Honesty's Reward - Pt. 3

 CW: shrinking, dubcon, mind manipulation, minor pain, weight loss, breast growth, body type changes, and like NSFW duh

3. Use as Directed

I had a quiet evening – a little TV, a little takeout – and got ready for bed quite early for me. A part of me – most really – wanted to run straight to the bedroom and schlop on a giant handful of the weight loss cream. But I decided to take a quick shower before the fun began.

Though it turned out to be not so quick. For a long time I just stood under the faucet, gazing down at my body, daydreaming. I stared at my over-ample curves, watching tiny rivulets of water run over them.  Dip into the canyon of my hips, fall away to join the torrent on the basin floor. I was beautiful. Sure. But I kept imagining how much better I would look.Once those last unwanted inches were trimmed away.

I found myself thinking of Anthony. If Tiffany’s words were true, I wouldn’t have to wait long at all for my new body. I could go see him tomorrow. I would already picture it, his reaction, when he saw my new figure. The look of delightful surprise on his face. As attractive as I'd become, there was no way he could resist asking me out. It was the first thing he was going to say. He opened his mouth to speak....

When I worked a hot lather of soap into my hands, I was still thinking of him. I began to caress the slippery substance onto my chest, my stomach. And the cleaner I became, the dirtier my thoughts grew.

Our date night. Anthony shyly inviting me into his apartment. His hand cautiously touching my cheek. Hot breath on my neck. Strong arms wrapping around my waist, drawing me closer....

You see where this is going.

Eventually I tore myself away from...myself. I patted dry, pulled on a pair of cotton panties and a silky, skin-tight pair of pajama pants. Barefoot and topless, I padded down the hallway to my bedroom. There I sat on the bed and withdrew the small, green plastic tub with the minus sign from my purse. I unscrewed the cap, heart pounding, and peered inside.

The stuff really did look like Vaseline. Its color was pale and unappealing, and it had a gross petroleum sheen. The scent, though, was intoxicating. Once again the smell of lilacs drifted over me, enveloped me, seemed to make  my tension melt away. That aroma...it was like someone I loved whispering in my ear, telling me that everything was really going to be alright after all.

Carefully, I scooped a small amount of the stuff onto my largest two fingers. After a moment’s consideration, I decided on the place where I most wanted to lose, and pressed the gel to the softness of my abdomen. I kneaded it into my flesh, feeling hard muscle beneath, hopelessly trapped away, out of view.  Well.  Not for much longer. 

Sooner than I expected, there came a strange, prickly sort of sensation. It grew rapidly, spreading out from the place where the cream had touched. Creeping into every part of me. Like pins and needles, I thought. But oddly pleasurable. Considering the way I’d just worked myself up in the shower, the only word that really captures the feeling was, ‘erotic.’

In just a few seconds, the small amount of cream had been fully absorbed into my skin. The tingling, however, was still getting stronger. Almost overpowering now. And now, a gradually building sense of heat was joining it. Heat, that went from curious, to unpleasant, to painful.  But still, my whole body grew hotter, and hotter. Hands balling into fists, I fought back the urge to scream. I looked down, certain that I would see flames all over my skin. But what I saw made me forget the fire. Because I wasn't burning. I was melting!

My hips were slowly beginning to narrow, my waist slimming. The hard ridge of muscle that had been buried under layers of fat and gristle was poking into view. And strangest of all, there was this... steam. Rising off my body, the way steam rises from a pot of boiling water. 

In the space of twenty seconds, I watched my over-ample midsection disappear. What was left was thin, beautiful. Perfect. My tight washboard abs, the dainty curve of my hips, the enormous swell of my...my breasts! I'd been so focused on my gut that I hadn't noticed the other things that were changing. My breasts were growing larger, ripening like fruit on the vine. I estimated that I was a full C-cup by now, or even bigger! And beside being bigger, they looked...fuller. Rounder. Much more…touchable.

Unable to resist, I caressed the plump flesh, felt its tender pliancy between my fingers. I gasped, finding more pleasure here than ever before, and instantly redoubled my efforts. The awful heat from the cream had finally started to recede, but now it was being placed by a warmth that was far, far more pleasant. Every movement of my hands against my chest was feeding it. Pulsing, throbbing down my firm, muscular body. Finding dry kindling between my legs.

Groaning quietly, I lay back on my bed. There was something a little funny about the angle of my neck, but I’ll forgive myself for missing that first warning sign. Because how anything so trivial matter, when I felt so God. Damn. Good? With one hand continuing to tease both breasts, my other drifted down, down, over my perfectly flat belly, past the loose strap of my waistband, into my massively oversized cotton panties....

Wait. Those underwear were supposed to be skin-tight. I’d just bought that pair last week. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but what finally brought me back, was the awful, horrific thought, that the cream had made my butt smaller. Because that would have been an absolute tragedy.

I fought back through the erotic haze, my eyes fluttering. What I saw confused me at first, and it took a long moment for me to process. My clothes were loose, but that wasn’t all. My nightstand looked very slightly further away. The same was true for the lamp resting on it, the clock ticking away on the far wall. The door, the ceiling. Everything. And it didn't just look distant, it looked – well, no other way to say it – bigger!

Now I could see other signs. The plume of my hair rising up behind me on the pillow, as though I were being slowly dragged toward the foot of the bed. The sensation of my back and shoulders sliding along in that same direction. Yet the smooth friction of my ankles and thighs was going the other way, toward the head of the bed. It seemed as if my entire body was collapsing inward, toward my center...like my belly button had become a tiny black hole.

