Though the sun was high overhead, night seemed eternal in the back alleys of the urban cluster. A narrow and twisting pathway between two brick buildings was blanketed in shadows, each business fetching attention through flickering signs and lit up windows. Between a loans office and pawn shop was one peculiar parlor that sported no advertisements, nor did it try to catch anyone’s eyes. Tucked in the heart of the alleys was a plain door and a single sign above it: “Massage Therapy.”
Meghan double checked the address on her phone with what was printed on the meager mail slot. The location matched the description her fellow paralegal had given her when she had first recommended the place, yet despite these confirmations, Meghan remained doubtful of its validity. The shabby appearance implied a rundown apartment more than it did a massage parlor that boasted a long list of raving reviews. The dozens of customers completely satisfied with the service was worthy of its own suspicion, but Meghan had commuted too far to not even open the door.
After a glance through the curtain-sealed windows, Meghan took a deep breath and stepped inside. Bells chimed to notify her entrance. The interior was far better lit than outside, but maintained at a warm dimness for comfort. The lobby was symmetrically designed with seats on either side, leading up to a front desk and the veiled corridor behind it. Harmonic music made for a zen atmosphere that no one was around to enjoy; Meghan was eerily alone, quite out of place in her black office attire compared to the flowing, carefree theme of the parlor.
Meghan walked to the desk, taking note of its lacking setup. Not even an employee manned the counter. She lightly scoffed to herself, “I fell for a prank, didn’t I?” She leaned over the counter, though there was not much else to possibly see without going through the corridor. She spoke up, “Err, hello? A-Anybody running this place--”
“One moment.” A solid woman’s voice from deeper in the parlor surprised Meghan with its suddenness. She instinctively looked to the corners of the ceiling to check for surveillance cameras, but the next moment, her attention was brought to the curtain being pulled aside. Another surprise presented itself in the form of an employee, gracefully exiting the back with a solemn air around her. Her appearance was striking, most noticeably being particularly tall, at least a whole head over Meghan’s stature. Long black hair was straight and ended in even cuts down at her sides, and she wore a sleeveless robe of purple patterns contrary to the plain scrubs Meghan had anticipated. Adding to her unusual attire was a black face mask that concealed her lips and nose. While Meghan was visibly stunned by this presence, the woman continued, “My name is Kenna. Welcome. How may I assist you?”
“Oh, h-hello,” Meghan began, still impressed with the height of this woman -- certainly beyond six feet tall, judging by comparison. “Err, I came hoping I could have a walk-in appointment for a massage. Something especially therapeutic.”
“I see. Fortunately, my schedule today is open. I can fit you into this hour.” With elegant movements, Kenna stretched her arm towards the corridor and opened its curtain, gesturing for Meghan to enter. “Please step in. Tell me what pains you.”
Meghan followed the motion into the hallway, shivering slightly as she walked under Kenna. Closed doors limited her options to what was directly ahead, leading her to a more open chamber that housed two massage tables. Along the walls were a wide variety of candles, many of which burned a relaxing essence in the air. Not knowing where to step, Meghan was passed by Kenna, who drifted calmly towards a cabinet rich with colored jars and bottles.
“W-Well, I have a long history of body pains, actually,” Meghan explained, nervously fixing loose blonde strands from her bob cut. “It’s basically chronic. I usually just take pain killers, but that only gets me so far.” She giggled anxiously, but Kenna was unresponsive, simply choosing out items from the shelves. Meghan awkwardly continued, “So, uh, I don’t know where we could begin. My back, probably.”
“I utilize a tier system for my parlor,” Kenna replied unflinchingly. With this mentioned, Meghan was made aware of a simple sign that went over the three tiers. Listed from least to most expensive, the services were divided into simplistically vague titles: prime, pleasure, and ecstasy. Meghan would have chortled aloud at these names had their prices not blindsided her -- an extravagant cost for just the prime tier, and only up from there. Kenna then motioned to a stall in the corner, “While you decide, please undress and prepare yourself. Regardless of what tier you choose, the experience will always be otherworldly.”
