Indeed, the walls of sole flesh which surrounded Jason on all sides responded less to the whims of his shifting arms and legs. The aroma of her leather-scuffed skin was lukewarm and gently acrid in his throat. When he pressed his fist into a foot wrinkle, it only yielded like clay after he put some muscle behind it. Where before he’d simply been noticeably smaller than her feet, Jason was now suitably dwarfed.

            For the first time since this surreal affair began, Jason felt afraid again. At twelve inches, and even six inches, he still felt some degree of control over his body, however slight. Now, he wasn’t too confident. As Heather’s soles continued to weave and grind, gently caressing their roadmap of plush wrinkles along his torso, he could feel the sheer lack of agency in his movements. It was entirely up to her.

            “M-Ms. Goodman?” he uttered. He’d neglected the informality again in his fear.

            “Ready for a break now?” Heather questioned. Her palm, now apparently doubled in size since the last time it came for Jason, descended again. The boy was more conscious than ever as he was swallowed by the shadow of her hand, still walled in by soles, and collected between her thumb and forefinger. Kindly, she had the foresight to grip him by the hips rather than around the stomach.

            Jason was brought back before Heather’s beaming, beautiful countenance. At this size, it became possible to pick out a few more minute extensions of her laugh lines, but aside from that, Jason realized he was only more enraptured now than ever to be focused on by such a huge and magnanimous form as her.

            “Something the matter, hon?” she cooed. Her thumb and index finger massaged Jason’s sides as she kept him cradled above the slope of her pale palm. “I didn’t want to startle you again, so I thought maybe you could just ease into this smaller size while you were distracted down there. Feeling all right?”

            “Y-Y… Yes, yes, I am…” he said, only half-lying. He trembled in her grip.

            “Jason, we’ve already spent half an hour playing together. I can feel you shaking like a leaf. I don’t think anyone’s feelings will be hurt if you’re honest.”

            “I’m… kinda scared,” he admitted guiltily.

            “Ah, there it is. That’s natural, I’m sure. It can’t be easy, suddenly looking way up at a woman you’re used to only looking up at a slight bit,” she said. “I’m just pleased to see you’re having such a good time.”

            Jason frowned, peeping downward at his lower body, and sure enough, an erection was prodding through his shrunken pants. Heather’s opposite pinky finger brushed up along his leg, stopping just after a gentle nudge of his member through the jean fabric. She chuckled.

            “Yep, still functioning just fine, I see,” Heather commented. “We won’t bring Little Jason to the party just yet, though.”

            “Uh… ah, um…”

            “Tell me something, hon. How many women have you kissed?” Heather asked with a sudden professionalism.

            Momentarily thrown off, Jason was struggling just to keep up with the woman’s self-assured swerves in topic and mentality. All he knew was he was glad to have her taking the wheel.

            “Um, how many? I guess… two? No, three, because of that time in high school when-”

            “High school? Oh, Jason, you silly boy. I didn’t ask how many girls you’ve kissed, I asked how many women,” Heather interrupted gently. Her fingers came to bear around his body again, laying him down upon a bed of extended digits.

            “I… I guess… n-none, then, if that’s-”

            “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, Jason. I just wondered if you’d like a little sample, purely for educational purposes, of course, of the difference between what you’re talking about…” Heather drawled. She licked her full, pillowy lips, painting a thin gloss of saliva along the rim. “…and what I’m talking about.”

            “I guess then I haven’t, um… haven’t k-kissed anyone quite like y-you before, Heather.”

            “Oh, hon…” the woman laughed a final time before she drew her cupped hands containing Jason’s three-inch body toward her mouth. “…and you never will again, either.”

            Jason felt his eyes bulge in much the manner of his nethers as his body collided with Heather’s blossoming, puckered lips. The suction was absolutely terrific. Her moist flesh plastered itself across his stomach and chest, having her way. A smooth upper lip caressed against his puny face in the midst of the sloppy gesture. At first, Heather was content laying a long, healthily-drawn smooch with tightly-clenched lips. However, after a minute or so of intermittent miniature pecks and puckered kisses, her glistening tongue emerged from between her lips.

            The three-inch young man went limp as a ragdoll in his neighbor’s cradling fingers. He was pinned down to the cushioned floor of her hand by the oppressive, addictive weight of her tongue. With every pulse of her red muscle into his chest, she flexed the mighty muscle beneath the ribbed taste buds, alternately turning it hard and soft. Next her luxurious lips were re-incorporated into the make-out with Jason’s torso, with her tongue making special guest appearances to pop back out and slurp up the length of his body, from his shins to his chin. In almost no time he was soaked from the neck-down in her saliva.

            All around, hanging strands of her dark hazel hair formed a canopy surrounding the educational lesson. Heather bowed her head, dipping her lips ever-lower into the cupped cradle of her hands, with the hapless three-inch passenger at the center, just about ready to pass out from arousal.

            When at last the kiss was coming to an end, like the finale of a fireworks display, Heather made sure to let him know this was it. Her tongue painted back up his pants and stomach, then instantly sealed in by her lips wrapping as far around his body as she could without simply sucking him into the moist void of her jaws. Jason felt the stinging, amazing pressure of a makeshift hickey forming on his chest as Heather practically drank his body back inside her hot, hungry mouth. She pulled away and wiped her mouth.

            “Oh, you poor, poor thing,” Heather giggled. She dabbed a delicate index finger at the boy’s aggressive pants tent. “I’ve got you here, almost to the point of bursting, and we still haven’t taken Little Jason out to play. So let me show you a trick I was practicing just last week when I heard you were coming home soon.”