Taken (M/f, shrinking, non-con, fatal vore)
@olo sounds good! Anxiously clicking the refresh button every five minutes cuz I have no self control
@ghostwriter44 You and Gordon both.
When I left my apartment, I had no plan for convincingly demonstrating to my new pet that her only future lay in accepting my ownership. I just knew that I had already had enough improvisation for the moment, and I couldn’t afford another moment of fallibility. I also knew that I hadn’t had dinner.
I crossed the street to my favorite teriyaki joint and ordered my usual. As I let the hot protein and rice fill me up, I tried to digest the evening’s events.
It struck me that the fact that no one believed shrinking to be possible meant that they were unlikely to believe their eyes when they saw it. They just needed a distraction or a plausible alternate explanation for what they saw. Accordingly, there were many more opportunities for taking than I had previously thought. I just needed to be clever and bold.
And then I had an inspiration. It was a simple plan, so simple that initially I distrusted it. Did I really understand my new pet well enough to predict her reactions? Did I even want a totally predictable pet? Somehow, as my dinner made its way through my bloodstream, these questions became less urgent. There was no guarantee that my plan would work, but I was sure as I could be that I would enjoy carrying it through. That was enough.
I finished my teriyaki and declined the dessert menu. That would come later. I got up and headed out to obtain the final ingredient for my demonstration.
Later, as I headed triumphantly back to my apartment, I teased myself with fantasies of how I had possibly screwed myself by leaving my pet alone for so long. Perhaps, being an inch taller than Rosa, she had found a way to escape the terrarium, even the apartment. Perhaps she had a laptop or other device in her backpack that emitted some sort of trackable signal. Perhaps there were a dozen cops waiting for me right now.
After thrilling to the adrenaline rush from these imagined catastrophes, I shrugged it all off. Let them try, I thought. We’ll see how fast I can shrink 'em all to ant-size. The usual voice of doubt wasn’t gone entirely, but it was extremely faint. I taunted it and almost skipped home.
No cop cars lined the street outside my building, no residents glanced at me furtively or hurried away, and no one accosted me as I turned the key and entered my apartment. My pet remained where I had left her, sitting on the floor of the terrarium, hugging her knees to her chest and her head lowered to her chest.
My elation unpunctured by any rude surprises, I was unable to restore the stern expression I’d had when I left. I stood at the entrance to the kitchen and tried to ground myself with a few deep breaths. Don’t worry about whether this will work, I told myself. You’re on a roll tonight, and this is exactly what you want. If it doesn’t work, we’ll try something else. In the meantime, enjoy yourself.
My pet raised her head but did not otherwise move as I sat down at the kitchen table. My glance at her contained just a hint of a smirk before I turned my attention to the contents of my jacket pocket. The last of my self-consciousness ebbed away as I brought my hand out onto the table and released Jennifer, all of two-and-a-half-inches-tall.
Her favorite club wasn’t that far away, and I had had no reason to believe she’d even be there that night. I had been ready to take the first woman I fancied and found alone, but Jennifer had in fact been on the dance floor just as I had arrived, her long brown hair twirling in the seizure-inducing lights.
I didn’t approach her then, lest any mutual friends see us together. I waited until she headed for the restroom, and she was only out of anyone else’s sight for a half-second, but that was all it took. No one looks at the floor in a place like that.
Staggering to her feet on my kitchen table, Jennifer’s face was wild with panic. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she took in my torso, arms, and head towering over her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my pet stand up and approach the plexiglass, but I didn’t want to miss a second of Jennifer’s plight.
She whirled about, trying to recognize everyday objects impossibly magnified in size. The top she was wearing had shimmered incandescently under the club lighting, but in the stark glare of my kitchen fluorescents, it appeared a dark fuchsia. Her pants were a basic black but hugged her ass and thighs oh so tantalizingly.
She didn’t seem to be making any progress orienting herself, so I swept her into my fist and brought her to my face for a closer look. I curled my fingers beneath her armpits so she could rest her tiny arms atop my grip. She made a futile effort to push herself away from my immense scrutiny.
I took my time drinking her in. Her dark heavy eyebrows, which were so animated when she had regaled me with her plans for the future, were arched high with apprehension. Her jaw, which used to hang open as she contemplated new experiences, was wrenched into a rictus of fear. And her jade-green eyes, which had once challenged the world to surprise her, pleaded to return to a world that made sense.
“Gordon, is that you?” whimpered Jennifer. “What’s going on?”
Instead of answering her, I twisted my fist to roll her first onto her side and then onto her back as I brought her head under my nose, her luxuriant hair draping across my upper lip. I’d longed to bury my nose in her hair from the moment I met her, and I inhaled deeply, her fine strands tickling my nostrils. She had artfully scented her hair for the evening out, but her fear-sweat was the perfect accent.
Jennifer writhed in my grasp, pressing her delightfully pliant tits and ass against my fingers and palm. I couldn’t resist squeezing her until she squeaked. I then silenced her squeak by covering her face with the tip of my tongue.
I was so giddy with the license that I was taking, I had to chuckle. Relieved of my tongue, Jennifer sputtered and coughed. Before she could recover, I lowered my fist and pinned her to the tabletop with my thumb while I selected the adhesive tape. My smirk returned in force as I rolled her onto her back and taped each of her limbs down in a spread-eagle position.
I gave the briefest of glances to my pet, not long enough to read much from her expression, but I did discern that she was standing a couple of steps back from the plexiglass and watching the proceedings with her arms crossed in front of her. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.
I felt a grin spread across my face as I positioned the magnifying lamp for its long-awaited purpose. I switched it on and Jennifer winced under its glare. I selected my X-Acto knife and brandished it over the bound woman.
“Gordon, what are you doing?” she cried. “Stop, please, stop!” I leaned around the magnifier to give Jennifer a less severe view of my face.
“I suggest you hold very still for this part,” I said amiably, rolling the knife’s shaft between my fingers. Somehow her fair skin became even paler. Even better, she visibly gulped.
Leaning back over the magnifier, I gently placed the point of the blade on Jennifer’s shoulder to precisely determine the depth of her shirt’s fabric. I applied no pressure, but she shrieked anyway.
“Hold still,” I repeated, less amiably.
She shut her eyes tight as I slashed at the front each sleeve, from the shoulders to the collar, and from the collar to her waist. I then used the tweezers to expose her bra and belly. She opened her eyes when I lay the dull edge of the blade on her belly, the point just at the base of her sternum. The slightest flick forward and up sliced through the band of her bra, releasing her magnificent breasts.
