Best posts made by Olo

@foreverlurk said:

I’m always sad to see pillars of the community leaving

I see what you did there.

Shrink Her! by Brazzers

@giantesslover45 I think 65-meters-tall is about right.

Tiny Plaything 1 by Mikester65

OutSized is a new website devoted to “male-oriented macrophile content.” They seem to be officially re-homing content from Coiled Fist; they are prominently featured on CF’s landing page, and here is their announcement

I have no sources for these. I found them on Tumblr, and reverse-image searches only turn up large hentai collections with no attributions.

@bigmandan1717 King Kong (1976) was a formative experience for me, too. Critics complained that Rick Baker “moved like a man” as Kong, but for some of us that was the best part!

Tiny Plaything 2 by Mikester65

Chapter Two

My graduate advisor was unhappy with me. I had already changed my major once in my college career, and now I wanted to change it again. I didn’t see what the big deal was. My grades were fine, but my scholarship required that I “make steady progress toward a degree,” whatever that meant.

I had decided that I couldn’t continue in hard science, and I thought I ought to learn more about what motivates people. My advisor raised a skeptical eyebrow when I told him I wanted to change to Political Science.

“Just promise me you won’t become a lawyer,” he said, shaking his head and signing the approval form.

I doubt anyone noticed that I was the only student in Intro to Political Theory who wasn’t a freshman, not even the instructor who had access to the official roster. They weren’t much younger than me at all, but it’s amazing what a difference a couple of years can make in one’s perspective.

They were so naïve. They took everyone’s statements at face value, and they presumed everyone always acted in good faith. They couldn’t understand how there could be injustice or poverty anywhere. Fortunately, I had become well-practiced at keeping quiet and observing.

The unit started with Machiavelli, who scandalized almost the whole class but who I found hilarious. No one else seemed to give a single thought to how his personal misfortune at the hands of the Medicis would color his political philosophy. They all just dismissed him as a simple apologist for “might makes right.”

When we got to the Enlightenment, we were assigned to small groups to analyze and give presentations on specific writers. My group got Jonathan Swift. The other three students were named Jeff, Brianna, and Stacey. We each picked a different text from the instructor’s selection. I was quite pleased with my choice of A Modest Proposal.

Our first planning session was at the Student Union, although on a completely different floor from where I had taken Rosa and the others. Brianna and Stacey were already there when I arrived. I had apparently walked into the punchline of a joke, they were so cracked up. They couldn’t even say ‘hi’ when I sat down; Brianna just gave a little wave as she tried and failed to repress a shit-eating grin, and Stacey made eye contact for less than two seconds before dissolving back into laughter.

Both women had dark brown hair and light brown skin, but Brianna was a little shorter and thicker while Stacey had a wider face and long, straight hair. Brianna’s hair was all curls, but I could never tell if those things were natural or the result of some kind of perm.

I let the two women recompose themselves while I got my laptop out and found the power and ethernet ports in the table. When I had all my texts and notes open, I gave Stacey an innocent look and asked, “What’s so funny?”

Stacey looked impishly at Brianna, then turned back to me and said, “Brianna found something…weird.” I turned to Brianna and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s nothing,” said Brianna dismissively. “Just some Gulliver’s Travels fanfiction.”

Now it was my turn to feign indifference. “How funny could that be?”

“It’s from the Second Voyage,” said Stacey, “you know, the land of the giants. What’s it called, Brob—, Blob—”

“Brobdingnag,” I said.

“Yeah, so the giant ladies of the court play with Gulliver, right?” continued Stacey. “Well, this story is told from the perspective of one of the court ladies, and it’s basically about how they use him as a sex toy.”

I looked at Brianna, whose face was not easy to read. Her wide, deep brown eyes were neither embarrassed nor amused nor even smug. She met my gaze calmly, with a hint of defiance.

“From your personal collection?” I asked airily.

Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head slightly. “I found it while researching the assignment, numb-nuts. I don’t think we can work it into the presentation, but I think it makes Swift’s point rather effectively.”

“And that point is?” I pressed.

“That however advanced and sophisticated and civilized people may seem, you can never get away from their baser instincts. Some amount of exploitation is inevitable.”

“So you consider what these ladies do to Gulliver to be instinctual? Like, natural?”

“Sure. How exciting could court be? Tiny dude shows up, they got him all to themselves. Why not? I’d try it for sure.”

“Do they get his consent?” I asked.

Both Brianna and Stacey laughed hard at that. “Not really,” said Brianna. “They pretend to ask and he pretends to agree, but he can’t truly refuse them. That’s just how it goes, the big rule the small, the strong dominate the weak.”

