He Comes Awake

 

I'm proud of this story.  But I banged it out really fast. 

It was a good contrast to my sprawling epic growth contest novel, Eve's Boutique.  That took me eighteen months. This took a little less: an hour to write, an hour to edit.

This is a very typical Pseudoclever story: two people in a bedroom, with a lot of size change, and a lot of sex.

I'll probably make some art for this piece at some point.  We'll see if the spirit moves me.

I would consider this a gentle, loving story... but please mind the following content tags:

CONTENT WARNING: dubious consent, male penis shrinking, female penis growth

Here's a more complete list of tags - be aware these contain story spoilers.

Tags: cis couple, male shrinking to ~1ft, mini-gts, breast growth, gentle and loving, and like, really really smutty

He Comes Awake to Being Measured
by Pseudoclever

One-shot; 1992 words

He comes awake to being measured.  It’s the same as the last three days.  The sun is streaming in through the window, as she looms over him.  It looks like a nice day – not that he’s allowed to go outside.

“Forty-three inches,” Marie whispers.

 

A small whine escapes from the back of his throat.

 

But Marie only laughs, in a way that’s comforting, and only a little condescending.  “It’s accelerating.  But I’m sure it’s okay.  Let me make it okay.”

 

He’s already hard.  He gets hard so easily these days.  Especially when she towers over him like this.  She smells so good.  Musk.  The memory of yesterday's Chanel #5.  And the not-quite dry remains of her excitement, still clinging to her thighs.  She got herself off twice last night – that he knows of.  He was tempted to roll over, try to join in, but she’s so big now.  And so he simply lay beside her, listening, too afraid to even jerk himself off.

 

Her lip are almost upon him.  His shrunken cock throbbing, practically jumping for joy.

 

“Wait,” he manages.

 

Marie waits.

 

“My medicine.  I need my medicine.  Otherwise, I’ll get even.  You know.  Smaller.”

 

She brightens at this.  “Of course!  Your medicine!” Her face practically glows with excitement.

 

It’s there, on the bedside table.  She unscrews the cap, fills it with dull-brown liquid, and slides the little glass dropper into his mouth.  She does it sensually, and there's no doubt there’s something suggestive about it.  Something that evokes what she was about to do to him, only now their roles are reversed.  She slides it in and out between his lips as he drinks, making him clench down, suckle.  Letting little droplets fall here and there as he begs her with his eyes.

 

Marie finally pulls it out of his mouth, a thin trail of saliva sticking to the glass.  Then, she does something she’s never done before.

 

She gathers more medicine with the dropper – and lets it fall directly on his cock.

 

It’s a shocking menthol coolness, and he writhes with pleasure on the bed.  She watches, smiling and unmoving, until he settles down.  He badly wants Marie to touch him, but she doesn’t.  Not right away.

 

Instead she leans down, her giant face a millimeter from his still-twitching dick.  She fixes him with her eyes.  And very gently, she blows.

 

It’s exquisite agony.  Cold, and overwhelming, and good.  He could almost cum from this, he’s sure of it, and she knows it.  It’s the same sensation as when he takes his medicine.  The way it comes on fast until he's overwhelmed, and then he wants nothing more than for her to touch him.  Only it’s magnified ten, or a hundred times, when she applies it directly like this.

 

She keeps blowing on him, never quite letting it get intense enough for him to have a release.  There’s intimacy in her eyes.  This is for him, for his pleasure, for his recovery from his shrinking sickness.  But she's clearly enjoying herself.  And, he notes, she seems to want to keep on blowing until his medicine is completely, one-hundred percent dry.

 

She measures him again, after this.  He’s confused why she's doing it again so soon, and so horny he can't see straight, but he submits to it.  She’s silent as she works.  The world has shifted – the room looks bigger, and so does she.  He feels lucky that she gave him his medicine.  Who knows how much he might’ve shrunk just now without it.  She measures his cock this time – that's something else that’s new.  It's a little humiliating, because it looks so small compared to her.  Too small in fact.  He wonders about that, but then his capacity for thought leaves him completely as she closes her hand over his diminished length.

 

“There’s my little man.”

 

Marie is still staring at him.  She hasn’t looked away for an instant, and her attention is overwhelming – she’s so big, so beautiful, and seeming to become greater all the time.  She’s watching the interplay of emotions across his face, the tightening of his jaw, the furrowing of his brows.  And she pulls back each time he’s about to cum.  Grinning wider, and wider each time.

 

A part of him is aware of what's happening.  That she’s still getting bigger – along with everything else in the room.  It’s happening way too fast, punctuated each time she lets him throb back to a state of quiescence, when he’d been a heartbeat from release.  Her hand is getting so, so big on his dick.  She’s only using her thumb and forefinger, and even that is enough to almost completely envelop him.  His manhood is shrinking faster than he is.  Even if he was full sized again, it would be pathetic.  The awareness of this comes to him like a fever dream, but it's okay, because it feels so good, and it seems to make Marie so happy.  And anyway: she told him it was okay.

 

She licks him once, and it’s so good he wants to die.  His vision blurs.  The world grows.

 

“Do you want to cum for me, sweet man?”

 

“Yes!  Marie, please yes, please!”

