Chapter four: Huntering
Ness gently kicked the fridge door shut as she rose and spun away from it. He crossed into the kitchen as she strode towards the stove. She set an egg carton and a veggie sausage down on the counter to the left of the stove. She turned and stepped towards him. He raised his arms as she leaned down to lift him. The tips of her fingers met in a lattice along his back as her hands settled around his armpits. She lifted him quickly, the air rushing and a slight dizziness finding him as the floor fell beneath him. "Uuup we go," she almost sang she rose with him in hand. The marbled laminate was cold under his feet as she placed him upon the countertop.
She had left him to the right of the stove, in front of the coffee maker. It was an expensive machine with a sleek design, and he reached above the carafe to pull the grounds tray towards him. It swung open after a slight tug. He stepped closer to the machine and grabbed at the top of the filter with both hands. It was still damp with yesterday's grounds. He pulled the sides of the filter together and stepped backwards, heaving to drag the mass of paper and wet grounds out of the machine. The machine was almost exactly his height, which made for awkward work. The slope of the grounds tray aided his efforts, lifting the filter as he dragged, and the bundle came free. It was heavy in his hands, but manageable, and he turned away from the machine to face Ness.
She had watched him liberate the coffee grounds as she pulled out a small frying pan and a cutting board. She leaned to her right to slide the trash bin out from its cabinet next to the sink. He dropped his load from the countertop and watched it land at the bottom of the bin. "Thanks!" he chimed as he turned to walk back to the machine. She slid the cabinet shut with her right foot. "Any time, bug."
He returned to the coffee maker. A small metal tray on top of the machine held clean filters. He reached up on his tiptoes to pull one down and swung it in a motion he had, at another scale, reserved for trash bags and bedsheets to open it up. He placed the empty filter back in the tray still beaded with moisture from the last brew. He stepped to the left of the machine and turned his attention to a metal grounds container. It was a squat cylinder, a little over half a foot tall, made of a seafoam brushed stainless steel and emblazoned with a silver "V." They had always preferred fresh ground coffee, though his new size made operating the grinder almost impossible, so Ness typically ground a few pots worth of beans at a time and had picked up this container to keep the surplus fresh.
He stepped to the right side of the canister and leaned his torso over the top, grateful for the shirt Ness had reminded him to don as the cold metal surface curved along his stomach and chest. He found the left-side latch to the canister's seal and heaved upwards. The latch held firm for a moment before beginning a slow ascent. As the seal broke the latch abandoned its resistance and rushed to meet his face. He rose quickly as it approached, avoiding the collision, and bounded backwards onto his feet. He steadied himself and let his eyes wander up from the canister, over the stovetop and to Ness.
She was at work at the counter beyond the stovetop. She had chopped the veggie sausage and jalapeno, and was working through half of an onion. She had resumed her half-worded hums as she chopped. As he watched her she wrinkled her nose and silently mouthed in something like a yawn, water overrunning her eyes as the onion got to her. She took a half-step back from the counter, knife still in hand, and rolled the outside of her wrist at her eyes to blot the tears away. She caught him eyeing her as she stepped back to the cutting board.
"Taking a break already?" She mused, cutting at the last slices of onion.
"No," he offered back, stepping around the canister to face the other latch. "Heard my girlfriend crying and thought maybe I needed to defend her." He leaned across at the canister again and pried at the right latch, feeling the lid beneath him lift as the latch gave way.
"Oh I think the onion could take you, sweetheart," she offered in feigned pity, stepping in front of the stove and watching him struggle with the canister.
"Ye of little faith. Countless onions have met their end at the tip of my blade." He stood upright and ran his hands along the inside seal of the canister, then threw it open like a chest. The rich notes of the ground beans washed over him, chasing the morning's sleepiness further from his mind. He leaned back down over the canister to retrieve the scoop that had become buried under an inch of grounds.
"Maybe before you were onion-sized. I can't even imagine what cutting one of these would be like for you, you'd probably go blind." She admired him from above, watching him rummage for the scoop. "Cute bum, though." She poked her pinky finger at his backside, briefly pinning his pelvis against the cold smoothness of the canister and lifted slightly, driving him bodily up and thus deeper into the canister. The slight curve of her nail slipped between his cheeks, laying a firm, even pressure against his ass.
