A Small Complication
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Nov 18, 2020 (Day 1, cont.)
I couldn’t help feeling a little smug. “You know, I had thought that I might be able to call you ‘Two-Minute Taylor’ after I had my way with you.”
“Oh, shut up.” Taylor gave me a suffering scowl from her perch on my stomach.
“But I think your way might be better. ‘Twenty-Second Taylor’ rolls off the tongue pretty well.” I grinned, enjoying the reversal after her previous taunting.
“Okay, I get it. You’re proud of yourself.”
“Come on, stop grousing.” I lifted my hips off the ground, using a knee to help push her weight forward with the movement, and caught her as she fell into me.
“Grousing? I don’t grouse!” she protested, trying to push herself back upright against my embrace. “Who even says ‘grousing,’ anyway?”
“Really? This, from the girl who says ‘shirk your responsibility?’”
“Let’s go again. I bet you won’t last twenty seconds this time.” She managed to slide herself down my body a bit, and I felt her body press on the tip of my half-deflated member, which stirred to life at the touch.
“Didn’t the whole thing start because you wanted me to save it? I’m about to have the world’s worst case of blue balls, and I don’t think you properly appreciate the sacrifice I’m making.”
She started to push herself upright again, and I didn’t resist this time. “Your sacrifice?” she asked incredulously. “Oh, no, poor man gets to literally cover me in his cum,” she said with dripping sarcastic emphasis. “How awful!”
I sighed melodramatically. “No appreciation ….” I let my smile peek out; I’d never seen the appeal of leaving my mess on a woman, but Taylor’s enthusiasm for it was infectious. She didn’t respond, just holding me with a saucy stare. In the silence, I became acutely aware of the way her little butt rested on top of my lower head, from the way that she’d sat upright after having scooted backward. Against my will, I began to stiffen again, increasing the pressure between us.
Taylor, well aware of my predicament, slid herself back farther, leaving a thin trail of fluid on my length, cooling my skin as it quickly evaporated. She flashed a devious smile before looking down, then her expression quickly changed. “God, I can’t get over the size of it.” Her voice dropped into a near-whisper. “And soon, it’ll be even bigger. As big as me.” She shivered briefly, then began rocking her hips in earnest, leaning forward to grind her minuscule clit into my shaft.
I reached to grip her butt with my hands, pressing her down harder than her weight could press alone, and guided her hips in long strokes as she rocked them with increasing fervor. Taylor’s skin began to flush, and small moans started to escape from her open mouth. In the increasingly chaotic motions, at some point she slipped forward off of my cock, leaving her slit spread around my head.
She giggled, wagging a finger at me. “You can’t go in there, it couldn’t fit!”
“Oh, I could make it fit,” I assured her.
Taylor froze in place, looking at me with wide, anxious eyes.
Seeing her expression, I hurried to reassure her. “I’m kidding, jeez! I wouldn’t try something like that unless you wanted me to.”
She relaxed a bit, slowly resuming her oscillating motions. “Good. It would never fit.” She eyed me warily. “I mean it. Don’t even think about it, because that thing would break me in half!”
“All right, you know what?” I laughed, using a hand on Taylor’s back to push her down, then held her against my abdomen as I rolled over on top of her, using a little bit of my weight to push her down into the carpet.
“Mmph! What are you doing?” Taylor’s protest was slightly muffled against my chest. I propped myself on my elbows, lifting my weight off of Taylor, and she began to scoot upward. I placed a hand on top of her head, preventing her escape.
“Whatever I want. Because there’s nothing you can do about it.” I used a hand to rub my hardness into Taylor’s lips to emphasize the point, and she arched upward into me in response.
“What? No, I – You’re too big! It’ll rip me apart!” She actually sounded pretty worried, but I was reassured by the fact that her hand had migrated to her clit, and began rapidly working on herself. I slid my cock through the small length of her slit, pushing her hand out of the way with my head before shaking it on her little button. Taylor bit a knuckle as she moaned in response.
“Can I cum now? I’m so close. Already!” I’d forgotten that earlier, I had told her that she needed permission, but Taylor had remembered.
“Not yet, my little doll. Soon.”
My words seemed to excite her even further. “I’ll be a good little doll, Boss Man.” Taylor looked up at me with timid iridescent eyes, craning her neck to make eye contact. I slid my glans up and down her hot little crevice a few more times, then maneuvered to her narrow little entrance, teasing it with a slight pressure before sliding back upward. She gasped raggedly, losing focus for a moment.
“I’ll be the best doll ever! Just please let me cum, Boss Man!” her voice had an added tinge of desperation.
I wasn’t trying to tease her this time. “You can cum now, little doll. You did well.”
Her orgasm hit before I even finished giving permission, intensely wracking her little body. Like her climax on the refrigerator, it didn’t overwhelm her to the extent that her first one had, but it was an acutely erotic sight nonetheless. I was glad that she was on such a hair-trigger right now, because I couldn’t have held back for much longer, either.
During the couple seconds that it took her to recover, I moved myself downward, occupying myself with nibbling her collarbone until she was ready for a kiss. I felt her cool, diminutive hands on my cheeks, and raised my head up to look at her, basking momentarily in her relaxed smile. Then we shared a luxurious kiss before I slowly broke it.
“What do you think? Is it time to really make you a doll?”
I hadn’t thought it possible, but Taylor’s eyes grew even brighter.
============
“How tall is a Barbie doll, anyway?” I asked idly as I carried Taylor’s dollhouse into the garage, more to fill the silence than anything.
“11½ inches,” Taylor replied automatically. I should have expected that she’d know off the top of her head. I placed the house on the workbench, next to the control console, taking a moment to make sure that it wasn’t crooked before I pulled out my phone.
“Okay,” I said. “11 inches.” I plugged the numbers into the calculator on my phone.
“No, I said –” Taylor began, then stopped as she realized I hadn’t misheard. “You want me to be shorter than her.”
I only grinned in response, and she seemed … content, perhaps even happy with it. I reached for Taylor’s dial, and turned it to “17.20,” which would make her just barely over 11 inches tall. I had taken her measurements and vitals a few minutes earlier, and confirmed her current height at 2’8", meaning that she would shrink to just barely over one-third of her current height.
“Are you ready for this?” I asked.
Taylor took a deep breath, then nodded vigorously. “Oh, wait!” She hurried to the set of drawers that were under the workbench, and started rummaging through the top one.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, my tone a little harsh. Did she really just start going through my stuff?
Taylor didn’t reply, closing the top drawer and moving on to the second one. “Aha!” she exclaimed proudly, pulling out a foot-long wooden ruler. She held it with her fingers at each end, flexing it with her thumbs. “Perfect!”
She handed the ruler to me, and I looked at her in confusion. “… How small are you planning to go?”
“That’s not what it’s for,” she said with an impish smile. Upon seeing my blank look, she added vaguely, “You’ll know when the time comes.”
Whatever. I shook my head briefly at her cryptic remarks. “Anything else? Need to use the bathroom?”
“No, I don’t need to. But ….” she trailed off, seeming suddenly embarrassed, and appearing to shrink slightly on her own. I watched Taylor quietly, allowing her to take her time. After a long moment, she looked up, her eyes large. “… would you hold me? Like last time?”
I smiled gently. Even if I hadn’t wanted to, her expression could have melted stone. “Of course I would.” I had re-dressed when I went outside to bring in her dollhouse, so I took a moment to remove my shirt, thinking that the intimate contact would feel more comforting to Taylor. Then I knelt down and lifted her, cradled in both arms. She nuzzled her cheek into my shoulder as she wrapped a silky arm around my tricep.
“Do you want to press it?” I asked.
She looked up, hopelessly adorable in her snug little hammock. I could only imagine how endearing she would look a minute from now.
“I’m good here. You do it.”
“All right. Here it goes.” I slapped the button loudly, and turned my full attention to Taylor. Once again, it was instantly noticeable; I knew that she wasn’t going to lose quite as many inches this time, but it still seemed to happen faster than before. I focused on Taylor’s face, mesmerized as her features dwindled while I watched, and her head moved steadily downward from my shoulder, leaving her hair trailing behind. On the other side, her feet traveled just as quickly, but the most palpable change was in her weight. She had weighed just over 15 pounds a few seconds ago, but now, with the transition less than halfway complete, she couldn’t weigh more than five pounds. As her feet moved across my body, I no longer needed my second arm to hold Taylor, so out of curiosity, I placed my fingers on her stomach, feeling her skin move peculiarly inwards.
Taylor was looking rapidly, almost frantically, at her surroundings. As I moved my hand, Taylor gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, and I wasn’t sure whether I had startled her, or the transition was simply overwhelming her. She seemed to nestle even deeper into my arm as her reduction continued, and although I knew that I had programmed the device to shrink linearly, it felt as if Taylor’s transformation was accelerating. Soon, her stomach was too small for my fingertips, and I enclosed her torso with my hand instead, enthralled by her rapid metamorphosis.
When it was finished, she felt so slight and fragile in my arm. She had to be under a single pound now, and her legs seemed even thinner than my fingers. Some deep, visceral part of me was unable to accept that this tiny creature was actually the same person that I had been holding just moments ago. She’d crossed some sort of threshold, and my mind tried to interpret her more like a work of art, as if she was an impossibly intricate sculpture somehow brought to life.
Taylor’s eyes opened slowly, then she lifted her head up, holding her hands before her as she looked at her immediate surroundings. She ran a hand along the skin of my arm, then twisted a couple hairs, seemingly avoiding looking up at my face. I gingerly extended a finger towards her, and Taylor gasped inaudibly as she reached out to clasp my fingertip, her tiny hand barely reaching halfway around the digit. She tested it with both hands, running her fingers over my skin and fingernail, and I wondered at her delicate, ephemeral touch.
I watched her eyes slowly travel up my arm, to my shoulder, and finally to my face. Even with the gradual exposure, I still felt her stiffen slightly as she met my eyes. I smiled as warmly as I could, hoping to reassure her.
“You have no idea just how adorable you are now,” I said softly, meaning every word. “Perfect little doll.”
Taylor beamed at my words, and a blush spread to her cheeks. I let her stay in her little nest for another minute or so, letting her ease herself into her new world, before I asked, “Are you ready to look around?” She nodded, and I slid a hand under her back, cupping her body in my hand like a chair. I took a step toward the workbench.
“No, the –” she started, her voice so quiet that I could barely hear, then she tried again, more loudly. “No, the floor first. Please.” Her voice again had a noticeably higher pitch than before.
I stopped, then knelt, carefully placing her on the floor. I remained kneeling, both because standing had seemed to startle her last time, and so that I would be close enough to see her minuscule expressions and reactions. Taylor looked around, gawking at the wide open space around us, her neck craned upward and arms extended out to her sides.
“It’s huge! It feels like a gymnasium in here.” Then she looked down at herself, holding a hand with fingers splayed outward. “And I’m so … little!”
Taylor turned to focus on the nearby chair, then walked the two feet or so toward its nearest leg, reaching up with an arm as she approached, and was barely able to brush her fingers on the bottom of the chair’s seat. She walked to the front of the chair, then jumped up, reaching once more. She jumped significantly higher than I had expected, exclaiming with a startled “Whoa!” Apparently, she hadn’t expected that, either. After a moment’s thought, I supposed that it made sense, since her strength wouldn’t scale downward as quickly as her weight. Taylor jumped a few more times, giggling as she tested out her newfound springiness.
I chuckled, then started to sing a little snippet, wondering if she would know the words. “The most wonderful thing about Tiggers is ….”