Meghan shifted slowly to the stall as directed, clutching her purse as she did. “Right…” She intended to shrug off the explanation as merely being a marketing gimmick, but the cryptic nature of Kenna’s tongue was haunting. Otherworldly echoed in her mind, less like an advertisement and more like a warning, as she removed her office attire in exchange for a pink courtesy towel wrapped around her frame. Feeling more vulnerable than ever, the last of Meghan’s reservations were sighed away as she returned to Kenna. One session would at least be a fair trial of this surreal little business.
Expressed through her eyes alone, Kenna was delighted to bring Meghan to one of the massage tables. She encouraged her to lay down comfortably with her back up and her face positioned in the open slot. Where Meghan showed slight hesitation, a cool touch from Kenna’s long fingers was enough to continue moving her into position. “Please, get comfortable,” the masseuse said as she hovered over the table. “Have we decided on a tier of service?”
“We’ll go with prime,” Meghan answered as she put her face down into the table’s hole. “Whatever that means, I guess.”
Kenna giggled, seemingly amused by the lingering doubt. Meghan could sense her grace despite her being unseen, how the slender woman maneuvered around the table gently while getting into position. A shiver of uneasiness riddled her muscles as more of Kenna’s cold fingers grazed the exposed skin, undoing the towel enough so that the back was fully exposed. Meghan clenched the cushions of the massage table, unfamiliar with having strangers surveying her bare back; her skepticism vocalized in a small peep when her shoulders were touched, a pair of fingers sketching her body with dance-like movements.
“Hah, y-you should know, I’m quite ticklish,” Meghan giggled, resisting the spasms she already wanted to throw herself into. Despite her remark, more fingers spread over her skin, as if melting over her physique. A cool oil was applied to her back, allowing those strong fingers the freedom to glide smoothly across her skin. The grasp on her was painless but firm, not yet the comfort Meghan had hoped for.
“Shh… Relax,” Kenna suggested; her voice was nearby, brought close to Meghan’s ear. Her palms along the back flattened, smoothing the skin out with careful presses and spreading the oil over her workspace. “Now, breathe in deeply. Fill your lungs and hold that air.”
Meghan did as instructed, but the nagging worry of putting too much trust into the strange masseuse burdened her inhale. In any case, at the peak of her breath, a chilling splash swept across her back, a thick liquid applied to her shivering flesh. Her inhale ended in a gasp, not as tranquil as she had expected. The surprisingly cold feeling was washed over her back, spread about by Kenna’s commanding grasp over the back. Meghan stuttered, but was unsure how to respond; the initial contact was like snow, but after being pressed onto her body, she felt a relaxing tingle that gradually competed with the perpetual soreness.
Kenna’s fingers probed the back in key areas, as if the tips were sensors to something underneath the skin. Their pressure was not unwelcomed, as Meghan rather enjoyed her back being claimed under the hands’ dominion. Kenna commented, “You are afflicted with many different pains. For choosing the prime service, your body will be opened to its own sensitivity. Is that fine?”
Meghan scowled in the privacy that was the massage table’s hole. “S-Sure,” she answered impatiently. Though the beginning of the session was promising, she had expected a more gratifying, magical result to compensate for the parlor’s surrealness -- and its price tag. She shifted slightly, her body moved enough that she had to reposition where she lay.
“A deep inhale, like before,” Kenna said, her fingers lightly pinching along the tops of the shoulders as if feeling for that intake of breath. Meghan’s body expanded under her palms as her chest filled with air, and then to release it, Kenna applied her weight steadily against it, pushing up and under the shoulders as the breath escaped. A satisfying couple of pops from Meghan’s back signalled success in freeing up some of the pressure, and a moan of relief confirmed as much. It was as if an invisible weight was unhooked from Meghan’s back, with her shoulders physically slumping a notch further.
“Oooh… That was right…” Meghan giggled, her tone having adjusted due to the release in her back. Her eyes closed as she slipped into a state of greater comfort. “That’s… what I came here for…”
Kenna chuckled, her fingers gently spreading across the canvas of oiled skin. Their tips tickled where they trailed, but Meghan was immersed by their control over her. They sank into the flesh again, lower down the back. Sturdy thumbs circled around the spine as they traveled down it, nearing Meghan’s tailbone but tastefully withdrawing -- Meghan winced, uncertain how deep she wanted the session to go. The hands returned to her shoulders, pulling them down and then spreading to her sides, as if trying to melt the stress in her neck down into the rest of her back.
