I had wondered how Taylor would taste when I finally had her on my tongue. Although she had been thoroughly rinsed in my glass, I thought that she still tasted slightly salty. I left her in darkness at first, as I experimentally moved her around. I first pressed her gently against the roof of my mouth, noticing that she was crouched or kneeling, in a position where her hands came into contact with my palate before her body. Then I moved my tongue laterally, using my top teeth to push her around on the surface of my tongue. I tried to move her around slowly, knowing that every movement would be hugely magnified for Taylor. Or at least, I knew it on an intellectual level. But it was surprisingly hard to keep my tongue movements smooth and slow. It was a little frightening; all it would take was one quick flick of the tongue, and I could do irrevocable damage.
Slowly and carefully, I moved her to the tip of my tongue, surprised and pleased by the way that my saliva held her affixed there. Then, a bit more firmly than before, I pressed her against the inside of my cheek. Given the pliability of my cheek, I was less concerned about injuring her there. I moved her around for a while, enjoying the feel of her trapped between my cheek and tongue. I couldn’t prevent a small smile as I realized that my cheek was thicker than Taylor’s entire body.
After fifteen or twenty seconds, I pulled her back to the center of my mouth. I wasn’t sure how easy it would be for Taylor to breathe when she was pressed against my cheek, and I didn’t want to accidentally take it too far. I suddenly realized that she’d spent this entire time in complete darkness, and I opened my lips a fraction of an inch so that she could have some light to see by.
I wasn’t quite sure what else I wanted to do with Taylor now, so I just tried a few random things as they popped into my head. I cuurled the side edges of my tongue upward, and felt her move in response. It felt like she was sitting with her legs flat on my tongue, and I could feel a tiny hand grip each edge of my tongue as I held her in a little Taylor burrito. Then I let my tongue flatten back out, and pressed her against the roof of my mouth, trying to maximize the contact surface area. I opened my mouth wider, pressing the tip of my tongue against the back of my bottom teeth as I pushed my tongue forward until it was nearly vertical, forming a little wall at the front of my mouth with her adhered to it by my saliva. I held a hand below my mouth, ready to catch Taylor if she fell, but it turned out not to be necessary. I held her there for a few seconds, wishing that I had a mirror to see her stuck there, and chuckled softly as I pictured it. Taylor squeaked a couple times in response to my chuckle, and I brought her back into my mouth, worried that I’d laugh more violently and dislodge her.
At this point, I figured that I had played with Taylor almost long enough, but there was one last thing that I wanted to do. I opened the refrigerator door, then grabbed a green seedless grape from inside and quickly popped it into my mouth. I rolled it around for a few seconds, making sure that it pushed its way over Taylor several times, then stopped as I realized that the small fruit was probably more massive than her entire body. I chided myself; it had been far too easy for me to disregard Taylor’s safety without realizing it. Moving more slowly now, I rolled the grape over to the premolars on one side of my mouth. Then I made sure that Taylor was safely in the middle of my tongue before biting down forcefully, bursting the fruit and spraying its juices all over my powerless girlfriend.
I savored her for another thirty seconds or so, sucking the combination of fruit and girl all around my mouth, letting her marinate in its juice for a while before I finally decided that I had played with her for long enough. Several more ideas involving various food items had leapt into my head, but I could save those for another time. I reached to my mouth with a forefinger, then held Taylor in place with my lips as I slowly withdrew my tongue, depositing her carefully onto my fingertip. I brought my finger out to a few inches in front of my face, surprised all over again by just how incredibly tiny she had become – the first knuckle of my finger was roughly the size of a beach towel in comparison to her. She sat up, looking at me and around herself, apparently wondering what I had in store for her next. I raised my other hand to where she could see it, turning my open palm toward her in a gesture that I hoped would convey that it was time for her to do something now.
She didn’t disappoint, leaning backwards and bringing her hands to her body. I was surprised that she didn’t want to take a few moments to recover from her experience, but she seemed to be fine, and I felt a wave of relief at the fact that she seemed to be enjoying it all. As usual, Taylor’s hands went to her breasts first, starting on her ribs and smoothly sliding upwards to arc around the tiny pliant bumps, then smooshing them together. She looked down at herself and touched the tiny dots of her nipples, then arched her body enticingly. She must have been highly aroused already, because it was only a short time before one of her hands diverged down her stomach, passing next to the hardly-visible dimple of her navel. It slid tantalizingly downward toward her tiny honeypot, then stopped when Taylor squeezed her legs together, raising her head as she looked up at me.
