Living with the right man is wonderful.
l love the company. I love the emotional support. I love the safety. I love getting help with chores. I love the intimacy (when it's not *all the fucking time*). I love the dual income. I love having a friend to talk to, especially when life is being too much to handle.
But nearest of all to my heart...is the laundry.
Not really. That other stuff is obviously much more important than clean clothes. But I *hate* laundry with the fiery passion of a thousand suns, and when I come home at the end of the day to find him standing in the bedroom, sorting my thongs out of a giant pile of hot clothes and pairing my socks…
Sigh.
That's love man-thing. I will cook for you.
Cooking delicious unhealthy food is what filipina women *do*. It's our version of golf. You just quiet those sweet little mouth pillows (lips) of yours and fold that laundry quietly in the bedroom while I make us dinner (which I actually *enjoy* doing) and everything will be just fine.
I don't say any of this out loud, of course. But there must be other women out there who feel this way. I can't be alone.
I'm not normally a big advocate of trading work or gifts for sex, because it leads to expectations which are unfair for both of us. It also feels manipulative.
But on the day in question he calls in sick to play a new *game*, so I'm expecting to come home and find nothing has been done. I'm actually starting to seethe about it on the drive home. I had to be at work all day. I don't like it when he plays a lot of video games, it feels like I'm living with a boy instead of a man. So I get through the door, fuming, and the house iiiiis…clean.
I mean like CLEAN.
Swept, counters wiped, floor picked up, I think he may have even hung new dish towels. And he's standing in the bedroom folding like four loads of laundry.
Shock and horror.
Something's going on. What is he apologizing for? What is he about to ask me for? Does he want sex?
This is not normal. I must probe.
'Wow honey, you did a lot. I thought you were going to play your game today, what happened?'
And I shit you not;
'I did for about four hours, but then I got antsy and figured it was a good opportunity to do some cleaning. I need to develop better habits if we're going to be parents someday.'
Blinkblinkblink.
Blinkblink.
Blink.
FLOOOOORED. XD
All I can do now is smile. Really, that's all I can do. He sees this and frowns and adds;
'What? I'm serious.'
+1000 Fiance points.
So I do the unexpected-no you nerds, I don't anal vore him! I put down my bag and start folding laundry with him!
Jesus.
Yes, don't worry, it's coming.
I should say at this point, for the readers peace of mind, that this is when I start plotting. I check the bedside. Did he set the remote out as some sort of not-so-subtle hint?
Nope. It's still in the box on the bathroom shelf. There appears to be no expectation of sex. I could be wrong of course, he could just be really sneaky, but oh well.
+100 Fiance points.
Ehh… maybe 75.
I was already kind of in the mood on the way home, but moods can be fickle things. I was also irritated. But this cements it.
You've read what my first time was like. You've read when I got mad. This is me when I'm *happy* and *trying*.
So… the reason I did the laundry with him is because I wanted it to be done first. A tiny man can't fold laundry, and it would have gotten all cold and wrinkly.
Let him finish what he started, right?
We finish. I go into the bathroom, get the remote out, prime it, and call out;
'Hey love, can you come help me with this ingrown hair for a sec?'
I wax, so ingrown hairs are a thing. A VERY ANNOYING THING that you should all be STUPID GRATEFUL to your girlfriends for enduring if they happen to be into waxing.
He comes in to help me. I zap him in the face.
Shrunk. Righto.
I can't see his expression real well at this size, but I think he actually looked shocked.
+25 points.
I'm dressing things up a bit from here, but not by much.
Ditch my scrubs. Tower over him in my thong, buns hangin out. Fists on my hips (he confessed he likes that), raised brow, smirking. I'm play acting.
'Fee fie fo fum. Someone's about to go up my bum.'
Shut up. I know it sounds stupid. Hindsight is 20/20.
I bend down, pick him up, pop him in my mouth, and start going around the apartment locking doors and drawing blinds. I call out 'hey Google, play my Chill Summer playlist' to the mini. UB40's 'I Got You Babe' comes on.
Strangely appropriate.
Apartment secure. Music on. I spit him out into my hand and say; 'clothes off'. He strips once he recovers and clears my saliva out of his ears.
Bleeech. That's the reality of being in my mouth guys.
Rinse him off in the sink (I'm leery of saliva near my bits), drop him down into my thong, head into the kitchen to start making dinner. Now he's pressed up against my cunt...which is currently dry.
This isn't nearly as awkward as it used to be.
Adobo is easy to make; soy sauce, vinegar, meat, veggies, and a bay leaf. That's it. I put on rice. More sauntering around in my thong, chopping vegetables, shakin it to the music, singing quietly for dramatic effect.
He's going nuts. God this is so *easy*.