Wouldja look at that, I thought, setting the blade and tweezers down for the moment. I had suspected Jennifer had a spectacular rack, and now it was within my grasp. Imagine how much more there’d be to play with if you’d only shrunk her down to, oh, eight-inches-tall? I’d have nowhere to keep her, let alone getting her out of the club unnoticed. Ah, well.
My tongue had snaked its way out between my lips, and Jennifer’s horrified expression indicated how it must have appeared on her side of the magnifier. She did not, however, see my thumb approach until it landed on her chest and started fondling her boobs. I’m afraid my own expression only became more smug.
As I moved my thumb lower to feel her heaving belly, I searched her eyes for any sign of outrage at my violations, but she was still alternating between bewilderment and denial. You gotta be open to new experiences, Jenny.
I picked the blade back up. Let’s get those pants off. Leery of the risk of injury from cutting her inseam, I sliced only the outside edge from the waistband to the cuffs, then tweezed her pants out from under her. Next off came her thong, revealing her dark landing strip and cute little pussy.
I paused a moment to take in the sight of this gorgeous woman bound naked and splayed wide on my kitchen table. I put the knife down for good and rested my head in my hands for some fulsome ogling. One of my pinkies slipped between my lips and my tongue eagerly set upon this proxy. It seemed only natural at that point to press the slickened tip of my pinky into her crotch.
It didn’t begin to fit inside, of course, but after sufficient stroking her tiny labia parted slightly and conformed to the motion of my fingertip. Jennifer shut her eyes and twisted her face away briefly, then turned back with a wide-eyed glare. That’s right, I thought. This is really happening and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.
I withdrew my pinky and returned it to my tongue. Sweet and sour, the perfect marinade. I swung the magnifier arm to the side and looked directly down on Jennifer. She seemed to be holding her breath, which she released forcibly when I brought my face down to within a couple of inches of her helpless body.
Resting the tip of my nose on her belly, I took a deep whiff of her bestirred sex while filling her vision with my besotted eyes. My lips and cheeks brushed against her thighs as they struggled to contain my roiling tongue, and I finally had to lift my mouth out of reach before I lost control. No longer looking cross-eyed at my prey, I blinked and smacked my lips.
Jennifer’s jaw tensed and a gentle resolve filled her eyes. “Gordon,” she said with startling plangency, “will you please let me go?”
I leaned back and made a judicious face, then shrugged. One by one I freed each of her limbs by peeling the tape up. She kept her eyes on mine as she got to her feet, then she made a sober survey of her surroundings. For the first time, she seemed to take notice of my pet behind the plexiglass.
A deep rumbling chuckle had been building in my belly, and I chose that moment to finally release it. Jennifer spun around and looked up at me, and she did not like what she saw. She started running toward the terrarium, reaching out and crying, “Help me!”
I brought my head down fast, my jaws enclosing the fleeing woman, taking her T-Rex style. As I raised my head again, lifting her off her flailing feet, I noted that my pet had stepped forward and was watching me intently.
Jennifer’s head and shoulders lay in the middle of my tongue, and she placed her hands on my upper teeth in a pitiful attempt to prevent them from slicing through her abdomen. I had no intention of chewing her, but she couldn’t know that. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, exposing my throat to my pet, and slurped Jennifer’s legs into my mouth.
Tongue time, I thought. Still displaying my throat muscles, I gave Jennifer a full tour of my mouth, pressing her against each cheek, spinning her around so her head was oriented toward my lips, and slamming her back and ass against my palate while effortlessly separating her legs with the crest of my tongue.
My tongue began rhythmically pulsing against her from her taint to her tits. Gradually she was pushed forward until her head emerged from between my lips and she sputtered and gasped for breath.
Oh, how I missed this, I thought. Not just the taste of her twat but also the feel of her flesh trembling against my palate, my gums, and of course my tongue. She was utterly enslaved to the service of my senses.
As Jennifer recovered her breath and devoted more of her vocalization to reacting to my tongue, I opened my eyes and tilted my head forward so I could gaze upon my pet. She was enraptured, both hands on the plexiglass and staring up at me with . . . what, exactly? Could it be anticipation?
Remembering how dazzling she had looked on the dance floor, I let my tongue take the full measure of Jennifer’s supple breasts. I wanted you so I took you and now you’re mine. Her cries increased in volume and pitch. Whether they were more from terror or arousal I’ll never know because I abruptly muffled them when I sucked her back in and swallowed her down.
Reflexively I put my hand on my chest to feel Jennifer’s passage, but all my concentration was on my pet. She had raised both hands to her mouth when she watched Jennifer slide down my gullet, and now she was holding herself by her upper arms. Her face was tilted down, but she dared not take her eyes off me, and they peeked up through her curls. Totes adorbz, I thought.
After my stomach contents had settled down, I calmly stood and reached into the terrarium. My pet instinctively backed away, but there was nowhere to run and after a moment she stood still and let me wrap my fingers around her and lift her out. I sat back down and gently stood her on the table before me, only a few inches from my belly, which was still a bit noisy.
“Time to get undressed, Pet,” I said matter-of-factly. My hands didn’t move, but the blade and tweezers remained within easy reach.
Her breathing was still labored, but her face was controlled. Her gaze dropped from my eyes to my belly, and then finally she spoke, faintly but distinctly, “Yes, sir.”
Blood rushed in my ears and I felt unsteady in the kitchen chair. Is this it? Is she going to obey me from now on? Is she complying out of shock, or has she accepted her new station? Don’t rush it. Maintain your posture, but let her find her repose.
I kept my face placid as I leaned back and returned my hand to my belly. She had a grim expression as she shot me a glare before grabbing the bottom of her black camisole and pulling it over her head and her unruly curls.
She must have changed out of her Starbucks shirt before leaving the store, I mused. Her bra was black, too, and to my inexperienced eyes it looked fancy. Would have been a shame to have to chop through that.
It seemed impossible that she could have pulled her tight jeans over those hips without my assistance, but she did it without complaint. She took her panties down at the same time, so I didn’t get a clear look to determine whether they matched the bra. Her pussy was clean-shaven for now. She won’t be getting any grooming supplies from me.
Stepping out of her jeans, she resumed eye contact as she reached behind her back to release the hooks of her bra. Her face was equal parts resolve and relief as she let her bra straps slip over her shoulders and the cups fell into her arms. She tossed the bra onto the pile of the rest of her clothes, clasped her hands behind her back, and raised her face to me.
She’s mine, I thought. She’s my Pet. I released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
With the faintest of satisfied smiles, I stood up and loomed over her. She tilted her head back but otherwise held still. I moved the chair back to give myself some room, and then I, too, undressed. I did my best to match her performance in pragmatic insouciance.