I lay in utter confusion for at least a dozen heartbeats, hand still halfway in my panties. Panties, I realized, that were still slowly stretching around me. 

Then..I understood.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, I held my hand in front of my face. I expected to actually catch it in the act of growing smaller, to watch my hand shrink right there before my eyes. But of course I didn’t see this. Instead, everything, absolutely everything around my hand steadily getting bigger. Like a chunk of ice left on the sidewalk on a hot summer's day, my body was slowly evaporating. And perhaps this was literally true, because those tiny wisps of fog were still rising up from my dwindling body. Faint trails of mist, drifting up from my naked flesh and disappearing into the air around me. That was me. Going away.

It was almost beautiful.

The longer I watched that steam, the stronger the scent of lilacs in the room became. And the more my fear seemed to drift away. I shrank, and breathed. And thought about Tiffany. How’d she’d grown taller in the time I’d known her. How eager she’d been for me to use this cream. The little minus sign on the bottle. How obvious all of this was, in retrospect. And how, on some level, I’d done this to myself, willingly.

From somewhere deep inside I could hear the voice of rationality, and it was screaming at me. Demanding I run to the bathroom, wash off the cream, save myself if it wasn't too late. But it was as if this voice came from far away, and was muffled beneath a red satin blanket. I became aware that I was touching myself. Not just beneath my legs, but everywhere. Exploring my new, smaller body. Rubbing my arms, my chest, my taut little tummy. Stoking that natural fire that was smoldering, and threatening to burn.

There was still a part of me fighting against this. Saying that I didn't want to shrink. To become tiny...dainty...petite. But to the part of me that was alive, awake and in control, these words were nothing more than pillow talk. The very idea of becoming smaller had always been a turn-on, though a guilty one.  I’m convinced the creamed had certain aphrodisiac properties. But even if it wasn’t…it played right into one of my favorite fantasies.  To resist shrinking smaller, while secretly, giving in.

A lone finger slipped around the outer edges of my labia. Teased, then slowly, slowly dipped inside. The pleasure that followed was crisp and immediate, like the snapping of a wooden board. I arched my back, crying out in ecstasy as I probed the lips of my sopping pussy. Yet I was still so, so gentle. Letting the anticipation build, feeling myself shrink in fractions of millimeters as the hot syrup of my juices flowed around my hand. It was torture! I wanted, I needed to feel more than this feather-light flickering on my slit. But to give myself permission, to feel all the ecstasy I could wring from this taboo fantasy come to life…I needed something more.

Or. Something less.

I opened my eyes. The world around me was large, though not nearly as much as I had expected. I wasn’t in a frame of mind to measure, but what I knew almost instinctively was that I was the same height as tiny, little Anthony. Practically panting with need, I reached over to the nightstand, where I had left the jar of what I now understood to be shrinking cream. I scooped out a small dollop, and using my free hand, I yanked down my oversized pajama pants down past my knees. The cold air felt wonderful on my milky white thighs and the fiery pink cleft of my sex.

Tiffany's words seemed to ring in my ears, so clear that I could almost see her tauntingly sexy smirk. “I've had the best results when I've used it, shall we say...internally?” Without even a token attempt at resistance, I spread my legs wide, and thrust two cream-covered fingers deep into the aching chasm of my pussy.

Everything seemed to happen at once. The tingling sensation came, ripped through me, powerful and electric like I'd been touched by a live wire. A feeling that was half hot, half cold, and all pleasure shot from my head to the tips of my toes. My stomach contracted and tightened, my breasts instantly and dramatically puffed larger, my waist narrowed. I cried out, not with a moan but a shriek of ecstasy.

And above it all was the feeling of vertigo, of falling into myself without ever leaving the bed. I was suddenly, rapidly, and wonderfully shrinking smaller! There was a wooshing sound of wind past my ears. The room surged gigantic around me. Everything in my universe was growing bigger, and bigger, and BIGGER!

Eye open, staring at the growing world. Smaller than Anthony..and falling so fast. My fingers thrust deep inside me, faster, and faster, as if the rushing release of passion could wash away my wretched height, forever.

“YES!” I screamed, loving every second as my body drained away. My swelling bosom heaved with each desperate gasp. The steam was coming off in dark white strips, filling the room with a sweet-smelling humidity, precipitating on the windows. The top of my head slipped from the pillow as my body became too small to reach it.

“More! Please more! Smaller! Smaller!”

Shrinking faster than ever, I stroked myself with wild abandon. A roll against the diamond-hard nub of my clit. A hard press into my g-spot, with just a taste of the sharp edge of my fingernail. I felt the pressure building beneath my tummy, a raging river that my little body could hold back no longer.

“Yes! Yes! SMALLLLER!”

I came, squirting dramatically. My juices spraying out like a fire hose, soaking the bed sheets with my essence. Never in my life had I come with anywhere near that kind of power, that level of force! And yet the sensation was merely a background to the perfect gravity of my body pulling in on itself, shrinking in the largest burst yet as wave after wave of ecstasy wracked my diminutive frame.

Afterward, I lay panting, feeling the sweat slickness of my skin, the damp cling of the sheets against my body. My vulva still throbbed with pleasure every few seconds, each sudden, unexpected twitch sending a tremor though my sexually spent little body. The afterglow was wonderful, like coming down from some incredible drug. But what side effects!