Bliss flowed throughout Meghan’s body as she was massaged into a rocking rhythm. Little grunts were forced out of her as Kenna applied more weight, but the sensation never went as far as becoming painful, always progressing with more power without sacrificing comfort. More than just her massaging expertise, Kenna’s aura itself rinsed away at her mental blocks and burdens, especially so when her fingers tightened around the muscles of her neck.
Meghan shivered, however, upon feeling herself shift in the bed. Enraptured by the massage, she had only then noticed that she was being dragged away from the courtesy slot for her face, as if being pulled away from it. She wanted to lift up and move, but Kenna had absorbed her into a pleasant grasp that had to be fought through just for her to lift her head. Her eyes opened and adjusted to the light, but when they did, the scene around had developed into something even more unfamiliar around her. All at once, the stress that had just been massaged out of her body returned as a shock, having realized that the massage table -- the entirety of the parlor, in fact, had scaled up in size around her.
Meghan scrambled to sit up, her sporadic movement quickly dismissing the hands that had been on her. She shook in terror, unable to verbalize what she observed despite it being painfully describable. Fantastical as it sounded, she had been shrunk, cast into some smaller form more than a foot less than her normal height. A nervous whine creaked from her as she struggled to comprehend the shift in her reality, but that noise cracked into a gasp when she finally flipped around to see Kenna standing over her. The woman had once boasted a champion height, but now the difference between the two women was staggering, at least from Meghan’s end, whose body coiled together in distress as she gawked up at the figure that was twice her size.
Yet in contrast to Meghan’s disbelief, Kenna was as calm as she had been, possibly even pleased with herself underneath her face mask. Meghan glowed red as she only later remembered to cover herself, a secondary fret of her’s when faced with a goliath of a woman staring down at her. “T-Turn me back!” Meghan demanded, kicking her leg in protest, though it showed more like a tantrum. “Wh-What the fuck did you do?! I never agreed to this, y-you sick freak…!”
While Meghan pushed away to the end of the table, Kenna remained patient where she stood, her hands clasped together at just their tips. She allowed Meghan to have her episode before narrowing her gaze, “This is part of the procedure. This is the secret to my most effective methods. You had been responding well thus far to having negativity leaked from your body, perhaps the best of any new client. It would be a disservice to yourself to quit this treatment now.”
“You’re shrinking me! Y-You do this to everyone?!” Meghan’s bafflement was met with a coy stare that silently said so much. She shuddered, unable to push away from Kenna any further without slipping off the massage table. “Th-This has to be some joke, o-or some weird drugs or something… There’s no way this is legal!”
“I am sure you have hundreds of questions now burdening your mind,” Kenna admitted, yet unmoved since having been shaken off Meghan’s body. Despite her reserved distance, her size imposed upon Meghan intimidatingly, a dynamic that could not be simply ignored. “However, answers will not soothe you, only beget more questions. As I would recommend to any of my clients, you must blacken your thoughts to the process and enlighten yourself to what your body desires. Allow your body to shrink, for the negative energy to be pushed away, and you will find yourself embracing this experience with every fiber of your being.”
Kenna’s tone was gripping, each word like an announcement that weighed heavy over her quivering client. Meghan shook her head in denial against the vague explanation, but that persistence dwindled. With each exhale, she remembered that grand relief in her back, that peace of being massaged so thoroughly. Kenna had told her to focus on her body’s desires, and when she did so begrudgingly, she could not deny that she ached for me. Shrinking horrified her, and so did the thought of shrinking even more, but if that was simply an aftereffect of having the “negativity released,” then perhaps it was worth the trouble -- Meghan closed her eyes having come to this conclusion, wishing deeply that she could just remain normal size.
Looking up at Kenna, Meghan shivered anew and stared away, her arms crossed over her chest for some modesty. “... Will I grow back? When this is done?”
“Yes,” Kenna answered plainly. Her body had few unnecessary motions when she spoke like this. “Once the procedure is over, you will gradually return to your former height, but without the pains of before. This effect is temporary, but many clients wish it were not so.”
Meghan scoffed at the mention of other clients, believing that bit to be more of an advertisement. In any case, Meghan centered herself on logic, concluding that if the shrinking was permanent, then this would not be such a trusted business with a list of glowing reviews. Those past customers had to return to normal at some point -- at least, Meghan hoped her assumption was fair.