It used to be really uncomfortable. I would never have dared handle a kitchen knife with a tiny guy squirming against my hoo-ha a few months ago. But after a while the anxiety passes, and the sensation of having my bits stimulated kinda…turns me on. Unless he accidentally pinches me or something.
Then there are dire consequences. >E
But we won't get into those right now. Dinner is cooking. ^_^
He's arousing me, so I decide to go back into the bedroom for the bubble tube. It's time. What is the bubble tube you ask?
Fantastic question.
It's a long, transparent, dildo-width plastic 'tube' used to hold liquid bubble solution from the dollar store. They come with this little 'wand' that expands out into a bubble hoop when you pull it out. The wand is long gone, and it's been through the dishwasher to sanitize-HEY, don't look at me like that!
It's not MY fetish okay?! HE brought it home! In fact I gave him the stink eye when he first showed it to me! But I'm feeling generous tonight.
I'm not into giantess stuff. I'm doing all this for him.
I get it out of a basket in the bathroom. Fiance can't see what I'm doing, he's...locked up. I'm just sort of boogying around the room, shakin my big butt, preparing.
Pour a glass of soju, three candles, one tealight, an aromatic oil burner with citrus blossom oil, ceiling fan set to high, and I tell Google to put on my Intimacy playlist and turn the lights down to 10%.
Google is super helpful.
I pull him out, hold him in my palm, give him a quick peck, and drop him into the bubble tube.
Special note to all you unbirth lovers reading this;
The inside of a woman's vagina is fibrous, muscular, and slippery. It's meant to take blunt force, but it can *easily* be torn, even by a tiny person's fingernails. And infection is a serious danger.
It's also where we keep all our reproductive baby stuff; cervix, uterus, ovaries, etc. That stuff HURTS LIKE HELL when it gets poked, and what if a tiny guy got stuck up there? It's not made to push things back out. Not cool.
So he has to stay inside the tube, and that's final. He can look out through the plastic with a keychain light or something, if he remembers one next time.
The first song, Wild West by Cassa Jackson, is my jam. Don't listen to the lyrics, just let the beat sink into you.
Very sexy.
A slow insertion with lube, to stretch myself out. I leave it in for about a minute, willing my pelvis to relax. Blood is rushing into my cunt. I pull it out and check the tip...and there he is, looking out through the plastic. His expression is totally priceless.
This is an erotic story, so I'll be explicit here;
I lay in bed, on my back, knees lifted, in my 'sexy place' with the music on, and pump myself silly while drawing little circles around my clitoris until I climax.
I don't stick it in very deep. A penis doesn't have to be HUGE to do the job. In fact, if it's too deep it hurts. Four to six inches fills the void just fine.
Macrophilia is really just performance masturbation with a bit of fake humiliation thrown in. Once you get past how awkward and potentially unsanitary it is, handling a tiny macrophile is easy. The hardest part is actually that you're not talking to anyone, or being satisfied by anyone.
It's totally one sided.
Don't argue with me about this. A real lover actually does things during sex; body kissing, nipple teasing, butt squeezing, waist holding, giving head. A tiny person does none of that. It's performance masturbation.
But I'm fine with that today. I'm doing him a solid.
When I finally come down from climax I just sort of sprawl lazily on the sheets, thighs apart, huffing. I upend the tube and dump him between my boobs to see how he's doing.
It takes him a bit to recover. I wait patiently.
'Thanks again for being in my life,' I finally say. He waves and smiles...I think. He's real small.
I sigh, snatch him, hop up, and stick him back between my big cheeks. He likes being in there, so they can hold him for a minute. Into the bathroom for the dildo and lube. I start preparing for phase two.
As long as I'm standing up straight, my butt cheeks press together pretty tight. It's actually a really great...oubliette.
And a pretty funny thought. Oubliette is a French word. It means 'place to be forgotten'. Which is totally accurate. Because when I get tired of playacting and want to go do something else, I stick him up my ass and forget about him for a while.
And he looooves it. He thinks it's cruel and domineering and sexy, apparently.
I just think it's a great way to get some personal time.
When I'm ready I wedge the slippery dildo between my buns, catch him against the tip, and gently push him against my rectum until it opens for him.
You know how this part goes. A big foreign object slowly fills my bum up once it slips through the tight ring of muscle. I grunt and push until it's almost painful, then I gently defecate it back out. It's bare.
I study the tip and smile. Mischief managed.
I can literally do anything I want now. For me the sex is over. For him things are just getting started. My gluteal muscles are very active while I'm walking back out to the front room, chewing him up.
That's it for now. I make green onion steamed buns next, and I'm sure you don't want to read a cooking blog-
-is how I WOULD have ended things if a bunch of fans didn't just assault my inbox last night for cutting things off so soon. Apparently people want to know what happened after I put him away.