I nodded as Brianna made her argument. She was right, it really did explain Swift’s philosophy. “Where did you find this fanfiction?”

“Some online archive,” said Brianna. “It claims it was originally published in Playboy.”

“I’ll send it to you,” said Stacey, tapping at her keyboard. The Received notification chimed on my laptop just as Jeff finally arrived and sat down. I saved the document but I didn’t look at it until I got home a few hours later.

Before I had even left the planning session I was already starting to consider Brianna as my next target for taking. The decision was already made; all that remained was raising objections and then rebutting them one by one.

She was smart, which might make containment a challenge. I needed to be challenged, I thought. I couldn’t let myself become complacent. That Rosa could conceal her purging from me for so long was sufficient evidence of that.

Brianna’s face was sweet, almost disarming. Plump cheekbones that became even more prominent when she busted out her toothy smile, which she seemed ready to do for almost any occasion. Far from guileless, she simply felt entitled to take joy wherever she found it. If you were patient, however, you could see deep currents of thought flowing swiftly behind her brown eyes.

The top of Brianna’s head only came up to the bottom of my nose, although her hair was so voluminous and omnidirectional that it was hard to be precise. Sometimes, she wore tops that made her boobs look as big as grapefruits, and she looked magnificent in yoga pants (to be fair, so did almost every other woman on campus).

I needed to determine her pattern to find the best time to take her. Coordinating the presentation planning yielded a few clues, but I didn’t dare inquire too directly. The big break came when Brianna mentioned that she worked part-time at Starbucks. Of course there were a half-dozen locations in and around campus, but when I learned when she was working next, I scouted all six.

Once I had identified her place of work, I needed an observation post outside corporate surveillance. It turned out Briana’s Starbucks was right across from Town & Gown, a decades-old establishment and the last independent coffee house in the U-District. When I was a freshman they had tried competing by serving high-end beans that I liked, but that must not have worked because they went back to the local roastery and brought in a pastry case from a trendy bakery.

I loitered with my Americano until a window table opened up, then I settled in for my watch. Brianna’s shift lasted longer than I expected, almost six hours. Fortunately business at the Town & Gown wasn’t so brisk that they needed the table. Even without refills, it was hard on my bladder.

Finally I spotted Brianna leaving the Starbucks in her jacket and backpack. I tried not to look hurried as I got up from the table and staggered out of the Town & Gown on my cramping legs.

I didn’t know whether Brianna lived in the dorms or somewhere off-campus. It was after dark on a school night, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was going straight home. At that point, my goal was just to learn more about her habits, possibly locate her residence. Keeping my distance was my primary concern.

Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I found myself fondling the medallion. It suddenly struck me: Why am I carrying this with me? I realized it had been on my person every day since I had concluded my “experimentation.” Why? It was without question the most precious object in my possession. Why was I risking its loss by carrying it everywhere?

In my self-interrogation, I almost lost track of Brianna. We were still off-campus, but her route was taking her in that direction. I still had no good idea of where I might be able to take her unobserved. As she walked from streetlight to streetlight, she dimmed from view as she left each pool of light.

It occurred to me that I didn’t need to be unobserved when I physically grabbed her; there’s nothing suspicious about stooping to pick something up from the sidewalk. I just needed to time it so her “disappearance” wouldn’t be obvious.

Everything suddenly became more urgent. I couldn’t take her right there; there were too many light sources and too much foot traffic on the street. Who knew when I might catch her out after dark again? She was almost back on campus; where was the nearest dorm? I hadn’t planned to take her that night. I’d been following her for a while; had she spotted me? I really needed to pee.

I fingered the medallion nervously. I must have been carrying it for a reason. As Brianna crossed onto campus, her path became illuminated less frequently. There was less foot traffic, and trees partially obscured the path from the windows of nearby buildings. She passed into the darkness again.

When Brianna stepped again into the light, I was about forty meters behind her. She was probably aware of me on some level, but did she realize I had been following her for over three blocks? If she had recognized me, wouldn’t she have addressed me by now?

LOOK AT HER. Don’t you want her in your hand, in your mouth? There she goes into the darkness again, no one is watching, how long will this last? If she knows you’re following her you’ll never get another chance. Do it. TAKE HER NOW.

I quickened my pace. Brianna stepped into the light one last time, and I saw her clearly: her hair, her jacket, her backpack, her hips, her legs. I needed to shrink her the moment she left the light completely. Time seemed to crawl as I fixed her image in my mind while pinching the medallion. Her trailing foot lifted off the pavement and up into the darkness and I saw her tiny on the path just outside the pool of light.