My cock had been hardening all through my tasting and consumption of Jennifer, and whatever torpor might have followed was overcome by the spectacle of Pet’s obedience. It was difficult to see precisely where she was looking, but imagine the sight of my stiffy snapping free of my boxers snagged her attention.
It bobbed closer to her as I approached the table, so she might not have been watching for my hand when I reached for her and enclosed her in my fist. I brought her close to my face just as I had the first time I grabbed her on the campus path. Now under the bright light, I looked on her bare brown shoulders and resigned face with less menace than possession.
I held her upright with a minimum of sway as I repaired to the living room couch, sitting down and spreading my legs wide. Looking at her helpless in my grip, I hocked back a mouthful of spit. She squeezed her eyes shut, but opened them again in surprise after I spat into my other hand.
Pet nevertheless got a faceful of my spit after I slicked my cockhead and shaft and then held her to the underside, nestling her tiny boobs, belly, and pussy against my electrified skin. I waited a couple of seconds to see if she knew what to do without being told, but finally I had to say, “Hold on,” and she dutifully wrapped her arms and legs around my cock.
I started jacking off slow, as I wanted to savor the delicate friction between our flesh. I surged in response to the sight of Pet’s tiny face rising above my cockhead with each upstroke, and I thrilled to feel her tiny round ass slapping my balls with each downstroke. Even though my hand provided all the motion, her limbs genuinely gripped my shaft, and I’m sure she felt its heat and its insistence with the whole of her body.
Reveling in the shrunken woman wrapped around my cock and the other dissolving my belly, I felt godlike again. I was having my way with these women, and one of them was learning to appreciate her new role in life. This would be the first of many lessons, and she would grow more content with each that she learned. Similarly, I would grow more satisfied with each adaptation that she made.
I succumbed to a grin of triumph as I accelerated my strokes until I reached climax. Pet grunted loudly, possibly also in triumph but more probably because I squeezed her too hard. I shot all over her hair and face, and a dab also landed on my belly in tribute to Jennifer.
I lifted Pet up to the topside of my cock and settled her in my cum-soaked thatch as I lay back and let all my muscles go. I closed my eyes and dropped my arms onto the cushions, letting Pet take everything in. For a while we just breathed together.
Eventually the cum started to harden, provoking me to sit up. Pet hadn’t moved much, and she didn’t evade my collecting hand. I brought her to my face and enjoyed the sight of her marked with my fluids. I pulled her close for a sniff.
“I think you need a bath, Pet,” I said patronizingly. She nodded, and I decided not to prompt her for a vocal agreement. All in good time, it’s been a rough first day.
I got out my favorite clear glass bowl and filled it with warm water and bath soap. I wanted to watch her bathe herself, but we were both exhausted. I gently wiped her with a washcloth, but I couldn’t really do a thorough job on her curly hair. She’ll smell me in her dreams tonight, I thought.
Pet was a little too tall for Rosa’s old bed, so I bunched up my boxers and put them on the floor of the terrarium for her to sleep on. After lowering her onto her makeshift bed, it occurred to me that she hadn’t had any supper. Keeping it simple, I filled her water dish and cut her a chunk of cheese from the fridge. After setting these at one end of the terrarium, I stood over her once more.
“Good night, Pet,” I said sincerely and switched off the kitchen light.
@olo that’s actually the original title of the book before it became the public juggernaut it did.
@nephilim Huh. I first heard that phrase back in the 80s, to refer to what these days are called “the one percent.” Tom Wolfe popularized it in The Bonfire of the Vanities.
tiny-ivy last edited by
@olo I love this. Everything that’s hot about vore. I love the “training” effect this had on the pet, too.
@tiny-ivy Glad you’re liking it!
@olo I’m sure you’ve already started or even finished the draft for the next chapter already, but it would be so hot to see Gordon continue to shrink and bring back random women to swallow and/or use more roughly in front of little Pet to keep her in check. Whatever you come up with though, I’m excited to see!
@ghostwriter44 I don’t take requests or commissions, sorry.
My first breakfast with Pet was something of an auspicious occasion, and somehow full-frontal nudity didn’t seem quite appropriate, so I donned some pajama bottoms immediately after I got up on my way to take my morning piss.
Pet was nowhere to be seen when I entered the kitchen, but I didn’t panic because I presumed she had burrowed into my boxers, and retrieving them from the terrarium confirmed it. Holding her upright in my fist, I pulled my boxers away to expose her head and shoulders. It was plain she had been crying during the night.
“Good morning, Pet,” I said gently. I held an expectant smile while she steadily met my gaze, then she took a deep breath.
“Good morning, sir,” she said, perhaps not as loudly as she might have. My face warmed.
I extracted her from my boxers and stood her back on the floor of the terrarium. I was about to place her clothes within her reach when I noticed that she had taken a few bites of cheese, and a thought occurred to me. I reached under the terrarium where one end hung over the table edge and detached the home-made septic tank. Opening it revealed it to be empty and dry. Returning the tank to its original configuration, I looked patronizingly at Pet.
“You need to use the potty,” I explained.
As I sat down at the kitchen table to observe, I realized that I had neglected to provide Pet with toilet tissue as I had for Rosa. I extracted a single sheet from a nearby tissue box and dropped it into the terrarium next to the toilet I had fabricated. When Pet failed to approach it, I helpfully pointed at it.
She had been watching me with her arms crossed, but she finally let her arms and eyes drop and walked over to the toilet. It wasn’t much more than a hole in the floor fitted with a rubber sleeve that only I could remove and a cap that Pet could remove (and replace) herself. I had provided Rosa with a separate water basin for washing and rinsing, but I wanted to see Pet’s performance first.
She didn’t hesitate before kneeling and lifting the cap, and I suspected she had already investigated it. She turned to face away from me before she squatted over the hole, at which I took no offense. She’ll lose her self-consciousness soon enough.
After she did her complete business, Pet tore off some scraps of tissue, wiped herself, and tossed the paper down the hole.
“Very good, Pet,” I said approvingly as I got up to fill her wash basin and set it down next to her. I also collected her clothes and deposited them in the terrarium. “You can get dressed if you like.”
I stood up to make coffee. I had recently replaced my old blade grinder with a burr grinder, which in addition to producing more consistent grounds it was also likely less harsh on shrunken eardrums. My preferred method for home-brewing was a staggered pour-over into a specifically-designed carafe. Between the carefully weighed beans and timed pours, I found the ritual aspect very satisfying.
I didn’t have anything to eat in the pantry other than a couple of old croissants from Town & Gown in the bread saver. I didn’t have time to make anything before class (Intro to Political Theory, as it happened), and I decided not to skip it because I felt it was important to establish a routine. After I had ground the beans and started the kettle, I put the croissants on a plate and set it on the table.