“… that I’m the only one!” she finished joyfully, nearly yelling out the words. We grinned at each other for a moment, then she exclaimed with an “Ooh!” and turned to skip toward the adjacent wall, where the ruler and scale were. I stood, then followed, looking down at the scale’s display as she jumped onto it. “0.6 pounds? Oh my God, I’m so tiny! That’s … well …” she thought for a second, “less than a hundredth of my weight.”
I thought for a moment. “Probably closer to one two-hundredth. Hang on, I have a better scale.” I walked quickly to the drawers, and pulled a small scale from the top one, making sure that it was set to “ounces” before I placed it on the floor near Taylor.
She stepped onto it, watching the display. “10.1? What?” Then, before I could explain, “Oh, that’s ounces.” She looked up. “How many ounces am I normally?”
“Around two thousand,” I estimated after a moment, pulling out my phone to run the numbers. “1980, basically.”
Taylor looked off into the near distance. “So you’re right, two hundred times what I am now.” She shivered visibly, and I tested the air for the scent of her arousal, but it may have just been too faint at her size.
Then she visibly composed herself. “Okay, I want to see the dollhouse now.”
“In a minute. I’m not going to forget your vitals this time.”
Taylor groaned. Even at her size, it was loud enough to sound exaggerated.
“Come on, it’s not that bad,” I said. “What kind of supervisor are you, anyway?”
“I did my supervising,” she retorted. “I worked hard at supervising you. Now I’m on break.”
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“Where the hell did you find this? Did you make it yourself?” Taylor asked, looking at the blood pressure cuff that was wrapped around her tiny, slender arm.
“It’s designed for rats,” I replied. “It’s a tail cuff.”
“Oh.” She seemed a little disappointed in my explanation. “I guess it makes sense that they’d make them for lab rats.”
I made a note of the readings, then carefully removed the loop from Taylor’s arm, satisfied with what I’d seen. “Okay, that’s the last of them.”
“Finally! I swear that you’ve just been trying to delay this!” She stood up from the wadded-up shirt that she’d been reclining in, and started walking quickly toward her dollhouse.
“Actually, there’s one more thing first.”
“Oh, give me a break! You can’t be serious.” I could hear the aggravation in her little voice.
“No, I’m not. Just giving you a hard time.” I grinned, and she turned away with a groan, making a shooing gesture at me as she resumed walking. She stopped squarely in front of the miniature house, appraising it for a while from her new viewpoint, and presenting me with the best view in the house. Then she opened the front door and ducked inside, and I opened the roof so that I could see what she was doing. Taylor stopped just inside the doorway, looking around at the walls and furniture inside.
“This is crazy!” She looked up, seeing that I was watching. “The open roof is kinda weird. But I love this toy furniture!” She picked up a plastic chair, hefting it in her hands. I looked around for a moment, then picked up a Barbie from another room, and stood it next to Taylor.
“Whoa ….” she said wonderingly, looking the doll up and down. Taylor’s height was at roughly Barbie’s eye level. She reached out with a hand, feeling a plastic arm, then tested rotating it up and down before leaving the arm reaching upward over their heads. Then she rotated the other arm up, and started working at the doll’s yellow sundress.
“This is my favorite dress. It’s the one I want to try first.” I watched with amusement as Taylor struggled to remove the dress from her plaything. In the end, she laid the doll on the floor and stepped on her chest to hold her in position while dragging the dress up over her head. While Taylor busied herself with turning the dress right-side-out, I took a moment to stand the doll back up on her feet. Then I pinched the little garment with a finger and thumb, and pulled it gently away from Taylor, but she tightened her grip, sliding a little across the floor as I pulled.
“Hey!”
“Well, do you want the real doll experience, or not?” To show her what I meant, I moved my finger and thumb under Taylor’s armpits, then pushed her arms upward, so that she reached above her head.
“Ohh,” she said in realization, and became pliable in my hand.
“Hang on, it’s a bit awkward with you in there.” I tightened my grasp slightly, and lifted her slowly from the house. She looked down worriedly as I moved her from inside to outside.
“Don’t worry, I got you.” I set her down gently on the wooden surface, her hands still in the air. I let her go, and Taylor’s arms dropped back to her sides while I used my other hand to bring out Barbie; it was surreal to see the two of them side-by-side. “Now, time for dress-up?”
“Yes!” she said excitedly, launching her arms back into the air, the dress flapping in her hand as she did. “Please, dress your little doll!”
“Okay.” I smiled at her eager reaction, and plucked the yellow garment from her hand, rearranging the fabric so that it was essentially a ring with a gaping hole. Then I began to lower it over Taylor’s arms, carefully threading her hands through the miniature arm holes. I let the cloth drop, so that the skirt of it hung down around her, and slowly pulled it downward. As its waist reached Taylor’s shoulders, the cloth became snug, and didn’t want to travel any farther. I pulled it up a little before trying again, but to no avail.
“Let me try!” she yelled, slightly muffled. Ceding control, I pulled the dress partway off, letting Taylor have some more room before I released it. She worked the little garment around several times, but had no more success than I did, and became noticeably more agitated with her last two attempts. Finally, she removed the dress completely, then threw it to the ground with a frustrated motion.
“It’s too small! That’s my favorite one, too ….” she said crossly as she folded her arms, dissatisfaction etched across her little face. I could see her eyes glisten wetly, reflecting her dashed hopes.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I said gently, hoping to cheer her a little. “I’m sure there’s others that will fit. Maybe some with stretchier fabric?”
She nodded sullenly. “Yeah, probably. But I really wanted that one. And if it doesn’t fit, then most of the others won’t, either.” She stalked angrily to her new plastic roommate, and shoved her roughly to the ground. “Why are you so scrawny?!” Taylor seemed to become only more irate when Barbie’s frozen smile didn’t disappear, growling as she clenched her tiny hands into fists.
“Whoa, hey,” I said placatingly, hooking a finger around Taylor’s waist. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe we could alter them or something.” She turned to look at me, and shook her head. “Okay, then … it’s not like you have to be this exact size. If they don’t fit ….”
Taylor looked up, her wet eyes alight. “Yeah, that might work! I could just be whatever size makes the waist fit.” She thought for a moment. “None of the pants would fit right, and maybe some long dresses, but that might be okay.” She picked the dress back up, flattening it and looking down as she held it against her own waist. “It’s pretty small. I probably need to lose like, four inches.” She paused. “Well, I mean, four inches from my normal waist. You know what I mean.”
“We could try making you ten inches tall? That would be about 10% smaller.”
Taylor thought for a second. “I don’t think that’s enough. Let’s try nine and a half.”
“Okay, it’s up to you. Do you want to do it right now?” She nodded, and after a moment’s calculation, I turned the dial to “14.80,” then pressed the button. The change was still noticeable while it was happening, but at her size, it was harder for me to see it than before. When it was over, though, she was obviously shorter than her toy doll. Barbie was still lying prone on the workbench surface, but I guessed that Taylor would be about shoulder height to her now.
Taylor pulled the sundress over her head, trying once more. After some finessing, she managed to cinch it over her body this time. She looked down at her stomach, running her hands on the snug fabric, then looked back at me.
“I can wear it, but it’s super tight! I think I should go just a little bit smaller. Nine inches?”
“Okay.” I repeated the shrinking process, turning the dial to “14.00” this time. Taylor tugged slightly at the cloth with her hands as it slowly slackened around her.
“All right, it’s done,” I told her once the indicator light blinked off.
Taylor twisted her hips, then bent forward and backward, testing the fit of her dress. The hem was significantly lower on Taylor than it had been on Barbie, but she seemed satisfied anyway. The chest was a little loose as well, but not as much as I had expected. Overall, in my opinion, it looked much better on Taylor than it ever could have on Barbie. “Yeah, this works,” she cheered happily.
“I’ll say it works,” I said in appreciation. “You’re the cutest little thing ever.” Taylor looked away as her skin started to redden, and I grinned as I decided to pile it on. “It’s so adorable when you blush like that.”
“Oh my God, stop!” she complained. She looked at a flushed shoulder. “Look what you’re doing to me!”
“That’s why I’m doing it. You’re like a little tomato!”
“God! You suck!” She sat down with a harrumph, burying her face in her hands.
“Look at those tiny red ears! They’re so cute.” I used a fingertip to hook behind one and push it out from her head a little. She leaned away, heatedly slapping at my finger with one hand.
“Okay, okay, I’m done,” I said soothingly. “How about giving it a twirl?” I asked, twisting a finger through the air. Taylor stood back up with a little smile, then spun awkwardly in place. Then, dissatisfied, she tried again, looking much more graceful this time as the dress flared out endearingly. We grinned at each other sincerely for a few moments.
“Let’s find another one.” I reached into the dollhouse and pulled out the substantial pile of doll clothes from inside, then began sorting through them. “Jeez, how many outfits do you have?”
Taylor looked a little embarrassed. “Well … like, thirty or so. There used to be more, but I gave away the ones I didn’t like.”
“You have a mermaid tail? Oh, you have to try this one.”
“What? Oh God, no!”
I smirked at her reaction. “Well, maybe we’ll just save that for when you’re a bad little doll.”
Taylor approached the mermaid costume where I had set it down, then knelt down and slowly ran a hand along its length, drawn away by some distant memory. After a quiet moment, she said softly, “Ariel was my favorite princess when I was a girl.”
I leaned forward so that I could hear, laying my hands flat on the workbench and resting my chin on top of them. “Why is that?” I didn’t want to wreck a rare moment, so I resisted the urge to make a crack about always having perfect hair in the water.
“The other princesses all needed some guy to save them. But not Ariel. She knew what she wanted, and she went after it herself. She was so determined. I … admired that.”
Of course – it seemed so obvious now that she’d told me. “I should have known, since you have the same sort of spirit.” She looked up with a warm smile, and I reached with a finger to lightly brush an exposed shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. Then, gesturing around her, she added, “For everything. For making dreams come true.”
I felt my own face flush at this, something that I hadn’t felt in years. Her words were a little sappy, but so heartfelt that it didn’t matter. But the way that she was looking at me, with … admiration? … was starting to make me feel self-conscious.
What I wanted in that moment was to embrace Taylor, and repay her words by drowning her in affection. Instead, coward that I was, I changed the subject. “Was there another outfit that you had in mind?”
“Actually, yeah. There’s one in this mess somewhere that’s … slinkier. I wanted to see if it’ll fit.”
I didn’t argue – something slinky sounded just perfect to me.
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Nov 18, 2020 (Day 1, cont.)
Taylor was ridiculously cute in her little cowgirl outfit.
She wore a puffy red long-sleeved shirt, with sleeves that were too long for her, but looked just fine rolled-up. On top of the shirt, she was wearing a brown vest with a little yellow star badge. The jeans that belonged with this outfit were too long for Taylor to wear, but she had a denim skirt that looked even better, in my opinion. She’d discarded the matching boots almost immediately – they were a bit loose, but the real problem was that they were so stiff that she could hardly walk. Taylor had refused to give up on the cowboy hat, though, even though it was loose on her head. I loved the way that the hat kept tilting forward to cover her face, and she was forced to push it back each time so that she could see.
She had been trying on different outfits for nearly an hour now, occasionally adopting the mannerisms or accent of a person who would wear it and playfully acting out some contrived scenario. It seemed like she had a fair amount of practice, because she was surprisingly good at some of them.
“You need a six-shooter to go with all that,” I told her.
“Naw,” she replied, in a passable Southern drawl. “A real cowgirl can get by with just her wits and her trusty steed.” She gave me a meaningful smirk.
I recognized her phrasing from our encounter the other night, and I chuckled as the realization hit me. “Ah. So that’s why you wanted to save this one for last.”
“It is.” She nodded, her face slightly flushed, but her tone was unchanged. “Now, Mister Big Man, if you would permit me?” She motioned me upwards, and I obliged, standing close to the workbench so that she could have access to her “steed.” After all, how could I refuse such a charming little request?