I knew I was small. Much, much smaller than an average woman, and probably small enough that my entire life would change because of it. The mind-altering effects of the drug were leaving me now, and for the first time since the process had begun I could think clearly. I've told you about my fascination with size, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little excited at the idea of being so tiny. But dammit, I loved my height! If anything, I had always wanted to be bigger!

But then I thought of Anthony. And as much as I wanted to tower over him...there was definitely some appeal to the idea of him being the one to do the towering.

My strength left me, the moment I thought of him. Without even the energy to slide out of the wet spot, or pull my gigantic comforter up to my chin…I slept.

Honesty's Reward - Pt. 2

 

2. Tiffany On Sale

Now, I want to make one thing perfectly clear at this stage: I am not the kind of girl who gets jealous of other women. Not for being attractive at least.  Because, I mean, seriously: if you saw me on the street, you would give me a second glance. Probably even a third, if you thought you could get away with it. I've already mentioned my height, and recently improved figure?

Ah, hell.  It’s gauche, but why don't you let me give you a quick top-down.

I have a lovely face – high cheek bones, button nose, and full, somewhat pouty lips. Hair, a lustrous brown, shoulder-length at the moment. Then we have the first thing most people notice: my eyes. They're this really striking shade of green, like mid-summer grass. If I wanted to count the number of guys who have told me they could get lost in them, I would need at least two hands. Speaking of two hands: my tits. My weight loss had reduced them somewhat, but I still sported an impressive set – high-end B cups, and at certain times of the month, full-blow C's. There's a butt in there, somewhere, and considering that my hypertrophic squat sets were somewhere around 180 at the time, yeah, it’s a good one.. And my legs? Forget about it. Really, impressively, dangerously long, with the kind of sexy tone you'd expect from a solid year of working out.

Tiffany, though? The girl was practically from another planet. Her body was a solid mass of velvet and iron, high peaks and ridges slowly transitioning into perfect feminine valleys. Her amazon's figure was covered in a thick skeen of muscle, yet paradoxically she managed to look as cute and dainty as any star cheerleader. Large doe eyes, curly blond hair that was usually braided in pig-tails...and ugh, perfect skin. She didn't even have a tan, but somehow she exuded this healthy glow that was so powerful and alluring that it made me want to retch. And her breasts – my God, her breasts! They were both incredibly huge and frighteningly perky, like two over-inflated, fleshy volleyballs. I honestly believe that the girl must have applied for an exemption from the laws of physics for those damn things. They stood out firm and proud on her chest, drawing the attention of every male – hell, female even – within a hundred meter radius.

But worst of all, from my perspective at least, was her height. This probably won’t track, since you don’t spend all day every day thinking about how tall people are but…do you ever see someone who looks like they should naturally be really tiny, and diminutive?  But their body has this…I don’t know…thing about it, where you could imagine they just magically got really big all of a sudden?  Never mind, don’t worry about it.  Anyway.  The girl completely dwarfed even my five ten, and she wasn't ashamed of it either. On the contrary, Tiffany seemed to delight in standing just a little too close to me, making sure I had to crane my neck far upward or be forced to speak to her tits.

Back when I had first started coming to her store, she had thought it necessary to boost her height with a pair of tall, stiletto heels. Shoes are an interest of mine, and complimenting hers came natural – they WERE pretty nice. But when I had, she'd just smirked in that self-superior way of hers. 

“Thank you sweetie. But I won't be needing them much longer. Because you see, I'm still a growing girl.”

At first I thought it was a put-on. Tiffany looked to be in her early twenties, well past the age where she could be expecting a growth spurt. Yet as the weeks and months passed, I watched in fascination as her footwear changed. From stilettos, to pumps, to evening shoes. And now? Flats. Throughout the long process, she’dd never been afraid to tell me exactly how tall she had become, down to fractions of inches. In the year I had known her, the girl had gone from a daunting six-one, to an eye-watering six foot five. Plus?  Her freaking boobs seemed to be increasing even faster than her height! Not to mention her muscle tone. No matter how much time I spent at the gym, the girl managed to outpace me there, too.

Oh, and it gets worse. I was fairly certain that, at least on the sub-conscious level, Tiffany understood my obsession with height. Each update on her growth had filled me both with excitement and envy, and I bet this was written all over my face. When she talked to me about being tall, she'd had this gentle, almost teasing way about it...like she knew exactly how to toy with that secret desire of mine.

But you know what? If she could read me, then I could read her, too. And however strong was my need to measure myself against the world, whatever thrill of excitement I felt when towering over another person? Tiffany had it at least twice as bad.

The giant girl led me to the back of the store, where she stepped up behind the counter. The cash register was on a raised platform, maybe six inches higher than the rest of the store. When she was back there, it looked eerily as if she had grown even taller. Probably that's why she had it built that way – so she could look like an utter giantess to everyone in the store. 

That day though, I remember the perspective shift being a little different, as she stepped up behind the counter. It sounds stupid I know, but the rapid increase in her height honestly made me feel as if I was the one who had changed – like I had shrunk. 

“So,” she began, grinning down at me, dropping her elbows on the countertop and her face in her hands. “Samantha. You're looking to lose a couple inches. Off your waistline.”

“That's right,” I said, nodding like an idiot, and trying not to stare down her dress. “You have something that can help with that?”

“Of course I do sweetie! Here, let me show you.” The amazon bent further, flashing what looked like an acre of cleavage. She rummaged around behind the counter, finally producing a small, green plastic jar. The only marking on it seemed to have been drawn by a black sharpie. A hyphen? Or maybe it was supposed to be a minus sign.

