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