Pet had opted to get dressed, and when she was ready I lifted her out of the terrarium and placed her next to the plate. Rosa’s old chair and table were a bit small, but they would have to do until I could find replacements. I tore off a bit of croissant and put it on her table, then turned back to the counter to start the sequence of pours.
Periodically I turned to look at Pet. She hadn’t yet had a bite of croissant, but she was watching me with what I fancied was professional interest. I wondered if she would dare try to advise me on my technique.
Opening the cabinet to get a coffee mug, I noticed the nested stack of shrunken glasses, and I realized I could shrink a mug for Pet. Rosa had only drunk water from her dish, and that simply wouldn’t do for coffee. On the other hand, a ceramic mug could be broken to create a cutting edge. I suppose I could collect it after each use. I found myself unable to let go of the idea of sharing my coffee with Pet.
I went back into my bedroom to don my bathrobe and cache the medallion in a pocket. Returning to the kitchen with my hand in the pocket pinching the medallion, I moved to shield the cabinet from Pet with my upper body and saw a mug reduced to her scale, and it was. Releasing the medallion, I gently plucked Pet’s mug from the shelf and set it on her table.
I then had to thoroughly rinse out an eye-dropper from the bathroom before it would be suitable for dispensing coffee. I filled my mug and then siphoned enough to fill Pet’s.
“There’s no milk,” I told her, “so you’ll be taking it black like me.” I watched her as I took a long sip, and she eventually followed suit. She set her mug back down with deliberation. Her entire body seemed to withhold comment.
I munched on half a croissant and imagined that watching me eat must have had an extra resonance for Pet. She tore off a mouthful of the soft bread and chewed it, followed by another considered swig of coffee. Then, to my astonished delight, she raised her hand.
I inclined my head toward her. “Yes, Pet?”
“Sir, may I ask a—uh, some questions?”
“Sir, how did you make us small, me and that other girl?”
I was ready for this one. “Pet, I understand why you asked that question, but you must understand that I will never answer it. Ever.”
After a pause, she raised her hand again.
“Sir, may I ask why you did it?”
I was torn. On one hand, I could demonstrate her impotence by revealing my every feeling, secure in the knowledge that she could never use it to harm me. On the other hand, I didn’t want to overwhelm her with too many new facts and concepts. She had been shrunk for less than twenty-four hours, after all.
Keep it simple. “I took you to be my Pet,” I declared. “I wanted you in my hand and in my mouth, and that’s where you’ll go whenever I desire it.”
“And in your stomach?” No raised hand that time.
I hoped it would never come to that, but somehow I didn’t think it would be helpful to let her know that right now.
“Not for now,” I said with a grim smile.
Panic began to creep into her voice. “What about that other girl? How do I know I won’t end up like her?”
There it was. The bare minimum that she needed for her spiritual survival, some assurance that I wouldn’t dispose of her like yesterday’s coffee grounds. I had better make this good.
“Pet, you are the most precious thing in the world to me,” I said sincerely, leaning forward to look into her eyes. “After class, I’m going to pick up some lunch and come back here and prove it to you.”
I could see that she was trembling. I reached for her with both hands, and while she successfully fought the instinct to flee, her face was full of fear and misery. I cupped her and brought her close to my face. I felt like kissing her, but I also felt that doing so at that point would undercut the impression I was trying to make.
Instead I returned her to her terrarium, followed by the chair and table. I managed not to spill her coffee, but then I remembered I didn’t want to leave her with the ceramic mug and collected it. There didn’t seem to be anything more to say, so I took a shower.
Act as if it’s a fait accompli, and it will be, I told myself as I dressed. Presume acceptance. You will show her what her new role is and how much you value it. Believe, and she will believe.
I didn’t look in Pet’s direction as I headed out the door and walked to class.
Class was uneventful; an absent student or two was hardly worthy of remark. A taco truck I liked was parked next to campus, and I grabbed a big burrito on my way home.
Pet was standing next to the plexiglass when I entered the kitchen, and I flashed her a warm smile. I set the takeout bag on the counter and got out a plate, utensils and a can of Coke.
Sitting down with my lunch, I noticed that Pet was watching me warily. After I had had two or three bites, she turned around and sat in her (too small) chair.
“What is it, Pet?” I asked with a mouth half-full.
She shook her head. I set my fork down with noisy disapproval. Her eyes went wide.
“C’mon, Pet,” I said with an expectant smile.
Slowly she stood and approached the plexiglass, hugging herself and meeting my eyes.
“I thought,” she began, “When you said you were going to pick up lunch, I thought you were going to . . . bring back another person.”
I concealed my amusement with a patronizing smile. This was not the moment for mockery.
“Not today, Pet,” I said. “It’s just you and me.”
Continuing to eat, I poked through the scraps of Jennifer’s ruined clothes with my tweezers. I plucked and lifted her pants, and her tiny phone fell out and bounced on the tabletop. I stopped eating and swung the magnifier lamp back in front of me and held the shrunken device under it with the tweezers.
It was still functional, but my fingers were far too big to access it even if I knew her code. I didn’t know when Jennifer might have been reported missing, but her phone had been in my kitchen for longer than twelve hours. If shrunken phones could reach a cell network, they had all the data they needed to find me.
Curiously, I allowed myself to instantly conclude that this proved shrunken phones presented no danger to me. I should have been in a panic, frantically calculating triangulation radii and glancing out the window trying to spot unmarked cop cars, but I wasn’t. My only reaction was an unguarded “Huh.”
Pet was doing a poor job of pretending not to watch me. I set the tweezers and phone down and pointed at the remaining burrito.
“Want some?” I asked. She nodded, and I got up to reach into the terrarium and set her on the tabletop. I cut a chunk for her and slid it to the end of the wrapper, where she sat down and pulled out a handful.
I really need to get her a set of properly-scaled utensils and a chair and table so she can dine with me. She tried to be casual when she glanced in the direction of Jennifer’s phone, and I refrained from taking notice. I simply took the next pause from forking burrito into my mouth to pick up the tweezers and deliver the phone to Pet’s lap.
She looked up sharply at me. I almost shrugged, but in the end I just nodded.
“Can’t reach the network,” I explained. “Signal’s not strong enough.”
Pet picked up the phone and turned it around gingerly—it was beneath even her scale—but she couldn’t get past the lock screen. She looked back at me, and I could tell she was debating whether to try an emergency call to 911. I hadn’t intended to test her—not now, not this way—but that seemed to be the way she was taking this. I turned back to my burrito and left her to her thoughts.