“Violá! What do you think?”

I thought, to be honest, that she had taken a bottle of Vaseline, pulled the label off, and was trying to trick me into paying top-dollar for some bullshit placebo.

“Interesting,” I said.

Tiffany smiled in a cold way, making me think she knew what was really on my mind. But she went on pleasantly enough. She unscrewed the lid, held it so I could see inside. It was a thick, rubbery gel. Grey, almost the color of wet plaster. Not too impressive, though it smelled nice. Like lilacs.

“This, my dear, is the answer to your prayers. Just one little dab of this will find you slimming down faster than you would have imagined possible. I'm not talking about weeks, or even days, mind you. Try minutes.”

I raised my eyebrows, completely certain she was trying to sell me snake oil. “Minutes, you say? And how do I apply this stuff, exactly? Just rub it wherever I want to get smaller, I bet?”

Tiffany nodded. “Uh-huh.  Your stomach, your thighs. Or any part of your body really. Except for poor absorption through your palms and fingers, it really makes no difference. You can even eat it if you want. But, just between us girls....” Here she paused, looking over my shoulder to make sure Anthony was still occupied, and too far away to hear us. “I’ve personally had the best results when I've used it, shall we say...internally?” Tiffany's gaze dropped suggestively to a spot some six inches beneath my navel. She giggled, covering her mouth in a gesture that was startlingly girlish for someone so huge. With her size, it was sometimes easy to forget she was only a few years out of high school.

Obvious flirting aside, something else she said had caught my attention. “Wait a second. You’ve used this stuff? Like, on yourself?” After watching her amazing transformation over the past year, this bit of news immediately gave her sales pitch some credibility.

Tiffany let out a short, tittering laugh, patted my hand. “Not this formula, silly! But only, you understand, because you're interested in losing inches from your figure. And I've been more concerned with gaining. You might not believe this, but a year before you met me, I was practically a waif.  I couldn’t put on weight to save my life, never mind muscle tone.  The results….”  She flexed.  “Speak for themselves.  And besides helping me fill out my figure, there are, shall we say, other benefits.”  She casually rested her hands on her over-stuffed bosom, and shot me a wink.

I made a face. “Wait, if what you’re taking made your breasts bigger, does that imply this stuff is going to make mine smaller? Because that might be a deal breaker.”

Tiffany laughed again, a sound that was making me feel a tingly sort of unease. “On the contrary! Even the reducing formula should give you a bit of a boost in that department. Through the simple expedient of reducing everything around them. I've always wondered what you would look like as a D-cup, Samantha. Well, we might just find out.” As she said this, the girl was staring directly at my chest. For just a second, I think she was about to give her lips a sensuous little lick. If she was, she thought better of it.

It wasn't the first time Tiffany had come dangerously close to hitting on me. And also not the first time that I had been forced to fight down a strange excitement at the idea. I'm straight, okay? My body's reaction DID raise some interesting questions, I'll admit. But for now at least, I was much more concerned with the delicious carrot the giant girl was dangling in my face. I could worry about the rabbit hole later.

“Okay, I'll give it a shot. Ring me up.” I began to fish around in my purse. “How much is this stuff anyway?”

Tiffany smirked. There was something different about that expression, something I couldn't quite identify. “For you, Samantha, this one is on the house.”

My jaw dropped. “What? Really? Why? What's wrong with it?”

Tiffany's perfect face darkened in a frown. “I’m wounded. Nothing is wrong with it. It is free, simply because I want you to have it. Is that so terrible? To be perfectly honest…I like you, Samantha. You're such a cutie, and you always brighten my day when you come to visit. If I can do something to make you happy, well....” She smiled, spreading her arms in a shrug. “The only thing I ask is that, when you see the results, you come back to show them off for me. And Anthony too, I suppose.” She rolled her eyes.

She just had to bring up Anthony. I felt myself start to blush. If I could somehow make myself less intimidating, maybe he would finally…

I thought for a moment. Or tried to.  I’m not stupid, okay? I knew there was a trap here, and that I just couldn’t quite see it yet. But really, I was beyond any kind of rational consideration. The starving man thinks with his stomach. The pudgy girl, with her waistline. “You've got a deal.” I reached up to shake her oversized hand.

A few minutes later I was leaving the store, the jar of cream tucked safely away in my purse. “It was good seeing you,” Anthony said, grinning at me sheepishly as I floated by. “Come back soon, Samantha.”

“Yes, please do!” Tiffany called from her perch at the back of the store. “I can't wait to see how it turns out...little one.”

At the time, I was almost certain that I'd misheard those last two words. Even someone as big and ballsy as Tiffany Ardeen wouldn't dare call ME 'little.'

Honesty's Reward - Pt. 1

 

This story was originally posted more than ten years ago.  At the time it was one of my more explicit stories - which is to say, it's an excuse to shrink someone on a massage table and have a whole, whole lot of sexy fun times.

I'm also trying something new, in reposting: for the first time, I'm actually going back and re-editing one of my old stories.  Hopefully with ten additional years of wisdom, the story will be improved.  But.  No promises.

To head off any questions: yes this story used to have an audiobook component, and no, I won't be reposting it.  I don't have the rights to the recording, so call it lost to history.