She disappeared, of course. I redoubled my speed, hoping it wouldn’t attract attention. No shouts of alarm reached me as my awareness narrowed to the dimly-lit path and adjacent grass. My stomach soured as I realized that the same shadow that had cloaked Brianna’s shrinking would also make it difficult for me to locate her. The old joke about the drunk looking for his keys under the streetlight came bitterly to mind.

I slowed when I reached the spot where Brianna had disappeared. I briefly entertained the fantasy that she would come scurrying into the light, seeking my assistance, but of course that didn’t happen. I knelt down just beyond the pool of light, scrutinizing the path and the verge on either side, waiting for my eyes to re-adjust to the dark.

I screwed up, I thought. She’s hiding in the tall grass and I’ll never find her. A raccoon or an owl is going to get her. Or worse, she’ll find help. I glanced up and over my shoulder, but no one seemed to be approaching. I might still have time.

A spark—there. A tiny figure, her face illuminated by an equally tiny phone. I never did test if those things still worked after being shrunk. No time for that now. I lunged forward and shot my arm toward the shrunken woman. She jumped back but not far enough to evade my grasping fingers, which curled around her wriggling form.

The first thing that I noticed was that she was significantly bigger than shrunken Rosa despite having been shorter than Rosa was before I took her. The tiny woman in my hand was at least four-inches-tall. I couldn’t be certain how that had happened, probably a combination of the distance and poor illumination at the moment that I “saw” her small.

I stood back up to my full height and snatched her tiny phone away with my other hand before bringing her close to drink in her terrified face. Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I dropped her phone onto the path and ground it into the cement with my shoe.

“Welcome to Brobdingnag,” I said.

Even in the dim light, watching her recognition of both me and my intention spread across her tiny face was a singular marvel. I dared not linger at the scene, so I thrust my fist and my prize into my jacket pocket. She struggled fiercely against my grip, and anyone standing nearby would know something was amiss with my pocket. I wanted to listen to her cries of desperation, but getting home undetected was my only goal.

I strode furiously across campus as I debated my performance. On the one hand, I did it! I could feel her helpless body in my grasp at that very moment. No one seemed to have seen me take her, and there was no reason to connect me to her disappearance.

On the other hand, I had been completely unprepared. I didn’t have my satchel, which would have been very useful in holding and concealing this woman almost half again as big as the others. How was I going to contain her?

Then again, I had improvised the whole taking. I could only have done that because I had practice and foresight. It had been risky, but a calculated risk. I thought back to my feelings immediately before I took her. Had I been acting out of compulsion or confidence? I just didn’t know.

I glanced up and noticed a surveillance camera on top of a lamppost. Fuck. It had to have night-vision capacity. Were any of them covering the spot where I took her? You don’t know because you didn’t scout the route, you fuckup.

If I had planned the taking, I would at least have worn a hoodie. Shit. I steadied my pace and took some deep breaths. Think. Night-vision cameras were lo-res, and I had shrunk her just as she was transitioning out of the light. What would that look like on camera? If you didn’t know shrinking was possible, it probably wouldn’t look like anything. Furthermore, unless someone knew to tell Campus Safety to look at that precise time and location, there wouldn’t be a reason to suspect a thing.

I began to relax a little. My pocket captive had stopped struggling, alternately limp in my grip or tensing against irregular jostling. I realized her little round ass was nestled up against the top of my palm. I started to slide my pinky between her thighs, and she instantly squeezed them shut.

I snorted, letting the sharp sound resonate through my belly to her in my pocket, then I shoved my pinky through, effortlessly spreading her tiny legs apart. Back and forth my finger stroked her, massaging her taint and separating her butt cheeks.

She bit me. She found a tender spot between my thumb and forefinger and sunk her tiny incisors into my flesh. My instinct was not to react at all, but my hand reflexively loosened its grip slightly, surely noticeable to someone of her scale.

Her response forced me to confront the fact that I had not fully prepared my program for acclimating her to her new life. I had delivered my “pickup line,” but I was dissatisfied with the rest of my rhetoric. I knew physical demonstrations would be the most effective, but Rosa had shown how defiance could go unnoticed and unchecked. I needed to be able to rely on more than just my size.

I reached my apartment building. Typically, I would ascend the three flights of stairs, particularly when I was this impatient. My bladder, however, threatened to collapse if I subjected it to any further exertion, so I called for the elevator.

I didn’t say anything when another resident entered the car, but the shrunken woman in my pocket must have heard the footsteps and tried to cry for help. I had to cover her face with my thumb, earning me another deep bite.