Taylor reached for the button eagerly, wearing a grin that seemed too big for her tiny face. She turned her body sideways, so that she could pull one layer of fabric directly toward her, while pushing the other directly away. As she sidestepped into me, the rim of her broad hat pushed against my stomach, pushing it from her head as she focused on undoing the button. She gave it a commendable effort, grunting with the strain, working at it for a solid minute before finally giving up and backing away.
“Hmph. Looks like this situation is more than one person can take on.” She pointed at me. “I’m gonna need to deputize you.”
Her playacting was so endearing, I decided to join in. “Well now, little miss, what seems to be the problem here?” I cringed inwardly as I said the words; if this was going to become a regular thing, I’d need to practice so that my accent wasn’t so atrocious.
“Well, sir, it’s my steed. He’s been … trapped, and well, his bonds are too sturdy for me to break on my own.”
“Oh, that’s a terrible shame, miss. I reckon I could help you out a mite.” I reached down and undid the button for her.
“Appreciate the help, sir, and I won’t soon forget it. I have no coin to spare, but I could repay you with … hospitality.”
Taylor pulled the denim layers apart and started working at the zipper. It was still a challenge for her, but she made steady progress this time. I watched quietly, both amused and enthralled by the way that she now struggled with mundane everyday things. Eventually, she managed to fully open the zipper, and she spread the fabric apart, then began to tug at the waistband of my boxers. But after a couple of tries, she quickly determined that she wouldn’t be able to move the waistband down like she had wanted.
Taylor paused for a few seconds, seeming to consider her options, then pulled my waistband slightly away from my stomach and slid a leg inside.
“Wait. Are you gonna –” Before I could finish the thought, Taylor had impressively slithered her full body through the waistband. The sensations were a bit disconcerting at first, as I felt her slide downward, hooking diminutive limbs around my member, and I tried to determine which way she had oriented herself. Her small weight settled briefly at the bottom of my boxers, before she quickly used her limbs near my base to pull herself up. I felt two tiny sensations moving up my shaft – those must have been her hands – before they pulled me sideways, bringing me into increased contact with the fabric of Taylor’s outfit. She wrapped her slender arms around my girth, hugging me closely as she began to use her mouth around the underside of my head. I heard some intermittent murmurings, but couldn’t make out any words.
I bent my hips forward a little, trying to give Taylor some more space. She responded by holding me tighter and grinding her hips on me, and I could feel the tiny trail of wetness that she left behind. This caused my blood to flow even more rapidly, and as my cock awoke, I foresaw that it was about to become uncomfortable in there.
As interesting as it was to have Taylor scrambling around in my underwear, the situation would soon be untenable, so I stretched out the waistband and pulled them down to my mid-thigh, revealing both myself and Taylor, though most of her body was hidden behind my shaft. She paused her nibbling only long enough to give me a disappointed “Aww …” before returning to focus on her ministrations. Although I was only at half-mast so far, I was still solid enough to hold up Taylor’s trivial weight, but I still scooted forward so that she was above the workbench surface, just in case. I had thought that I knew what to expect, that my imagination was vivid enough, but I was wholly unprepared for what I saw; she was an astonishingly surreal sight, her sinuous body writhing along my length like some erotic otherworldly creature out of myth.
An otherworldly creature clad in denim and polyester. While I had enjoyed Taylor’s little costume, I decided that it had outstayed its welcome. I reached toward her, then stopped myself – she looked to be enjoying herself so much that I didn’t want to interrupt. But I couldn’t see much more than her arms and legs, so I leaned to one side for a better view. Most of her energy seemed to be focused on rubbing her body against me. Sometimes, she would seem to strive for as much contact as possible, squishing her firm little breasts against my increasing hardness through her thin shirt, and nuzzling my head with her smooth cheek. Other times, she would focus the contact on her pelvis, whispering tiny moans to my cock as she ground her hips against me and accentuated the way her miniature skirt had ridden up on her hips. Through it all, she peppered my head with small kisses, licks, and nibbles, her soft and precise lips finding their delicate way onto every millimeter of skin within her reach.
It only took a few more seconds of Taylor’s stimulation to bring me to my full hardness. Then, somehow, she coaxed me into becoming even harder. My earlier words about blue balls echoed in my head as I tried to ignore the deep, throbbing ache, an uncomfortable reminder of just how desperately part of me yearned for release. But if this ended so soon, I would never forgive myself. Taylor, on the other hand, was completely absorbed in our unconventional union, never losing focus for even the slightest fraction of a second, her body a writhing little tangle of sensuality. I’d never seen – had barely even imagined – this kind of unrestrained passion, such unbridled adoration. And for some reason, she was giving it to me. It was enough to make a man burst, although I didn’t dare.
At first, Taylor’s movements were energetic, almost frenzied. But within a couple of minutes, she had slowed to a more sustainable, but no less passionate, rhythm. Although Taylor slowed down, my excitement continued to build, to the point that I was forced to stop her, lest I end it all far too soon. I pulled Taylor gently off me, despite her disappointed noises, and I placed her standing back on the workbench, her skirt still hiked up above her hips in a tawdry display.
I smirked at her. “Look at you, debasing yourself that way. Such a naughty little doll.”
Taylor’s eyes were set afire. “So naughty that she needs to be punished?” she asked teasingly, with a hint of eagerness.
And suddenly, I realized why she’d given me the ruler.
============
Taylor rubbed a hand on her petite backside with mock woundedness. “I don’t think I deserved that many spanks.” It was clearly an act, and we both knew that she wished it had gone longer, but I played along.
I squatted so that my face was at her level, and eyed her like a rebellious child. “That just means you don’t really understand how naughty you’ve been.”
“Mmm. Have I been a bad little doll?” she asked with playful innocence, holding an index finger to her mouth.
I nodded semi-seriously, and snatched her hat from her head before she could react, then held it tauntingly in front of her. “And bad little dolls don’t get to play dress-up.”
She gasped, covering her mouth with a tiny hand, tiny teardrop eyes gleaming. “But … then I’d be naked!”
“What a shame,” I replied facetiously. “Maybe then you’ll learn.”
“But … I don’t have anything to cover myself!” Taylor made a fair show at being scandalized.
I shrugged. “You should have thought of that before you were so naughty. But it sounds like you’re asking for more paddling first ….” I trailed off, my voice playfully threatening.
Her shoulders deflated. “In that case … I suppose you leave me no choice.” She sighed heavily, then turned partially to one side as her body language changed, thrusting her chest out slightly as she started to slide the vest apart for the beginning of her little strip show.
But I stopped her, hooking a finger in each of her arms, and pulling them away from her body. “Wait,” I said, hoping that my tone conveyed the gentle enthusiasm that I felt. “Let me.” As exciting as Taylor’s little show would have been, I’d been impatiently containing my eagerness to undress her for myself. Since her arms were already in my hands, I started there, sliding my fingertips to her hands and lightly touching each of her delicate, slender fingers. I turned one hand, feeling her palm and intricate digits with my thumb before running my fingers up her forearms, savoring the smooth feel of her skin under my touch. I slid the fingers of my left hand back down to her elegant little hand, and at the same time slowly moved my right hand up her arm, stopping to rub lightly on her shoulder for a few moments.
Taylor closed her eyes, leaning her head away from my hand, and I took her hint, lightly brushing her neck with my thumb as she leaned into my index finger. I tilted myself forward a little, bringing her hand up to my lips and giving them the tiniest, most delicate kiss that I could manage. She opened her eyes at this, and a warm smile spread on her face as she went nearly limp in my hands. Her eyes closed again as I slowly left more careful kisses on her hand and lightly caressed her neck again with my thumb before tracing the edge of one perfectly-shaped ear. She dipped her head slightly as if it tingled, and I took the opportunity to lean in and briefly leave a kiss on her forehead. As I moved back, she raised a hand to stroke my cheek, then beckoned me back to her once I was out of reach. I followed her direction, stopping an inch or two from her. She placed a hand on either side of my lips and leaned forward toward my mouth, placing a barely-perceptible kiss on my lower lip.
It was a tiny, tender gesture, and I returned it as best I could, pressing my lips softly forward to gently kiss her face. Taylor continued to press her minute mouth to various places on my lips, and, at a loss for what else to do, I ran my forefinger through her hair before cradling her head with the tip of my finger and thumb. After a few more tiny kisses, I broke away slightly, and gently tilted Taylor’s head so that I could lick the nape of her neck with the tip of my tongue, lightly brushing the skin upward, then along the ridge of her little ear, encouraged by her shaky intake of breath. I returned to her lips, and she accepted my invitation, kissing more firmly this time, some of them accompanied by the small wet warmth of her diminutive tongue. There was more passion in her this time, and her hands roamed around my lips and jaw as her body writhed against my hand.
I gave her a firm, final kiss, then pulled back a foot or so. I held a flap of the vest in each hand, and pulled each side back over her shoulders, pulling it down and off behind her body. “It’s time to get rid of these,” I said, arching an eyebrow. “You bad little doll.” She giggled, and I took hold of the hem of her shirt, folding it about a third of the way up her torso, and bending in to leave a few small kisses on her exposed stomach. Her small fingers began to run through my thick hair, so I didn’t pull away this time. I moved a thumb and finger to her exposed skin, brushing it lightly as I pushed her shirt slightly upwards with each circuit. Then I gave her front a small lick with the tip of my tongue, from the top of her skirt up to just beneath her breasts, feeling how the smooth skin was interrupted by the small dimple of her navel, and I received a noticeably sharper moan in response. I smiled around my tongue, and continued using it to trace soft trails on her front side, moving my fingers around to caress her back.
With my tongue and fingers, I gradually pushed her shirt upwards, exposing incrementally more of her silky skin. When I had revealed nearly the lower half of her breasts, I snaked my tongue up under her shirt, pressing down on one squishy little globe. Taylor moaned seductively and pressed a hand on my tongue through her shirt, and I moved my thumb to her other breast, freeing it from its cloth prison in the process. She arched forward, pressing herself into my touch, and I gently squeezed her small orbs together in response. I quickly tugged her shirt up and off her body, finally removing the barrier between us, then laid her down tenderly, and I paused for a moment to look at Taylor. She looked back, her wild hair and fierce eyes making her the very picture of lust. Remembering how she had reacted when I attended to her breasts earlier in the day, I made sure to give them plenty of attention. I traced arcs up their slopes with my tongue, leaving thin trails behind as I made my way to their tiny peaks. I brushed their surfaces lightly with my thumb, feeling their hardened points catch on the ridges of my fingerprint as I moved over them. I pressed them gently together, squishing them into oblong shapes and invariably causing her to arch upward. I carefully suckled on them, teasing the little tips gently with my tongue. I couldn’t tell which she liked best; each transition seemed to drive her higher than the last, and I began to wonder if she would orgasm just from this.
Eventually, after a long, long span of time, I moved my mouth downward, moving slowly over her stomach, then skipping over her skirt and down to her legs. I ran my tongue languorously down one, then kissed my way back up, inching her skirt up slightly with my lips when I reached it, and exposing another quarter-inch or so of her thigh. Then I did the same on her other leg, moving sensually along her curved surface, and stopping at just a slightly higher position this time. Taylor groaned impatiently and quickly spread her knees apart, forcing the cloth upward to her hips and revealing her womanhood. But I ignored it for the moment; I wasn’t trying to tease her, but I didn’t want to rush, either. I moved a hand back to Taylor’s breasts to placate her as I nibbled my way up the outside of her leg, all the way up to her waist. I felt her hands on my pinky finger, and let her pull it to her mouth where she started to kiss and nuzzle it in between moans.