When I’d had my fill, I invited Pet to open her backpack so I could inspect its contents. She indeed had her laptop in there, and I gave her the wrong wi-fi password just to see if she could get an error message. When she didn’t get a response from the router at all, I knew the laptop, too, was too weak to connect to anything.
“Sir,” she said, “the battery’s gonna die soon. Do you have any way to charge it?”
That was a bit of a puzzler. I’d have to shrink only one end of a charging cable, and even then I couldn’t be sure it would still work or that the current wouldn’t fry the shrunken laptop. I knew they made devices that could be charged wirelessly, but that was on a slippery slope toward many expensive and traceable purchases. Better to nip this in the bud.
“Nope, sorry,” I said.
Pet lowered her head and shut down the laptop. She stared at the black screen while I cleared the remains of lunch.
I was still standing when Pet spoke again. “Sir,” she began, her face still downcast, but raising her head to look up at me by the end of her question, “what happened to her, the one you kept here before me?”
I wasn’t ready to talk about Rosa yet, but I knew prevarication at this point would be disastrous. I wore a solemn expression as I looked down at Pet and said, “She couldn’t find a way to be happy.”
I stood motionless and just let that answer hang there for a while. Pet kept watching me and didn’t move either. Finally I sat back down and rested my chin in one hand. I raised my eyebrows at her appraisingly.
“Inspection time, Pet,” I said. “Off with your clothes.”
She inhaled deeply but she did not hesitate as she stood to comply. Her disrobing was neither stoic nor sullen; she seemed more unsettled by my scrutiny than at any time previous.
When she was nude, I pointed to a spot on the tabletop directly in front of me, about an inch from the edge.
“Stand here,” I said. She had to crane her head back to maintain eye contact as she approached my abdomen, which was still processing burrito. By the time she had reached the designated spot, I was looking almost directly down on her.
“About face, Pet,” I commanded. “Stand with your feet hip-width apart, bend forward, and pull your ass cheeks apart.”
She blinked and hesitated for a second, but she kept complete control over her expression. She then turned and did exactly what I had instructed.
What a good fucking girl, I thought. Time to see how closely she had wiped. She jumped slightly when I scooted my chair back, but she maintained her position. I leaned in until my face was no more than two inches from her bent figure. Her tiny brown pucker looked clean, but I knew there was more to Pet than met the eye.
Finding every square centimeter of volume within my lungs, I took the deepest possible whiff of Pet’s asshole and pussy, my tongue convulsing at the back of my mouth to drink in every last ester and pheromone. I detected the soap from the previous night’s impromptu bath, sulfur notes from the eggs she must have had for breakfast yesterday, and good old Lactobacillus. I let out a deep and resonant “Mmmmm.”
I exhaled and smacked my lips. “On your hands and knees, Pet.” After she complied, I continued: “Fold your arms in front of you and rest your head on them, then spread your legs.”
Oh, what a scrumptious sight, I thought as she assumed the position. Her round juicy ass presented to me like a ripe cherry tomato. I leaned in even closer, opening my jaws to let my teeth graze her cheeks and thighs. Pet let out a brief squeak before burying her face in her arms.
I could only slow but not stop my tongue as it slid out of my mouth and nuzzled its tip against her asshole. All of my concentration was poised within the taste buds at the extreme point as it circled and probed her trembling anus.
Vanilla, rosemary, and bell peppers. She had wiped away every last bit of shit, leaving only the aftertastes of her meals. I grunted my satisfaction. My tongue, quite convinced of its entitlement, started to proceed toward her pussy, but I wrested control and lifted my head up and away.
“You are a very clean, good girl, Pet,” I enunciated softly but deliberately. “You may stand up, if you like.”
She slowly got to her feet, and I briefly thought she would avert her face from mine, but she just started rubbing her arms and met my gaze once more. I like to think it was my approving smile that made her stand up straight.
“Good girls get treats,” I said, extending my hand to the edge of the table, palm up. My smile was undiminished, but my posture was full of awareness that Pet was again being tested. She tilted her head and hesitated, but I suspected it was more out of unfamiliarity with the maneuver than distrust.
As she stepped into my hand, I was reminded that Pet had a higher center-of-gravity than other women I’d taken, making open-palm carries more precarious. Pet grasped this immediately and instinctively sat down cross-legged in my palm. As gratified as I was by her adaptation, I decided that in the future the safest method would be curling my fingers around her torso.
I walked carefully to the living room, then closed my fingers about Pet as I stretched myself out along the length of the couch. Once I was fully supine, I gently released Pet onto my chest. She remained in a sitting position.
“Pet,” I began with an encouraging lilt, “climb up onto my face and lower your legs into my mouth.”
She was almost below my field of vision, so I could not see her immediate reaction. I didn’t want to disturb her seat, so I simply lay there, wondering how long I should wait before taking notice of her failure to comply. Before long, however, she got to her feet.
“Sir,” she began, then cleared her throat. “Sir, are you going to eat me?”
“No, Pet,” I replied. “I don’t want to eat you. I want to taste you. All of you.”
I could feel her walk toward my head, step onto my clavicle, and place her hands on my chin. I closed my eyes as she pulled herself up, dragging her boobs and belly over my rough skin. I held my jaws shut to provide her stability, and she crawled over my lips and propped herself up on my nose to look into my eyes. I went cross-eyed, of course, but I was delighted by the confrontation.
“Is this my ‘treat’?” she asked. It was difficult to be certain at that proximity, but I coulda sworn she had a slight smirk.
“Indeed,” I replied. “You’ll have to tell me if you like it.”
I gave her a moment if she had anything further to say, then I slowly opened my mouth wide. My tongue reclined at the back of my mouth, dignified by the imminence of Pet’s arrival. Breathing through my nose, I enjoyed the overture of odors as she gathered her legs to slide them past my nostrils, over my upper lip and incisors, and into my waiting maw.
A sense of abandon entered Pet’s movements as her abdomen passed over my upper lip and her center-of-gravity shifted against my lower jaw. She sank deeper into my mouth, and my tongue rose to cushion her descent. My lower incisors raked her back, but I suspect she found the leverage helpful.
Pet spread her legs and ran her feet along the insides of my lower gums, leaning forward to grip my upper incisors. My tongue embraced her belly first, which tensed against my tasting. As more of my tongue draped over her, she lay her breasts on its wide mattress and squeezed her legs around its pliant edges. I was enchanted as both of her nipples and her clit perked up against my supple muscle. I bathed her with a grunt.
It wasn’t until then that I finally appreciated that Pet’s relatively large size would prevent me from swallowing her whole. This was immediately followed by my conviction that Pet had realized this before—perhaps long before—I had. I was so overcome by the beauty of this revelation that I briefly stopped attending to the delicacy in my mouth, but I quickly recovered and amplified my vigor.