She extended her arms together, straight out in front of her, then spread them wide, angling outward with her hands. I responded with a small shrug, and Taylor pointed at me before she tapped on her knees with her hands, then repeated the same gesture. I blinked in surprise; I thought I knew what she was asking me for, but I wasn’t quite sure how to do that at her size. I first tried pinching two fingers together, but as I approached her, I could see that they were far too large for what I was trying to do. Instead, I used my thumb to press both of her legs sideways down onto my fingertip, then carefully slid a fingernail from my other forefinger in between her knees. Once that was done, I gently pulled, using my thumb to keep her bottom leg pinned as I forcibly spread her legs apart.
It looked like she might have tried to resist, but if she did, I honestly couldn’t feel it at all. But as soon as her legs had parted enough for me to view in between them, Taylor’s hand slid down to her little valley, and I could barely see her eyes close as she bent her fingers to their most alluring purpose. Even from just a few inches away, I could hardly hear her tiny, squeaky moans as she began to work on her microscopic little clit. I let her pinned leg go free, and she lay backward, one hand moving out to her side to trace along the ridges of my fingerprint while the other inflamed the minuscule center of her being.
But her new little show didn’t last long, either. After maybe twenty seconds of her steamy, licentious exhibitionism, she rose to her knees, looking toward me again as she pointed downward at an angle. It took me a second to figure out what she wanted, and once I had, I pointed toward my crotch in response.
“Is this what you want?” She gave several exaggerated nods, and I grinned anticipatorily. “All right.” I worked awkwardly at my pants button with my free hand for a few seconds before I managed to unfasten it. Then I eagerly worked them and my boxers downward around my thighs, at which point they dropped to the floor, leaving me naked from the waist down. I slowly moved my fingertip down to transfer Taylor to her destination, careful to keep her journey smooth and cautious. I brought my fingertip into contact with my shaft, and she jumped the tiny gap between them, then walked to the middle of the stiffening column. Even though she was only a couple feet farther away now, she was much harder to see from this distance. She looked around for a while, then up at me, her body language suggesting wonderment, before kneeling down and leaning forward to run her hands along my tautening skin. She continued moving forward, until she lay flat with one ear pressed to my organ, listening as my blood rushed to her.
She lay there for a time, listening and caressing, with the occasional subtle change in contact at her head – kisses or licks or nibbles, I couldn’t even tell which they were. Then she pushed herself up to her knees and looked upward for a few seconds, her face unreadable from this distance, before she rose to her feet. For a moment, she looked over her shoulder toward my head, then walked slowly to me, slowing further as she approached, reaching out with her hand to test a curl of hair. Seemingly satisfied, she closed the remaining distance, her hands drawn back to her own body as she wriggled herself into my thick, trimmed hair.
I leaned forward for a better perspective, watching as Taylor drew my curls around her body, her impossibly precise fingers working furiously at herself as she did so. She twisted thick strands around the centers of her pert breasts, brushed them against her delicate little neck, and caressed them against her stomach down to the tiny pink speck between her thighs, working herself into a diminutive frenzy. She bent forward, propping one hand on her knee for support, lightly tugging on my hair as she worked at it between her legs. Her motions quickened, and her skin visibly flushed, clearly indicating her rising tension, until finally, with a barely-audible squeak of delight, she collapsed forward, her tiny body wracked by a violent explosion that I couldn’t even feel. I smiled at the incongruity of it – somehow both overwhelming and imperceptible at the same time.
As Taylor recovered from her infinitesimal climax, I decided that this was as good a place to end the scenario as any, and I walked back to the bedroom. By the time I had reached the control console, she had risen to a kneeling position, looking vaguely upward at me. Her dial was already turned to her normal doll size, so I simply pressed her button, and Taylor raised a hand to her head against the onset of dizziness. While she was returning to her normal size, I lifted her carefully in my hand, then transferred her into the crook of one arm. I cradled her against my torso, then stroked her hair a few times, trying to make her comfortable after her experience.
After her transition ended, I waited through ten seconds or so of silence before prompting her. “Well? Was it fun?” I asked softly. During our conversation about fantasies, Taylor had told me that she liked the idea of vore, so I had assumed that she’d enjoy a little mouthplay. Since she had also strongly implied during our conversations that she wanted me to surprise her more often, I hadn’t asked her about this beforehand, and I hadn’t been entirely sure how she would react to it. So it had been a relief when she’d begun to touch herself immediately afterward, and I took that as a sign that she had enjoyed the diversion.
She looked up at me, with eyes that seemed a bit unfocused, then looked off toward the wall and nodded. When she responded, her words were slow and thick. “It was … intense – really intense – but yeah.” She paused. “I didn’t think you’d … want to do mouth stuff.”
I shrugged and gave her a small smile. “It’s not really my thing, but I thought you’d like it.” But my smile evaporated when I felt Taylor begin to tremble. “You okay?”