 

“Mm.  I want that, too.  I think you deserve to cum a whole lot today.  We can spend the whole day, seeing how many times I can make you cum.  I bet it’s a lot, now that you're this small.  I can see how much it turns you on – having me this much bigger than you.  And pleasuring you is so easy now.  I’d only have to squeeze you, a tiny tiny bit, and you'd burst for me.  I could keep doing this for hours without getting tired.  I just might.”

 

Her touch intensifies.  He’s almost there….

 

“But first.”

 

He groans as she releases him.  She stands up to her full height.  She's a perfect, benevolent goddess. Twelve feet tall to his eyes, looking down from on high.  He loves her.  He’d do anything for her.  And he knows beyond a doubt the feeling is mutual.  She wants him, yearns for him, would possess him no matter the cost.

 

She reaches for something, and it takes a while for his eyes to focus on what it is.  It’s a vial.  It looks just like his medicine.  Though this particular bottle has writing on it, a professional-looking pharmacy label, while his medicine, the one Marie has been giving him, is simple green glass.

 

He wonders about that.  But not for long.

 

She fills the dropper.  Lifts it high.  And slides it into her own mouth.  She does this twice more, watching him every second, before she abruptly crawls onto the bed, and straddles his face with her massive thighs.

 

“Hold still.”

 

He whimpers, and obeys.

 

Marie fills the dropper yet again, and lowers it.  For a moment he almost opens his mouth to receive it, in defiance of her order not to move, but to his surprise she spreads it on herself.  Marie has always had a big clitoris.  At his size, it looks huge.  Fully engorged, the hood pulled back, fully ready to receive his adoration, as big as his thumb.  He watches the contents of the vial run down it in rivulets, clear, with the consistency of melted butter, and almost at once he can see her clit start to twitch and grow.

 

“Blow on me.  But don’t use your lips.  Be very careful not to get any of this on you.  It’s bad for you.”

 

There isn’t a part of him that questions this.  He blows.  Her clit thanks him – getting bigger, and thicker, and longer, and Marie moans her appreciation.  His own cock is almost painfully needy, full of want despite its tiny size, and she rewards him with a few gentle strokes of her index finger as he works.

 

She’s growing really fast, and not just her clit.  The bed is creaking under her weight, her body swelling.  He can’t  see her face anymore, her breasts are growing so rapidly, and so he focuses on her cock.  It’s big enough now he would have trouble fitting it in his mouth.  He wants to try.  She told him he shouldn’t.

 

He blows.

 

It’s a long time before she’s satisfied.  It’s a quiet orgasm, one of her smaller ones, but he knows her body so well, and by now she’s four times his size.  He couldn’t possibly mistake it for anything else.

 

She has to pin her breasts against her chest with her forearm to be able to look him in the eye.  Her expression is frantic, loving, almost worshiping.  He stares back up at her.  Completely enraptured.

 

“So, I could fuck you with this.”  She rubs her new cock against his cheek.

 

He nods stupidly.

 

“Or I could get on my tummy and let you fuck me from behind.  You’re so small, it might be hard to get inside me.  And I’m not sure I would even feel it.  But even so, I would let you do that, my love.  Whenever you desire.  I have another thought, though.  Are you okay if I give you more medicine?”

 

“Whatever you want, Marie.”  He speaks it without hesitation, without regret.

 

She kisses her thumb, then presses it to his lips.  The dropper is in his mouth an instant later – the unlabeled bottle – and he sucks it down greedily, even as she gives him far, far more than he’s ever had before.

 

The world is already shifting, as she slides him down the bed.  Her thighs are massive, twice as thick as his chest, and he tries to kiss them, before he’s enshrouded in darkness.  She’s wet, more wet than he could ever have dreamed, and he drinks from her, almost drowns in her, and she groans her approval, the sound rumbling through him like an earthquake.  He’s aware she’s stroking her new dick, and he lifts his little hands, tries to wrap both of them around her shaft.  He's far too small, but she helps him, moves him where she wants, even as he feels it swelling in her grasp, feels the weight of her increasing above him.

 

Something presses down on his mini-cock.  He thinks it might be her pinky finger, the bare tip of it, and even this is enough to utterly dwarf his length.  He’s past the point of no return.  But he has the honor of holding out just long enough.  Maries screams.  Fills his mouth with her honeydew nectar, soaks the sheets beneath.  His own orgasm is pathetic by comparison – a child’s firecracker contrasted against the sun – but she works him through it all the same, and even makes a point of letting him see her swallow the tiny pinprick of his semen, licking it happily from her fingertip as she holds him in the aftermath.

 

They remain together.  Even while Marie handles logistics.  Calling his doctor, to let them know he needs a stronger antidote.  Calling his work, to extend his leave of absence.  He dozes beside her.  Content, and safe, and adored.

 

The bed is too small for her now.  It’s a queen, and her legs dangle off it past her knees.  She's seven, maybe eight feet tall he guesses, and he thinks he might be just a little more than a foot.  There's so much distance between them, they're hardly the same species.  But some things fit perfectly – he’s exactly the right size to be her pillow.

 

“We have all day,” she whispers, as the two of them drift toward a mid-morning nap.  “And I want to spend every minute of it with you.  I hope I didn’t wear you out completely, little guy.  Because I still want you so, so badly.  And as soon as you get your stamina back, we’re going again.”

 

He comes awake enough to check the clock on the bedside table.  It isn’t even nine-thirty.

 

He sighs, and closes his eyes with a smile.