My tongue roamed freely over every swell and hollow of Pet’s body, returning to her asshole, compressing her thighs, wrapping her feet. I sat up slightly, putting Pet on her back. I sucked her in some more, engulfing her arms and rolling my upper lip over her boobs and back and over again. I was totally unconscious of the slurping and sucking and smacking noises I made as I drank down all of her essences.
Throughout all this Pet gave as good as she got. She writhed against my tongue, resisting its every effort to pin or hold her, even leaning into it when she felt it go slack. Her thighs, in particular, straddled the crest of my tongue no matter how much it bucked and swerved, and her pussy was determined to kiss my taste buds with its tiny lips, even as my incisors were poised to decapitate her.
Each pulse of my tongue was accompanied by a resonant groan of ecstasy, and I soon detected Pet’s keening gasps matching my rhythm. I wish I could see her face, I thought. My cock surged at her noises, but I was still clothed so my hands could only grip the cushions.
Slowly I sucked Pet further and further inside until my lips rolled entirely over her head. She still grappled my tongue, but there was much less room to maneuver with her fully enclosed by my jaws. In the end I could only hold my tongue stiff as she humped it, knocking her head against my palate.
When she finally released my tongue, I tilted my head back against the wall and opened my mouth to give both Pet and the taste of her fluids some air. She made no detectable effort to extricate herself from my mouth, so I brought one hand up to pluck her by a slippery shoulder and draw her all the way out. She was too drained to hold her arms free, so I pinned them to her side as I curled my fingers around her and brought her face under my gaze.
I thought about asking if she had liked her treat, but I decided to see if I could glean the answer from her expression and her posture. She was limp in my hand, but she was still breathing heavily. Her tight curls were strewn and slicked with spit and lust. Her eyes remained bright, neither defiant nor apologetic. Perhaps relief mixed with pride at having survived the experience. I’ll take it.
And then finally I did kiss her. Right in the face, no tongue whatsoever, just my lips covering the front of her head and puckering slowly to enclose it. When I pulled away, her eyes were closed, and she kept them closed as I gently laid her on the couch cushion.
I sucked my tongue one more time, then I stood up, crossed my arms, and turned to look down on Pet, still recumbent where I had laid her. I couldn’t tell if her eyes were open at first, but after I started getting undressed she rolled onto one side and propped her head up on one arm.
When I had taken everything off, I reached down and picked her up, holding her upside-down. “Point your toes, Pet,” I said, “and keep them pointed.”
I didn’t see her expression, but she complied. I bent over and squatted, spreading my ass open. I lowered Pet between my legs and brought her pointed feet to my asshole. That relief might have been premature. Slowly but firmly, I fit Pet’s feet into my anus up to her ankles.
“Hook your feet,” I commanded. She bent them forward, and I released her from my hand as I slowly straightened up. A reassuring clench of my Kegels confirmed that she was both securely inserted and in contact with my prostate.
I turned and carefully sat back on the couch at the outer edge of the cushion, allowing the dangling Pet to drape over the edge before I delicately scooted back, pinning her torso under my taint and covering her arms, shoulders and head with my ballsack. I leaned back at an acute angle to minimize the amount of weight I put on her.
My treat now. My precum had already spotted my boxers, so I didn’t need very much spit to get slick. I kept the pumping slow, luxuriating in the sensation of Pet beneath my taint. I couldn’t see her face, of course, but I tried to imagine what it must be like to have a faceful of warm, hairy, wrinkled flesh, buried by enormous muscles straining toward a singularly insistent goal.
My voice was more distant from Pet than when she had been in my mouth, but she was experiencing far greater pressure and heat. I couldn’t help clenching her firm little feet into my prostate with almost every stroke. A long sigh started building in my chest and expanded into a rutting drone that filled my entire torso.
She really liked her treat, I thought. She likes this, too. She wants more. She wants to be kept by me. My hand was pumping at its own pace now. Was I imagining it, or was Pet hugging and kissing my ballsack? Sure. Why not.
As my passion coursed through my veins and surged into my extremities, I took less and less care to keep my crushing weight off of Pet. Her tiny frame remained at the center of my awareness, but only as the fulcrum of my desire.
She might not be passing through my gut, but all of my appetites were dangerous. All the effort and concern I had invested in Pet’s happiness hovered at the edge of my consciousness, but I was heedless in pursuit of my gratification. Would she survive uninjured, or at all? There’s always another test.
All questions and cavils fell away as I pistoned into a frenzy. Here. Now. Every muscle went taut as I arched my back and thrust upward, cum spurting and flowing over my fist and onto my thighs. There was no measuring the elapsed time before I finally lowered my abdomen and pelvis back onto the couch.
I could still feel Pet’s body, but it was impossible to discern any movement independent of my own post-climactic tremors. My heart was still pounding, my belly still heaving with deep breaths. I strained to hear her gasps or groans, but there was nothing.
Did I kill her? Did I consume her after all? I was afraid to find out. I tried to relax my muscles without putting any more weight on her. Still no detectable movement. All I could hear was my own heart.
Then, at last, a tugging on my ballsack. A gasp as she finally pulled her face clear, then a delicious writhing as she kicked her feet free of my asshole. I felt her reward in the form of a drop of cum sliding down my thigh and I held my breath as it fell. Her indignant sputtering confirmed where it had landed.
“Back for more, eh?” I said with a grin.
It was the most intense climax I had ever had. It felt as if Pet had seized me by the prostate and was squeezing every last drop out of me. As dire as Pet’s straits had been lodged between my ass cheeks and balls, she would have been in far greater peril between my surging cock and manic grip.
I again wanted to relax in the afterglow, but Pet’s repose was less than secure, so I stayed slouched while I reached around my thigh and gathered her into my grip. I clasped her to my chest and kept my hand over her as she lay atop my pounding heart.
She only moved to fill and empty her lungs, her fluttering breath tickling my skin. I simultaneously wanted to hold her tight and give her the room to stretch and breathe free. Both of us were sticky, and neither of us smelled fresh.
“Let’s take a real bath, Pet,” I said.
Not a word was spoken as I eased us into the warm, soapy water. I was quite content to watch Pet glide between my legs, pull herself up by my cock, and stretch herself out on my thigh. She knew she had been a good girl, and she only had to look into my face to be reassured.
Dinner that night was beef and vegetables stir-fry with rice. I decided to have a beer, and Pet accepted a dropperful in her mug. Tomorrow I get her dining stuff, I resolved.
Toward the end of the meal, after I had nearly finished my beer, Pet surprised me again. “Sir,” she asked, “what does it feel like to have someone in your mouth?”