Reaching my floor, I stepped swiftly but delicately out of the elevator and down the hall to minimize the impact on my bladder. Unlocking the door with my off-hand, I staggered straight to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and finally withdrew my shrunken prisoner from my jacket pocket and set her down roughly on top of the toilet tank.

She got back to her feet as I hastily lifted the seat and undid my pants. Pulling out my cock, I placed my other hand against the wall above her and leaned forward to finally release my stream. She appeared gratifyingly horrified as she craned her neck back to look from my looming face to my powerful torrent and back. Less gratifying were her possibly judgmental glances at the state of my bachelor bathroom.

This is not at all how I imagined this would go, I thought. The key is to impress upon her her role in this new relationship. Don’t show panic or hurry. Believe you are in control and she will, too.

She recovered her voice after I finished and went to the sink to wash my hands. “What the fuck, dude! What the hell did you do to me? You better fucking reverse it now!”

I ignored the sting of both her words and the soap as it got into my fresh bite-wounds. I looked appraisingly at my reflection in the mirror and I found it untroubled.

I turned and reached for my protesting little guest. She tried to flee, but there was nowhere to run on her porcelain promontory. I plucked her about her ribcage with my thumb and forefinger, then stood up and held her precariously above the acrid toilet bowl. With an expectant expression, I held her gaze for several moments while she halted the inertia of her indignation. Satisfied, I flushed the toilet and took her to the kitchen.

Rosa’s terrarium was still on my kitchen table. It’s not Rosa’s anymore, I reminded myself. I set my new pet down on the table with the gentleness befitting her station, then I removed my jacket and sat down. Initially I said nothing, enjoying the sight of her methodically taking in her new world.

“Welcome to your new home,” I said finally.

She flinched at my voice, of course, but then her exasperation overcame her terror. “Gordon. What. The. Hell,” she said, gesturing forcefully with widespread hands on each word.

“You have been irreversibly shrunk,” I explained patiently. “You will live out the rest of your days as my pet.”

Her eyes went wide, then dismissively narrow. “Ha!” she exclaimed, tossing her head. “This is bullshit.”

I gave an indulgent smile. “To help you appreciate your new position, Pet, you are no longer to address me by the name I use with people. You will call me Master, or Lord, or—”

“Fuck that noise!” she shouted, becoming hysterical. “I don’t know what the fuck you did to me, but there’s no way I’m gonna call a loser like you ‘Master’. I mean, look at this dump! Master of the Universe you ain’t. I bet you couldn’t get a girl on your own, so you had to go steal your Daddy’s shrink-ray.”

With each word of her tirade, adrenaline pumped into my bloodstream. I knew her defiance required a response, but what? Violence? Humiliation? Torture? Neglect? Somehow all these options seemed too overwhelming, too over-the-top. Too out-of-control.

I calmly but abruptly stood up and loomed over the table. She reflexively backed up, watching me with wide eyes and heaving breaths. I reached into the terrarium and deliberately removed the bed, the table, the chair, and the couch, setting them all down at one end of the table.

Sitting back down, I kept all warning out of my face before shooting my hand toward her and plucking her by her backpack. Lifting her a couple of inches above the tabletop, I jerked the pack side-to-side until her arms slipped through the straps and she fell onto the table with an agreeable grunt.

Before she could get up, I pinned her face-down with a single fingertip on her ass. I pinched the tail of her jacket and pulled it over her head, forcing her arms up as they slid out of the sleeves. That’s rough enough, I thought.

I placed her pack and jacket next to the extracted furniture. Lifting my finger from her butt, I rolled her up into my fist. The terrarium was now bare except for my homemade toilet, and I laid my pet on the terrarium floor, neither roughly nor gently.

I didn’t spare her a glance as I got up to gather my instruments: adhesive tape, my X-Acto knife, tweezers, some twist-ties, and the one new item I had had the foresight to acquire, a swing arm magnifying lamp.

All of these I arrayed on the kitchen table in front of the terrarium. I then directed my stern gaze at my defiant pet, who looked ashen and said nothing. After a couple of moments I grabbed my jacket and left the apartment and didn’t return for four hours.

by Terry Gilliam, of course

@speckgirl Ferngully is often cited as a vore awakening.

REQUEST 28 by Lord Xarnor

Chapter Three

When I left my apartment, I had no plan for convincingly demonstrating to my new pet that her only future lay in accepting my ownership. I just knew that I had already had enough improvisation for the moment, and I couldn’t afford another moment of fallibility. I also knew that I hadn’t had dinner.