Meghan rolled back into position slowly, submitting herself by saying, “Alright… G-Go ahead, but…”
There was nothing to follow, so Kenna raised her hands in preparation. “Conceptualize your worries as a breath being released,” she recommended, applying another dosage of oil to her palms. “Have faith in my methods. Believe that your body can be at peace.”
Meghan absorbed this advice, but hesitated to abide by it when Kenna’s hands returned to her shoulders with a particular tenderness. She sighed as she made an effort to relax, but she wondered how that could be possible while under the hands of a towering woman. These doubts were washed down her back with a stroke, both hands caressing past her shoulder blades and on either side of her spine, providing a calming grace that extended to her tailbone. Meghan’s fingers clenched excitedly as those long fingers nearly made it to her rear, leaving her unexpectedly with disappointment -- she blushed, befuddled by her physical wants and how they contradicted her instincts.
Then, a bitter taste filled Meghan’s mouth. As another deep stroke into her back pressed out a moan, she felt a distinct sensation, an all-encompassing chill that was notably relaxing, albeit eerily so. Opening her eyes revealed that objects around the parlor were becoming distant, crawling away from her and leaving her with only Kenna’s company. She was shrinking, a fact accepted with a bated breath that she would not release.
“... Tch. You’re resisting.” Kenna rested her hands lightly on her lower back, her thumbs idly making circles in the low dip. “Do you feel that twitch in your spine? That is not negative energy. That is your involvement. I cannot help with such a thing.”
Meghan’s cheeks puffed in a fit, but she was embarrassed to think that her emotions could be read through mere twitches and shivers of her back. Kenna was correct, however, and Meghan boiled under her. She forced herself to exhale, and as she did, Kenna pressed on her back, maneuvering around the bumps of her spine with specific dexterity; Meghan moaned with eyes wide open and a smile oozing from cheek to cheek.
“Ahhh, damn it…” Meghan cooed into the massage table’s cushions. “Just… do it. Go to the next level.”
“Pardon?” Kenna leaned closer to her client, her gravity imposed over the diminishing figure. Her wide hands were gradually covering more of the bare back like a towel of their own. “Are you requesting an upgrade in service?”
“Yeah. Err, please.” Meghan scratched nervously through her hair, admitting to herself that it was silly to be enjoying this as much as she was in spite of her reasonable concerns. She glanced up to notice Kenna step towards the shelves and pick out a new bottle. Meghan gulped, “D-Does this mean I’ll--?”
“You will,” Kenna hummed, a peek of a personality coming forward. She lathered her hands in the oil as she took her position over Meghan once more. “The pleasure tier will expand the experience to more than just your back. Are you prepared?”
Meghan nodded, anxious to feel this next level of relief. True to the tier’s name, her body felt primed for something more, itchily wanting a comfort that seemed unachievable. The suspense drilled into her until she felt two hands claim her shoulders and neck, draining the stress from this area down to the rest of her body. Little pushes worked out squeaks of release, and a precise pop had her neck shoot up with a thrill. Her whole body melted outward in a chain effect, making her limp enough to be rolled over onto her back, a transition that Meghan did not refuse.
It did, however, bring her attention to a glaring development, that being her size having diminished even further. She shuddered from this new perspective, again flinching under Kenna’s looming height as she processed her new scale. Her heart drummed, calculating her size as being less than half of what it was. Not only was she still shrinking, but she was shrinking faster, certainly a result of the upgraded service.
But before she could complain, Kenna’s hands wrapped around Meghan’s torso, their reach wide enough to casually do so. Meghan’s remark became only a whimper, intimidated into silence by how easily she could be grabbed and lifted. Kenna rose her up into a seated position, but the fingers relaxed around Meghan’s body and remained around her like a soft embrace. Meghan’s own hands trailed down the series of fingers, each individual digit thicker than her arms put together. There was a terrifying sense of strength detected in the lax grasp, but it was equally comforting, like a blanket she could rely to keep out the cold; instinctively, Meghan cuddled into the palm, having nothing else around her to support her.