“Blissful,” I said without hesitation. “The world collapses until you are only aware of the sensations of the tiny person contained within you, totally at your mercy and open to your appetites.” I had no idea how long I had been waiting to tell that to someone.
Pet considered this, and she didn’t move—not even reflexively—when I leaned down to bring my face close to her.
“What does it feel like to be in someone’s mouth?” I asked recklessly.
She tilted her head and gave me a stare I had never before seen from her at this size. She seemed to think that was sufficient response, but I didn’t know what to make of it.
“C’mon, Pet,” I pressed.
“It’s fucking terrifying, whaddaya think?!” she exploded. She was so agitated that I thought she only kept her seat as a way of suppressing the instinct to flee.
“I got the impression that you liked it,” I said deliberately, trying not to provoke her further.
“What else was I gonna do? Dude, I’m four inches tall and I have no idea how to get back to normal!” she cried. “My life is basically over.” She crumpled in on herself, sobbing.
She’s as surprised by herself as I am, I thought. She knows she shouldn’t have asked me that first question, but her curiosity got the better of her and now we’re here, grieving her old life. Only way forward is through.
I reached forward and she didn’t notice or react as I gathered her into my grip and brought her close. I tried to keep a soft but solemn expression as I lightly stroked her back with the tip of my middle finger. She continued sobbing, eventually burying her face between my thumb and forefinger, right where she had bitten me the day before.
I was at a loss, and I dared not say anything just yet. It was going to take her more than a day to process this, and what she needed from me was consistency. Reliability. Practicality.
I couldn’t put her to bed like that, so I simply waited until her sobs had subsided. She raised her head to look at me, and I saw it: a pleading in her eyes, an honest hope that I could provide an answer.
“So start a new life,” I said, and put her to bed.
I didn’t sleep well. My worries about Pet were scattered and intangible, so I ended up focusing on whether I really wanted to give her sharp utensils. I couldn’t come to a confident decision about that.
Pet was more composed at breakfast; she was even forward enough to ask for sugar for her coffee. Without any premeditation, I added some sugar to my coffee, too, and for once I found the sweetness charming rather than cloying.
“Sir,” she asked, “how did class go yesterday?”
I did my best to conceal my frustration. I really didn’t want Pet dwelling on her old life, particularly something as pointless as a 100-level Poli Sci class. At the same time, her question expressed polite concern for the only other person in her new life. I dared not injure that.
“Same ol’, same ol’, Pet,” I replied.
“Do you want my help with the presentation, Sir?” It was, in fact, due in two weeks, and just that morning I had already gotten a text about it from Jeff.
“You don’t have to worry about that stuff anymore, Pet,” I said as kindly as I could. She was clearly trying to find something in the future to focus on.
“I have to go to work this afternoon, Pet,” I said, “but before that I’m going shopping. I’m gonna get you a new bed, chair, and table, all exactly your size.”
She wasn’t expecting that, and it took her a few moments to say, “Thank you, Sir. Thank you.” It sounded sincere enough.
High on my own generosity, I plunged ahead. “Howabout some books or magazines?” I offered. “Would you like some of those?”
“My, my size?” she asked skeptically.
“Of course, I can make anything your size.”
“Uh, yes, yes Sir,” she said, gaining earnestness with each syllable. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Any ones in particular?”
“You choose for me, Sir.” I could hear the smile in her voice.
It was an excellent note on which to end breakfast. My heart was light as I showered, dressed, and headed out.
Work was as tedious as usual, but kept myself going by imagining Pet’s reactions to all the presents I had gotten for her. As a celebratory treat, I also picked up fresh ingredients for Chicken Parmigiano and a California red that I liked.
I had left Pet with the same chunk of cheese for her lunch, and I hoped she hadn’t made herself too full for dinner. When I entered my kitchen, she was lying on Rosa’s too-small couch. You’re gonna love this, Pet, I thought.
I set my satchel on the floor next to the kitchen table and sat down. I opened the satchel clasp and flipped the cover back, then turned to make sure Pet was watching.
“Are you ready for your presents, Pet?” I fairly sang.
Pet hadn’t moved from the couch, and I wondered if she had been more fatigued than I had realized. Even though the couch was beneath her scale, she really looked darling curled up on it. I think I’ll let her keep it.
I brought my face right next to the plexiglass. “Yoo-hoo,” I called softly.
I thought I would be disappointed when Pet opened her eyes and failed to be startled by my looming face, but instead I was relieved when she returned my smile. I’m glad to be home, too.
The first item I presented Pet with was a new bed, queen-sized just right for my lilliputian Queen. No sooner had I placed it in the terrarium than she stretched herself out on it, just as I had envisioned in the department store.
“Pull back the covers,” I said with anticipation. Pet promptly did so, running her hand across the fine sheet underneath.
Also for the terrarium was a high-backed easy chair with arm rests for reading. For the kitchen table was a cushioned dining chair and table. Her plates, bowls, drinking glasses, and utensils had all come from a thrift store, all shrunken afterward. I had hesitated over the serrated steak knife, but in the end I had decided I would have to risk a little trust.
The books and magazines required more inspiration. I resisted the urge to get her all the nerdy sci-fi I was overfamiliar with, but I did sample some well-regarded authors: Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, Ursula LeGuin. I really had no clue what kind of magazines to get, beyond those with hi-res photos. I picked up issues of National Geographic, Vanity Fair, and Food & Wine.
Pet accepted the books and magazines in the spirit intended, and while she perused them I set about getting dinner ready. The trick was starting the pasta first because it was more easily interruptible than the chicken. I opened the wine early, and we both had a sip or two before we were finally ready to sit at table.
I didn’t shrink any stemware for Pet because she would be washing all her own dishes and I didn’t want her to have to worry about breaking it. I’m gonna need more eye-droppers, I thought.
The chicken and sauce turned out perfect, and I was pleased to see Pet eating heartily. I poured myself another glass of wine, but Pet declined a refill.
“Sir,” she asked, “Is this to be my new life?”
I nodded with my mouth full, chewed, and swallowed. Pet rested her hands in her lap with a forlorn expression.
“I’m just your pet,” she said softly. “Just your sex toy.”
Finally, I thought. “Yes,” I said patiently, “you are my Pet. Mine and mine alone.”
“Why me?” The question hung in the air while I fished a sliver of chicken out from between my gum and cheek with my tongue, scrutinizing her.
Because your bountiful hair snared me with its sprays and scents. Because your round ass and thick thighs lured me with their tautness and texture. Because your wide cheeks and smile enchanted me with their audacity and openness. Because your bouncy breasts and belly seduced me with their curves and capacity. And because your deep eyes intrigued me with their awareness and appetites.
