Gifts of Sage - Pt. 2

 CW: Growth, muscle growth, femme person growing a cock-size clit, face sitting, breath play, emotional manipulation, anxiety about love and belonging, the light and dark side of two Enneagram 2’s in love

Gifts of Sage - Pt. 2

That sensation of fear in my chest, again. But Sage held me as we stared into the mirror together. And the way she was stroking me, it was like she understood about that fear, knew exactly where it lived. And her touch soothed it, like gentle rain, slowly dousing a fire.

“I know you want to give to me,” she said, lips brushing my ear as she spoke. “And there’s something I want to try. A fantasy about a thing I want to do to you, that I haven’t been able get out of my head since this started. I think it’s going to make me a lot bigger. You don’t need to be scared of that, though. And I’ll tell you what to do. Okay?”

I stared at her reflection. Her green eyes peering at me, studying me. Her expression was adoring. Attentive. Yet oddly calculating.

She waited for my answer. Then apparently decided she’d waited long enough. In the mirror, I watched her reach down, and gently rest her palm over my groin. Through my jeans, just once, she squeezed me.

She supported me, as my legs gave out. Held me until I could stand on my own again. It seemed like a very long time.

“Take your clothes off. Lay down on the bed, flat on your back. Make sure your neck is supported.”

I obeyed. I’m sure it took a moment to fumble out of my jeans, to unbutton my shirt. My memory is hazy on this, as though dream logic was at play. It seemed the next moment, I was lying in wait for her.

She stripped out of her too-small dress. There was nothing theatrical about her movements, but she clearly wanted me to take her in. Her overripe breasts, the trim curve of her waist. Her taut stomach. And best of all to my eye, those massive, powerful thighs, that flexed almost hypnotically with every move she made.

Sage spared a brief moment to admire her own nude reflection, before she crawled onto the bed. She positioned herself above me with careful precision, her sinewy legs on either side of my head.

At first I couldn’t see her face. Just the undersides of her massive breasts, the hard lines of her abs. In the fading light, dew sparkled on her labia. And there were streaks along her inner thigh from where I’d spread her cum with my cheeks. Sage allowed me a long moment to appreciate her majesty. Then she leaned down, brushing her hair from her eyes, and gave me such a loving look that it almost broke my heart. She caressed me, ran her thumb along my lips.

“Put your arms over your head, baby. The backs of your wrist go on the bed. No touching with your hands. Are your shoulders comfortable like that?”

“I think so.”

Sage grinned. And lowered her sex over my mouth.

“Show me how you feel about me,” she purred. “I know you love me. This is how you can show it.”

She cried out, as my tongue thrust inside her.

I lost myself. Let go of the strangeness of all this, all the questions I had, of what would happen once I gave her everything she wanted. Whether she’d love me more than ever, or decide to discard me.

It’s always been like that with Sage. The only time I’m not worried about losing her, is when her moans are filling my ears.

There was urgency as I painted her with my tongue, and she stroked herself across my face. But there is such a thing as slow urgency. It can even be motionless – like the urgency you feel when simply holding someone’s hand on a first date. For a long, long time, we hardly moved at all. I kissed her. She claimed me.

Sage lifted off me every minute or so, to let me breathe. To cool myself, stretch my neck, relax my jaw. I was grateful when she did this – there was so much of her, and more all the time it seemed – but even being an inch apart from her felt like torture. She was so gentle with me, despite her ever increasing size. With these little breaks, I felt like I could’ve done this for hours.

The sense of her growth was undeniable, yet impossible to measure. I knew her abs were gaining definition, that her breasts were growing heavier, that her whole body was swelling and lengthening as she moaned out to the heavens there on top of me. But mostly it happened too slow to track, and I was too entranced with what I was doing to follow. I cared more for the taste of her in my mouth, the way it sweetened as she came, again and again. I cared about the subtle tilt of her shoulder that told me where she wanted me next. Her growth mattered only in terms of how I should move to meet her needs, now that there was more of her. How the angles between us were shifting.

Though even as lost in her as I was, there was something impossible to ignore. Her clit was growing. Fast.

Sage only became frantic toward the end. I think it was around her seventh orgasm when she suddenly grabbed me by the wrists, pinned me, and literally started to fuck my face. Her clitoris was as big as the tip of my thumb at that point, and her body was utterly enormous. She outweighed me by hundreds of pounds, and was so strong she could’ve thrown me around like a ragdoll if she wanted.

Yet I don’t remember being afraid. There were times when it got uncomfortable, as her hips ground me against the mattress, and her mega-clit pressed my tongue back into my throat. But it was more like she was sharing herself with me than taking advantage. It was just that her form of sharing came with a whole lot of force.

The only time I had a problem was when she squirted. That was a lot. I tried to swallow, but there was far, far too much of her to handle. She filled my mouth with hot nectar until I overflowed, and she poured down my throat, over my chest, soaking the mattress beneath. I held my breath, and endured.

Thankfully it was almost over. She fucked my mouth with her clit, and giggled maniacally as she came a final time. Then at last collapsed to the bed beside me.

I felt so small beside her, as she lay catching her breath. She was the largest human I’d ever seen. In the aftermath of something so grand, where she’d used me so exquisitely, I wanted her to say something. To tell me that she loved me, that I still had value to her now that we were finished.

Sage didn’t say anything.

She was gazing at me, though. And it was a look I’d never seen before. Like I was something small she’d found. Something that belonged to her. Something mysterious and precious, and now that luck had brought me into her life, she never wanted to let go.

It does something to you, when someone so big, and so beautiful, looks at you like that.

She stroked my hair. Ran her long fingers over my face, exploring me by touch. I let this go on for a time, then abruptly caught her thumb between my lips. I sucked on it greedily, just as I’d done with her clit.

She must’ve understood the joke. Because she smiled.

And every part of me rejoiced.

I must’ve fallen asleep. The next thing I remember was the flare of a wooden match.

The flame spread slow upon a candle wick. Sage held it close, shielding it, making sure it caught. The orange glow on her face was alluring, and eerie.

Her green eyes flicked briefly to me, seeing I was awake. She smiled. Even in the dimness, I could tell she was a giant. The top of her head very nearly reached the ceiling.

“How do you feel?” I asked, automatically. My voice coming out hoarse and cracked.

“Big,” she told me. She twisted the match between her fingers, until the flame sputtered and flared bright again. She used it to light another candle. “And really fucking horny. I want your cock.”

Gifts of Sage - Pt 1

 I met Sage on a Sunday afternoon.  We only had a few hours together, but she changed my life.  She told me about something she wanted.  She was very insistent.  In the end, I had to write it down.

This is a standard pseudoclever, two people in a bedroom story.  I would describe it as emotionally intense, and dream-like.  There's a WHOLE lot of sex.  But do be aware...

This story contains a cis woman who grows a penis, and male-to-female gender transformation.  That section begins in chapter 3.  If that sort of content upsets you, the first two chapters are still safe.  Mind the Content Warning tags.  

Thanks to Elle Largess, @mightytinygiant, for beta-reading this piece, and really taking it to the next level.  Find her awesome content over at https://linktr.ee/mightytinygiant

CW: Growth, muscle growth, femme person growing a cock-size clit then an actual cock, cock shrinking and theft, MtF gender change, feminization, emotional manipulation, anxiety about love and belonging, the light and dark side of two Enneagram 2’s in love 

Gifts of Sage - Pt. 1

“Just so you know, I’m bigger than last time.”

I was standing in line at the local upscale grocery store when I got her message.  I tucked the expensive bottle of Scotch I was carrying under my arm, and awkwardly typed out a reply.

“What do you mean bigger?” 

Her texts came back in succession.

“You’ll see.”

“I miss you.”

“It’s been too long.”

“Don’t keep me waiting okay?”

I was fourth in line, and the line wasn’t moving.  I panicked, caught between my fear of showing up empty-handed, and my sudden overwhelming desire to be in her presence.  

Feeling guilty, I set the bottle down, and hurried out of the store.

Sage is one of my all-time favorite humans.  But scheduling with her can be difficult. She has two other partners, both of whom I would dare to call friends.  My love life is complicated, too.  Sharon and Tabitha had both asked me to say hi to Sage for them that night.  If it felt good. 

Consequently, it had been three weeks since our last date.  I wanted to work up the courage to ask if we could see each other more, and I was terrified she’d say no.  I loved Sage, and she said she loved me too.  But realistically, she was probably out of my league.  One of these days, she would realize that.  

Anyway.  I was pretty sure I knew what she meant by, ‘bigger.’  On our last date, Sage mentioned she’d been hitting the gym pretty hard lately.  It was cute of her to warn me.  But come on.  I’m not the kind of guy to be intimidated by a strong woman.  