Leaving my pinky where it was, I angled my hand so that I could reach the side of her skirt with my thumb and forefinger, holding it in place while I used my other hand to peel the Velcro apart. The rough sound tore through our sensuous indulgence like a lightning bolt, and we stared at each other for a startled moment before giggling together. I slid the last piece of cloth quickly over her legs, then rapidly placed kisses all over her delectable little body. I ended at one of her adorable little feet, kissing it repeatedly while I spread the tiny toes with my fingertip. I looked down at Taylor to see that she was already giving me her best “come hither” eyes. When I met them, she opened her thighs invitingly, and I gave her foot one last kiss goodbye.
I licked a long, slow line down the inside of her thigh, and she pulled my pinky to her chest as her head rocked backward, a small tremor going through her as I barely contacted the top of her tiny treasure trove. With achingly slow speed, I ran the tip of my tongue down the half-inch length of her slit, tasting the faint trace of her fluid that had trickled from within. I barely heard Taylor’s small, tremulous gasp as her body shuddered urgently under my hand, and I felt the corners of my mouth curl upward in satisfaction. I vibrated my tongue on her, and her body thrashed as her moans ratcheted up by half an octave.
I knew that it wouldn’t take much more now. I was ready to let her have her orgasm, but there was just one thing that I wanted first. I pulled back a few inches, far enough that I could see her clearly while I hooked my thumbs under her thighs. Then I carefully used the edge of my thumbs near the corners of my fingernails to cautiously pull open her moist little lips, showing me Taylor’s perfect, most intimate place. Taylor looked like she was about to say something, but I was already moving back in, and I gave her a good, long, vibratory lick while I held her spread open. Her intense little moans returned in a rush, and I continued, not stopping until I’d given her more sensations than she could handle. The pitch of her small trills spiraled upward, becoming increasingly erratic, and my hands felt the tension increasing in her body, now slick with sweat from the exertion. Finally, she gave one last, explosive cry, and her legs shook while her hips rocked back and forth, and I pulled back so that I could watch one of the sexiest sights that has ever been seen.
She lay back for a few seconds as she recuperated, but before she had fully recovered she was up and moving, rising to her knees and shambling toward me with half-closed, unfocused eyes. She motioned me toward her. “Now it’s your turn,” she said eagerly. “Give it all to me. Please!” Her hands moved to her own body as she spoke, one sliding smoothly between her legs as the other arced firmly around a squeezed breast. “Won’t that feel so good? You’ve been holding it in all this time.” She continued to touch herself, her body rocking and arching as she let out a small moan. “Won’t it feel amazing to finally let it go? To cover my little body in your hot cum?”
I wasn’t sure I had ever seen such a nakedly erotic sight as Taylor working herself back up while she begged for my cum. I hardened nearly instantly, aching from the suddenness of it, and from the numerous earlier false starts. I stood, bringing my head within Taylor’s reach, and she circled her arms around it, pressing her breasts to the underside as she gave the top a long, slow lick. I wrapped a hand around myself and gave my length a long, firm stroke, and my cock swelled as my energy rocketed forward. Her small embrace tightened as my head enlarged, sending another surge through me, and Taylor gave a delighted little squeal as I grew in her arms. I didn’t want this to end soon, but I doubted that I could last very long at this point.
Suddenly, Taylor looked up at me, her eyes dark and lusty. “Use your little doll’s body.”
“What?” She seemed to think that her meaning would be obvious, but I was genuinely puzzled.
In response, she reached silently for my thumb, prying it gently upward away from my penis. Then she pushed down on my hand, nearer to the wrist to show that she wanted my whole hand to move, creating a gap of about an inch between my fingers and my cock. It wasn’t until she gripped my head and slid one of her feet into the gap that I realized what she had meant. I straightened my fingers slightly to widen the opening for her, and shifted my hand as she entered to help her squirm in between. She threaded her arms and legs around me, squeezing my length tightly for an affectionate moment before relaxing her grip, slowly undulating her body against my underside.
Then she opened her eyes, looking up at me again with a devilish smile, her little eyes aglitter. “Do it. Use me.” I was taken aback by her small ferocity, and stared dumbly at her for a moment before I recovered. I could hardly believe just how much she was trusting me to be careful with her – either that, or she was so excited that she was no longer concerned about it. Either way, I didn’t need any further convincing. I pressed her perfectly-fitting torso lightly against my hard flesh and stroked slowly, smoothly downward on my cock, stopping when I felt Taylor’s tiny ass touch my sack. It was a familiar motion, but the sensation was altogether unfamiliar, so exhilarating and salacious that I nearly erupted right then. I squeezed my eyes shut as I fought to control myself, trying to focus on something besides how wild I was being driven by Taylor’s little body. Her smooth, soft, curvy little body. Her lithe, supple, steamy little body that was impossible to dislodge from my mind.
I took a deep, shaky breath, then stroked back upward, more slowly this time, trying to savor the individual sensations created by Taylor’s body. The smooth skin of her cheek, felt in alternation with the tiny, warm softness of her tongue. The firm yet spongy globes of her breasts pressed unceasingly against me, surrounding their hardened, pointed centers. The taut, uncreased plane of her stomach, trailed by a soft, tickling tuft of thin hair. Once again, it was nearly too much, and when I felt Taylor’s wrapped arms touch the rim of my head, I silently gave thanks for the natural chance to pause and regain control of myself. It was a longer pause this time, as I fought down the increasing urge to finish.
My silent struggle was interrupted by a new feeling at my very tip. Startled, I opened my eyes to see Taylor’s hand there, scooping up a large glob of pre-cum. She brought it back down to where I couldn’t see, but then I could feel her smearing it on her breasts and upper chest, moving her body against me to spread it around some more. Then she angled her head to one side so that I could see her, and smirked at me as she made a seductive show of using her mouth to clean the liquid from her fingers.
I chuckled at her brash display, then decided to take it as a challenge. If she had another orgasm first, I reasoned, then I wouldn’t feel so bad about finishing early. I slid my index finger down to the small of her back, and wedged my thumb between us, pinching her hips lightly so that I could angle them back a bit, bringing her imperceptible clit into contact with my skin.
“What are …?” Taylor began, then her tone changed as she realized what I was up to. “No, I’ve already … had my turn,” she demanded, her declaration interrupted as she tried to fight a tremor that ran through her body. But I ignored her complaint; I now had something to focus on besides how this felt for me, and I leapt at the chance to delay the inevitable. I began to move her hips back and forth in small motions, changing the angle of her as I did, and I smiled in satisfaction as Taylor began to release high-pitched moans again. “Stop! What about … nnh … you?”
I grinned, though she couldn’t see it. “Let me worry about that. You just be a good little doll, and let me play with you.” The words seemed to shatter her feeble resistance, and she began to rock her hips of her own accord, pressing her dewy lips against me as her little vocal outbursts intensified.
As she squirmed and pressed and moaned against me, I began to stroke her along my length again, moving in slow, short bursts to keep myself under control. I slowly began to turn her so that she was on one side, bringing her curved little body into view. I marveled again at her svelte little sweat-slicked form, her small body uncannily perfect, as if any imperfections had been smoothed away by her new size. I gave her a small squeeze in my hand, feeling the way that her body flexed around my hard shaft, and I heard a tiny “Yes!” in between the moans that were rising from below.
Emboldened by her response, and feeling like my cock was somewhat less sensitive by now, I began to lengthen my strokes, adding some saliva for additional lubrication. I tried to ignore the vigor surging inside me, focusing instead on driving Taylor into a little frenzy. With her oriented sideways like this, her graceful curves were outlined against me, the subtle motions of her body intensifying as I used her like she’d demanded, and she used me in return. In this way, we pleasured each other for a horribly brief eternity, until I felt that my risen tide could no longer be contained. Not ready to concede defeat, I pinched Taylor’s hips in my fingers again, pressing her tiny womanhood directly against me with far more pressure than she could on her own, and her small cries soared in an escalating spiral, building finally to a diminutive crescendo.
When Taylor orgasmed around me, I simply gaped at the incredible sight, too awestruck to do anything else. I realized suddenly that I had been mistaken – I had thought that Taylor was a woman reduced, changed into something less than she had been. But now I saw that she was in truth a woman concentrated; she was the entirety of a woman’s spirit and energy, distilled and compressed into a tiny white-hot vessel of pure femininity. How could I have ever thought otherwise?
And all of that dazzling energy, that refined and condensed eroticism, was focused entirely on my painfully-hard member. As she squeezed and thrashed wildly on me, each of her movements, every arch of her back, every press of her pelvis, every lusty cry, seemed almost to transfer her arousal into me. I swelled as Taylor unknowingly coaxed my own orgasm toward her, an unstoppable force that I couldn’t possibly hope to contain. I fought anyway, clenching my free hand into a fist as I struggled to keep the chaotic energy away from the hand that held Taylor, buying a precious second to lay her down and announce its arrival.
“Uhn, I’m coming!” I was barely able to force the words through my teeth as I leaned forward so that I could point myself at Taylor’s little body. I saw her sit up, her small form unfocused in my vision, before I lost sight of her and was overwhelmed by the explosive release. I planted my forearm on the wood surface, leaning on it unsteadily as my entirety suddenly rushed out of me. I forced myself to inhale, overriding the instinct to hold my breath, and was still struggling to regain my bearings when I felt the second rush, accompanied by a severe light-headedness. My eyes managed to refocus before the third shot left me, and I adjusted my aim quickly, since it looked like the second may have partially missed. I gasped falteringly, pushing myself back upright as I blinked against the disorientation, slowly reconstructing my attention on Taylor.
But she was already lost, busily caressing and squeezing herself as new moans filled the air around her, steadily working her body in its coating of combined sweat, saliva, and seed. I held myself steady until the last spurt left me, then gently wiped the last of it onto Taylor’s thigh, knowing that I’d hear about it later if I didn’t give her every drop. I felt a small smile at the confirmation that she hadn’t been pretending when she’d professed her desire to be covered in my emission, then settled in to watch the show.
As I stared at her sultry, oblivious movements, I belatedly realized that I was still hard, and I wondered for a moment whether I’d be able to have another orgasm. Then I decided to find out.
-
Nov 18, 2020 (Day 1, cont.)
Taylor reclined comfortably, sinking a little deeper into the soothing warm water in her casserole dish bathtub. It probably would have been easier to bathe her in the sink, but there was something about using a separate basin that appealed to me. She had piled her washed-and-dried hair up on her head to keep it from getting wet again, held in place by an absurdly large hairpin. Her torn piece of orange sponge floated nearby, ignored now that it had served its purpose. She was surrounded by the dwindling suds left over from the far-too-generous quantity of soap that I had lathered onto her body; I felt confident that Taylor was now the cleanest doll in the state.
She watched as I lazily swirled a finger in the water, idly watching the patterns on the surface, then turned her head toward me. “Well …” she said, her grin and tone suggesting that she was leading up to something, “I guess you really are a big-shot scientist!”
I looked at her blankly for a moment, then twisted my mouth as I groaned. “Wow. How long have you been holding that one?”
“A while,” she admitted, and her little grin turned sheepish. “I wanted to say that when you gave it to me, but I was kinda … distracted.”
I laughed softly. “Just a little. Not that I mind. Feel free to be ‘distracted’ anytime you want.” We smiled at each other as the short exchange trailed off, comfortable with the leisurely quiet after a full day.
Now that our activities were winding down, I turned my thoughts to setting up Taylor’s quarters for her stay. “When you’re done here,” I told her quietly, gesturing to her tub, “I’ll set up the spare room, and you can have the bedroom.”
Taylor’s eyes met mine, then she looked down and shook her head. “Thanks, but … I don’t need a bed.” Then she elaborated, “Not at this size.”
I struggled to contain my bewilderment. “So, you … want to stay that small? The whole time you’re here?”