“Can I … have a blanket?” She curled up into a fetal position and turned away from me, nuzzling her head into the crook of my elbow. I stepped to her dollhouse and opened the roof to fetch one of her blankets, draping it over her small body and carefully tucking it around her.
But something was wrong. Taylor’s breathing had become shallow and rapid, and her trembling was now more severe. And for me to feel the difference, it must have been much more severe. My mild concern was replaced by an increasing worry.
“Taylor?” She responded with only a small grunt and a slight shift of her legs. Her shaking didn’t seem to be getting worse any more, but it wasn’t decreasing, either.
Was she going into shock? I searched my memory for the symptoms. I had learned them, along with immediate treatment, during a first aid class in college, but that had been about a decade ago. Shock was about reduced blood flow, right? Feeling cold would be consistent with that, and I remembered rapid breathing as a symptom, as well. She didn’t feel clammy, and I hadn’t seen any gray or blue discoloration of her skin, which was probably a good sign. I didn’t remember whether tremors were a symptom or not, but it seemed like they could be one.
I felt a tremendous, suffocating guilt settle into my chest. I’d finally taken it too far. I had tried to get as close as I reasonably could to her fantasy, hoping to balance the novelty and edginess with her safety and comfort. But I’d clearly misjudged the line, and now Taylor was paying for my mistake. My poor, precious little Taylor. I looked down at her again, quivering as she lay huddled in my arm under her blanket, and blinked back tears that had begun to flood my eyes. How could I have been so careless? How could she ever trust me after this? I wouldn’t even be able to trust myself.
I reached down to stroke her hair one more time. “Oh God, Taylor. I’m so sorry.” I barely managed to choke back a sob, then admonished myself – Taylor needed my help right now, and I needed to pull myself together, for her sake. I looked away as I tried to shake off the emotional paralysis, thinking frantically about what to do in this situation.
I forced down my rising panic with an effort, taking a deep breath to steady myself. If I couldn’t remember what to do, then I should call 911, and someone trained in dealing with emergency situations could walk me through it. I pressed my hand to my hip to check my pocket before I realized that my pants were still on the kitchen floor. I took a few steps toward the kitchen, then belatedly remembered that I had put my phone on the charger while I was getting ready for bed. I hurried to the other side of the bed, where it lay on the nightstand, then struggled to unplug the charging cable with my own trembling hand. I slammed my palm on the nightstand in frustration. Fuck! The one time that Taylor truly needed me, and I was this useless?
I decided not to bother with unplugging it for now. I wiped new tears from my eyes to clear my vision, then quickly unlocked the phone. On the second try, I managed to open the telephone app, and began to dial 911. At the sound of the dialed numbers, Taylor stirred slowly, pulling my attention momentarily away. In my arm, she turned toward me, and I realized that she wasn’t shaking anymore. The shaking hadn’t receded, it had just … stopped. Taylor opened her eyes, her piercingly clear eyes, and pointed at me with a tiny finger.
“Ha! Got you, asshole!” Her lips turned upward in a devious grin.
“Taylor?” My immediate reaction was one of vast relief. Taylor was okay! But that was mixed nearly immediately with bewilderment, before they were both smothered by a wave of anger. “You … wha … are you kidding me?”
Taylor seemed inordinately pleased with herself. “Well, you toyed with me, so I thought I’d just return the favor.”
If she had been at her full size, I might very well have strangled her at that moment. With a supreme effort, I fought down my anger, trying to restore that initial feeling of relief, but I was only partially successful. At least I managed to keep my voice under control, sounding more exasperated than angry. “I was worried about you! Jesus, Taylor, I was calling 911!”
“Whatever,” she replied smugly. “You’re just butthurt that I got you so good. Besides,” she said as she curled back up, “it wasn’t entirely fake.”
That brought me up short, and my annoyance dissipated. Mostly. But after what she’d just done, I wasn’t sure if she was telling me the truth or not. I took a deliberate breath and forcibly uncurled my fist. “What do you mean?”
Taylor closed her eyes again as she spoke. “Well, when I first started to shake, that was real. I just exaggerated after that.” Since announcing her triumph, her words had slowed again, and she now sounded like she was ready to go to sleep. “And it was really intense. I think I need a bit to recover.” I sighed inwardly. I still wanted to talk about what she’d done, but decided that it could wait. It was probably better for emotions to settle down first, anyway. Looking at Taylor snuggled up so adorably, I wondered for a moment how I ever could have been angry at her.
“Do you need anything?”
I felt Taylor shake her diminutive head. “Just … hold me here,” she replied absently. “Well, maybe another blanket. And some Billie Eilish.” I smiled privately as I busied myself with her requests.
“Oh, and toothbrush … on top of fridge.” I looked at her blankly, not quite sure how to respond. How had she done that?