But I was half a block from her house now, and I couldn’t get her words out of my head. They made something hot pulse in the middle of my chest.  I didn’t have time to examine the feeling.  Only, I really wished I’d bought her that Scotch.  It would’ve been nice to have something to offer.

The door to her apartment was open a crack. I knocked gently, that heat in my chest growing stronger. 

I could have told you that she was waiting for me in the bedroom even before she spoke.  As though I had an additional sense, with no purpose but to orient myself to her. 

“Lock the door behind you, sweetie. There's nothing to fear.”

It’s funny.  Being told not to fear, is the surest way to become afraid. 

Sage was standing by the window. Grasping the frame, the setting sun orange on her face. She looked at me sidelong, not turning her head. A mischievous little smirk painted across her lips. 

“Holy shit, Sage!”

“Hmph. It’s good to see you, too.”

She turned languidly, took a long moment to stare at nothing in particular, before she fixed her eyes upon me, rooting me in place. 

“It’s not too much. Is it?”

Too much.  It was as if she’d read my mind.  It was as if every part of the Sage I knew had been enhanced, until she was filled beyond capacity.  Sage had always been on the tall side for a woman — five-foot-seven — and she was pleasingly broad-shouldered. But beyond that, the word that best suited her was, ‘willowy.’  She was thin, with long arms and long legs.  You could even call her delicate.

Well, no more. Sage had to be nearly as tall as me, and I’m six feet. I thought for a moment she might be wearing heels, but beneath the hem of her skirt her feet were bare. And a change in footwear wouldn’t have explained the rest of her developments.  Literally every part of her was… well.  More.  The green cotton dress she wore was bare at the shoulders, and I could see the firm definition of her forearms and biceps.  Sage had barely been working out for a month. It should’ve required years of hard work to build a body like that.  Never mind her chest, or her ass.  If I thought she was out of my league before?  God.  She was so beautiful that I practically felt like another species in her presence.

“Your face is priceless.”

I blinked. “Is it really still you?”

Sage clucked her tongue.  “What an interesting question.”

She crossed the room toward me.  Hips swaying dramatically, her eyes never leaving mine. 

“So much of the sensory experience is dependent on the physical vessel.  My eyes, my nose, the tips of my fingers.  I feel, therefore I am.  But with such a dramatic change, to everything I used to feel?  Well.  I think I’m still me.  But of course I would say that.  Though counterpoint, can you honestly tell me that you are still you?  With all the experiences you’ve had since you last held me in your arms?”

She was close now.  Smirking at me.  Enjoying every second of this.

“That’s an invitation, by the way.  To hold me.”

I grinned sheepishly.  Wrapped my arms around her, and kissed her firmly on the mouth. 

She kissed me back, in that familiar way of hers.  Going slow, matching her breath to mine.  Then abruptly opening her eyes, as she slipped the narrow tip of her tongue into my mouth.  It always felt pleasantly illicit when she did this.  Like we were sharing a secret, or getting away with something we shouldn’t.

“Yeah,” I said, resting my forehead against hers. “You can table the ontology.  You’re still Sage.  And you’re still a fucking nerd.”

She laughed. “Glad I pass inspection.  But hey, you still haven’t seen the best part.”

Sage leaned back, bracing herself against the wall, and hiked her skirt up. 

“I mean seriously, look at these thighs. I could practically crush a bowling ball with them!”

Sage knows all my weaknesses, where her body is concerned.  Chalk it up to the hours of pillowtalk, or that we’ve had the chance to exhaustively study each other’s porn collection.  Let’s just say mine has a lot of women doing squats.  Often in attire not appropriate for most public gyms.

The point being, one look at those legs of hers, and it was all over for me. 

“What’s the matter?” she purred. “Thinking about how these are going to feel wrapped around your shoulders?  Or pressed against your ears?”

I swallowed.  “Sage.  Wait.  First tell me how….”

“Do you think I’ll taste different?  My hormones are in overdrive, and my internal chemistry is all out of whack.  My sex drive hasn’t been this strong since I was thirteen.”

“Sage….”

“I’m saying I want you.  I already got myself off four times today.  All while thinking about you going down on me.  It wasn’t enough.  I’ll give you an explanation later.  Promise.  But for now….”  She trailed off, a troubled look coming across her face.  “You never answered me.  I’m not too much for you now.  Am I?”

That heat in my chest again.  I felt a moment of unnamable fear, before instinct compelled me to act.

Sage let me push her down on the bed.  She came to rest on the edge, lifting her dress, spreading her legs.  I sank to my knees, at once a worshiper at her altar.  She wasn’t wearing anything beneath her skirt, and I could immediately sense the humidity of her, could tell that she was soaking wet without even a touch.  I started kissing my way up her newly muscular thigh, following the hard line of her quadricep toward the place where I knew she wanted me.  She pet my hair, then fluffed a pillow behind her head, getting comfortable.  Only then did she begin to moan.

It was oddly disorienting.  Having her so large, so much more substantial, yet so deeply familiar.  I knew her body so well, and had probably gone down on her dozens if not a hundred times.  I ran my fingertip experimentally along her labia, knowing at once how she would respond.  Her husky groan, the trickle of her nectar that soaked my first two fingers.  

I hesitated only slightly before tasting her, remembering her words on the subject, that she might taste different.  But I needn’t have worried, because she was exactly the same, at least to my way of reckoning.  Though I couldn’t remember enjoying her quite so much before.

Sage mostly allowed me to control the encounter, simply laying back and accepting my devotion.  She lowered her dress over my head, enveloping me in sweet-smelling twilight.  I explored her, letting my sense of touch guide me.  Urging her to bloom for me, following the rhythms of her body.  The texture of her was a little different, and it took me a moment to realize that Sage had quite a bit more pubic hair than usual.  She’d explained to me once that she preferred to freshly shave before sex, as the sensation of lube on smooth skin was more pleasing.  It seemed she’d changed her mind.  I’m not sure why, but the thought of her growing wild felt deeply erotic in that moment.  Isn’t it strange, the things that turn us on?

I was too excited to take my time with her, and she wasn’t in the mood to hold back either.  In less than a minute her moans took on that tell-tale urgency I knew so well, and the flavor of her shifted.  Became heady and sweet.  As she passed the point of no return, she squeezed those muscular thighs around my head.  Hard enough against my ears to silence the world outside, for her moans to reach me by induction through her skin.  

I could feel the power in her as she held me this way.  Rendering me helpless and immobile.  I’ll admit I was scared.  A little.  What if I surprised her with my lips or tongue, and learned too late she didn’t know her own strength?  But Sage was as gentle as ever, and I relaxed into the delightful sensation as her legs held me secure.  

My jaw was just beginning to ache when she finally arched her back and whimpered.  I kept flicking my tongue over her clitoris, marveling that even this part of her felt bigger.  Until she released me, and lay still on the bed.

“Yeah,” she panted.  “It’s been way too long.  The fantasy just doesn’t do you justice.”

I crawled out from beneath her dress, smirking.  “So do you want to take back that thing you said?  About being too much for me?”

She touched her chin to the pillow.  Long black locks of hair slipped from her forehead as the light of the setting sun played across her cheek.  

And again, she looked troubled.  

“Is everything okay?” I asked.  

“Just watch,” she whispered.  “And remember.  It’s still me.”

I obeyed, not sure what I was supposed to be watching for.  

What first caught my eye was a sense of movement down near the floor.  Her bare feet dangled an inch or two above the carpet as she lay on the edge of the bed.  As I watched, she seemed to stretch.  Until the tips of her toes touched down.  Then the ball, and finally the heel of her foot.

She watched me watching her.  A nervous smile on her face.  Waiting for me to realize what was happening.  But I just stared at her stupidly.  Sage gave a playfully exasperated sigh, the sound of someone reluctantly giving the answer to a riddle too difficult to solve.  She climbed to her feet, and wrapped her arms around me.  Staring down at me, her eyes an inch above mine.

“You’re… taller!”

She kissed me.  “Not just taller.  I’m a lot of things.  Stronger, and curiver, and I dare say more attractive, but that’s subjective, not a good metric.  But, yes.  I’m taller.”

“But what – how did…?”

“You,” she interrupted.  “You did this.”

A part of me wanted to run.  But she had her arms around me, and her smile was so reassuring.  

“It’s been happening every time I get off,” she explained.  “For about two weeks now.  I think it’s just a few millimeters when I self-pleasure.  If it wasn’t, the way I’ve been behaving the last few weeks?  I’d be towering over the tree tops by now.  Even after a night when I ran the batteries down on every toy I have, and went through two whole bottles of lube, I didn’t pick up more than half an inch.”

I sputtered incoherently.  She waited for me to find words.  When I couldn’t, she went on.