CW: F/F/m, F/f/m, M/f/f, NSFW, shrinking woman, non-con, dub-con, role reversal

Chapter Specific CW: Seduction, bad bosses, retail hell

Honesty's Reward

1. “I Should've Worn Stilts”

The old-fashioned door had an old-fashioned bell, and it jingled as I entered the shop. The Pavlovian-conditioned young man looked up from stocking shelves. “Welcome to Ardeen Nutrition!  Can I help you find...oh! Hey Samantha, what's up?”

“Hey Anthony! I was hoping you'd be working today!”  I’d known he’d be, of course – my quarry always worked Tuesdays.  But I could never have planned that he’d be down on his knees like this, stocking discount whey on the lowest shelf.  I closed the distance between us in three carefully measured steps, and then I was standing over him. I flashed him a wide, somewhat smirky grin, and reached out a hand to help him to his feet. He took it, smiling uncertainly, and let me pull him up.

It took Anthony a full beat to notice – to measure me in his mind, to do a double-take. He craned his neck to meet my gaze, mouth hanging in slack-jawed wonder. “Wow Sam...you're really...tall...today.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I drawled, letting my voice slip ninety percent of the way to seductive. “I thought I might give my new platforms a try. Do you like them?” I stuck out one long, sculpted leg, inviting him to admire my choice of footwear. He did, of course. Though if I was playing this thing right, it wasn't my shoes he was admiring.

I had purchased these four-inch platforms for the sole purpose (no pun intended) of showing off for Anthony. I'm fairly tall for a woman – five ten, according to my drivers license – but a little extra never hurt. Honestly though? I could have towered over Anthony in my bare feet. He's an adorable little thing, probably not much over five four, and his reaction to even my natural height always gets my blood pumping.

Okay, so before I get too deep, I need to make some confessions.  Thing one, there's something important you need to know about me, right up front. I'm a bit nervous, saying these out loud, so hold your questions, please.  Here goes.

You’ll probably think I’m a freak for admitting this, but I have this weird obsession with...height. As in. I'm constantly thinking about it. Figuring out how tall I am compared to objects, or the people around me. And…I always get this cheap little thrill when I'm much bigger than someone. It always goes double for Anthony. For…reasons. The platforms let me, I don't know. Pretend that I had magically grown even bigger than usual? It just made that thrilling feeling in the pit of my stomach that much stronger.

I know I’m weird.

Confession two.  This one is easier. By this point, I'd been working a hardcore crush on Anthony Spielman for the better part of a year. I mean, aside from the appeal of his hobbit-height, the guy is absolutely GORGEOUS. Neat brown hair, hazel eyes, chiseled jaw. He’s super polite, and very kind, like I’ve literally seen the man unironically help old ladies across the street. Plus he’s crazy buff, I mean he works in a fitness store, duh. So maybe that explains me wanting to be the biggest thing in his world. 

Whatever. I hereby declare this a no judgment zone. Okay?

Anthony finally tore his eyes away from my...shoes. (I went with my favorite short-shorts, the ones that really show off how long my legs are. Yes, even though it was February. Sue me.) “So what brings you to our humble little shop today?” He cleared his throat, and tried to come off dignified. “The supplements you bought last time should have lasted another couple weeks at least.”

“Aw, I'm flattered you keep track of me enough to know that. But I'm just here on a whim today. Actually, I had an idea to look for something that might not even exist. I guess you’d classify it as a weight loss product.  My BMI is still pretty high….”

Anthony stepped back far enough to meet my eyes, his expression serious. “Sam. BMI is a bullshit metric. You don’t need to lose weight, and you’re not fat.”

I nodded at the little guy. “You're right – not anymore. I've dropped a full thirty pounds in the past year, thanks to your advice – and plenty of hard work at the gym. I’ve almost got that hourglass figure I’ve always wanted, you know? But as it turns out, the excuse I've been giving people for my entire life turned out to be true. I am actually, factually, big boned.” My hands traced a line down the ample curve of my hip, demonstrating. “I do a thousand sit-ups a week. Thirty minutes a day on the elliptical. Yet no matter how hard I try, I still can't lose these last couple inches!”

“You look...ahh...really good, though,” Anthony said, self-consciously examining a bottle of creatine. “Really.”

“Thank you for saying so,” I told him, suppressing a grin. Everything was going to plan. “Really though, I would feel much better about myself if I could trim down a bit more. And it's not as simple as just losing more weight. Because, well, when you said that I'm not fat? You were right. See?”

Before I could remember all the things that my mother had taught me, about what a good girl should and should not do...I just did. I lifted my shirt provocatively, flashing him a glimpse of my tight, early stage six-pack, 'accidentally' going high enough to show him the underside of my lacy black bra. 

A red flush of excitement faintly touched Anthony’s cheeks.

I beamed down at him knowingly. That move had turned the trick – he wouldn't be able to resist much longer. “So you see what I mean,” I went on. “I almost need something that could, I don't know, change my body type. That's probably beyond the scope of a supplement, but maybe, if you wanted to take some time and work out a program with me....”

“Did somebody say magic?” a voice boomed – deep, rumbling, yet obviously feminine.

I grimaced, swearing under my breath.  She wasn’t supposed to be working today.

From behind a stack of protein shakes stepped Tiffany Ardeen, owner and namesake of Ardeen Nutrition. The girl looked down at the two of us, arms crossed over her chest, wearing her usual arrogant smirk. It was the kind of expression you might see on the statue of a Greek goddess – one meant to convey both contempt and benevolence as she regards the insignificant mortals who grovel at her feet.

“Why Samantha Millers! Good to see you! How's my best customer?”