Taylor nodded assuredly as she made eye contact again, her eyes now more of a muted viridian than the brilliant emerald they had been earlier. “That’s what I’ve always imagined. Living at this size. Maybe I’ll get tired of it after a while, but I want to try it.”
“Huh. Okay.” I shrugged mentally; if that was what Taylor wanted, I had no real reason to object. “Then I’ll move your dollhouse into the spare room. You’ll basically have your own yard.” I grinned as I imagined the extra room being effectively its own plot of land. But my mirth faded as Taylor didn’t react, and her careful lack of response told me that it wasn’t quite what she had in mind. I waited a few seconds for her to express her reservations, but she remained quietly contemplative as she rubbed warm water onto her shoulder. “… what is it?” I asked, hoping that I would prompt Taylor to reveal her thoughts.
“Well … I … I don’t really want to sleep in a room by myself. Not at this size.” She turned herself over in the water, resting her arms on the dish’s rim so that she was facing me, although she looked down at the countertop. “I’d feel … safer … if you were there with me.”
I nodded thoughtfully while I processed Taylor’s explanation. I supposed that I could understand how a room might be intimidating to a person of Taylor’s new stature, especially at night.
“Well … what if I snore?” I was pretty sure that I didn’t, but for some reason I was highly amused by the thought of Taylor kept awake at night by a snoring giant.
Her serious expression slowly turned into a smirk. “Then you may or may not wake up with creative drawings on your face.”
============
I took no small amount of pleasure in softly drying Taylor’s sexy miniaturized body with a kitchen towel. She obviously knew that I was being overly thorough, but seemed to be enjoying the attention. I turned her gently around, so that she faced away from me, and admired her soft little curves. I dabbed the towel on her shoulders, picking up a couple stray droplets of water that just fallen from her hair, then planted a delicate kiss across her shoulder blades.
Taylor’s head inclined in response, turning partway toward me. “Getting distracted?” she asked, amusement creeping into the edges of her voice.
“Not at all. Just making sure that you’re dry enough. Lips are more sensitive than fingers.” It sounded like it might be true, so I decided to go with it.
She nodded skeptically. “Sure.” In response, I planted a slightly firmer kiss on her lower back, then followed it with another on a minuscule ass cheek. “All right,” she said lightly, turning back around. “That’s enough.”
“I don’t believe you. I think you’re loving this,” I said, moving in to quickly kiss her stomach.
“Stop!” she giggled, swatting my nose half-heartedly with her hand.
“You don’t want me to stop,” I responded.
“I don’t? You know me so well already?” she challenged playfully.
“No. Because if I stop, then I’ll do this,” I said, placing my lips firmly back on Taylor, and held her in place with a hand as I blew a giant raspberry on her stomach, eliciting a loud giggling squeal. Taylor’s legs collapsed, and I laid her body gently down as I continued to torment her.
“Aaaugh! Stop!” she yelled through her laughter, her body curling involuntarily as she pushed away on my cheek with both hands. I pulled back a few inches, and Taylor held both hands to her stomach, rolling onto her side as she tried to recover. “Oh my God, the vibrations. It’s too much ….” she complained through gasping breaths, and in that instant I knew that there would be many, many more raspberries in Taylor’s future.
-
Sorry it took so long for this last update. Hopefully it was worth the wait.
The “Day 1” chapter turned out out to be a lot longer than I had expected, but now it’s finally done. The good news is that I’ve also written a good part of the next several chapters, and those will be shorter, so hopefully I’ll finish those more quickly.
-
I feel a little bit guilty, because I’ve hardly written any more of this story over the past two months. I’ve just been occupied with other things, and to be honest, I’m not sure when I’ll really get back to writing this story.
But I do have some partially-written chapters, so I’ve decided to post the parts that are in a reasonably finished state. I figure that I might as well, since right now they’re just sitting on my hard drive, not doing any good. Just be aware that this story may not be finished in the foreseeable future.
Nov 19, 2020 (Day 2)
How on earth was it only two o’clock? I felt like six hours had passed since I last looked at the clock, and the lying thing told me that it had only been forty minutes. I sighed inwardly; this day was simply ridiculous. I was just about ready to give up for the day, and stop throwing good time after bad.
The only thing I had accomplished today was the first thing this morning, when I had set up a safeguard so that Taylor couldn’t set her size to over 100%, even accidentally. I’d done only two experiments where I had tried to grow animals larger than their normal size, and both times had left the kind of mess that I never wanted to clean up again. With Taylor involved, I didn’t feel like it was safe enough to rely on us never setting the dial too high, so I had set a hard limit inside the device itself. But after that initial productive half-hour or so, I’d been entirely useless.
I should have been working on getting the device to recognize markers on non-cellular objects. Failing that, I should have been working on a digital control system to replace that haphazard control panel, or rewriting the molecular tracing logic so that it didn’t break every time I breathed too hard, or setting up an automated system for running the test animals through their shrink and regrowth cycles, so that I didn’t have to spend an hour each day doing it manually. There were entirely too many things to do, and somehow I hadn’t made progress on a single one.
Instead, I’d been preoccupied with thoughts of Taylor. Occasionally, I would feel like I was finally about to get into the groove of working on one of my uncountable tasks, but then the inconsiderate little trollop would come barging back into my head, scattering my thoughts in her wake.
I had spent a good portion of the day debating with myself about whether I was acting morally in this situation, having sexual relations with a woman who was acting as my test subject. Taylor had said that she didn’t feel like I was taking advantage of her, but I still didn’t feel entirely right about it. If I had been planning to publish a paper, then sleeping with her would have been a clear ethical breach. The current situation wasn’t really covered by professional ethics, but I still wasn’t sure it was a good idea – the dynamics in this entire situation were hugely asymmetric. If some girl had proven that she could make my wildest dream come true, I’d probably convince myself that she was the greatest person to ever live, regardless of how I might have felt about her otherwise. How could I expect Taylor to be objective about the situation?
On the other hand, sex was an integral part of Taylor’s doll fantasy. She would feel disappointed, maybe even rejected, if I decided to stop at this point. She hadn’t seemed to understand my reservations when I had voiced them yesterday, and I doubted that citing ethical standards would soothe her at all. Maybe I was overthinking the whole thing, and I should just believe Taylor when she said that she wanted it. She was a capable adult, after all, and could make her own decisions. And I had the uneasy feeling that it was somewhat sexist and paternalistic to make that decision unilaterally myself, as if she needed someone to save her from her own choices.
In the end, I tentatively decided to continue as we had been, but to try to avoid any deeper emotional attachments – on either side – until I could make a better decision. It felt like a bit of a copout, but I wasn’t sure if there was a better path at this point.
I heard a small noise behind me, and turned to see Taylor on the step, rising from a crouch after having just jumped down from the doorway to the living room. I had left the door propped open, just in case she needed anything while I was working in the garage. She gave a start when she saw that I’d noticed her, and looked at the floor, showing her small, denuded body as she clasped her hands behind her back.
“Sorry. I know you’re working, but … I need your help. Please.” She seemed uncharacteristically reserved.
“I thought you didn’t want help. That you wanted to have to do everything for yourself.” I gave her a little ribbing, since we’d just had this discussion earlier this morning. She had been very clear about her desire to be self-reliant, with the single exception of using the bathroom. So it was surprising – and in no small part amusing – to see her asking for help on the very first day at her new size.
Taylor hesitated, and I took a small satisfaction in her discomfort. “I know, but … there’s a spider.”
I bit the inside of my lip to stop myself from chuckling. Okay, that was a pretty good reason to ask for help. I had to admit, I’d never considered what a spider would look like from Taylor’s new perspective. It was undoubtedly terrifying to her, but she seemed to be handling it pretty well. I wondered if she had screamed when she first saw it – if so, the outburst had been too faint for me to hear. That was a bit concerning, although I supposed that she could call me from her phone in a true emergency.
I took a moment to stifle my amusement, and tried to keep it from tinging my voice when I responded. “Where is it?”
“In my house. It’s friggin’ huge!” She wrapped her little arms around herself.
“Okay, let’s get rid of it.” I pulled a paper towel from a nearby roll, then walked toward Taylor, intending to pick her up for the trip back to the bedroom. But as I approached, I could see that her pearly skin was marred by ugly purple splotches.
“Taylor! You’re all bruised! Is that from yesterday?” Suddenly concerned for her welfare, I knelt for a better look.
She looked down at herself. “I guess so. They don’t hurt unless I press on them.” She touched one of her thighs, where the largest bruises were, although I saw a couple on her upper arms, as well. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach – I had tried to be pretty soft with her, but clearly I hadn’t been careful enough.
“I’m sorry,” I said miserably, feeling like the words were inadequate. “I didn’t think I was hurting you. I’ll make sure to be more gentle in the future.”
“No! I mean – Well, you did exactly what I wanted. I don’t want you to start treating me like I’m fragile. I didn’t even notice until this morning, and they don’t hurt.”
I mulled over her words for a couple seconds. “But … what if you are fragile now?”
“I’m not,” she said with conviction, and I suspected that she was trying to convince herself as much as me.
“Hmm. All right.” I still planned to be more careful with her, though. I was pretty sure that she saw through my noncommittal acquiescence, but she didn’t press the point. Last night, Taylor had seemed tougher than I’d expected, but seeing her current condition made me rethink my previous appraisal.
“Let’s get that spider.” Remembering the reason that she came in the first place, I scooped up Taylor as I walked toward the other side of the house. “I think I’ll move the controls next to your dollhouse, at least until I build a better system. That way, you don’t need me to unshrink you when you need to use the bathroom or something.”
“Okay.” Taylor’s reaction was muted, and I wondered whether she was just distracted, or was actually as unenthusiastic as she seemed about having control over her own size. She couldn’t really prefer having zero control over it, could she?
We entered the bedroom, and I set Taylor down on the table that supported her house, near her smartphone. Earlier, I had dug out an old pair of computer speakers for her to use, and set up her phone using some books as a makeshift stand. The next time I went out shopping, I’d obtain a proper stand, along with some other amenities for her. A knotted shoestring hung from the table, taped there so that Taylor could climb up and down when she needed to. I had offered to build her a ladder, but she had declined it; I had the impression that she liked the improvised nature of the shoestring. I didn’t argue with her – at her size, climbing wasn’t a lot of effort, and I certainly enjoyed watching her climb it.
Taylor pointed at the plastic house. “It was inside, under the roof.”
I slowly opened the roof, holding the paper towel at the ready in case the spider came scurrying out. Seeing nothing, I opened it fully and peered inside. Then I glanced at Taylor and shrugged. “I don’t see anything.”
“Well … it’s around here somewhere! I don’t want it coming back when I’m alone!” She looked around anxiously.
“Help me look for it,” I said, walking around the dollhouse to see if it was on the outside somewhere.
“No way! That thing’s as big as my head! I’ll just stay here, where it can’t sneak up.”
I ducked down, looking on the underside of the table. “Oh, there it is.” I quickly used my paper towel to grab the spider from the rail that it had been resting on, then turned my hand to double-check that I’d caught it. Taylor had only exaggerated a little; it was actually a decent-sized spider. I showed it to her, legs still wriggling as it tried to escape.
“Ew! Get away!” she shrieked, raising her hands protectively as she jumped backward, and I chuckled at her reaction. Not that I could really blame her, but it seemed so overtly girlish in a way that Taylor didn’t normally behave.
I looked at the spider for a moment before squishing the paper around it, dropping the remains into the room’s small trash bin. “A wolf spider. Looks like she laid eggs recently.”
“What?” I hadn’t thought that the color could drain from Taylor’s pale skin, but she turned an ashen gray as she crouched down and hugged herself.