“I saw Rob last week, and Terry just a few nights ago.  Partnered sex is definitely more potent.  And don’t me wrong, I love both of them dearly.  But Rob is a little too timid, and Terry… oh never mind.  What I mean to say is, I’ve been looking forward to sharing this with you ever since I started growing.  Because I knew it would be like this with you.  That you’d be the one to really make me grow.  In sixty seconds, you just gave me more than all my other experiences, combined.”

Sage had slipped her well-muscled arm around my shoulder at this point.  Subtly turning me, so the two of us were looking at her floor-to-ceiling mirror together.  She made eye contact with me in the reflection as she spoke, as her fingertip lightly stroked my ear.  She looked so sure of herself, so confident.  So deeply in love with me.

“I don’t know if I ever told you this.  But you’re the best I’ve ever had.  Sex-wise, I mean.  I’ve had a lot of time to think about why.  It has nothing to do with your body, or the crude mechanics of love-making.  It’s because when you touch me, I can feel how much you care.  How much you want to give to me.  When we’re together, I’m the most important person in the world to you.  Am I right?”

I nodded.

“Do you like me like this?”

She asked it casually, but I could see how much my answer meant to her.  How badly she wanted me to say yes, how much it would hurt her if I didn’t.

“It’s scary,” I managed, speaking through a mouth too dry.  “But.  I do.”

Sage beamed.  She stepped behind me.  Pressed her breasts to my back, hugged me tight against her.  I could just barely see her eyes, peeking mischievously over the top of my head.  Her breath was hot in my hair.

“I want more,” she whispered.

The Burden

 

This is the first story I've written in a bit.  Apologies if I'm shaking off the rust.  It's on the darker side of things, but if you look close, you'll find some light here, too.

NSFW, like usual.  You all know what I'm about.

Thanks so much to Elle Largesse (https://twitter.com/mightytinygiant) for beta reading this story, and improving it dramatically. Thanks also to other beta readers who didn't wish to be named.

CW: shrinking woman, NSFW, sizes from ~five feet to a few inches, non-consensual, gas-lighting, emotional abuse, “hypnosis,” 24/7 Master / slave dynamic, crying, brief impact and breath play, light sexual pain, speech and language restrictions, implied Daddy Dom / little girl dynamics, unreliable narrator

One-shot, 4390 words

The Burden

by pseudoclever

I start to get antsy around five thirty.  He’s on the train by then, probably.  Almost home.  I should do something to prepare, I think, but I'm already groomed, and I’m already dressed the way he wants.  I finished all my chores hours ago.  

They’re so much easier these days. 

I end up pacing back and forth, wearing down a path in the living room carpet.  Like a dog who knows it’s almost time for dinner.  I’m not sure whether it’s Pavlovian Conditioning, or if he’s taking direct intervention this time.  But I’m already panting for him, even before I hear footfalls on the front porch.  My heart starts to race, my chest tightens, and I think how embarrassing it would be if this was just the mailman.  Especially if they happened to look in the window.  What would they think?  That I’m just a very petite housewife with an odd sense of fashion?  Or would they guess that something more strange is going on.

But then the key crunches in the lock, and the door swings wide.  He’s there, in jeans and flannel.  A big man.  So big that my head doesn’t even reach his sternum.  He smells of the day, and of the outside world.  Fresh air, and casual exertion, and that particular brand of aftershave he always wears.  They say scent is tied more strongly to memory than any of our other senses, and I remember that I loved him once.  Before all this started.  I still love him.  It’s just hard to trust that feeling now.

Master gives me that knowing smirk, cups my cheek with his rough hand, and I’m a puddle.  He straightens my toga for me, and strokes my hair.  He asks if I’ve been good.  I nod, and he smiles, and it’s like the sun finally coming out after a hundred years of darkness.  

“Come sit with me,” he says, and hooks his thumb in my collar’s metal ring, the place he’d attach a leash if he ever needed one.  

He tugs, gently.  

I follow.

I wait obediently, with my hands clasped behind my back, the way I’ve been trained.  He makes himself comfortable, unhurried, taking his sweet time.  At last he pats his lap, and I was hoping for that, or at least it seems to me now that I was.  But if I’m at all conflicted it doesn’t show.  I climb up at the speed of instinct, like he’s tapped my knee with a hammer and I’m helpless to resist the impulse deep in my animal brain.  I lay face down across his thighs.  A month ago, when he asked me to do this, I needed his help.  Or at least his patience, while I climbed up the side of a couch meant for someone five times my size.  I’ve grown a lot since then.  I’m almost big enough that the furniture seems built for me again.  I’m still on the small side, but that just means I’m the perfect size for his lap.

He pets me, and I arch my back to meet his giant hand.  My hair, my shoulder blades.  The nape of my neck.  This goes on for a heavenly eternity.  I’m literally purring.  But also, I’m biting the inside of my cheek.  Hard.  Trying to keep any sounds from escaping that are too encouraging, that would make him take this a step farther.  Trying to remind myself not to get too excited, not to let his touch carry me away.  

“You’ve been very good lately, kitten.”

I squeak with glee.  My toes curl with pleasure.  I bite down harder.

“You’ve done everything a Master could want, and more.”  He strokes down the path of my spine, into the eager little cusp just above my tailbone.  “Except.”

I freeze.  

“Something feels a little….  Off.  About your… appearance?”  He chuckles softly, and gives my butt two quick taps.  “Roll over.”

My body obeys before I can even process the command, and I’m staring up into his eyes, a deer caught in the headlights.  He inspects me, and I don’t even dare to breathe.  I hold completely still, except for the goosebumps, and how the pounding of my heart makes me shake a little.  He lifts my chin with the tip of his finger.  Makes me turn my head from side to side.  Then runs his fingernail over my bare shoulder, down my chest, parallel to the line of the simple white toga that is my uniform.  

He stops beside my hip, where the garment is tied.

“This,” he says, thoughtfully.  “There used to be more fabric here.  When I first made it for you.  Didn’t there?”

I’m so scared I can’t even make my eyes focus.  

I nod.

“As I recall, it didn’t fit nearly so tight on you, either.”

I say nothing.

“Hmph.”  He stares off into the middle distance, looking displeased.  Then. “Go get your tape measure.”

I’m off at once, scurrying through the house as fast as my little legs can carry me.  God, where is it?  He hasn’t asked to measure me in weeks.  Did I leave it in the bedroom, or in my sleeping nook?  I’m letting the front-of-mind task consume me.  Because I already know what he’s going to find.  

It’s beside the measuring wall, of course.  I grab it, and I’m about to run back to him, maybe he’ll be merciful, but then I’m caught, just staring at this simple white wall with a dozen little pencil marks inscribed upon it.  At a dozen heights I’ve been, each time he felt it worthy to note my size.  I don’t remember any of it – the marks, or the sizes.  Just a vague sense of something that happened once, like trying to recall a vivid dream two weeks after you’ve had it.  

This wall is the history that he won’t let me remember.  Some marks are fascinating, like the one around the level of my hip, and I can actually remember that one, because it’s when I started growing.  Other marks I can’t even make myself look at, and that must be his doing, his manipulation.  There’s one around my knee like that.  And the one at the very very top, I can’t even bring myself to see out of the corner of my eye.  Most are very far down.  I’m caught up in horrified fascination, trying to forensically reconstruct my life from the stories this wall has to tell, and that’s when he comes up behind me.  

Without a word he turns me.  Presses me against the wall so hard it knocks the air out of my lungs, makes me lift my head and stand up straight.  He marks off my height with a pencil, then shoves me out of the way, unrolls the measuring tape.

Master clucks his tongue.  “Four feet.  Seven inches tall.”

Neither of us say anything.  His expression is blank, impossible to read.  All at once he lets the tape measure roll back into its spindle, and the sudden sound and motion makes me flinch violently.  But I don’t run, because where would I run.

“I’m honestly impressed,” he says, at last.  “At how much willpower this must’ve required, to grow yourself back.  You never could’ve managed it in the early days.  I’d put you to bed, and find you smaller every morning.  After I’d spent the whole night making you shrink.  You were positively insatiable back then.  Do you remember?”

He reaches down, touches the collar, and makes me remember.  Pours the memories into my head, until they all but overwhelm me.  The feelings rush in – embarrassment and regret and nostalgia, but those emotions are background.  Mostly I feel the sick excitement that used to rule me.  The delirious joy of being his, back when all this was new.  

Even then, I knew what was making me smaller.  I’ve always known, because it’s always been the same.  I wasn’t just allowing him to do it to me.  I was seeking it out.  Prostrating myself before him, each night when he came home.  Begging him to touch me, with gesture and action, because words were for big girls, and I was not a big girl anymore.  Doing chores all day to earn his attention.  Then presenting myself before him, like a poor little animal in heat.  He’d touch me.  And because of the rules he imposed, and the words he whispered into my collar, each time he pushed me to release….