“Fine, thanks for asking,” I replied, forcing a smile. My plans for seducing Anthony were out the window, for today at least. With her around, it was foolish to think I could be 'the biggest thing' in his world. If I had wanted to compete with Tiffany for that honor...forget the platforms. I should've worn stilts.

The girl gave me a sweet, almost impish grin. It was hard not to be enchanted by that smile, when it came from a face as lovely as Tiffany's. And just looking at someone as tall as her was already making my insides feel funny. 

I told you it gives me a thrill when I'm taller than someone? Well, it can go the other way too.

“I couldn't help but overhear you pouring your little heart out to my stock boy. Maybe you should call me 'Genie,' because believe it or not, I might have something that can grant your wish. We can have you slim as a runway model in no time, without sacrificing a bit of muscle tone.”

“Are you kidding me?” Anthony shrilled. “We have products that can do that? Then why have I never heard of them?”

Tiffany turned her head, peering down at him as if he were a smudge of dog poo on her favorite Gucci sandals. “I'm not in the habit of divulging company secrets to low ranking employees.”

“Low ranking? I'm the only person who works here besides you.”

Tiffany let out a long-suffering sigh. “Anthony, the big people are talking. I'll be kind and not count this as your break. But I pay you to stock, not chit-chat. Get back to work.”

At once Anthony snapped to attention, giving me a sidelong smirk. “Yes ma’am, yes ma’am.  I’ll finish marking down this expired protein in half a jiffy.  You may need to help me figure out how to apply the twenty percent discount you wanted.  I can’t count that high, unless you let me take off my shoes.”

The giant girl turned to face him full-on, her expression neutral. “Anthony, do we need to have another closed-door discussion about your unprofessional decorum? As I recall, you didn't much enjoy the last one.”

He met her gaze, looking up at Tiffany.  She was well over a foot taller than him, and probably outweighed him by a hundred pounds a least.  There may have been a lesser species of fear in his eyes. “No ma'am,” he answered.

“Good.” She turned on her heels and headed toward the back of the shop, beckoning me to follow with one long, well-manicured finger. “It is so hard to find good help these days,” she said, her voice adopting a patrician drawl.

I spared one final, sympathetic glance for Anthony. Then hurried after.

Heavy Lift - Story Bite

 

This is a story I've had kicking around in my mind for at least two years now.  I know the broad strokes of it - the twists and turns it takes before the end.  But I still have no idea how it begins - and for me, that usually means I can't start.  

So, nuts to that.  Here's Chapter 3 of a story I'm calling "Heavy Lift."

CW: Dub-con, light non-con, F/m, shrinking, gentle, affection, fearplay, mouthplay, weight lifting terms


Heavy Lift - Pt. 3

It was the third day of our vacation before I tried to use my gym again. I was out of my routine by then, and starting to feel restless. I needed to get back into the swing of things, but I guess I was trying to avoid more physical proof of how much I’d lost. I was almost two feet shorter than when the weekend started, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to lift nearly as much.  But, no time like the present – and if I could work up a good sweat, it might take my mind off things.

The gym would also give me safe haven from Clio for a few hours. Don't get me wrong, I appreciated the way she was taking care of me, what with this whole 'shrinking' thing. All the petting, the back rubs, the affection. Not to mention?  The sex had never been better.  Even if it was, you know.  Different. 

On the first night I could still throw her around, almost like normal. Last night had been a challenge, and I’d ended up being a lot more gentle with her than usual. She hadn’t seemed to mind. 

But this morning, I was a lot shorter.  I had to stop shrinking eventually. When I did, I was going to need every bit of muscle I could get to deal with her.

The gym had always been my favorite room at our vacation house. Now, it felt cavernous, alien. I stared around at the equipment, wondering where I should start.The last day I'd worked out was Friday. Now it was Monday, and I had measured in this morning at a measly four foot three. Starting with fifty pound dumbbells, like my last session, was just not going to happen. I decided to try some bicep curls with a twenty.

Even pulling them off the rack, I knew I was in for a challenge. I held tight, bent my knees, straightened my back. Maintaining good form.  I grunted, and lifted the weight. 

I could do it! Or, at least a little. By the third rep I was already struggling. My back arching forward, my shoulder turning out. I took a mid-set break and stood there, panting. I had barely even started and I already felt exhausted.

I became aware of her presence, then. I'm pretty sure she hadn't made a sound. It’s possible I had picked up the scent of her lavender shampoo, fresh from the shower. But I swear, it was almost as if I sensed her. I turned, trying to look casual. “Hey, babe. I don’t think you’ve been in here since we built the place.  Um.  How long have you been watching me?”

Clio leaned against the door frame, giving me a look of angelic concern. It was alarming how big she looked today - especially considering she was only 4’11”.  Before we left for this trip, she hadn’t even come up to my shoulders. “You know you shouldn't be in here, Robby.”

I stiffened. “What? Why the hell not? This is my gym after all. So what if I'm... you know.” I gestured vaguely, not wanting to say the word. “And what's with this 'Robby' stuff anyway? You know I go by Rob.”

She shrugged. “Oh.  I didn’t think.  That name just seemed… appropriate.” The towel slipped alluringly down her chest as she adjusted her posture, and I had to fight to keep my gaze from drifting.  “And don't try to change the subject,” she went on.  “We still don't know what's causing this. Making you shrink so fast.”

I winced. 

“Oops, sorry.  Um.  Anyway.  I have a few theories. It might be caused by physical exertion. So you should just relax.  Take it easy today, and let me take care of you.  Okay?”