Fine you nerds.
This is the first time I’ve been mobbed into doing a continuation, so please bear with me.
So I walk into the kitchen, feeling victorious, and start enticingly chopping onions.
I warned you. Enticing onions. Oooh. Get out my mixer and wicker basket of baking stuff. Start prepping the dough. Flour, baking powder, eggs, salt…
So mouth watering.
Then I turn on the mixer. Aaaand while I'm waiting, pretend to skip rope.
Bum starts popping. Thighs flex. Gosh, anyone inside me right now would be totally DESTROYED by all this muscular action.
The dough gets done, but...I'm all winded now. My calves are cramping! If my fiance was here perhaps he could rub them. I'd sure love some company. But gee, I don't see him anywhere, I'm on my OWN tonight.
Time to do stretches then.
Sit on a chair by the table, perched at the VERY EDGE to put ALL my weight squarely on my rear instead of distributing it evenly across my bum and thighs. Lock my knees and lean in to stretch my calves.
Oooh, it burns. Ugh. I need to get more flexible.
Back to the kitchen...no, you know what? I want to watch Gilmore Girls over the counter while I'm working. I go out to the living room to get the lap desk with the wireless keyboard and mouse.
Oh no! He left it on the floor again!
I told him to leave it on the coffee table so nobody accidentally stepped on it! Tsk tsk tsk, now I have to do a deep sumo squat to get it and put it BACK in the right place! If he was here right now I'd sure give him a piece of my mind.
What an inconsiderate man. Seriously.
And these socks and pillows! And his shoes aren't on the rack by the door where they should be! Barbarian! He didn’t clean as well as I thought he did. Oh well. I guess I'll just have to pick them ALL up too. I am a dutiful partner after all.
Season 2 starts up. Back to the kitchen to make filling. Dough covered by a cloth, let it rise. Now we wait. Chop boiled egg, fry green onion, get the oyster sauce out…and LEEEEAN against the counter to stretch out my back.
Oh jeez, did that make my bum squeeze? Oops.
Hop up and sit on the counter. Time for a rest.
A little while later the filling is almost done, but all the witty banter between Lorelai and her daughter is making me laugh. My bum jiggles a bit when I laugh. Thongs, you know?
So the filling is done now. Check the dough? Nope. It hasn’t risen enough yet. I’m bored.
So I have this GREAT idea. Exaggerate my stride and walk across the house, into the computer room to his desk, and PLOP down in his chair. I happen to know his World of Warcraft password. See, this is the danger of letting a woman know you *too* well.
I shake my bum on the chair as I log on. I used to play this game with him for a few months, until I got bored with it. He kept on playing. Not as much lately, he’s onto other stuff, but he still gets on from time to time. Enough for my purposes anyway.
Fun fact; it turns out guys can hear you in there if you talk loud enough. Sound does carry through the body.
“AHHH, HERE WE GO. STORMWIND CITY.”
I don’t *know* what he’s doing in there, but I know he hears me. I imagine him freezing. The creeping anxiety.
‘GEE, WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE!? THIS TWO HANDED SWORD LOOKS COOL. IT GUSHES FIRE!”
The best part.
‘SHARDED!!!’
TOTAL FRENZY IN MY BUM! Hahaha!
He’s fighting hard to escape. I clench my cheeks nice and TIGHT and keep going with it. I’m doing the evil laugh now. I have a pretty funny evil laugh.
“HERE GOES ANOTHER OOOONE!”
Later on after I let him out he was sour until he found out I was kidding. It was funny to watch the inner conflict. Mad because his precious purples got sharded, but can’t be too mad because I did the giantess thing for him and he doesn’t want to antagonize me bad enough that I won’t play along anymore.
Sulk sulk sulk.
I don’t do this for long. Just until I think my dough is done, then skipping back into the kitchen to make my buns. Get it? Buns?
Another episode or two of Gilmore Girls. He’s stopped fighting by now. There’s this eerie stillness which I interpret as some sort of lethargic nerd despair at having lost his precious fake magic items on a fake video game.
Muahaha.
That’s not fair. I’ve raided a bit before, I know how much effort it is to get those things. And yes, I was a healer priest. Don’t judge me. I’m just not as into games as he is.
When the buns are made, filled, and baked I go flop down on the couch and wait for a bit. It’s too late at night to make them all, so I store the remainder in the fridge for tomorrow. I don’t have to go into work until later. I set an alarm on my phone to wake me up at 5 am, so I can let him out in time to take a shower before work.
Aaaaand...watch another episode and go to bed with a bum full of despair.
Cause that’s how I roll.
NOW the story is over.