In the moments that his full weight sat atop the pointing force of her pinky he found his mind quickly flashing over thoughts of their time in bed earlier that morning. Her teasing press disappeared as quickly as it had come, though, and he found himself scrambling to get his feet back onto the countertop and draw himself out of the canister.
"That was unfair," he sighed, drawing the scoop out of the canister and turning to face her.
"What?" She teased, twisting a knob as a blue flame clicked and sprung to life beneath her pan. "I'm a simple girl. I see a cute bug-butt, I touch the cute bug-butt." She drew a small slice of butter from the dish on the counter and flicked it towards the pan where it landed and began to sputter.
She met his gaze, noticed an erection under his sweatpants, and smiled at him. "Doesn't take much these days, huh? If you had told me you were that into butt stuff before you were little we could have picked up more toys. I'll make note for later." The butter had begun to sizzle in the pan, and she lifted the cutting board. She swept the knife across it, drawing out a grating sound as the blade dragged along the board and guided the sausage, pepper, onion, and pile of spinach into the pan. The sizzling grew louder and the kitchen began to fill with the smells of their breakfast.
"Hadn't quite caught it back then, I guess." He shrugged, watching her stir at the veggies. "You ought to let me return the favor. I see a cute Ness-bum but I can't quite reach it from here."
She smirked and rolled her hips, pointing her backside towards his countertop. She scrunched her dress up towards the small of her back, revealing the full rounds of her pale cheeks straining the dark fabric of her tights.
"Are you inviting a trust jump? Because I'll get a running start and dive if you wanna see how that goes." He remarked dryly, eyes fixed.
"No butts for boys who haven't finished making coffee," she chided. She put the spoon she was using to fuss with the vegetables down and picked up an egg.
"You're killing me," he muttered playfully, turning back to the canister. He plunged the scoop into the fragrant mounds of coffee and drew back, angling the scoop against the canister in a steady incline and walking it back to avoid emptying its contents back into the pile. He swung the now-full scoop around and hefted it up and into the coffee filter as if it was shovel full of snow. He repeated the motion for the second scoop-full, then let the scoop fall back into the canister.
He returned to the front of the coffee maker. He reached up to swing the tray full of grounds back into the machine and pressed firmly to ensure that it was closed. He grabbed the top corner of the machine with his left hand as he drove his right palm firmly into the buttons, first selecting the option for a single large cup and then selecting "Start." The machine beeped with each press, and in moments the container of water began to kick and bubble as the heating coil brought it to a boil.
Ness had cracked two eggs into the veggies and was stirring the pan into a scramble. He approached the stovetop and sat with his legs dangling over the lip of the countertop. She was cooking on the pilot farthest from him, but he could feel its heat lapping gently at his right side. He watched her work as the eggs firmed into a scramble. The countertop was almost navel height for her, and his view at this proximity was mostly the black void of her dress' fabric and constellations of cats in relief. He kicked his legs absentmindedly as she finished up, his feet toying with the rolling waves where the material flowed along her thighs. The light tings of her wooden spoon on the metal pan, the steady sizzle of the pan's contents, and the mingling fragrances of fresh coffee and breakfast enveloped them both.
She clicked her tongue in a frustrated inhale. "Dammit, how did I almost forget the cheese?" She turned the heat down on the burner and stepped over to the fridge, throwing the door open and leaning over to grab a bag of shredded cheddar in a single motion. She kicked the door shut behind her as she returned to the stovetop, dropping a handful of cheese into the scramble and padding over with egg as she brought the heat back up. "It's not going to be very melty, sorry."
"It'll still be great!" He exclaimed. "The heat of the egg'll melt it even once it's off the burner." He stood up. "It smells amazing, I'm so hungry."
She smiled at him and some of the tension that the sudden realization had conjured dissipated. "Yeah, I just like when it's gooier. Oh well." She opened the cupboard above him and reached up towards the top shelf, leaning over him and rising to her tiptoes as she retrieved a plate.
He leaned against the smooth firmness of her midsection, reaching an arm around her as best he could. She was warm against him, and he could still smell her soap through the fabric of her dress. Her stomach gurgled hungrily.