Despite coming to rely on those very hands, Meghan still chirped in surprise when they twisted around her, configuring into a different setup. The hands asked her to recline into a palm and to stretch her limbs, as if taking the seat of a lounge chair. Meghan stuttered as this change occurred, but that accentuated into a yelp when two fingers demanded she spread her legs. She clenched them together, failing to keep the towel wrap intact, but when she expected to be forced into a new position, the fingers instead waited. Meghan stared at them as though they were serpents of their own will, only later blinking up at Kenna, the true holder of power.
“You are aware of what you want,” Kenna said, “now have the resolve to accept it. My hands will not hurt you.”
Such was difficult to believe when those hands continued to grow around Meghan’s body, her shrinking sharply increasing now that oil dripped over most of her. What was once a passive change was now an active transformation, quickly deflating her into a weaker form. Yet strangely, Meghan found her reservations dwindling like she herself was. When a thumb and forefinger stroked the length of her arm, she did not cower like before, but instead found comfort in having attention soak into her limb. Wantingly, her tiny fingers curled into the much larger tips of Kenna’s as they passed the end of her arm. There existed the very real threat that these huge digits could squeeze the life out of her, yet the reality that they were there to please her was a sugary sweet situation, and her spirit hungered for more.
Without warning, Meghan’s ankle was hooked by a coil of two fingers and lifted into the air. Flung into a kicking posture, Meghan whined and tried to pull herself free, but Kenna hushed her complaints -- obediently, Meghan withheld her noises. She allowed the masseuse to do as was necessary, and so her leg was lifted high and straight, gently pulled outward so that it was stretched to its fullest length. A slow pace handled the limb as it continued to be craned towards Meghan’s center, imposing upon her a long, lower body stretch that opened the strained muscles in her calve, thigh, and especially her glute. It was nearly too much, the experience overwhelming whatever exclaimed response Meghan would have otherwise made, but Kenna was perfectly sympathetic to how the little woman felt, never forcing the leg to bend beyond its limits.
“Oh, god… Ahh…” Meghan stammered in a blissful state, few actual words forming from her licked lips. Once pushed as far as it could comfortably stretch, Kenna began lowering the leg, returning it flat against the massage bed in sync with her client’s exhale. Once at rest, Meghan’s left leg felt rejuvenated, if not somewhat vulnerable. Without missing a beat, her opposite leg twitched, desiring that same treatment. Kenna giggled softly, but by the time she reached the other leg, Meghan had succumbed to an even tinier height, and only two fingers were needed to repeat the process. The leg was lifted, kept straight, and then bent towards Meghan’s torso, all from the power of just two fingers.
“Your aura has made a significant change,” Kenna noted, her ever-present calmness at odds with Meghan’s shivers of delight. “Of course, so has your body. Do you not fear the world around you any longer?”
Meghan swallowed on such a thought, dimly opening her eyes to be exposed to the parlor’s shift in proportions. Where she once would have panicked from seeing the massage table extend out like a grocery store parking lot, she now found herself awestruck and enthralled by the dramatic change. Cough-like giggles demonstrated her mixed emotions, and she pushed deeper into the palm contorted as her seat, seeping into the skin for both warmth and attention. She could not answer aloud, but Kenna read her little expressions as if peering into an open mind.
“Tranquility,” Kenna said with a soft breath. “You have adapted very well. Positive energy grows inside you to take the place of what has been exorcised.” She perked Meghan upwards, but the motion did not bother her at all, her limp frame accepting of however Kenna wanted to maneuver her. It was becoming much easier for Kenna to do so, as her client’s weight was vanishing each second. With that being the case, she slid a finger under each of Meghan’s armpits, using this vantage to reel the rest of the body upwards into a cat-like stretch until a tempered pop was detected. Meghan gasped and the fingers relaxed, followed soon afterwards by the little body collapsing onto them from utter relief.
Then, of her own volition, Meghan crawled up the ladder-like rack of fingers that were behind her, her efforts weak after having been massaged so intensely. Once roughly up on her feet, the shrunken woman pressed her chest into Kenna’s touch, arcing her rear outward like a presentation and letting it sway side to side. Her ass was then brought onto Kenna’s pinky as though it were a cushion appropriate to sit on, her legs split over the digit as if to keep it from wriggling out from under her. Meghan wanted it, and that admiration was especially observed by Kenna, whose veiled smile could only be implied by the narrowing of her eyes.