“That's bullshit,” I said, and I tried not to smile as I saw her wince, too.  “I'm not going to sit around, helplessly getting smaller every day. I'm still a man, damn it.  I don’t need your advice, or your sympathy..”

Clio came closer.  She was doing her best not to tower over me, I could tell, but that was downright impossible.  Staring up at her in the late morning sun, more than a head taller than me, wet skin glittering in the light… she may as well have been a goddess. “You're a man,” she agreed. “But you're my man. You have to accept your limitations. I'm the bigger, stronger one now.  The sooner you accept that, the better it will be for both of us.”

“There's no way you're stronger than me.  I may have lost a little height, but get that straight. I don't need you to look after me.  Now if you don’t mind, get out of my gym and leave me in peace.”

For a moment, I thought she was going to cry. Then she swallowed, and set her jaw. “What if I can prove it?”

I dropped the weight I'd been holding. The clatter surprised us both.  “Huh?  If you can prove what?”

“I, um.”  She hesitated, then went on, staring at the floor, her voice trembling.  “If I can prove I'm stronger than you, will you stop fighting me on this and just let me take care of you?  We can have, I don't know. A contest? If I can lift more than you, then from now on you take my advice without arguing. Okay?”

I thought about it. Narrowing my eyes, looking at her scrawny little arms, the fragile set of her shoulders. If you'll forgive the pun, I was sizing her up. She was eight inches taller than me, sure.  But the phrase, ‘ninety-pound weakling’ existed for a reason, I happened to know she tipped the scales at eighty-five, on a good day.  

I smiled.  “What do I get if I win?”

“I....” She bit her lip, and pressed her cheek into her shoulder. “I'll leave you alone no matter how small you get. Unless you specifically ask for something.  And I'll stop calling you Robbie.”

We shook on it. I considered the twenty pound weight at my feet, and hefted a fifteen from the rack instead. I held it out to her. “Twist curls.” I demonstrated the motion, explained how to keep momentum from assisting, how to avoid letting your lower back carry any weight, and to add a hard twist at the top of the motion. “Whoever can do the most with good form wins. You first.”

She set herself, took a deep breath.  I honestly don’t think I’d ever seen her look so determined.  I had to disqualify her first two attempts - for swinging her hip, and rotating her shoulder, respectively.  I half expected her to get frustrated and give up the whole enterprise, but she only nodded, accepted my corrections, and started again.

I watched her beautiful face contort with effort, her pathetic little biceps straining against a weight that would have been a joke for me at normal size.  Sweat gathered on her brow, her free hand balled into a fist.  

But still, she persisted.

I’m not sure when I started getting hard.  Those grunts she was making were part of it - eerily similar to the sounds she’d make when I was on top of her, going extra-special slow, before I really started to pick up speed.  Around the third curl, her towel started to slip, and I definitely noticed the effect it was having on me.  

Well.  At least now I knew how I was going to celebrate my victory.

Five.  Six.  Seven.  Her check was straining, her arm shaking, but I couldn’t fault her form.  It was on the eighth curl that the towel gave up the ghost.  Tumbled down her body, pooled at her feet.  Her eyes shot open, and she met my gaze.  Embarrassment flushed on her face.   I could smell her exertion, see the beads of sweat standing out on her arms.  Her whole body was shaking with the effort to keep going.  This was the moment, when she would finally give up this silly idea, and leave me in peace.

She smiled, then.  It seemed an oddly knowing smile.  It’s hard for me to admit this part.  But in that moment.  That smile.  It made me feel a little scared of her.

A little.  

Nine.  Ten, with gritted teeth, and a growl from the back of her throat.  She was slowing down.  It wouldn’t be long.  Yet somehow, she looked even more capable than when she’d started.  More imposing.

Bigger.

I was still puzzling that, when my shorts slipped.  If it wasn’t for my erection, they would’ve fallen all the way to my ankles.

And Clio?  She just kept that damned smirk on her face, even as her jaw clenched with effort.  She grunted in a decidedly lurid fashion on number eleven, strained, shook… and arched her back to get to twelve.

“That one doesn’t count,” I squeaked.  “You’re done.  Eleven.”

She panted, and gave a nod.  “You’re shrinking again,” she purred.

“Don’t say that word.  P-please.”

She smiled, brushing the sweat from her eyes.  And offered me the weight.

It felt far heavier than the twenty had, only minutes before.  I spread my legs, bent my knees, set my back.  Clio watched expectantly, hand on her hip, not bothering to cover her shame.  Over the scent of her body wash, and the faint smell of sweat, I could detect another, familiar smell.  

I tried to ignore the all-too familiar sensation.  That cold, empty tingling in the pit of my stomach, that meant I was getting smaller.  I took a deep breath.  And lifted with all my might.

One.  Was all I managed.  Before I had to let my trembling arm fall to my side, body arching forward.  I hung my head in defeat.

She took the weight from my hand as tenderly as she could, and gave me the kindest, saddest smile I’d ever seen.  “Sit down on the bench please.”

Holding up my shorts, I did.

Clio knelt in front of me, moving with angelic grace.  She took my smaller hands in hers, patiently set them at my sides.  Then slowly pulled my gym shorts down.  I felt my body freeze, my heart pounding in my throat, my head spinning.  In my adult life, I don’t think I’d ever been more afraid of another human.

But despite all this, my cock was almost painfully hard.  Clio had to be almost a foot taller than me, and there was no denying that seeing her this way was getting to me.  What was worse, she knew.  And knew that I knew.