She passed the plate from her right to her left hand as she returned to the flats of her feet and closed the cupboard. She stooped slightly to plant a kiss on his head. He rose on the balls of his feet to press into the kiss, and the soft warmth of her bottom lip eclipsed his vision. The pucker of her kiss pulled at him, and he reached up to brush her jawline, inviting her to kiss longer, deeper. She smiled suddenly, releasing a rush of warm breath over him as she sighed a laugh at his eagerness. She rose from him and returned to the stove, smiling down at him.
"You're sweet," she said quietly, setting the plate down and reaching for the pan. Her playful tone was back as she began emptying the pan onto the plate and added, "But you know that."
"Oh I know it," he declared in exaggerated pride. The coffee machine chimed, alerting them that the brew had finished. He could lift neither carafe nor mug, and the silverware drawer sat directly below him but was inaccessible in any safe manner. He stared up at her, watching her fix their plate.
She set the empty pan down and shifted her gaze from the steaming plate towards him. There had always been so much adoration in his eyes when they found hers. It had helped fuel her love for him when they first started dating, and became such a comfort to return to. That adoration had been joined by a growing needfulness that almost gave way to worship since his Diminishing, which evoked a new suite of emotions in her. A fiercely protective need to keep him safe from the dangers of his now enormously outscaled world, but also a deep, yearning hunger to continually reaffirm the power she had over him. That yearning coursed through her as she eyed him there, standing on her countertop, eyes wide with awe and love and helplessness.
Ness forgot the pangs of morning hunger as she held his gaze. This person before her had given himself to her so fully. They had decided and affirmed and reaffirmed over months to undertake a Diminishing. They were so deeply in love with one another, knew that they would spend eternity together, and crossed this irreversible threshold together. He was hers. To have and to hold, and for wherever else her whims took them. A deep pulse began to thrum in her as she walked through these realities. She loved imagining his motivations to Diminish in these moments and could get lost considering the staggering price he had been willing to pay to fulfill this role. How badly he had to want her for him to be willing to give up so much of his independence. So much of his humanity. They were partners still in so many ways, but that was so wholly maintained by her will alone. Hers. He was hers. The thrumming pulsed up towards her chest, set her heart to pounding. It laced down to her groin in tingling waves, the pitifully sweet sight of the man she loved gazing up at her, waiting to be lifted into her arms so that he might eat crumbs of breakfast from her plate. She bit her lip to center herself, drew a slow breath. In. Out.
He wondered up at her. She was staring fixedly at him, worrying her lip. Her breathing had quickened slightly. He was overwhelmed for a moment by how beautiful she was, how lucky he was to be loved by her. He squinted as he beamed. "Love you, Ness!"
He noticed something stir in her as the words left him. He felt himself stiffening, straining against the fabric of his pants at the sight of her. Her right hand floated to her chest absently, tracing a line down her front and drifting under her dress. He followed it with his eyes, then looked back up to her confront the hunger in her eyes. He took a step forward towards the edge of the counter and waited for her.
Her right hand curled between her thighs as her left moved for him. The mounts of her palm centered around his spine and her fingers closed around him quickly and tightly. She pulled him forward, slowly and surely, his feet dragging over the countertop and then dangling over nothing. She held him to her mons, over her tights. He could smell that she was getting wet before he could feel it. Her fingers slid away from his front as she formed her hand into a flat bed behind him, shifting his position to a flat pressure against her. She pressed him bodily into her, squatting slightly to bare her weight into him. The fabric of the tights had a slight roughness to it where her hairs poked at the material as he joined it, but that gave way as her growing excitement began to saturate them. She swayed her hips and dragged her palm, riding against him. He lapped greedily at her, pushing his head at her labia, running his hands along the length of her. He drove his hips into her, grinding his erection towards her, desperate to be closer. His hands found his cock in desperate pulls as they drew teasing swirls around her.