“I’m just kidding, I wouldn’t be able to tell if it had laid eggs or not.” I half-suppressed a smile.
Taylor pointed at me with a sharp finger. “Not funny! Just the thought ….” I could practically see the chill travel along her spine as she shuddered.
I gave her a one-shouldered shrug and a self-impressed smile. “It was a little funny. You’re welcome, by the way.”
With a clear effort, Taylor halted whatever she’d been about to say, and took a breath, visibly shifting gears. When she spoke, her voice was small and contrite. “Thank you. I – Sorry I interrupted your work.”
I sighed quietly as I thought about how little I’d accomplished today. “That’s okay. I wasn’t getting anything done anyway. I think I’ll just call it a day.”
“Really?” Taylor brightened at the news. “So we can play?” I nodded, and she continued, the playfulness leaving her voice. “But … there’s a couple things I want to talk about first.”
“Things? Like what?” I knelt down, so that our eyes were on the same level. If Taylor wanted to have a serious talk about something, then I didn’t want her to feel intimidated by my towering over her.
“Well, the big thing is … I mean, I was wondering … how long can I stay?” She angled her head slightly downward and to the side, so that she seemed to be looking up when she met my eyes. I could swear that she was trying to make herself look even more endearing.
I actually hadn’t thought much about that question; I’d just assumed that Taylor would go home after a few days. She had said that she was calling in sick to her job while she was away. How much sick time had she accrued? Not that I was in any hurry for her to leave – it felt like we’d just gotten started.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. But what about work? Can you just work remotely from here?”
Taylor paused. “Actually … I’m not sure I want to go back. Remember how I said that most of us are pissed at the company right now?” I nodded; she’d mentioned it on the long drive from Minnesota, but she hadn’t gone into detail. “Well, they laid off a bunch of people, and cut the hours for some more, saying that during the pandemic we all had to ‘share the pain.’ Then the next day, someone sent everyone a copy of their financial data. Turns out, they’re actually making record profits, and it was just an excuse.”
“Jesus. Bunch of pricks.” Although it wasn’t entirely surprising, even from my limited experience in the corporate world.
“Yeah. So a few of us quit, and most of the rest are looking for somewhere else to go. I wouldn’t feel too bad about just never going back.”
“I can’t blame you. That’s messed up. I guess it shows how much they value their employees.”
“Yeah. Assholes,” she grumbled.
“Your apartment will be okay? What about … Julian?” Taylor’s bipolar tabby cat.
“Julius,” she corrected. “Like, Caesar. He can stay with my mom – she’s already watching him anyway.”
I shrugged, suppressing a smile. “All right, sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Rent is $2300 a month, minimum six-month lease.”
Taylor scoffed, again proving that she had no sense of humor. “Oh yeah, real funny.”
-
I had meant to have several chapters in between what I’d previously posted and this chapter. But I think that this one still works without needing to know what happened previously.
Jan 5, 2021 (Day 49)
“You used my real name?!” Taylor’s voice was loud enough to startle me from where she stood at the doorway into the garage.
I turned from my computer screen at her exclamation, surprised to hear from her just a few minutes after I’d started working. If she was upset about my using her name, then she must have seen the story about us that I had posted yesterday. She held her phone next to her, its bottom edge resting on the floor as she held it upright, its upper edge level with her chest. How had she brought it down from her table? She wouldn’t have just dropped it on the floor, would she? I wondered for a moment how she planned to get it back up.
“I … thought you knew that I would. I told you that the only thing I changed was the nature of the research. Everything else in the story is real.” I hadn’t let Taylor read it before anyone else, but I had asked for her okay before posting the story pseudonomously. Apparently, though, I hadn’t been explicit enough about what details I had included. I stood and walked over to her, bending down to pick her up. When my hand approached, she backhanded my finger quickly with a tiny hand.
“I just want you to be at eye level for this conversation, is all.” I lifted her into the air, not waiting for a response, and carried her along with her phone to the workbench, then sat back down. Her withering glare still hadn’t faded at all, and I forced myself to keep a straight face. It could be hard for me to take her seriously when she looked so damn endearing all the time.
I exhaled, and looked at her soberly. “I’m sorry, Taylor. I wouldn’t have used your name if I knew it would bother you. You know I wouldn’t.”
She softened a little at that. “I know. I just wish you’d mentioned it before, so that I had a chance to say something about it. But now, all those people, they’re reading about me. About my fantasies, about my … body parts.”
I shook my head a little in confusion. “But … you knew it was explicit. I know I mentioned that, several times.”
“I know,” she said, her voice rising a bit into a more complaining tone. “But I thought it would be about Madison, or Stephanie, some other character. I didn’t know it would be about Taylor. And if I ever met any of them, they might know you were describing me ….”
“Well … I guess I could change it, if you feel that strongly. I can still edit the posts.”
Taylor thought for a bit, then shook her head uncertainly. “I’m not sure. Then people might ask why you changed it. It might make my name stick in their minds even more.”
I leaned my head on my fist, propping my elbow on the workbench. “Is it really that bad? Everyone who reads it would think that Taylor is just a fictional character. Besides, are you seriously telling me that you don’t want to read a story that’s entirely about pleasuring tiny little Taylor?”
She chuckled quietly. “Well, when you say it that way, it doesn’t sound so bad.” Then her smile faded as she sighed. “I don’t know. Let me think about it some more.”
I waited for a couple seconds, to see if she had more to say. When she didn’t volunteer anything, I gestured to the phone at her side. “So … you brought your phone all this way?”
Taylor looked at her phone as if she was surprised to find it there. “Oh, right.” She cleared her throat. “I noticed some inaccuracies that I think you should fix.”
I felt a partial smile creep onto my face. “Oh really?”
“Yeah.” She lay the phone down face-up and turned the screen on, then knelt next to it and pointed to a paragraph. “Like here: when you pulled me – when you dragged me, so heartlessly, out of the dollhouse room, and I held onto the doorframe. You wrote that it was comical.”
I was openly grinning at her criticism, now. “But it wasn’t.” She wasn’t looking at me though, already searching for her next objection.
“Not even.” She shook her head to emphasize the point. “And then, further down, you wrote that when I bit you – in self-defense, by the way – that I wasn’t strong enough to break the skin. But that’s not why – I just didn’t bite very hard.”
“Such admirable restraint.” I nodded my head in faux agreement.
“And then --” she stopped when she heard my response, and looked up with a little glare. “You’re not taking me seriously.”
“It’s not that,” I told her. “Well, okay, it’s a little bit of that. But … we have different perspectives, is all. What you read is the way that I see things, and it’ll be a bit different than the way you see it.”
“Yeah?” Her voice rose a little. “Then maybe I’ll write my perspective, about a giant man who constantly torments his poor, innocent shrunken girlfriend.”
“Really?” I asked earnestly. “If you do write your version, can I read it?” I’d certainly be interested in gaining a deeper understanding of Taylor’s minified experience.
“I ….” This was apparently an entirely different response than Taylor had expected, and the air seemed to go out of her. She seemed atypically out-of-sorts, and I wondered if there was something else on her mind.
“Were there more … inaccuracies to talk about?” I gestured toward the screen.
She looked at me, then back at her phone, and grumbled something about making a list. Then she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as her body language shifted. When she spoke, her tone was almost hesitant. “Can I ask you something? I mean, if I ask, will you be completely honest?”
I was surprised by the sudden shift. “Of course. Is this still about the story?”
She nodded, looking down at the workbench surface between us and shifting her weight. “You wrote that my smile … turned your day sunny.” She looked up, her eyes suddenly bright, and perhaps a little wet. “Did you really mean that? Or did you just think it sounds good?”
My insides melted as I regarded Taylor, standing alone and hopeful at the minuscule center of my universe. She didn’t resist when I reached for her, then cupped her to my chest in an embrace. “Of course I meant it, Taylor. It was absolutely true.”
============
I was in the zone. It had been a productive morning so far, and I was enjoying the feeling of productivity, as well as relief that this task was finally going to be done. I had been avoiding it for weeks now, even though I knew that it needed attention, like an openly festering wound in the system. This logic was some of the most complicated in the entire codebase, and it was also some of the most fragile: a frightening combination that left me reluctant to ever touch it. But I’d been learning some principles of effectively refactoring code over the past several days, and I’d built a substantial suite of automated tests around this logic, making myself confident that I’d be able to preserve the functionality when I made changes.
My flow was rudely disrupted when my phone rang. I grunted in annoyance; I should have silenced it earlier. I looked at the display to see who was calling, then I paused for a moment. It wasn’t a number that I had in my phone, but the last four digits – 7549 – tickled at my memory for some reason. I thought for a moment, then realized that they simply seemed familiar because they were one digit away from my childhood street address. I swiped on the touchscreen to ignore the call; numbers that I didn’t recognize were almost always robocalls of some sort, and I was tired of listening to them, especially when they were interrupting a productive day. If it was important, they’d leave a voicemail.
Now, where was I? Oh, that’s right, I had been rewriting the bond energy estimation logic. Now, I had been thinking that I could probably make this part easier to maintain if I consolidated those three functions into one, and added new parameters to –
The phone rang again, and I glared at it in irritation. “Seriously?” I asked nobody in particular. I picked up my phone to look at the number, seeing that it was another number I didn’t recognize. “Jerks,” I muttered, reaching to ignore the call again.
My hand froze in place when I saw the number again. It ended in 7549, just like the previous call. I’d never known a robocaller or solicitor to call right back after I ignored the first call. Was it somebody that I knew, calling from someone else’s phone? But communications with people that I knew were almost entirely over text messages now; my parents might be the only major exception to that, with our terse, uncomfortable conversations on holidays and birthdays. But, if my mom had some sort of emergency, she’d be likely to call instead of text. And if I didn’t answer the first time, she’d probably immediately try again.
Suddenly worried about what might have happened, I answered the call. “Hello?” The other side held only silence. “Hello?” I asked again.
After a short pause, a harsh female voice sounded in my ear. “Did you really think you’d get away with it?”
“What? Who is this?” I didn’t recognize the voice, and her cryptic introduction didn’t help. It must have been a wrong number, because I couldn’t think of anything I’d done that would warrant a call like this.
She gave a sharp, overly-bitter laugh. “Six months away, and you forgot about us already, Jacob?” So it wasn’t a wrong number, I was talking to someone from my former job. I searched my memory for voices of people I knew that might match the phone-distorted voice of this mysterious caller.
“… Mia?” I’d never heard Mia’s voice on the phone before, and she’d never used a tone of voice like this in my presence, but now that I’d connected the two, I was certain of it. But I had Mia’s cell number; we’d exchanged texts maybe a dozen times over the ten months or so that we’d worked alongside each other, for various work- and lunch-related reasons. Why was she calling from a different number?
“You were smart about it,” she said, sounding as if she thought that I was actually an idiot. “Having Doug and Alyssa and Jason, and me” – she practically spat the word – “send you different pieces of data, so that IT wouldn’t have records of you collecting it all before you slithered away.” She paused, as if expecting a response.
“I … don’t know what you’re talking about.” I forced the lie through my lips with difficulty, and I tried to ignore the ice coursing through my veins. She was right, of course – that was exactly what I’d done. I had thought that I was careful when I collected the data, but something must have tipped her off.
I heard Mia’s scoff on the other end of the line. “Yeah, neither does anyone else. They all just can’t believe that you would do something like that. Even Corporate won’t do anything, because IT couldn’t find any record that you transferred the data out. But I’m calling to tell you, you fucking scumbag, that you won’t get away with it. I’m going to make sure you don’t.”
