Chapter 7
Now, you may be wondering how I was able to maintain my anger for any time at all inside Sandra. I know they teach you in school that when you're plunged inside a woman, her juices are so strongly concentrated that a man becomes a complete zombie.  That's mostly true but not always.

If you're feeling a strong emotion, it may override a woman's power over you. I was so mad it sort of broke the mood. Even so, I don't think Sandra fully wanted to impose her will upon me.  In fact, I recall her encouraging me as I body slammed her vagina from within. Of course, the smell of a woman aroused has always had a hold on men. I remember my dad, your grandpa Joe, telling me that when he smelled a woman's lust, it would curl up inside his head and tickle his brain... and that was long before the Goddess of Love and honey-flavored shrinking vaginas.

Anyway, then I had my big chocolate explosion and fell unconscious for the better part of two days.

"Let's fish you out of there", Sandra said as she reached into her panties for me.
She sat me on the bed, then told me to stand up. "Twelve inches," she whispered, and in an instant I felt as tall as a skyscraper. "Can't make you any taller, Mike," Sandra cooed. "If I could, I'd make you six feet tall and tell you to bang me silly," she laughed. "For the first time since your mother gave you to me, I feel as though I've been fucked by a man. A man who makes me feel like a woman deserves to feel like a man, no matter how small he is."

She turned and presented her soupy buttocks to me. "Take me, Michael", she said as she used her fingers to spread her cleft. I slid in between her cheeks. I was just tall enough to reach the floor. Sandra whispered something I didn't quite catch. Then my feet lifted off the floor. Sandra was slowly shrinking me, her rear and cleavage becoming ever larger. Shrinking no longer frightened me, as I knew I could go no smaller than an inch. Actually, shrinking was making her backdoor more comfortable, as her cleft became large enough for me to be wrapped in her flesh, as the top of my head slipped from sight.

Needless to say, I made her feel like a woman back there, too.

Instead of carrying me back, she let me walk to the toy box, which now had a door in addition to the lid. She had set my size at six inches, and I still had the same perpetual boner that I had had ever since shrinking. But I felt different this time. There was something different. When I got inside the box, the toys' attitude toward me was completely different.

"Dude, you showed her toys rule!"


"You took her like a toy, flesh-toy!"

"Mike, you're a real dill now."

I had to ask Danny Dildo what that last phrase meant. "Dill" is short for dildo, and when a toy calls you a dill, apparently it means they regard you as somebody worthy of respect and brotherhood. As a sign of how quickly my attitudes toward the toys, my fellow toys, had changed, was that it really meant something to me when I heard that.

The next big event I remember was "Take Your Toy to Work Day." Women were encouraged to bring their shrunken men to work and show them off. To lessen the risk of trouble, the management told employees to shrink all of us to three inches, large enough to see but small enough to stay out of trouble.

Sandra wore me on a necklace. It was sort of like being manacled to a wall of flesh, except that Sandra made some adjustments so I wouldn't feel as much discomfort. There was a sort of lunchtime party where the women showed their men off to each other. All of us were stark naked, and all the younger guys had boners all the time. It was a little embarrassing to be seen naked with a hard-on by Sandra's co workers, pretty and not so pretty, ranging in age from 23 to 62. All of them felt they had a right to feel me up, and my thighs got several scratches from gigantic fingernails.

Then for a time, they put all the men down on a table, temporarily freeing us from our roles as accessories. It was our chance to talk to each other and exchange stories of what had happened to us since the Goddess of Love had decreed our labors would be carried out behind silk and cotton.

I was kind of self-conscious. It was bad enough in a roomful of giant women, but on a table with men my own size, it felt like the locker room without the shower. Then I heard a familiar voice, that sounded like it was coming from a parrot. "Mike!"

It was Jeff, my friend through middle school and high school. "Got that cougar thing going, dude!" he shouted. Apparently he had seen me with Sandra.

"How'd you end up here?" I asked.

"I was riding my bike across the parking lot when the Goddess of Love hit", Jeff answered. "I ran my bike over a curb and skinned my knee. A girl walked out of the office and said, 'You look like you need some help. Let me get you something for that.' She pulled me inside and took me to a room with a first aid kit. She bandaged it up but then she started to kiss me and before I knew it she had my clothes off and was on top of me. Another minute and I was shrinking, then I was in her crotch making zombie love."

"What's she look like?" I asked.

"There she is!" Jeff responded, and pointed to a towering brunette in her twenties wearing a short skirt that showed off her curves and a low-cut blouse.  "That's Heather", Jeff continued. "She's my whole life now."

I felt a twinge of envy for Jeff. Here I was, just 18, with a 40-year-old woman who was slip-sliding all over, and Jeff was with a stunning goddess.

Heather approached the table and picked up the naked Jeff in her hands. "Baby, I've got something to tell you," I could hear her say. "I worked out a deal with Jennifer and you're getting a roommate!"

Jeff's jaw dropped.

"His name is Anthony and he's 23. He used to play football for State University. I'm sure you guys will get along just fine!" Then they walked away. Jeff looked back at me in Heather's hands, knowing he was about to get kicked out of paradise.

I didn't want to imagine the pounding Jeff would take in what would likely be a losing struggle to maintain his status as keeper of Heather's honey pot.

Just then, the most amazing sight appeared right in front of my eyes.

A woman leaned onto the side of the table. She was having a conversation with my own mistress. She was in her thirties, quite a bit shorter than Sandra, and the middle of her butt just about reached the top of the table.

It was through a dress, but that ass was absolutely amazing. The dress was off-white and I could just imagine myself doing it.

That, by the way, is one of the things that is so amazing about being this size. You can fantasize about and engage with different parts of a woman's body and it's like having an orgy with half a dozen women. Every part is a different lover. Face, breasts, tummy, back, ass, feet.

One phrase stuck out in her conversation with Sandra.

"... with three kids to raise, I didn't have TIME to shrink a guy, and now I'm paying the price... and it SUCKS!"

I thought back to Jeff. If women were allowed to have more than one man in this new reality... could a man have more than one woman?