She fell away from him suddenly as her hand withdrew from her dress, careening him upwards. Before he could fully process where he was headed he was at her mouth. The rich fullness of her lips offered a wilting smirk before parting at his approach. She moaned softly as she tasted herself on him. She wrapped her lips around his head, blacking out his vision and probing every inch of his face with her huge tongue. He swam in the soaking humidity of her mouth, held his breath in the torrent of saliva. She hooked a finger into the waistband of his pants and tugged them off in a weightless flourish, freeing his aching erection. She sucked at his head and ran her tongue along his face as she pulled him out of her mouth, lifting him above her and depositing him astride her lips.
He wrapped his thighs tightly around her face, laid over her nose and gripped twisting handfuls of her hair, writhing in waves of ecstasy as her probing tongue and ravenous mouth toyed with his cock and balls. Her tongue swam around his legs, between his thighs, over his stomach, pushing him into an upright sitting position. He rode it back clumsily, lifting his hands from her hair to embrace her tongue, then over his head as he felt a fingernail run up his naked back, pulling his shirt from him. She had disrobed him in seconds and he was riding her face, naked, as her fingers closed around his midsection again. She slurped at him as his groin left her mouth, and she held her tongue out wide and flat against him as she lowered him, soaked in her spit.
She held him there, dangling in front of her. Her eyes were fire and her voice purred out at him, "I seem to recall a certain bug asking for some ass."
He searched desperately for words. "Yes please" was all he could manage. She smiled, a flash of teeth and anticipation. They were in motion now as she carried him out of the kitchen and towards the couch. They had barely cleared the kitchen when she moved him behind her, lowered him under the brim of her dress, and then up her back. She pressed him flat against her back as she slid him downwards, parting the fabric of her tights slightly to afford him passage.
He slid downwards, against the smooth hardness of the small of her back, along the rising mounds of her glutes, and past the brim of her tights. He angled his legs and shimmied along her as she held the back of her tights out for him, sliding awkwardly but quickly into position in the back of her tights. He went down feet first, his legs disappearing under her perineum as he settled into the sweet stickiness of her. The fabric snapped back against her as her hand left its rim, and he was pinned firmly to her ass. He had settled in a sitting position in the seat of her tights. He was pressed hard against the shifting mass of her cheeks as she knelt down onto the couch. She spread her knees apart as she settled, gathering pillows in front of her and leaning forwards.
The cheeks of her ass parted as she leaned. He was faced with her asshole, and he leaned in, kissing and licking feverishly. She shuddered as his hands joined the work, probing at her, testing swirling motions and pressing against her rectum. It was growing stifling in her tights, and she was soaking him already, his senses flooding in the rich earthy odor of her. Her hips jostled as she settled into position. He felt rustling down by his feet as her right hand found her clit. The fabric rocked him along her as she worked herself. She rolled her shoulders and raised her hips as her left hand reached between her legs, finding the lump of him against her and began to mash and knead him into her. He rode the intense waves of her slamming pressure, licking and slurping, leaning and pressing into her as she drove herself against him.
He twisted his shoulders to press his face to the tights and gulp for air periodically as he ate at her. He could feel the rise and fall of her hips as she worked herself into a frenzy all around him. Her fingers broke from her clit for a moment to pinch at his ankle and drag him downwards, pulling him from her ass and down along her labia. He landed in a ridiculous slump, his legs riding the tights up towards her mons, but she had deposited his head at her vagina. He rose upwards, penetrating her with his head and working his shoulders up to climb into her. She moaned expletives as he found purchase, her left hand guiding him and adding pressure to his restrained motions. Her right returned to her clit.
His world lurched and flipped as she shifted position. She withdrew her hands as she lowered her hips, returned to her knees, and rolled backwards onto the couch, swinging a pillow under her back as she propped up against the arm of the chair. The pressure around him grew as her weight settled into the couch, and he was driven harder against her. Her hand returned to him, pressing at his ass in a kneading motion, driving him flatly against and into her. His arms were outstretched above him, pressing hard against the walls of her pussy, trying to fill her with his torso as she used him. He came, hard, as he drank and ate of her, his senses utterly overwhelmed. He could feel the walls of her around him grip and tighten sporadically as she careened towards climax. Her fingers whirred at her clit between his knees. He felt her heady moans and gentle sighs all around him, unable to hear the outside world. He gulped for what air he could find, growing lightheaded with exertion and deprivation, drowning in fragrance and fluid.