Mia’s tone became increasingly menacing as she spoke, and I felt a new dread at her latest words. Mia was literally the last person that I would want to have after me. She was smart, she was methodical, and she was the most inexhaustibly tenacious person that I’d ever met. To my knowledge, Mia had never failed to track down an issue that she’d been assigned to investigate. After a while, she had become saddled with that role, investigating problems or unexpected results after the originally-assigned person had given up in frustration. But Mia would always figure it out. Every single time. I’d made it a point to give her a glowing evaluation during her last performance review, both because she’d deserved it, and because I felt like her exemplary work had been punished with a lot of tedious tasks that nobody else wanted to do.
But Mia had never complained about it. For all I knew, she might even enjoy that work, though I doubted it; nobody else liked it. In the time that we’d worked together, she’d been unceasingly polite, if distant. She had never raised her voice that I could hear, which was the main reason that I hadn’t immediately recognized her on the phone.
I had no idea what she planned to do, but I was absolutely certain that I wouldn’t want to find out. I ran through a few possible scenarios in my mind, and couldn’t think of one that ended well. Even the less-bad ones, like Mia simply finding out what I was doing, would most likely end in disaster. I was far from ready for this technology to become widely known, and I had essentially no safeguards against its misuse. Somehow, I had to convince her to stop.
“Look, Mia, I assure you that I --”
“You assure me?” she hissed, and I cringed, not bothering to suppress it since there was nobody to see. She was right; I never talked like that. I might as well have shouted my guilt. “Let me assure you: I didn’t put a year and a half of my life into this project just to watch you steal all our work and sell it to China.”
“China?” I didn’t need to feign my surprise. Although, it did make sense, from Mia’s point of view. If I was racing them toward a cancer cure, there was little hope that I could win against a dedicated team of researchers, unless I had some trump card that they were missing. Even if I did have something like that, the company’s patents would prevent it from ever going to market. On the other hand, the Chinese government was busily using whatever means it could to gain new technologies that could give Chinese companies an edge in the global marketplace, and they couldn’t care less about American patent law. If I was looking to profit from my … procurement … of the work that our team had done, selling it to China would be the obvious choice. Perhaps even the only rational choice.
I grimaced; it was hard to imagine this conversation going more poorly than it had, and I needed to do something to steer it back on track. I’d already effectively confirmed that I had taken our team’s work, and if I wanted to convince Mia of anything, I probably needed to start by confessing. But I didn’t want to explicitly say it, in case she was recording this conversation, so I chose my words carefully.
“Look, Mia. I am working on something, something that’s … inspired by our work together. But I promise you, I’m not looking to sell our team’s work. Not to anyone. And I’m not working on a cancer cure, or a cure for anything, actually. It’s a totally unrelated application. Nobody was interested in talking about anything besides cancer, but I … I feel like I have to pursue it, I can’t leave it unexplored. That’s why I left.” It was all true, and that was about as much detail as I was willing to discuss over the phone. I could hear the passion rising in my voice as I talked about pursuing my work, and I prayed that it would be enough to convince Mia.
There was a substantial pause, as if she was considering what I’d just said. “It doesn’t matter.” She sounded resigned now, instead of angry. Was that progress, at least? “Whatever you’re doing, our work doesn’t belong to you. And however you try to profit from it, I won’t let you.”
Then the line went dead.
I spent most of the rest of the day replaying the conversation in my head, wondering exactly what it would mean for the future. If I knew Mia, this wasn’t the end of it. The more I thought about it, the more nervous I became, in particular with the fact that she hadn’t called me from her own phone number. The most likely reason that I could think for her to call from another number was so that there wouldn’t be phone records of her calling me if there were ever a police investigation.
-
I entered the bedroom brusquely, walking directly up to Taylor’s dollhouse and opening the roof. I peered inside as Taylor looked up in surprise, undoubtedly interrupted from planning some new mischief.
“All right, you little gremlin,” I growled at her. “Where’s my toothbrush?” I hadn’t been able to find it wherever Taylor had stashed it, and I had no idea how she managed to climb up to reach it. But the toothbrush had disappeared, and nobody else had been inside the house for months.
“What toothbrush?” Taylor asked, as if surprised to learn that I owned such a contrivance.
I kept my expression stern, carefully hiding my secret elation. I’d been waiting impatiently for nearly two weeks, hoping that Taylor would provide me with a reason to punish her more severely than I had up to now. Although just a minute ago I had been preparing for bed, I wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass by. And after Mia’s foreboding call earlier in the day, I was eager for the distraction.
“Taylor,” I warned, giving her one last chance to come clean, only because I knew that it was an opportunity she wouldn’t take.
“What?” She stood, and planted her hands defiantly on her hips. “So you lose your stuff, and the first thing you do is blame me?” she demanded, with just a bit too much indignation.
“So that’s how you want to play this.” I sighed, weighing down the sound with leaden weary resignation. Then I turned, and walked the three steps to my bookshelf. I thumbed the spine of a book, pushing the tome upward and retrieving the diabolical instrument hidden underneath. The book was too heavy for Taylor to move at doll size, and although she could have moved it at her full size, I somehow knew that she never would.
I turned back, seeing that she had exited her house, and I approached with heavy steps as I menacingly held the small, white down feather between us. “You give me no choice, Taylor.”
She took a hasty step back, her wide eyes flooded with wild anxiousness. “You wouldn’t!”
“You know I would.” My relish for this exact situation was boundless, and I let a small sliver of it curl my lips devilishly, giving her a moment to stew in her jeopardy. But although I was always in the mood to tickle torture my tiny Taylor, I had even more heinous designs for tonight.
“But no,” I told her, as if I’d just realized that it would do no good. “We’re past that, aren’t we?” Looking away like I was deep in thought, I scooped her up in my other hand almost absently, ignoring a small outraged yelp. “We need something else … something that will actually teach you a lesson.” I let silence fill the room oppressively, knowing that it would enhance her trepidation.
Then I looked at Taylor as if I’d just had a wonderful, horrible idea. I reached for her dial, and turned it slowly downward, down past the 9.35% of her hand-size to settle at “07.80.” It had only been three weeks since I’d reduced her to that size, but it seemed like so much time had filled our lives since then.
“Remember this size? Five inches?” I asked her, and she nodded shallowly.
“You made me so … helpless.” She kept her voice deliberately cautious.
“I thought that would teach you a lesson.” I let the implication linger in the air for a moment before giving voice to it. “But I guess not,” I said, looking away for a moment before returning my gaze to Taylor’s tiny gemstone eyes. “Maybe you need to be … truly insignificant for a little while.”
She seemed to sense that I didn’t mean just another inch this time. “Wait, how in-- how small do you mean?” Her small voice had an even smaller tremor in it.
I didn’t answer, instead reaching for the control and turning it steadily down once more, from 7.8% down past 7% and further. When it reached 6%, Taylor spoke up again. “That’s far enough, right? Master? I’ve never been that little!” I remained silent, my eyes carefully on the dial as I continued to turn it, past 5% and continuing. At 4%, she tried again. “Please! That’s too small! I’ll give it back!”
Turning my attention back to Taylor as I stopped adjusting the knob, I carefully kept my expression severe. “You should have thought of that before you stole my stuff.” With that final word, I turned back to the controls, readying them to make Taylor even smaller still. Past 3%, ignoring Taylor’s continued pleas. Past 2%, as her tone shifted into desperation, stopping finally at “01.55.”
Taylor looked at me, her expression stunned, like she couldn’t quite comprehend it. “How … how small is that?”
“One inch,” I replied with satisfaction. “We’ll see how cocky you are at that size.” I gathered Taylor’s wrists in my other hand, releasing her from the first and letting her dangle in front of me, one of my favorite methods of highlighting our power asymmetry.
Her eyes shifted as horror crept into them. “But why? What can we even do …?” She shook her head in denial. “No … That’s too small. Please! Don’t do it!”
I let a moment pass, pretending to think about her impassioned appeal. “Okay,” I replied, shrugging slightly. “You’ve convinced me. I won’t press the button.”
She looked up with a mixture of hope and suspicion. “Wait, really?”
“Really.” My smile widened as I let Taylor drop from my hand, carefully positioned so that she landed directly on the control button.
“What?” she cried as she realized what had just happened. “No, please nonono ….” She hurriedly stepped off of the button and knelt down to work at it with her hands, as if she could pull it back up and somehow undo its activation. But of course it was no use, and I squatted down, leaning in close to watch the show. Her reduction was shockingly rapid, losing nearly a tenth of her height in the first second, and appearing to accelerate from there. I scooped her up in my palm, so that I could watch it happen in my hand.
“Why?? One inch?” Taylor looked up at me pleadingly from her now-kneeling position in my palm, spreading her arms in an abject appeal for sympathy. By this time, she was maybe four inches tall, and still losing nearly an inch every second. I watched, stunned by the rapidity of it, and felt a sudden spike of dread when she reached the size that I expected and continued to shrink, certain for a moment that I had somehow made a horrible mistake in my calculation. But then it finally ended, leaving a tiny, trembling little lost creature crouched at the center of my desolate palm.
She was smaller than I had expected. As I studied her, I could see that she actually was around an inch tall, and I second-guessed my decision, thinking that this would work better if she was two inches tall, or at least an inch and a half. But restoring some of her height now would ruin the impact. My mind struggled for suitable comparisons to put her size in perspective. Her head reminded me of a rice grain, although that seemed like a somewhat unflattering comparison, and her thighs were about the thickness of toothpicks, maybe? Although my estimate could have been off by half, or possibly even more. Even from just one foot away, I could no longer see the color in her eyes, a disquieting fact that seemed to dehumanize her in some way.
I reached carefully with my forefinger to touch Taylor, as if to reassure myself that she was still real, but drew up short when I saw that the first knuckle alone was much larger than her. She scooted backward nervously as it approached, and I withdrew the offending digit; I wanted her overwhelmed, but not terrified.
Taylor stood slowly, and from her body language I imagined her apprehension and annoyance warring for control over her expressions. She yelled something at me, her bearing forceful, but the sound was a mere barely-audible squeak, too high-pitched to be understandable. I made a quick mental calculation, determining that her voice would be … six octaves higher than normal? I double-checked, and got the same answer again. I wondered if I would be just as unintelligible to her as I shook my head, holding a hand to my ear. “I can’t hear you.” She tried again, more agitated this time, and added accompanying gestures; she pointed at me, then herself, then made a rising gesture with her hand, making her meaning clear.
I shrugged. “All right.” I was especially going to enjoy this part. I moved Taylor near the control display, angling my hand slightly so that she could see better, then began to turn her dial clockwise. I changed the numbers quickly this time, stopping at her normal 14%, and Taylor turned briefly toward me, displaying the tiny gleam of her smile as she bounced happily in place. Then I lowered my palm to the inclined wooden surface that housed the controls, and she sprang into action as soon as my hand stopped moving. She ran, a bit awkwardly on the uneven sloped terrain, then stopped to jump down from the edge of my hand. Then she stalked quickly up to the button, using one foot to stomp on it with a victorious flourish.
But the button didn’t move, and she only succeeded in stepping upward onto it. Taylor tried again, jumping a couple inches up into the air and kicking downward as she landed, but the button barely moved, certainly not enough to activate the device. She stomped and jumped several more times, each attempt a little more frantic than the last. Eventually, she gave up, turning to look at me with palms up in an aggrieved, despondent gesture.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” I was pretty sure that she couldn’t understand my words, but she got my meaning, and her anger surged forward, boiling over in a bold, uncouth gesture that I clearly recognized, even at her size. I surely deserved it, especially since I was enjoying this so much, but that only added to the entertainment.