I’d get smaller.  

“You were so creative,” he drawls.  “At finding all the ways we fit together.  All the different things I could do to make you feel good, so you could get smaller.  The experience of playing with you was so different, when you were three feet tall, instead of four.  The same for two-foot-six… or one-foot-three.  Always fresh, and always new.”

I can feel my cheeks burning, as I remember it now.  Even when he spent all night, wringing every last drop of my essence from me until I was too exhausted to crawl to bed without his help, I still wasn’t shrinking fast enough.  I needed more.  I’d stay up late.  Curled in my sleeping nook, far across the house, where he couldn’t hear my moans.  And shrink myself smaller.

My head is spinning, my mouth is dry.  I’m getting wet.  Why do I like this so much?  

No.  This is his fault.  He’s controlling me.  Forcing me to like it.  That has to be it.

“I never once saw you react to getting smaller with anything other than satisfaction, and a desire for more.”  He pauses.  “Except that one day.  It broke my heart, to see you so miserable.  I had to take that memory from you.  For your own well-being.  Do you want it back no, kitten?”

I shake my head no, the pigtails he makes me wear slapping me hard across the face. 

“You cried.”

The bitter day comes into focus, memories rising out of the fog until they fill my vision.  I try to pull away, but his hand tightens on my collar.

“I know.  It was awful, wasn’t it?”  His expression is sympathetic, but I can hear something else in his voice.  “The day you were finally too small to take my cock.”

I felt frustration that day.  Then it dissolved into anger, when I realized what I’d become.  I couldn’t even be his fuck-toy anymore.  I was something less, much less.  And even as low as I’d become, I still wanted to be lower.  I didn’t want to stop, couldn’t make myself stop. 

He cups my cheek, and runs his thumb along my bottom lip.  He hasn’t done this since we cuddled in post-coital bliss, and we haven’t done that since he could fit inside me.  The simple affection of it – I can’t believe how much I’ve missed it, how badly it makes me want him.  

I can’t think, I can’t think.  

“I understand,” he whispers.  Almost purrs, but predators can purr, too.  “That’s why you were growing, wasn’t it?  Because you wanted to be big enough for me.  That’s why.  Isn’t it, kitten?”

I realize I’m nodding.  Of course.  That was why.

He presses that thumb just a bit harder against my lower lip.  I taste the salt of his skin, the familiar flavors of his body.  It’s such a strong sense memory, this taste, and I can’t fight anymore.  I let go of this pointless resistance.  Open my mouth, just enough to take him in.  And start to suck.

I cum almost instantly.  Not a powerful, earth-shattering orgasm.  A weak, pathetic thing, escaping from me like an almost-suppressed sneeze.  It’s the first I’ve had in weeks.  I’d almost forgotten what they felt like.  But it’s not nearly as pleasurable as the sensation that comes next.  A yawning, urging warmth, in the pit of my stomach, just beneath my navel.  Spreading all through my body, like honey, until it fills me up, and then it pulls back, and I start to shrink.

He picks me up then.  Cradles me like the helpless little thing I am, like he wants nothing in this world but to take care of me.  Master carries me back to the couch, unwraps my toga.  And starts to touch me.  He leaves his thumb in my mouth so I can suck, so I can moan around him, so the neighbors won’t hear, because at my size I’m actually capable of being that loud.  I’m on fire for him, want him so badly that nothing else in this world matters.  I’d pay any price, give him anything.  Give him everything – every bit of me.  Until I’m practically nothing.  

He goes slow with me.  Pulls my strings like a puppet, plays with my desperation.  He pushes me almost to the breaking point, then eases me back.  Again, and again, and again.  I whine up at him, look at him with soft, pleading eyes.  I’m too big.  I shouldn’t be big.  I shouldn’t have tried to be a big girl, and I just want him to take it away again, make me pathetic like I deserve.  I want him to fuck me and use me and tell me I’m good.  I almost find my release four times, and each time he pulls away he laughs, and I whimper, I feel my sense of helpless need for him increase.

He’s rubbing the edge of my slit so gently.  Pressing down on my pelvis with the heel of his hand.  It’s enough, but barely, just barely, and he looks at me, lets me know with a tiny move of his eyebrows that he won’t pull away this time.  I chase that sensation with everything I have. Every muscle in my body tenses to push.  It takes so long, his hand is over my mouth to silence my screams, and when I finally push myself over the edge, when that orgasm comes, it’s an absolute revelation.  I squirt like a geyser, soaking myself, and his jeans, and the couch, and a little bit on the wall.  He grins, and massages my own juices onto my bare skin.  Soaking me all over, getting it in my hair and on my face, my tits and tummy and toes.  Baptizing me in my orgasm as I shrink smaller in his lap.  

Master unzips his jeans.  Eases his cock into view.  It’s so beautiful.  Already it looks so much bigger than it was yesterday, and getting bigger as I shrink, but not too big, no not yet.  I spread my legs in anticipation, and touch myself. He lifts me.  Makes me face away from him, fits my head just beneath his chin.  His gigantic hands squeeze my thighs, and it feels good to be surrounded by him like this.  He tells me to relax, not to hold my breath.

There’s pressure.  I open my mouth and howl, and it’s good, but it’s so much.  So much.  I can feel every millimeter of him as he enters me.  I realize I’m holding my breath, and it escapes in a sudden gust as the head of his cock forces its way past my lips, and I cum again before I can even suck in the air I’ve just pushed out.  He holds me against his chest as I shrink, as my whole body spasms for him like I’ve been touched by a live wire.   

He’s not even very deep inside me.  Not even halfway yet.  Just holding me a few inches above his lap, both legs dangling helplessly, as I shake and cry out for him.  He doesn’t even have to move to make me cum again, but the instant I do he releases me, lets gravity pull me all the way down onto his massive member.  And another orgasm starts, before the last one is even finished.  

I’m shrinking fast now.  I’ve never shrunk this fast.  He must’ve done something with the collar, or else denying myself so long made it more powerful.  My head is sinking lower against his chest, my feet sliding higher up his thigh.  Master is stretching me more and more with each thrust, and I don’t ever want him to stop, but I’m cumming every few seconds and I know this can’t last.  He’s already bottoming out, the gigantic head of his cock pressing against my cervix.  He intervenes, lifts me higher so he can keep fucking me, keep the balance between pain and pleasure in my favor, but now I’m too small to take all of him, and he’s still getting bigger.  I think about how he feels this enormous when he isn’t even all the way inside, and it pushes me to my next orgasm.  It’s so much.  But I can do it.  I can keep going, I can keep going, my mouth foolishly tries to say, but all that comes out is a low animal howl, followed by a little mouse-hiccup as my body gives into him again. 

He stops before I’m ready.  Starts sliding out of me.  It’s slow, and it hurts, but I can feel how gentle he is with me.  There’s a feeling of gnawing emptiness and suddenly he’s all the way out, and I gasp and claw at him.  Try to get him to put it back in.  I feel so hollow without him, even as my groin aches and my hip flexors grumble with how far I’ve been made to spread my legs.  I’m growling at him in inarticulate rage, and he clamps his hand over my mouth, throws me down on the couch, pins me.  He jams his middle finger inside me, not bothering with ceremony, and starts to thrust, hard and fast and deep.  It doesn’t fill me or satisfy me nearly as much as his dick, but it does the job.  I shrink around him, and drool all over the inside of his palm.  He finger-fucks me smaller, and after a few more orgasms I stop fighting to get back up on his lap, because it’s clear I’m too small to have any chance of taking his cock.  It was such a brief summer, when I was the right size for him again, and it’s already over.  

I become aware that I’m crying.

He picks me up, carries me to the bedroom.  Letting my chin rest on his shoulder, supporting my butt.  I’m clinging to him.  He’s enormous.  Three, four times my size.  He’s speaking to me, but I can’t understand.  He’s made me forget language entirely, or else I got too overstimulated to understand it anymore. It’s isolating and scary, and something inside me starts to twitch and thrash like a wild falcon in a too-small cage.  But even this feeling can only escape me in one way, and my fingernails dig into his neck as I cum from the sheer adrenaline.

Master lies down in bed.  Pulls the covers up to my chin.  His voice is soft, soothing. It makes me relax.  I don’t fight him when he starts to touch me again.  

I’ve never been this small before.  

He’s using just the pad of his smallest finger, and I squirt again, but I’m too tiny to make any kind of a mess.  I’m still utterly soaked from the last time, when a much, much bigger version of me had a much bigger, and more significant release.  Now, nothing I do matters.  And it’s mattering less by the second.