She gasped as she came, rising from her seat and driving him with incredible force into her. The walls of her vagina slammed against his submerged torso like a vice, gripping and pulling as her shuddering hand tried to hold him against her. He rode the waves of her orgasm, pressed hard and fast against her, and grunted as she slammed back down onto the couch. She deflated in a sigh that shuddered all around him.
He was utterly stuck, almost waist deep inside of her. The rigors of the exercise had drenched her tights, and the fabric practically glued his legs against her. He was wrapped upside down and around her vulva, his feet pressing awkwardly against the front of her tights. He could feel her heaving breaths as she collected herself. After a few moments her fingers came for him, reaching into her tights to fasten around his legs and drag him out her and into the light of the room. She cooed as he slipped free of her and shuddered as he slid bodily over her clit. He continued to kiss and knead as she dragged him, sending tingling waves through her. She had pulled her dress up around her breasts and left him on her stomach. He laid motionless against her for a moment, riding the tide of her breathing, arms outstretched to embrace her stomach. He breathed heavily against her navel, taking stock of his senses again, cataloging the overwhelming pleasures that had swallowed him.
The back of her fingers pet at him lazily. They added to the coolness of the moment as her fluids rapidly dried on him. "Mmm, thanks bug," she mewled, sleep playing at the edges of her voice again. "I guess I wasn't done."
He rolled onto his back as her hand came back for another pat. He gripped at her fingertips and held firmly as she lifted, guiding him to a standing position. He began walking up towards her face so that she could hear him clearly as he spoke. "I guess not! Where'd that come from?"
She pressed her chin down against her chest and eyed him over the bundled folds of her dress. "You just looked so cute and pitiful and horny." He couldn't see her mouth behind her chest, but he could see a molten smile in her eyes.
"I think I'm always cute and pitiful and horny these days," he smiled back. He tested a hand against the fabric of her dress to find somewhere firm to step.
"No, you'll stain it. You're a mess," she rushed, catching him with her hand and lifting him over her dress. She shifted to her side, hiked her dress back down towards her hips, and dropped his drenched form gently on the pillow next to her face. "You're not wrong though, you've taken to this whole thing so well. I really expected a more drawn out adjustment process."
He shrugged. "We talked about it enough, we both knew it would work for us. Surprises me too sometimes though, I guess. I knew I'd like it, I didn't know I'd live for it quite as much." He sat down cross-legged in front of her and searched in the huge autumn pools of her brown eyes.
She adjusted as she puzzled, "What do you mean?" She was speaking low, as much breath as voice, as she studied him with heavy eyes.
He thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. We had discussed everything so thoroughly, I figured I'd know what it was like by the time I Diminished. But it's different and like, so much more natural than I thought it would feel? There's this part of me that wakes up every time you look down at me, or idly shift me around, or move me without talking about it. It's this odd yearning feeling, like I was meant to be yours in this way I guess. I dunno, this is just working out really well and I'm so happy we took this step together."
She smiled at him. "You're adorable. I feel that too. You make for a damn fine pet."
He straightened up and smiled back. "I should hope so."
She gathered him as she rose, planting a gentle kiss on his face. "I love you so much. We should stop talking about your yearning to be manhandled though, it'll get me going again."
He kissed at the tip of her thumb near his collarbone as she held him. "And that means we should stop why?"
She rolled her eyes, "How are you not exhausted. Breakfast is getting cold. Do you want fresh clothes before we eat?" She rose as she spoke, dancing out of the damp mess of her tights and abandoning them on the living room floor.
He shook his head. "I'm going to need to wash up again before I get dressed after that anyway. As long as you don't mind me eating naked." She was drying all around him, her evaporating excitement cooling his skin, creating a sensation of tightness where it was at its thickest along his face, arms, and chest.
She playfully tensed her grip on him and kissed his bare stomach as she carried him back into the kitchen. It sent tingling goosebumps all around his form. "You can wear whatever you want, it's kind of one of the perks of the setup, yeah? Pets don't need clothes to eat last I checked."
Even through the exhaustion he felt blood kick towards his groin at her words. They used that word in jest, but there was truth there that excited him. She was his world, he was her pet. Her partner too, sure, but that line was more blurred than not these days.