“M-More…” Meghan panted, nuzzling her cheeks and chest into a broad middle finger. Both hands could cup around her and she would fit into them fairly, but she wanted to explore this magical sensation further. It was embarrassing to admit, but so many of her restraints had been unhooked, like anchors detached from her mind. Her face burned a bright red, “Make me smaller if you have to, j-just… keep me feeling like this… Don’t stop…”
Kenna openly giggled, but each rumble of her throat was sensitive and light. A caring finger stroked Meghan’s sides, earning a squeak of laughter when the tip tickled her. “I would happily proceed,” Kenna said, “if you were to consider another--”
“Yes! Yeah!” Meghan chuckled at her own outburst. “Ecstasy! I-If that’s the next tier, I-I want that! I need it!” She winced and embraced the finger tighter, its scale to her like a body pillow meant to be clung to. “I don’t ever want to remember muscle pains, s-so… whatever it costs, I-I can pay…”
After a few further seconds of being pet, Meghan was released from the giant hand as Kenna stepped aside. Immediately did Meghan whine under her breath and curl into herself for comfort, itching for more of Kenna’s attention. Her impatience amused Kenna, who had witnessed this exact development among many of her customers. She seemed to muse with herself over this pattern while fetching another bottle of oil -- a smaller container than the others, with an eyedropper lid to be used for application. The bottle could fit between Kenna’s pinched fingers, but compared to Meghan, it was nearly an ice chest.
“By going this far, I first need you to be aware of what follows,” Kenna explained, carefully using the eyedropper to draw up a dosage of oil. Meghan flipped where she lay into a crawl, edging towards the end of the massage table in suspense, or like an obedient pet. “You will become too small for yourself. For the time being, you will have to forfeit yourself to me.”
“Y-Yes,” Meghan agreed right away, nodding enthusiastically. She bit her lip, knowing she must look messy and unnerved with her hair tossed behind herself, frantically begging to be shrunk further. “I accept, whatever!”
“So very eager,” Kenna sang, mindful of her footsteps as she neared back to Meghan. “You are certainly livelier than when we began, yes?”
The comment cast a chill over Meghan, like a breeze passing over her naked body. It was shudderingly true that her body felt freer while smaller, but her reflection over that interest was broken by Kenna sitting down next to her. Having not anticipated the massive masseuse to be beside her, she was bounced into the air by the sudden drop of weight. She pushed away from the giant thigh that walled her off, impressed by the scale at which Kenna now was; a looming figure not unlike a cliffside, her outlandish height not obstructing her elegant poise. The corners of Kenna’s smile could barely be seen by Meghan, peeking out from the sides of her face mask.
As Meghan gawked at Kenna like a human-shaped vista, Kenna readied the dosage of oil high above her. Two tiny droplets were then released, raining onto Meghan by surprise. The droplets were quite heavy to her little form, striking her body with enough weight to make her knees buckle down. She gasped and cleaned some of the fluid off her body, but it drenched her almost completely, with enough excess to form a shallow puddle there on the table’s padding.
“True inner peace is achieved,” Kenna remarked coyly, “not simply given.” Meghan struggled to understand what this meant, still weighed down by the oil applied to her. Kenna pat her lap with two gentle taps and a teasing roll of her fingers off the thigh. “Climb up to here, my little lady~ Come take your place on my lap…”
Meghan scoffed, a flicker of her ordinary attitude, but that snarkiness was dissolving under the oil’s effect. The prospect of working felt entirely backwards to her reason for coming to a massage parlor in the first place, but Kenna’s tenderness up until now had founded trust between the two. Meghan recoiled at the idea, but she discovered her own budding desire to reach that peak, to crawl up onto Kenna’s lap like she was asked. Belittling as it was for someone like her, a productive paralegal from an established law firm, she yet fell for this allure, first stumbling up to the robe fitted around Kenna’s leg.
“I’m confident it is possible for you,” Kenna teased, gripping the fabric of her robe tantalizingly. “Come, come~”
The maternal tone was particularly inspiring for Meghan to begin her ascent up the thigh as thick as her suburban home was tall. She grabbed wrinkles of the robe and pulled herself up with squeaky grunts, her lack of athleticism seemingly not an obstacle for her to overcome. So driven towards this promised ecstasy, Meghan cared little for how demeaning this performance had to be. She imagined herself from a normal-sized perspective, looking down at her little body desperately clawing up the side of a woman’s leg. The mental image spilled redness over her body, but any embarrassment was endurable while she steadfastly climbed forward, eventually scuttling over the thigh’s peak roundness and collapsing into the center of Kenna’s lap.