Time loses all meaning, and the world keeps growing.  My body, assaulted by pleasure, unable to resist him even in the slightest.  Now I’m too small for his finger.  He lifts me, presses me to his face like some hors d'oeuvre.  He savors me with his tongue, moaning in satisfaction.  I grasp his beard in my fists as I cum, using him for leverage so I can grind my white hot sex against the rough texture of his tongue.  And again.  And again.  Until he’s supporting me with just the tip of his thumb, and I think if he doesn’t stop I’ll break...

He stops.  Grasps me between two fingers.  And pulls me back so he can inspect me.

I’m not his maid anymore, at this size.  There isn’t a single household task I could accomplish.  I’m not his pet either - though the collar has shrunk with me, as it always does.  Am I even his toy?  If so, what use could I be to him at this size?  I’m not even as tall as the fingers that hold me.  

He grins.  That titanic, terrible face, that I adore beyond all others. Even beyond myself.  

Master is pleased with what he’s done.

Yet.  I’m not happy.  And I’m sure it shows on my face.  Because he frowns, too.

“Remember,” he drawls.  “That mark on the wall?  The one that was very, very high?”

No.  Please no….

It floods back in an instant.  Memories, from my old life.  The numbers come first.  Six foot four.  Trapped in a body I hated.  Always the wrong shape, like I didn’t fit in my own skin.  Intimidating to everyone around me, ignored or ridiculed by anyone I wished to draw close.  Master.  Though he wasn’t Master back then.  He was the first one who understood.  He loved me, he said.  And always would, in any shape or size.  

A mysterious little shop I found.  A collar.  I presented it to him.  Explained how it worked.  We made an agreement.  

I was scared, at the end.  A part of me too proud to let go.  He promised he’d take that burden.  Carry it for me, as long as he could.

I kissed him.  We said some words together.   

I don’t know if any of it is real. It feels real.  It always does. But this memory is so visceral.  The relief so sharp in my mind, as the collar fastens without a clasp around my neck. The way his voice shakes on his first tentative commands. That first time I shrink.  Riding atop him, the inches blessedly, gloriously leaving me.  

If it isn’t real, then it’s the fantasy I’d choose.  

It’s gone, quick as a wink.  I was thinking of… something.  Whatever it was, it’s beyond me.  I only know that I’m smiling up at him.  And Master looks so, so proud of me.

“There’s my good little kitten.  It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

I don’t know what this means.  But it feels good when he calls me good, so I nod at him, and blow him a tiny little kiss.

He lowers me.  Lifts the covers, navigates my miniscule body through the dark cavern beneath his blankets.  Something smells so, so good, and I sense what he’s about to do, just before he thrusts me inside his soft cotton boxers.  I’m laughing, and grinning, the happiest I can ever remember feeling.  

I set to work.  He’s already hard, and from the way he quivers at my touch, he’s been on edge for a very long time.  I can feel a giant vein thicker than my thigh, and I squeeze it between my legs, and his pulse quickens.  In the darkness the head of his cock lifts, throbs gently, and I can smell something new.  It’s pungent and sweet and good.  It fills me with such love for him that I don’t know what to do with myself.

His moans are earthquakes.  His exhalations a distant hurricane.  I can feel the heat coming off him as he gets closer to the edge.  And I try with all my might, but I’m too small for him.  Not strong enough, and even with my best efforts I know I’ll never, ever be able to get him off.  I feel useless, but it’s a good feeling somehow.  Because there’s a simple joy in an impossible task, when it fulfills your purpose just to do your best.

Finally, Master helps me.  Thrusts himself into the dark, and with one divine hand, he squeezes me, and he squeezes himself.  Once is all it takes.  Just at the last moment his thumb flicks, and he pops the head of his tree trunk cock outside of his boxers, away from me, and this is smart, so smart, because I want to lie with him after and not worry about clean-up.  And then he’s cumming.  

He’s throbbing and bucking beneath me, and I hold on for dear life.  My grip fails me.  I’m thrown from the top of his cock where I’ve been riding, into the slack space of his boxers.  I slide down, thrashed about like a ship in a storm, finally I come to rest underneath him.  In the dark I feel the massive weight of his shaft pressing me down, and I don’t fight it.  He’s so heavy, and it’s hard to breathe, but the weight is good.  It’s only the tingling sensation in the back of my neck that tells me I’ve just had an orgasm of my own, that I’m shrinking for him.  But in the presence of such majesty, how could I do anything else?

We lie together.  His breathing slows.  He softens, bit by bit.  The sound of the blood rushing out of his fading erection is the perfect white noise.  It’s warm, and comfortable here.  I’m safe.

He sleeps.  As I start to drift off myself, I consider how small my world has become.  I could live my whole life upon him, beneath him.  He is my world now.  But that was true even when I was much, much bigger.  How much bigger?  Is a scary question, and I’m suddenly grateful that I can’t remember the answer, even if I tried.  

Something else occurs to me.  It’s the last thought before sleep takes me.  If he’s my world, then I am his, too.  Because in every single memory I have of him, everything he has done has been for me.  I’ve had many roles for him, at many different sizes.  But always he has done more for me than I could ever do for him.  

I’m his burden.

But if that’s true, he doesn’t seem to mind.  Quite the contrary.  And it’s so nice to let yourself be carried, sometimes.  

So I decide.  If I’m a burden, it’s a good thing I’m so tiny.  That makes me much easier to bear.

A Place to Call Home - Finale

 

CW: NSFW, constriction, difficulty breathing, the most unhinged thing I've ever written

11.

Willow cupped her hands around her mouth.  “Hey mom?  There’s a bunch of people on the front lawn.  They don’t look happy.”

“I know.”  The sixty foot giantess chuckled.  The vibration of it rumbled all the way through my body.  “I can see them from up here.  What a bunch of little voyeurs.  Whatever happened to the right to privacy?”

“What are we going to do?” Brianna asked.  She sounded scared.

“Mommy has it handled, girls.  Just don’t wander off.  I wouldn’t want to lose you.”  

Both women looked like they had more questions, but mom didn’t give them a chance.  She moved urgently.  Pressing me against her giant slit, purring like a feline in heat.  My cock had grown a lot since I’d last fucked her, but she’d grown a lot more.  This time I slipped inside with no resistance at all.  

If I thought all the eyes on her, including her own daughter, would make her self-conscious, I’d have been sorely mistaken.  She howled with unabashed lust, using both hands to thrust my length deep, deep inside her.  I had no control over it whatsoever, and could only press myself exactly where she wanted me.  

It might’ve felt like she was using me.  Like an object, or a sex toy.  But there was something far more connected and loving in this.  The way she rubbed her thumb against my back, cradled my head with her palm.  Angled me to grind against the top of her sex.  Not going too fast or too slow, but pacing it for my pleasure as well.

I grasped the pearl of her clit with both hands.  Rubbed the fist-sized nub for all I was worth.  And was rewarded instantly as she squirted.  A deluge.  Soaking me, raining down to the ground below.  I felt my skin prickle, felt her cum make me grow.  Fast.  She suddenly needed both hands to support me, as my cock grew bigger, and longer inside her.  For just a moment she actually became tight again, her inner muscles pressing against my shaft, desperately squeezing and pulsing as she tried to accommodate me.  The sensation pushed me over the edge.  I came hard, and her body utterly exploded in size.  Making my meager growth utterly insignificant.  

Through it all she kept thrusting me inside her, as she grew, and grew, and grew.  Her juices soaking me from head to toe.  Keeping me strong, keeping me hard.  She massaged me against her muff, her lips stroking me, tender and feather-light.  I came at least twice more, and she never broke her rhythm for even a second.  Just moaned her approval.  And swelled bigger.

At last, when she was big enough, she repositioned me.  Placing my feet against her entrance, gently pressing her giant fingers on my shoulders.  With some friction, I slid inside her.  First up to my thighs.  Then up to my cock.  

For a moment she was still too tight, and I could go no deeper. She pressed a gargantuan thumb as thick as my thigh against my back.  And massaged my ass in a slow, sensual circle.  Pressing upward, forcing me to fuck her.  I came again.  And as she grew, she kept pushing on my shoulders.  

I got a fleeting view of the neighborhood, from at least a hundred feet up.  The long line of cars with flashing blue lights, the gathering crowd.  But then she let me slide the rest of the way inside, and the world as it concerned me was gone.

All was darkness, except for one small portal of light at the opening to her sex.  She smelled so good, tasted like sweet syrup.  I writhed inside her, and her body thrumed around me.  Her powerful muscles squeezed me everywhere, making me gasp and fight just to breathe, but it was good, so good.  I felt safe, and cherished inside her pussy.

There was a sensation like being on a very fast elevator, and I realized she was bending.  “Come here girls,” she rumbled.  “Let’s all get together before mommy gets too big. I wouldn’t want to lose little things like you.  Besides, you two look like you could use a snack.”