“Because I wanted to take you,” I said finally, “and I had the power to do so.”
I saw Pet open her mouth for the next question, but the warning in my eyes made her think better of asking it. I refilled her wine glass with the eye-dropper. She took a sip and looked around at the giant kitchen that had become her home.
“How long do you plan to keep me, Sir?” she asked plaintively.
“As long as you are happy here,” I replied sincerely, “which I hope is a very long time indeed.”
I returned to my meal but watched Pet out of the corner of my eye. She picked up both her utensils—including the sharp knife—but she only paused a moment before cutting her chicken again and taking another bite.
When we had both finished our dinner, I cleared and rinsed my dishes and filled a small wash basin to soak Pet’s dishes until she could get to them later. I then retrieved the small couch from the terrarium and set it on the kitchen table underneath the magnifier lamp. It was time for Pet’s final present.
She remained seated at her dining table as I got up and went to my jacket to collect a small tub of coffee creamer from the pocket. The seal was slightly open from when I had emptied it before I left work.
I sat back at the table and set the creamer tub next to the couch. I pulled the seal back all the way, removing it, then beckoned Pet to approach. I was pleased to see from her gait that she retained some curiosity about my acquisitions.
The top of the tub only came up to her knees, so she knelt and peered down into it. Her head snapped back up, her eyes searching my face for affirmation or explanation. I smiled and nodded, and she looked back down and reached into the tub.
When Pet withdrew her arm, her fist was clutching a fellow who had woken up that morning at least six feet tall but was now less than an eighth of an inch tall. I had been concerned that I would injure or kill him when I used the tweezers to pick him up from the restroom floor, particularly as he had been trying to evade me. Next time I should put my finger over the end of a straw and use the force of vacuum when collecting micros.
Gazing through the magnifier, I saw the expression of amazement and delight spread across Pet’s face as she brought her toy close. She chuckled as the microscopic man struggled in vain to escape her grasp.
“You wanted to know what it was like,” I said gently, trying not to intrude too much. Pet raised her face to me with an appraising expression I had never seen before. It was almost as if we were seeing each other for the first time.
“What’s his name?” she asked.
“I didn’t ask,” I said. “Why don’t you give him a name?”
She smirked and looked at her toy. “He looks like a Dick,” she said.
“‘Dick’ it is,” I proclaimed.
“Hi, Dick!” she chirped at her toy, grinning irrepressibly. Dick’s struggles became even more animated.
“Be quiet,” she said testily. Pet looked back to me.
“What should I do with him?” she asked with a leer.
“Do whatever you like,” I replied, “so long as I get to watch.”
Pet turned her full attention to Dick. She sat on the couch and set him down in front of her. She folded her hands in her lap as he got to his feet.
“You have been irreversibly shrunk,” she said with the imperiousness of a vice principal. “You will live out the rest of your days as my toy.” Dick’s protests were inaudible to me, but Pet cut them off. “Remove all your clothing now,” she said bluntly, “or I’ll break your neck.”
I knew she could feel my scrutiny, but she kept her impassive eyes on her plaything as he undressed. When he was completely nude, she plucked him by one wrist and dangled him in front of her face.
Dick’s legs flailed furiously as Pet’s mouth opened. Her tongue darted out and lapped between his legs, then returned to her palate for the savoring. Her face split into a triumphant grin, and my heart warmed with pride.
Pet opened her jaws even wider, and I could see her shudder with excitement as she slowly brought Dick over her waiting maw. I couldn’t hear his screams, but it was clear Pet was enjoying them. Then she let go and he dropped into her mouth.
She caught him with her teeth about his chest and back, and one of his arms was still free to press and pound on her upper jaw. I thought she might have bitten down when she smiled at his predicament, but I couldn’t see any blood.
Pet shut her eyes and puckered her lips around Dick’s neck, and I could see her tongue pulsing in her throat. She took several deep inhalations as she savored his struggles between her lips, then she dutifully raised her face to my gaze. I wish she could have seen his wide terrified eyes as she sucked him entirely inside.
From that point I could only discern what was happening with Dick from Pet’s expression and posture. She kept her eyes closed and lay back on the couch, and when she put one hand to her chest I thought she might have swallowed him. Her breathing was very shallow and her face was quite still. Her throat muscles, however, were still twitching and I concluded that her tongue must still be having its way with him.
Finally, Pet tipped her head back and I saw the bulge of Dick’s passage down her throat. There was nothing to do or say, just breathe and imagine the sensation of Dick filling Pet’s stomach and meeting his doom.
When I took Dick I had had no firm idea of what would happen to him, but in retrospect it seemed inevitable. Pet had disposed of him rather quickly, but I had surprised her and she hadn’t had time to contemplate anything more elaborate.
Look at you. What must you be feeling right now? Her eyes were still shut, and her lips were tightly pursed. Her hand was still at her chest, fingers splayed wide.
I had to hold her. Pet opened her eyes but did not otherwise react when I gathered her up in both hands and brought her close. I closed one thumb over her belly. I couldn’t detect any movement, but she smiled satisfactorily as she placed both hands on top of my thumb.
“Well,” I asked, “how was it?”
“I get it now,” she replied after a moment. “This is the way of things.”
There was nothing to do but kiss her, right on the front of her head from the bridge of her nose to her crown.
“Who was he?” she asked after I had brought her back under my gaze.
“Just some rando, minding his own business,” I replied.
“So an innocent person, then.”
“I don’t know about ‘innocent’.” I might have taken him because he was tall and he looked like he took it for granted, but that didn’t matter to Pet. “He didn’t do anything wrong to me, if that’s what you mean.”
“You just took him because you could.”
“And because it pleased me to give him to you.”
Pet looked up at me for several moments with an inscrutable expression. I felt judged, and I welcomed her judgment. I craved it, in fact. She let out a deep breath, and a rueful smile crept across her face.
“I can see why you do it,” she admitted.
I channeled my relief into a broad smile. As much as her sympathy meant to me, however, her happiness meant more.
I started caressing her over her clothes with my thumb on her belly, making wider and wider circles until it was fondling her boobs and pressing on her crotch. My tongue stirred insistently. I sought one last affirmation from her, but I was in no position to request it. In the end, I let my eyes speak for me: You are mine to play with, and I will never let you go.
Pet lay back in my hands and raised her arms until they rested above her head against my fingers. She relaxed her legs and let my molesting thumb nudge them apart. Her breathing was deep and even, and her heartbeat felt strong. Her lips were skewed enigmatically, but I had no doubt what her eyes were saying in reply to mine: I am yours.
HERE ENDS VOLUME TWO
Many, many thanks to @Taedis for her assistance with this story.