Hunched forward as to catch her breath, it dawned on Meghan late just how much her environment had changed. All around her, the parlor had expanded out once again, her body smaller than before. The shrinking was still happening, evident by comparing her arms and legs to the intricate pattern of Kenna’s robe under her. It was while studying that pattern that Meghan’s focus was thrust onto Kenna herself, her hugeness so intimidating, it rolled Meghan onto her back in astonishment. When she tried to stabilize herself, she instead slipped towards where the two thighs met, sliding down the slick fabric and into a dip-like cleavage.
Kenna’s hand appeared then to prevent the shrunken woman from falling any further. Meghan touched the hand as to pull herself up, absorbed into its fine details. When a thumb curled towards her, she flinched from its strength, but it massaged her shoulder with the same tenderness Kenna had always exhibited. The touch was welcoming and gentle, offering its security for Meghan to reside in. She did as much after overcoming her nerves, leaning into the grasp and allowing the other fingers to bend around her diminutive shape.
The hand maneuvered around Meghan, scooping her into its possession. She was slid into the palm to be carried, lifted off the lap so that Kenna’s other hand could be used. It hovered to Meghan with a diligent finger stretched forward, the lone digit longer than she was tall -- each finger could be an individual masseuse with how formidable each one was, and they were all committed to her, waiting on her like servants. Rather than shiver away from these fingers, she reached towards them wantingly, and Kenna was happy to oblige. Meghan embraced the index finger, only able to wrap her arms around the tip.
After allowing Meghan her moment, Kenna easily freed her finger from Meghan. She ushered the client to roll onto her stomach, treating the giant palm she sat in more like the massage table she once filled. Meghan moaned as two fingers pressed into her back, one between her shoulder blades and another on her tailbone. The fingers slightly pushed away from one another, tiny swirls of motions making the stretch easier for her client to accept. As if countering the shrinking effect, this stretch on Meghan’s back sought to elongate her, and she wholly accepted the effort by flattening herself against Kenna’s hand, unable to contain her widening smile.
While Kenna’s fingers explored more points of stress over Meghan’s body, Meghan herself wrestled with a budding issue. Through clenched teeth, she acknowledged her own arousal. Her naked body was toy-like in Kenna’s grasp, her chest pushed hard into one hand while her back was a canvas for other fingers to paint upon. Nothing could compare to this level of attention, this kind of intimacy that was so emboldened by her diminished size. Kenna was a caring figure, a symbol of power Meghan saw herself willingly melting into. The sensation grew to be too much to handle, and heated breaths were the start of something awakening inside Meghan.
“... Hoho,” Kenna snickered. Her fingers hesitated to continue, imbuing Meghan with a brighter blush while she waited. “Mm, what is this~?” A finger then lifted Meghan, wedged between her legs and under her crotch. Meghan shivered in resistance, but her lower body was turned up by Kenna’s whim, allowing the masseuse to see a shimmer of wetness dotting her palm. “Hmhm~ How adorable.”
Meghan clenched her fists while posed in such an embarrassing way, her crotch on display for this massive woman to examine. Her legs quivered from the touch, trembling along the nail’s clean edge. There was no real sharpness to it, a blessing for when it came to the fingertip being used to massage her exposed cunt. The movement instantly startled Meghan, “H-Hey!” Her squeak of protest did not last long, as soon after she realized how pleasurable the motion was for her. As accurate and delicate as the rest of the massage, Kenna handled Meghan expertly, unbothered to be providing this unique relief to her client.
“All tension wishes to be released. Is that right, my little lady?” Kenna cooed, her face drifting closer to the woman shaking in her palm. She curled her finger into the speck of pubic hair, tickling the bush and earning a rouse of giggles from Meghan. “Open yourself~ I only want to give you what you desire~”
Meghan could not reply, every breath spent on windy exhales while her hips throbbed to Kenna’s rhythm. Before she could become too accustomed to this position, Kenna had her rolled over onto her back, the finger persisting on her crotch. Meghan was forced to look up at her captor’s loom over her, reminded of how small she was in this situation. When such an angle belittled her too much, Kenna had her risen to her chest, comforting the frail body against her breast. Meghan was warmed by the softness of such a place, the subdued beating of a huge heart cleansing her of whatever worries still nipped her. Before long, she actively leaned into the wall-like bosom while the wide fingertip still drilled into her crotch, her satisfaction treated as the highest priority.