I felt her straighten.  A moment later, my stepsister and my girlfriend moaned in unison, the sound like someone tasting something impossibly delectable and sweet, but coming from very far away.  I could imagine the two of them.  One at each of mom’s breasts.  Drinking.    

Something pressed against my face suddenly, forcing me out of the way.  A foot - then a thigh.  A hard body rubbing its way against me, until I was face-to-face with Brianna.  Our naked bodies squeezed together in impossibly tight confines, as close to each other as was physically possible.  I must’ve been growing faster than I realized, because the two of us were almost normal height to each other again.  

She stared at me in the dimness.  I felt hurt at the way she’d treated me.  Unsure if she’d forgive me for cheating, or if I could forgive her.  Her expression was hard to read.  But beneath her own uncertainty and surprise, I saw softness.  And whatever else, I knew at least one thing was true.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you too.”

We kissed.  Clung to each other desperately, fueled by relief and by need.  We barely had time to enjoy our reconciliation however, before our privacy was shattered.  Willow gave a yell as her mom pressed her inside, forcibly shoved between us by a finger the size of a sedan.  

She gave me a dazed look, then smiled sheepishly.  “Well, fancy meeting you here, Shrimp.”

I opened my mouth to point out that Willow was back to being the smallest one of the three of us, that she didn’t even come up to my shoulders.  But then the two girls moaned, and started to grow.

“She just fed us,” Brianna grunted.  She was a head taller than me.  Then twice my size.  

Willow nodded, her eyes unfocused.  “It was a lot of milk.  We’re going to get really, really big.”

The already constricting space grew tighter, and tighter.  

“What are we going to do?” Brianna whimpered.

But I already knew the solution.  I let my slick body slide down between the two of them.  My skin lubricated by mom’s juices, I managed to squeeze down between their breasts.  Slipping lower.  In one hand, I took Brianna’s giant cock.  The other, I thrust between Willow’s legs.  Both girls gasped.  Then began to rock in time with my motions as they grew.  

Brianna came first, her cum spurting from her utterly gigantic dick.  Splashing on my face, running in thick streaks down my chest.  Willow was right behind, clutching my giantess girlfriend with both arms, her whole body shuddering madly.  

I start to grow.  Caught up.  Surpassed them.  My shoulders shoving them apart, as they sank down beneath the level of my chest.  Yet as fast as their orgasms made me grow… they made mom grow even faster.  And soon, her pussy was almost roomy.

We started to touch each other, as mom’s cavernous folds expanded around us.  It happened in a mad delirium, like a fever dream.  

I had a half-sized Willow pinned bodily against the floor, my giant tongue lapping between her thighs, while Brianna sat on her face.  My girlfriend bared her teeth savagely as she ground my tiny stepsister beneath her.

Both girls were tiny in my lap, massaging my titanic cock between their breasts, while they kissed each other passionately.  I spattered all over them and they grew impossibly fast.  Doubled in size again and again, until they towered over me like twin goddesses.  

Willow was using me like a dildo.  

Then I was using her like a cock sleeve.  

Brianna sat on my chest, her thighs so big and thick that I couldn’t move.  She came in my mouth until she was so small I could fit her in the palm of my hand, and squeeze her against my throbbing girth.

But no matter how much we grew, the space around us only continued to expand.  Everything we did, feeding mom’s growth.  Our love for each other, translating into love for her.  And, if we ever started to tire for even a moment, our entire world would shake.  Glorious nectar would rain down as mom pushed herself into another orgasm.  And we would celebrate by fucking each other with renewed vigor.

I was behind Brianna now.  Grasping her hips, lifting her halfway off the ground as I pounded into her sex.  Brianna, in turn, had her arms around Willow, thrusting her massive girl-dick into the smaller woman, jackhammer quick.  My little sister was face down against the slick muscle of her mother’s sex, gasping and groaning and telling us she was close.  When at last we came, all three of us in unison, we grew together.  Until we lay panting on the floor.  The frenzy, at long last leaving us.

After a time, we rose together.  In the unearthly stillness, the three of us took each other by the hand.  And walked together to the opening of mom’s vagina.  

The still-throbbing bud of her clit hung above us.  It was the size of a city bus, and a hundred feet above.  

Far, far below, the world was misty beneath a curtain of clouds.  The ground beneath was in darkness, but at our altitude, the sun was just setting over mountains in the distance.  I could just barely make out structures beneath, only the biggest visible at all.  Here and there were little blue flashes of light, and the shine of emergency spotlights.  There were the spires of office buildings.  They looked pathetically small.  Not even the size of toys.  

There was an irritating mosquito-whine sound, and after a moment I spied a formation of fighter jets below us.  These were closer, somewhere above the clouds.  But even they looked insignificantly small and far away.

“How big do you think we are?” Willow breathed.  She sounded scared.

Brianna shook her head.  “I don’t know.”  She scrunched up her face, trying to do the math.  I imagined her measuring the distance between the brightest flare of lights.  Distant cities, each hundreds of miles away.  Calculating angles, taking into account the curvature of the Earth.  

“We’re a couple thousand feet tall.  At least.  Possibly a lot more.”  Brianna shrugged.  “It’s hard to say.  We won’t know unless we go down there.”

“And mom?” I whispered.  “How big is she?”

She shrugged.  “God only knows.”

From high above, a voice spoke.  Shattering the heavens.  The voice of the new divinity of this world.  

“Explore as you wish, children.  A good mother always has one desire above all others.  That her children grow up, to be whatever they want to be.”  

An impossibly large hand came down.  It cupped against the edge of her vulva.  Offering us a ride to the waiting world below.  

“Just remember,” mom spoke.  “No matter how big you get, you’ll always have a place to call home with me.”

A Place to Call Home - Pt. 10

 

CW: NSFW, step-mom sexy stuff, milk, female growth, muscle growth, breast growth, cock growth, male growth, destruction, mention of a girl with a cock, consequences

10.

Mom was so big that she had to belly crawl to the back door.  Her fingers crunched effortlessly through the floorboards as she moved.  Her size and strength leaving casual destruction in her wake.

I watched as she tried to figure out how to fit through the double-paned patio door.  The top of my head was actually a little higher than the dining room table, so I was maybe three and a half feet tall.  After how small I’d been between her legs, this felt absolutely gigantic.

“Maybe if I just.  Hm.  What if I… no, that won’t work either.”  She sighed.  “Oh well.  Mommy’s going to have to knock this down door.  Get under cover, sweetie.”  A bicep as big around as a grown man’s waist flexed absurdly, and she lay an open-handed slap against the top of the doorframe.  I didn’t think she’d hit it that hard, but it simply exploded in a spray of wood and glass and concrete, taking a significant portion of the side of the house along with it.

She grinned at me sheepishly as the room filled with dust.  “Looks like mommy doesn’t know her own strength.  Better let me carry you over that rubble.  Wouldn’t want you to get a scrape, sweetie.”

Outside, she set me down at her feet, and stretched to her full, gargantuan height.  The sun was just beginning to set.  Orange and purple light played off the hard crevices and soft curves of her body as she arched her back, working out little kinks in her muscles.  The top of her head was well above the second story window.  

“What a nice night,” she remarked.  

“Yeah.”

Around us, lights were flicking on in neighboring houses.  Silhouettes of people staring out their windows.  Gawking at the fifteen foot giantess, standing naked and shameless in suburbia.

“What now, sweetie?  We could catch up for a while.  Enjoy each other’s company.  I’m too big to get back in the house, but we can let that be a problem for later.”

I gestured at the windows around us, and all the onlookers.  “Something tells me we don’t have long before someone comes to visit.  We’re going to have to answer some awkward questions.”

“Let them come.”  She smiled almost innocently.  “I can be a very good hostess.”

I shuddered.   Something about the way she’d said that was absolutely terrifying.  Even if I knew she’d never harm me.  “Maybe we could figure out a way to get you back to normal size.  Or, um.  At least small enough to put on clothes.”

Mom put her hands on her knees, and lowered herself into a squat.  Dropping her butt to her ankles, bringing her giant face almost down to my level.  I could see the subtle signs of age on her body - laugh lines at the corner of her mouth, tiny wrinkles around her eyes.  Yet after her growth spurt, she practically glowed with vitality.  

When she spoke, it was low.  Pitched for my ears alone.  “Do you think you can make me smaller, John?  Can you want that badly enough?  If so….”  She gestured vaguely down at my cock.  Not as big to her as it had once been.  But big enough to do the job.

I looked up at her, considering the question, as her beauty and majesty filled my vision.

“No,” I said finally.  “I can’t want that.”

“Neither can I.”  A finger as big around as my forearm began to stroke a smooth path up and down my thigh.  Paralleling the curve of my dick.  “You were right though.  We’re going to have company soon.  I’m big, John.  Bigger than I ever dreamed.  But not big enough to handle all the attention we’re about to get.  So.  It looks like the only way out… is up.”

