlier that day, plus all the tickling and sexual stimulation had my blood freighting around my system by bullet train. My thoughts raced and skipped.

Debating internally with myself for several seconds, I finally had enough: I jumped up and plodded to the end of the bed, and, scrunching the sheet in my hands as a handhold, climbed over the edge and dropped onto the carpet. The soft carpet fibers turned into frigid tiles as my path took me into the bathroom.

I scampered up the shoelace rope ladder to reach the sink, and crossing the counter, came to a stop at a small cosmetics travel case. Gripping a side handle, I wrenched it with all my might, until the bag overturned onto its side, contents rattling. Diving my upper body in between the sets of zip teeth, I dragged out a foil sheet with half its foil bubbles still intact. Prescription sleeping tablets. Not a surprising bounty for someone with Jen’s breathtaking energy spikes, though she typically medicated herself with physical activity, and only failing that, wine.

I drew my fist back and punched one of the unopened foil bubbles with all my might. The aluminium crinkled and split, tearing the seam open to access a white tablet, which I rotated between my hands like a sports ball, sucking my lips in as if contemplating eating a lemon.

My jaw worked around the tablet, grinding it away between my teeth, bit by bit. As the granules wore away they coated my tongue and throat. Tiny fragmented rocks of tablet were swallowed whole. With a chunk of the tablet gone, I left the rest on the counter and went back down the shoelace ladder. The rote descending motions began to hypnotize my brain. Over halfway down, my feet slipped out of position and the air was suddenly whizzing around me. Next instant the tiles slapped my back. Groaning, I staggered back into the bedroom, and began pulling myself up the bed.

For a moment I was sorely tempted to just call out and get assistance, but then, with one last nauseating wrench, I surmounted the mattress, but the swaying climbing motion carried on even after I was upright. The tablet was kicking in, fast. A muted, druggy kind of horror began growing in my gut; I had ingested too much tablet for my diminutive metabolism.

In a growing fog, I stumbled in what my dimming orientation was telling me was my side of the bed. Then crashed face first into a sheet covered hump, which turned out to be Jen’s foot. The foot responded in blind slumber by jerking into action, plowing me over the sheets, like a small animal caught in the scoop of a front-end loader. Her foot retreated again as I crawled rapidly up my side of the bed to the pillow and whipped the sheet around myself.

Letting out a deep sigh, I closed my eyes. As my respiration eased and my thoughts spaced out, the darkness behind my eyes was filled up with a vivid scene summoned up as if by its own power.

Jennifer was holding her hand out to me, but instead of stepping onto it, I grasped it and we were walking side by side. Then she started forward, but I was frozen in place, her grip surged out of mine and her open hand flew up way above my head as I was crashing down to earth, screaming like I was falling, but my feet never left the ground, and yet I was going down and down and down…