“Now that’s not very nice,” I admonished, picking her up carefully with two fingers, and she squeaked angrily in response. This was the part where I’d usually punish her physically. Taylor tended to prefer spankings, but I liked to vary it a little more. In her current state, though, I was afraid to touch her with anything but the utmost care, and I returned her gently to my palm. Taylor apparently had more to say, raising an outraged hand at me as part of her tiny, impotent tirade, giving me a few more moments to consider how to discipline her. Of course, I already knew where this was leading, but I wanted to build up to that, and I hadn’t decided yet what the intermediate steps would be.
On a sudden whim, I blew a sharp, quick breath at Taylor, sending her tumbling backward, and I cackled at the astonishing, delicious unfairness of her predicament. She regained her footing, then scrambled forward quickly, looking over her shoulder nervously toward the edge of my hand – unnecessarily, since I had moved my other hand to form a backstop, just in case. With a grin, I blew once more, but she was ready this time, crouching low against the gust as her tiny, dark mass of hair streamed in a short trail behind her.
I reduced the speed of my breath, slowing it so that Taylor wasn’t in any danger of falling, but still enough that her hair was blown away from her body. Then, with my free hand, I carefully pinched the dark tangle between my thumb and forefinger, and lifted Taylor from my palm. On the day after New Year’s, we had discovered that when Taylor was at her hand-size, I could pick her up by her hair without hurting her, and it had instantly become my new favorite power move. I didn’t want to overuse it though, so I hadn’t done it since that day. But in this moment, it felt like the perfect thing to do with her.
Taylor swung slightly in the air as I lifted her, and her hands went reflexively to her head as she realized what was happening. Then she hit at my fingertip with one hand, sending herself swinging and twisting erratically as a result. I watched her self-inflicted plight with amusement for a moment, then took pity on her and steadied her carefully with a finger. I pinched my fingertips delicately on her legs, noticing that even with this bare touch, my skin contacted the entirety of her thighs. Assuming that she was looking at me – I couldn’t actually tell – I arched an eyebrow at Taylor before I slowly rolled my fingers around her, twisting her a full rotation before letting go. When I released her, she spun quickly in the opposite direction, arms akimbo as she squeaked some insignificant epithet at me, and I chuckled at her reaction. She rapidly reached the end of her motion and reversed direction, much more quickly than I had anticipated. I steadied her as hurriedly as I dared, since it would certainly put a damper on tonight’s fun if I made her sick, but she had already switched direction three more times before I was able to bring her back to a stop.
I held her as still as I could for a little while, to allow her stomach to settle if it had been upset by the twirling. Taylor began to lecture me unintelligibly, and the comical futility of it was only enhanced by her rapid, incomprehensible gesturing. My silently amused reaction only seemed to incense her further, and her gestures accelerated enough that she began to swing unpredictably in the air again. But if she really wanted this to stop, then all she had to do was … oh. I suddenly realized that even if she used our safe word, I wouldn’t be able to hear it. But Taylor was a smart girl; if she wanted this to end, she’d be able to communicate that somehow, right? All she needed to do was gesture her hand across her throat, or something similarly final. Even just panicked-looking waves would be enough. We could agree on hand signs afterward, but I didn’t want to grow her back right now to discuss it, since that would destroy the immersion of this scenario that I’d set up.
“Now what do I do with you?” I didn’t raise the tone of my voice, but I projected it much farther than I needed to. If she couldn’t understand my voice, then I’d settle for immersing her in it. Taylor curled forward a bit, holding a hand to her stomach, causing me to bite back what I’d been about to say. Seriously? That’s what made her feel sick? I ran my tongue around my mouth; I had become careful about my breath since Taylor entered my life, and I didn’t taste any signs of bad breath. It must have been the vibrations from my voice, then. I’d have to be a little more sparing with the way I used it.
I exhaled in a silent sigh, somewhat disappointed by this turn. Oh well, I supposed that was as good a reason as any to take this to the next step. I dropped my hands to my sides, artificially smoothing out the motion of my arm as I did, hoping to keep it tolerable for Taylor. I glanced down to make sure that she was okay, then began to walk slowly out of the bedroom. I grinned as I imagined that to Taylor it must feel like she was swinging a hundred feet through the air with every step. Then, after two more steps, I stopped, realizing that it would also feel like she was a hundred feet above the ground. And while Taylor liked being small, she still wasn’t especially fond of heights.
I suppressed my irritation that reality had, once again, intruded on fantasy, and brought Taylor slowly up in front of me, setting her down softly in my palm. I paused for a couple seconds to gauge how she was doing, but she only glanced at me briefly before turning to face forward and sit down cross-legged in my hand. I wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a snub, or if she simply wanted to see where we were going, but either way, I supposed that my reaction would be the same. I resumed walking, keeping an eye on Taylor as I did, but her only motion was from her dark chocolate hair blowing backward in the faint breeze created by my strides.
I walked into the kitchen, laying my hand down on the countertop in case Taylor wanted to jump down while I opened the cupboard to fetch a glass. When the cupboard door closed, she looked upward at the noise, then, seeing the glass in my hand, she broke into a run. I chuckled as she jumped down from my hand, then I quickly filled the glass to about one-third full from the filtered pitcher of water that I kept on the counter. Taylor was still running when I set the pitcher back down, heading toward the jars of sugar and flour. I wasn’t sure what she thought she’d accomplish there, but maybe she was just heading toward the nearest cover. Or maybe she just wanted to make a show of running; she couldn’t possibly expect to get very far.
I brought my hand down to the countertop vertically in front of her, forming a wall at least three times her height. She skidded to a halt, apparently struggling with the way traction worked at that size. I took the opportunity to drink half of the water in my glass, and when I looked back down, Taylor had scampered nearly to my fingertips in her effort to bypass the barrier I’d placed in her way. I moved my hand quickly, giving her at least thirty more feet of wall to circumvent, and drained the remainder of my glass, swishing the liquid around in my mouth before I swallowed it. Then I curled my fingers, using them to slide Taylor slowly backward as I moved my hand toward me. She turned around in time to see the mouth of my glass yawning in front of her, and raised her hands before her as I carefully scooped her over the rim and inside. I tilted the glass slightly, just enough to send her sliding downhill, watching closely as her hands scrabbled at the smooth surface during her inexorable descent. When she reached the bottom, she slid slightly past the curved inner corner of the glass, and I turned it completely upright, letting it rest on the counter. Taylor ran to the wall between us, yelling something inaudible as she pounded a tiny fist silently on the transparent perimeter of her new prison.
I crouched down to see her at eye level, and gave her a small wave as I smiled. She yelled something else, then banged on the glass with both hands before pointing upward. I jutted my bottom lip out a bit, tapping with a finger a couple times as if in thought, then looked at Taylor from the corner of my eye and gave my head a small negative shake. Taylor slapped a palm on the glass, continuing her diatribe, and I bent in closer for a better look at her barely-perceptible tantrum. I flicked a finger gently against the glass, using a fingernail to tink on it lightly. Taylor looked down as I did so, tiptoeing on her feet as if the floor was suddenly uncomfortable. My smile widened. Could she really feel when I did that? I knew how I’d imagined this going, and the reality had been a bit disappointing in some ways, but these delightful little surprises more than compensated for that.
She had probably yelled at me enough by now, though. It was time to give her something else to worry about. I had planned to drink some more water, but that suddenly seemed too boring. The only other type of drink that I consumed with any regularity was beer, but I didn’t want the aftertaste, and the carbonation probably made it an even worse idea. I rarely drank wine, but I was pretty sure that I still had a bottle or two of Chardonnay lying around. I reached up to a cupboard on the left – was it that one, or the next one down? I opened the door and grinned as I saw a pair of large green bottles, then pulled one out, bringing it down and tilting it slightly back and forth as I showed it to Taylor. She flinched visibly, then stepped backward as she spread her hands, shaking her head as she clearly mouthed the word “no.” My smile widened as I nodded my head affirmatively to contradict her. Oh yes, now she knew exactly what was about to happen.
I made a small show of opening the bottle, taking my time with the corkscrew and deliberately not looking at Taylor. In my peripheral vision, I could see her gesturing frantically, but I pointedly ignored it all. Finally, I pulled the cork free with a pop, then set it aside on the counter and turning my attention back to Taylor. She was on her knees now, hands together in supplication, as if in fervent prayer. But I wouldn’t be appeased so easily.
“Pray to whatever tiny gods you believe in,” I told her softly. “They won’t save you from me.” I peered at her intently for a few seconds, fixing this moment in my memory. Then I tapped the glass’s rim with the neck of the wine bottle, making a small clink and sending Taylor to her feet, dancing away from the vibrations in the floor. I smiled condescendingly. “Cheers.”
I tilted the bottle slowly, until a small dribble of wine poured from its mouth. Taylor turned around, pressing her back against the clear wall, and the first of the wine splashed on the glass bottom, spraying her with liquid. Although the pour was barely a trickle, within a second or so the wine level had already risen to Taylor’s knees, and she turned back toward me, pounding silently on the wall with one palm. Her mouth repeatedly widened to display the tiny whiteness of her teeth, leading me to think that she was begging “please.” When it rose to her hips, she backed away, looking anxiously down at the rising liquid and holding her arms to her chest like she felt cold. Then it was above her waist, and she held her arms horizontally with her elbows out, as if she might be able to keep her arms out of the tide. But that, too, was ineffective, and within another moment the liquid had risen to her neck, then above her head, forcing her to swim in the small amount of drink.
I paused the pour, carefully watching Taylor as I made sure that she could keep herself afloat. As I watched her tiny legs kick gracefully under the surface, I noted that her slender beauty was still intact, just harder to see now. Satisfied that she was in no danger, I poured more into my glass, rapidly doubling the amount of wine, then set the bottle aside. I lifted the glass, holding it level with my chest so that I could look easily down into it. Taylor looked up and, upon seeing my smirk, began to swim away from me.
I raised the glass to my lips and took a small sip of wine. As I tilted it, the current carried Taylor counterintuitively away from my mouth, aiding her in her minuscular efforts to create distance between us. Then I quickly turned the glass back upright, causing the liquid to slosh around, and I watched with amusement as Taylor struggled with the suddenly choppy surface, spitting out tiny droplets of wine after a little wave rushed over her head. The abruptly tempestuous waters gave me a new idea, and I began to move my glass smoothly in a circular motion, causing the liquid to swirl, creating a miniature vortex that carried Taylor around in a counterclockwise motion. It wasn’t as smooth as I had hoped, pushing her erratically inward toward the whirlpool’s center and then back out again as she was dragged around in a circuit. Although I couldn’t be entirely sure, I thought that I heard a squeak of protest from my glass, and after a few seconds of entertainment, I let the frothing liquid calm again.
As the roiling dissipated, I took a moment to remind myself of just how crazy this was – I had literally trapped my girlfriend in a glass of wine. Sometimes, in the moment, it was easy to forget just how unreal these situations actually were.
I lifted the rim back to my lips, tilting the glass as I took a long swallow of wine. I raised the glass back up to my eye level as I righted it, watching as the current swept Taylor around until it calmed. She was able to stand now, with the liquid surface reaching to just below her shoulders. She half-walked and half-swam to the glass surface between us, then pressed her hands against the barrier as she made some pleading entreaty. I smiled wolfishly at her, and simply jostled the glass forward and back slightly, feeling my smile grow as Taylor was swept off her feet and carried powerlessly around the periphery of the tiny circular pool.
I let the liquid calm one last time, then drained the remainder of my glass, watching my helpless shrunken girlfriend slide steadily down the wine-slicked surface until I caught her between my lips. I held her in place, testing the feel of one half of Taylor with the tip of my tongue. I wasn’t quite sure which way she was oriented until I felt her tiny hands pushing against the outside of my lips. I smiled in amusement at her wasted effort, and let her fret there for a few seconds, on the cusp of the abyss. Then, satisfied that she been teased long enough, I abruptly sucked her into the humid darkness of my mouth.
-
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?
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