I laughed in disbelief.  “You’re serious?  You want to get bigger?”

She massaged my thigh between her thumb and forefinger, working in a slow, seductive circle.  “Tell me you don’t want that, too.”

I ached all over from a long day of sexual exertion.  I’d already had three orgasms, something I hadn’t done since I was fourteen.  My hips and abs still hurt from when Brianna had slammed all her weight down while she was fucking me on top.  My thighs and arms burned from pushing a cock half the length of my body into my mom.  

Yet.  The way she looked at me - pleading and adoring.  The size of of her.  The knowledge that I could make her even bigger.  I could feel myself, impossibly, trying to warm up for round four. 

My eighteen inch cock unfurled, hanging almost to my ankles.  It slowly started to thicken.  But I was exhausted.  There was just no way I could get all the way there.

“I can help with that,” she whispered, as if reading my mind.  “Let me feed you.  I can make it hard again.”

My tired cock gave a little throb.  “You still have more milk?  Even after both Brianna and I…?”

She nodded.  “When I grew, I could feel it welling up inside me.  Filling me again.  Almost too much.  You gave it to me, I think.  I feel like I’m about to burst, John.  The sensation… you have no idea.  It’s a yawning, stretching feeling, all through my chest.  My nipples are so sensitive, it’s all I can do not to moan with every little gust of breeze.  My breasts… they both feel like they’re perched right at the edge of an orgasm.  I want to let it out so badly..”  She sighed lustilly, the force of it blowing back my hair.  “I think.  If we both desire it.  There’s no telling how much milk I could make for you.  It could go on forever.”

In the distance I could hear police sirens.

“Come to me sweetie.  Let me feed you.  Let me make you hard again.  So you can help mommy grow for you.”

I didn’t hesitate.  I reached up with both arms.  And let her pick me up.

She was impossibly strong.  Probably strong enough to bend a steel girder without breaking a sweat.  And I was so small that I didn’t even come up to her knee.  Yet she was beyond gentle as she cradled me to her chest.  She hummed soothingly, and directed me where she wanted.  Her thumb touched my cheek, turned my head toward her.  And I took the largest nipple I’d ever seen into my mouth.  

Her cry of pleasure split the night, rattled windows, as a firehouse stream of milk shot down my throat.  More than I could possibly drink.  It splashed down my body, soaking my chest and thighs and cock.  I gulped down what I could as far more of it soaked the rest of me.  Again, my body filled with power, and potential.  My fatigue melted away.  In seconds, I could feel myself getting hard again.  Then growing longer, thicker than ever before.  

She pulled her nipple from my mouth, and lifted me higher.  Toward her face.  Her eyes were half-lidded and unfocused, her cheeks flushed.  “I want you to cum in mommy’s mouth,” she ordered.  No longer bothering to keep her voice down.  Her bottom lip teased my dick, and she smiled.  “Don’t hold back.  We don’t have much time.  Cum really hard for mommy, okay sweetie?”

I nodded.  

Somewhere nearby, voices were shouting.

Mom braced one hand under my ass, another behind my back.  Then helped me drape my legs over her hulking shoulders.  She opened wide, and took me in with a low, guttural, “Ummph!” 

Brianna had always given enthusiastic oral, but mom was just in another league altogether.  She must’ve had a lifetime of experience at giving blowjobs.  I couldn’t have resisted even if I tried.  She ran her lips over me, swirling her tongue around the ridge at the crown of my penis. Nibbling on the sensitive spot just beneath the head, then growling as she sucked me as hard as she could.  Even at her size, my length completely filled her mouth.  I was big to swallow all at once.  But this didn’t present her a problem at all in getting me off.

I was past the point of no return in ten seconds.  Screeching with pleasure, I shot my load.  My fists grasped her hair, and I hugged her as hard as I could with both arms wrapped around her head.  She groaned with satisfaction, and swallowed every last drop.  

Mommy started to grow.

I felt a sense of vertigo as she carried me higher.  My view rose past the gutters.  Then over the top of the house.  Beyond.  I knew I was growing too, might even have been normal sized again, but there was just no way I was keeping up with her, and no way I wanted to, either.  Soon I was so small to her that she could hold me by simply wrapping both giant hands around my waist.

My erection was just barely starting to wane, my refractory period kicking in, when she lowered me to her breast again.  I obeyed her silent order, closed my lips around a tit the size of my fist, and began to suckle.  Milk flowed.  Even more than before.  I drank.  And my strength returned.

The very moment I was fully hard again, she pulled me away from her chest.  Her tit exited my mouth with an audible ‘POP.’  I grasped for it, reaching, trying to get more of her wonderful milk, but she was already lowering me.  Sliding me down her milk-slick abs.  Carefully positioning me between her bulging thighs.  Spreading her legs wider…

As she got me in position against her titanic sex, I happened to look down.  There, at least thirty feet below, were Brianna and Willow.  My girlfriend and my stepsister.  For the barest moment I felt embarrassed, that they’d caught me in such a comprising position.  I worried how much worse this would make things between Brianna and I.

But then I saw that the two girls were holding hands.  And staring up at us not with shock, or anger.  But with wonder.  

I could tell they had both grown from their time together.  Willow’s chest had ballooned past double-D’s, and Brianna’s girl-cock hung flaccid three quarters of the way down her thigh.  They were both quite a bit taller than the ten foot height they'd been the last time I'd seen them.  Even so, they didn’t even come up to mom’s knees anymore.

“I’m glad you’re here, girls.”  Mom’s voice echoed from the surrounding hills as she spoke.  She looked down at the three of us from high, high above.  Just barely able to see us over the tops of breasts the size of minivans.  “I think it’s time we had a family meeting.”

A Place to Call Home - Pt. 9

 

CW: NSFW, stepmom sexy things, milk, nurturing, female growth, breast growth, muscle growth, male shrinking, male growth, cock growth, in the top 5 for most unhinged sex scenes I've ever written

9.

Megan - mom - stroked my chest idly with one giant finer as she considered the question.  “John.  I am seven feet, four inches tall.  I weigh six hundred and fifty pounds.  There isn’t an ounce of fat on me, except for two very obvious exceptions.”  

She leaned down a little, letting the weight of her massive breasts fall on my body.  I felt soft, pilant flesh completely surround me from neck to ankles.  So heavy I could hardly move.  

“Do you have any idea how long it took me to grow from a flat-chested, five foot one housewife, into the woman you see before you?” 

“No,” I whimpered, struggling to free myself under the weight of my mom’s boobs.

“Three days.”  

She straightened, and I gasped with relief.  

“I’ve helped Willow grow into a proper young lady.  She was shorter than I was, and now she’s too big to even fit in the house.  Brianna outgrew me in just one session.  I’ve been a giant, muscular amazon for three months now.  But in all that time… I haven’t gained a single inch of height.”  She sighed wistfully.  “I just adore helping those girls get bigger.  As big as they want, as long as they’re happy.  But.  It’s so nice having someone small enough to fit in my lap again.  The fact that it’s you, John?  Even better.  So, yes.  I think you’re right to be worried.  If you drank my milk, well.  I confess I might have trouble wanting you to grow back.”

So it was true.  If I couldn’t find the desire to get back to normal, and mom couldn’t either, that meant I was stuck small.  

Something else about her story was nagging at me.  “You haven’t been able to grow at all?  Have you tried, um… self-induced….”

“Have I tasted my own milk?”  She laughed, and gave me a conspiratorial wink.  “So.  So much of it.  I was drinking it for weeks before Willow ever tried it.  I’m delicious, you know.  And I wasn’t lying when I said it’s quite an aphrodisiac.  Oh, the lovely evenings I’ve had, locked alone in my bedroom.  I’m not quiet about it either.  It’s a wonder no one’s called the police.  But it hasn’t changed my body in the slightest.  Self-love is a wonderful thing but… it has its limits.”

All this talk about her milk, while lying cradled in her arms.  Not even half her size.  The perfect height to be held.  To be fed.  Despite the danger, my stomach rumbled.  

I leaned in closer, pressing my tummy against hers.  Allowing myself to act on instinct.  I ran my tiny hand along the top of her sundress, where it barely covered her left mammary.  I stroked, and the fabric slipped lower as my fingers brushed over it.  “Were you trying to get me to sleep with you earlier?  When I first got home?”  My voice came out dreamy, far away.  

“Yes.”  She stared down at me with an expression of want, and of hunger.  “It’s been so long since I got laid, John.  I’m too big and intimidating for the singles circuit, and anyway I don’t want anyone new in my life.  I was going to feed you.  Grow you bigger.  Get you too turned on to think.  And let you to fuck the daylights out of me.  Then ask you to keep it a secret from your girlfriend.”  She touched my cheek.  Subtly turning my face toward her nipple, still covered by a silky layer of fabric.  “Does that make me a bad person?  A bad… mother?”