Short spasms riddled Meghan’s body and tickled the palm she reclined in. Her expression truly represented how adrift her mind was, lost in the rhythm of Kenna’s beating heart and the routine of her probing finger. Other fingers joined in on bringing Meghan pleasure, coaxing her into delight by stroking her hair, down her back, and adding tiny pinches to the curves of her body. Meghan was drawn into cloudy giggles, the pressure inside her swiftly approaching its peak. The shivering of her body foretold this, and so Kenna’s eyes narrowed, her efforts focused on that grand conclusion.
So numb to the world did Meghan become that she barely acknowledged her body being carried up higher, only taking notice when the fingers playing with her were no longer present. When she hunched forward, as if starved for more contact, she was greeted by Kenna’s encompassing face, a seductive glare aimed onto her that teased a new experience. She murmured a question in the midst of panting, but her answer appeared in the form of Kenna’s face mask. Pulled gently forward, Kenna’s lips were revealed, curved like a blade while still partially curtained by the white veil. Meghan was brought towards the mouth, a visceral tremble running up her spine. The humidity of Kenna’s breaths, which the mask had contained until then, washed over her body, first warming her with its lightness before dissipating and leaving her in its cold absence.
Kenna pushed her lips together and leaned Meghan into them. Regardless of how Meghan positioned herself, she could not escape the tackle aimed at her. The lips covered her body almost entirely, her arms and legs writhing and smacking against the giant, pillowy cheeks. The kiss conquered her, moving away only when Kenna decided to; a pattern of kisses then followed, barraging Meghan with hug-sized bubbles of affection. She felt both lips slide across her front, always coming together on her chest as if wanting to suckle her insignificant breasts. Meghan moaned in response, like a roar meant to defend herself, but her voice was devoured by Kenna’s mouth, a simple exhale more mighty than Meghan’s little pleas.
The mask closed, but Kenna kept her hands nearby, ensuring the tiny woman within could not slip into a freefall. Meghan’s sporadic shivers were now completely hidden, and Kenna relaxed on the massage table as if she were alone, closing her eyes as to focus solely on her client’s climax. Her hummed giggles vibrated through the mask, enhancing Meghan’s experience that much more -- she was warped, seemingly, into a world designed around her pleasure, sealed in the tent-like face mask as if she ultimately belonged there.
Another kiss, prolonged and powerful, pushed Meghan over the edge. She jumped with delight and thrust her hips into the lips, her fingers gripping the skin. A strong breeze left Kenna’s nostrils, showering the woman with a long breath just as she broke into that promised ecstasy. Meghan chanted with pride as she let the orgasm carry her away, both body and spirit rejuvenated. It did not matter that she was pathetically small, imprisoned in the face mask of some goliath masseuse. She had escaped the weariness of the real world, forfeiting normalcy in favor of what proved to be an otherworldly experience.
Meghan whined as her credit card was run through the reader. The price she had to pay was enough to bring back a ping of the back pain, but she could not argue that it was not worth the cost. Her skin still crawled with chills when memories flashed in her head of what she had experienced, and her eyes flickered across the room as she evaluated the size and mass of everyday things. No longer was she shrunken, but returned to normal height, a process that took nearly an hour to recover from.
During that time, Kenna tended to her like she would any client. She had offered a robe for privacy and water to rehydrate, but that kindness did not interfere with her getting paid. Indeed, Meghan could sense the smile still curved under that face mask, staring into it until she remembered having been inside it. She shuddered into her own arms while Kenna weakly giggled.
“It’s always a pleasure,” Kenna said, handing back the credit card with both hands, “my little lady~”
“S-Stop,” Meghan growled under her breath, taking the card and putting it away in her purse. “... Thank you.”
“Of course,” Kenna hummed. “Should I schedule you in for another session? Returning clients earn a discount.”
Meghan froze, partially turned towards the parlor’s exit. Worried fingers drummed along the counter before she asked, “Err, do you have room for an appointment… next week?”