She bent, looking up at me with those soft eyes.  Her chin almost, but barely not, pressing against the base of my shaft.  I didn’t move.  I don’t think I could have if I’d wanted.  Yet my whole body seemed to fall toward her, as if compelled by gravity.  She left me hanging this way for what felt like an eternity.  Just staring into my face.  Studying me, with that sad smile.  I was just about to break, to beg her to look away, or else beg her to touch me…

When she brushed her lip against the underside of my cock.

I moaned, and arched my hips toward her, but she pulled at once, out of my reach.  She approached again, slowly.  Touching me a bit more firmly this time, running her cheeks along the smooth skin of my shaft.  I tried to hold still, but after a few seconds of this it was too much, and I thrust again.

And again, she pulled back, grinned like a Cheshire cat, waited for me to calm down.

“Clio.  Don’t tease me like this.  It’s mean.”

“Shhh.”  She touched the tip of her finger to my lips, and I silenced at once.  My heart pounded in my ears.  “You need to learn to let me take care of you.  Don’t move.  Don’t try to touch me.  Just let me make you feel good.”

A little whimper escaped from the back of my throat.  I nodded.

She took a long, long time, coming back.  And even when she touched me again, it was terribly gentle.  For a while she pet me with the back curl of her fingers, the way she might a frightened kitten.  She ran her wet hair along the crown of my penis, which made it twitch and leak an alarming amount of precum.  She kissed her way up and down my shaft, again, and again.  And every so often she would pause.  To look up at me with that knowing smile.  Our sex had always been straight to the point, and often rather intense.  With her in control, she seemed to luxuriate in taking things slow.  Exploring me.  Getting to know me at this new size.  I didn’t hate it.  But that smile… it was so unnerving.

“Why… why do you keep looking at me like that?”  By now I was panting, shaking.  Moaning almost constantly, my vision blurring with the weight of sensation.

She grinned wider.  And slowly pulled away, began to stand.  I started to apologize, to beg her to come back.  

But then, I gasped.  

Clio was much, much bigger.  Or – of course, I was smaller.  God, how had I missed it?  My feet barely even reached the floor anymore!

But still, she gave me that angelic smile.  “So.  I said I had some theories.  About what was making you....”

“Don’t say….”

“Shhh.”  She cupped my cheek, her expression beatific.  “Shrink.  You’re shrinking.  Okay?”

My cock gave an involuntary little twitch.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, Robby.  We’re going to figure out why you’re getting smaller, and get you back to normal.  Some day.  But until that happens, I’m going to take care of you.  When I say take care, I mean everything.  You’re going to have to rely on me, trust me.  I’m going to cook for you, clean for you.  Take away your fear, keep you comfortable, and happy.  I know this is hard for you, and you might not forgive me.  But this is the best way I know to make it easier for you.”

“Clio.  Wait.  Don’t!”

I tried to cover my manhood, as she sank back to her knees.  She easily wrapped my thin little wrists between her thumb and forefinger, pinned them to the benchtop.  She moaned as her lips closed over me.  In felt amazing, but from the way she reacted, in all honesty, I think she was getting even more pleasure from it than I was.

I struggled, at first, but really I had no hope of resisting her.  I doubted I would’ve even come up to her chest anymore.  Clio was just enormous, and even with those thin little arms, far stronger than me.  After a few moments with her lips wrapped around me, I gave up fighting entirely.  Yet still, every so often, she would pull away.  Watch me.  And smile.  Around the third time, I finally realized… she was checking how much she had made me shrink.  Waiting for me to get to exactly the size she wanted.

When she finally released my wrists, I didn’t think for a moment of escaping.  Her mouth was so warm, so inviting.  She could easily take my entire length now, all the way to the base.  I found that I could actually feel myself shrinking in her mouth, as her tongue swirled around and around the head of my cock.  After a few seconds of this, she was even able to tease my balls with her lower lip.

I don’t know how long it took, how many times she stopped to see how small I had become.  But eventually, she brought me right to the edge, let me hanging there, for an awful eternity.  I could feel myself shrinking so, so fast. 

“Please!” I screamed.  But right then, whether I was begging her to stop, or begging for more?  Even I didn’t know.

She grasped me by the waist then, her hands wrapping almost all the way around my midsection.  Fingernails digging in, the way I’d used to do to her when I was about to cum.  Forcing my hips forward, forcing me deeper down her throat.  She moaned louder, pursed her lips… and I was lost.  

Clio cooed happily as she drank down every last drop.  Not that there was so much, at my size.  With every pulse, I could feel myself getting smaller.

She helped me to my feet.  I had trouble standing after all of that, and the feeling of vertigo with losing so much size was deeply jarring.  She patiently streadied me while I clung to her tree trunk thigh, like a sailor clinging to the mast of a ship.  My head didn’t even reach her midsection anymore, her soft bush several inches above eye level.  I held my breath, willing myself not to cry.

“It really is a nice gym,” she remarked, almost to herself.  “You did such a good job putting it together.  You’re not allowed to use it, of course.  For now.  Even if it wouldn’t make you any smaller, it’s just too dangerous for a little guy like you.  It would be a shame to let it go to waste, though.  And since I’m going to be taking care of you from now on, I think I need to get a bit stronger.  Don’t you agree?”

I said nothing.  Only held onto her, and shook.

She took my hand, and pulled me gently toward the door.  “Now then.  Why don’t we make you some breakfast, Robby?  We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”