Two feminine voices echoed down from upstairs.  My sister, and my girlfriend.  Moaning as one.  Edging toward the first of what sounded like many climaxes.  The question of whether this was wrong felt silly, and very far away.

My hand closed, and deliberately pulled down on mom’s dress.  Exposing more of her soft, creamy skin.  The fabric slipped until it hung supported by nothing more than one giant tit.  One more tug and I would see it.  

“You’ll get smaller.”  It sounded like half warning, half pillow-talk.  “I won’t be able to stop it.  Having you small like this is driving me crazy and… and we shouldn’t, sweetie.”

Sweetie.  The word was like music when she said it.  It made me melt inside, made me want to never leave her lap.  It was a word of power.  Like the word Willow had said, over and over.  Planting itself inside me, controlling my desire….

And suddenly I knew what to do.

I looked earnestly up into her eyes.  “Can you keep calling me that?” I whispered.  “Mom?”

Understanding bloomed in her eyes.  “Yes, sweetie.  No matter what, I’ll never stop.”  

Her giant hand closed over my tiny one.  Together, we pulled down her dress.  And with the slightest flex of her bicep, she pulled me to her breast.

Her nipple was fully hard.  Aching for my lips as badly as I ached to have it in my mouth.  I kissed around her areola for a moment, felt the rough skin bristle and stiffen with my attention.   “Sweetie,” she cooed.  “Please sweetie, don’t make me wait any longer.  I want you so bad, want you to drink.  Please drink mommy’s milk, please sweetie….”

I slipped her enormous nipple into my mouth.  Nibbled lightly with my teeth.  And started to suck.

She growled in approval as her milk practically sprayed down my throat.  A geyser, an eruption.  The pressure of it forcing its way down my throat without the need for me to even swallow.  Her body trembled with the pleasure of release as she held me, and I curled myself to match her contours, wanting to be as close as possible.  She pet my face as I drank, looking down at me proudly.  “That’s it sweetie.  Drink for mommy.  I love you so much sweetie.  Sweetie.  Sweetie.”

I could feel myself starting to change.  There was heat, and a yawning, questing sensation between my thighs.  My cock grew until it pressed against her hip, and mindlessly, I started to thrust.  She let me grind against her, saying our special word over and over.  Then all at once her giant hand turned me, made me lay flat across her lap, so she could wrap her fingers around my hard-on.  Still feeding me as she started to jerk me off.

My body flushed with pleasure, so much of it all at once that I felt like I would explode.  Her milk splattered from my mouth as I moaned, and I lapped the spill greedily from her breast, not wanting to lose a drop.  

Her nipple was getting longer and thicker, forcing its way down my throat.  I was shrinking.  Fast.  Faster than with Willow, faster than with Brianna.  Losing inches as my giantess mommy stroked my cock, and I gulped down her honey-sweet milk as fast as I could.

“It’s okay.  Mommy is here, sweetie.  You can get smaller, and I’ll keep you safe.  Don’t worry about a thing, sweetie.  All you have to do is drink, and let me touch you, and feel good.  Shrink for me, if that’s what you want.  I’ll take care of you no matter what.  That’s it, that’s it sweetie.”

I made myself focus on our word.  Sweetie.  It was different than that other word.  Shrimp.  Sweetie could mean ‘small’ too, though that was just part of it.  It also meant precious.  And loved.  

Love was complicated.  And it could spread.  

I was still drinking her milk, my lips squeezing her gigantic tit, urging more of her into my mouth.  But her nipple was no longer getting bigger, and I was no longer shrinking.  Even my cock had stopped growing, though it was more than half the length of my body now, and so impossibly heavy.  Instead of those changes, I could feel something else happening.  My body filling up.  Brimming with power.

“Mommy?”

“Yes sweetie?”  She met my gaze, her eyes attentive.  Ready to meet my every need. 

“Can you lay back on the couch please?  I want to fuck you.”

She nodded, already doing as I asked.  Lifting me as if I weighed nothing at all, lowering me between her legs.  “I’ll do it,” she whispered.  “You’re so small.  Just hold still, sweetie.  I’ll do all the work.”

“No,” I said.  “I want to do this for you.  Let me give back this time.  Okay, mom?”

Her eyes widened.  But then she smiled, and that smile lit up her face like a rising sun.  “Of course, sweetie.”

She set me down between her legs, in front of her cavernous sex.  I breathed in the heady scent of her pheromones, and took a moment to appreciate her.  Even this part of her was athletic and toned.  I could see the little muscles of her labia flex in time with her breath, see her clit pulse with anticipation as she watched me.  I’d shrunk so much.  Probably not even a foot and a half tall. I could put my whole arm inside her, and not come close to filling her up.  But I had something bigger than my arm.

With an effort, I hoisted my colossal erection, positioned it at the entrance to her pussy.  She groaned, and made a frantic little come-on gesture with her hand.  “God sweetie, I want this so bad.  Hurry, I need you.  Please… please…!”

I took a deep breath, and pressed forward for all I was worth.  The crown of my penis pressed against her slit, and she moaned.  But then I felt myself pushed away.  She was just too tight, my dick too heavy for me to move.  

She reached out to help me, but I held up a hand.  I wanted to do this for her.  Mom looked uncertain, but then lay back, spreading wider.  

I repositioned my legs, got some leverage.  I sank my little hands into her washboard abs, getting a grip.  The grooves and crevices fit perfectly around my fingers.  I’d been rock-climbing once, and her chiseled six pack was as firm a handhold as any I’d used.

When I thrust this time, I did it with every muscle in my body.  My thighs, my arms, my hips and core.  I felt wetness beginning to spread down my penis, her essence making me slick.  The first millimeter slipped inside her, and hot nectar poured down my thighs.

“Sweetie.  Sweetie.  Oh my God.  Oh my GOD!”

Milk began to leak from her breasts, dribbling down her massive mammaries in thin little rivulets.  Her hands flailed, her eyes squeezed shut.  I was shaking with the effort.  She was so impossibly tight.  I could feel every little muscle massaging me all the way down as I entered her.  

Half-way inside, I got my feet under me.  Took several deep, steadying breaths.  And braced for the final push.  Her moan rose higher, and higher.  Until at last I got myself all the way in.

I tried to pull out again, wanting to get a rhythm going, but I could only manage a couple inches.  Even that small movement was enough to make her gasp, and for tiny squirts of milk to spray from her tits.  I went with it.  Rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet.  

Her moans got louder, and louder.  

“Sweetie.  Sweetie.”  She panted.  Saying it again, and again.  The sound building in tone, toward a crescendo.  I felt my own release approaching a point of no return.  I tried to fight it, wanting to get her off first.  Her clit was there.  As big as a cherry, and ripe for the plucking.  I wrapped a hand around the little bundle of nerves, massaged, and she started to buck wildly beneath me.   

“Sweetie!  Fuck.  I’m going to, going to…!”

I cried out in ecstasy as I came, but the sound was lost beneath her howls of pleasure.  Milk spurted crazily in all directions.  Soaking me, soaking the couch.  My monstrous cock throbbed inside her, filling her up with what felt like gallons of cum, until it leaked out around hips, pouring down my thighs.

I braced myself for what came next.  If I was going to shrink, so be it.  As long as my size went to her.  I’d give every last inch to this woman, who loved me so deeply.

My mother began to grow.  Lolling her head back, drinking in the sensation.  She smiled from ear to ear.  At last getting the size she wanted, and deserved.  I watched it happen.  Feeling accomplished.  And proud.

And suddenly I realized, I wasn’t getting any smaller.  I was growing!  Not nearly as fast, or as dramatically.  Nor was I getting any additional effects as far as I could tell.  Mom’s breasts were billowing and swelling, her already tremendous biceps and shoulders growing harder than rock.  None of that was happening to me.  I was merely keeping pace.  Fulfilling our mutual wish for her to grow.  Yet staying big enough that I could still be her sweetie.  Still be with her.

The couch groaned beneath us, then all at once shattered into splinters.  And still mom’s body stretched out along the floor.  Her legs knocking over furniture, her back pressing against walls.  Until she almost filled the room.  All the while, she never took her eyes off me.

We lay together as it finally stopped.  Dust fell from the ceiling.  The house creaked dangerously with each breath she took, but otherwise everything was silent.  Even the two women upstairs had apparently stopped to listen.

The fifteen foot giantess smiled gratefully at me.  Took me from between her thighs.  And spent a long, long time kissing me.  Very, very thoroughly.  When at last she finished, I was dazed and disoriented, and completely covered in her saliva.

“I could use a little fresh air, after all that couldn’t you?”  She winked, and set me down on the floor.  “Let’s go outside.”