I crossed the street to my favorite teriyaki joint and ordered my usual. As I let the hot protein and rice fill me up, I tried to digest the evening’s events.

It struck me that the fact that no one believed shrinking to be possible meant that they were unlikely to believe their eyes when they saw it. They just needed a distraction or a plausible alternate explanation for what they saw. Accordingly, there were many more opportunities for taking than I had previously thought. I just needed to be clever and bold.

And then I had an inspiration. It was a simple plan, so simple that initially I distrusted it. Did I really understand my new pet well enough to predict her reactions? Did I even want a totally predictable pet? Somehow, as my dinner made its way through my bloodstream, these questions became less urgent. There was no guarantee that my plan would work, but I was sure as I could be that I would enjoy carrying it through. That was enough.

I finished my teriyaki and declined the dessert menu. That would come later. I got up and headed out to obtain the final ingredient for my demonstration.

Later, as I headed triumphantly back to my apartment, I teased myself with fantasies of how I had possibly screwed myself by leaving my pet alone for so long. Perhaps, being an inch taller than Rosa, she had found a way to escape the terrarium, even the apartment. Perhaps she had a laptop or other device in her backpack that emitted some sort of trackable signal. Perhaps there were a dozen cops waiting for me right now.

After thrilling to the adrenaline rush from these imagined catastrophes, I shrugged it all off. Let them try, I thought. We’ll see how fast I can shrink 'em all to ant-size. The usual voice of doubt wasn’t gone entirely, but it was extremely faint. I taunted it and almost skipped home.

No cop cars lined the street outside my building, no residents glanced at me furtively or hurried away, and no one accosted me as I turned the key and entered my apartment. My pet remained where I had left her, sitting on the floor of the terrarium, hugging her knees to her chest and her head lowered to her chest.

My elation unpunctured by any rude surprises, I was unable to restore the stern expression I’d had when I left. I stood at the entrance to the kitchen and tried to ground myself with a few deep breaths. Don’t worry about whether this will work, I told myself. You’re on a roll tonight, and this is exactly what you want. If it doesn’t work, we’ll try something else. In the meantime, enjoy yourself.

My pet raised her head but did not otherwise move as I sat down at the kitchen table. My glance at her contained just a hint of a smirk before I turned my attention to the contents of my jacket pocket. The last of my self-consciousness ebbed away as I brought my hand out onto the table and released Jennifer, all of two-and-a-half-inches-tall.

Her favorite club wasn’t that far away, and I had had no reason to believe she’d even be there that night. I had been ready to take the first woman I fancied and found alone, but Jennifer had in fact been on the dance floor just as I had arrived, her long brown hair twirling in the seizure-inducing lights.

I didn’t approach her then, lest any mutual friends see us together. I waited until she headed for the restroom, and she was only out of anyone else’s sight for a half-second, but that was all it took. No one looks at the floor in a place like that.

Staggering to her feet on my kitchen table, Jennifer’s face was wild with panic. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she took in my torso, arms, and head towering over her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my pet stand up and approach the plexiglass, but I didn’t want to miss a second of Jennifer’s plight.

She whirled about, trying to recognize everyday objects impossibly magnified in size. The top she was wearing had shimmered incandescently under the club lighting, but in the stark glare of my kitchen fluorescents, it appeared a dark fuchsia. Her pants were a basic black but hugged her ass and thighs oh so tantalizingly.

She didn’t seem to be making any progress orienting herself, so I swept her into my fist and brought her to my face for a closer look. I curled my fingers beneath her armpits so she could rest her tiny arms atop my grip. She made a futile effort to push herself away from my immense scrutiny.

I took my time drinking her in. Her dark heavy eyebrows, which were so animated when she had regaled me with her plans for the future, were arched high with apprehension. Her jaw, which used to hang open as she contemplated new experiences, was wrenched into a rictus of fear. And her jade-green eyes, which had once challenged the world to surprise her, pleaded to return to a world that made sense.

“Gordon, is that you?” whimpered Jennifer. “What’s going on?”

Instead of answering her, I twisted my fist to roll her first onto her side and then onto her back as I brought her head under my nose, her luxuriant hair draping across my upper lip. I’d longed to bury my nose in her hair from the moment I met her, and I inhaled deeply, her fine strands tickling my nostrils. She had artfully scented her hair for the evening out, but her fear-sweat was the perfect accent.

Jennifer writhed in my grasp, pressing her delightfully pliant tits and ass against my fingers and palm. I couldn’t resist squeezing her until she squeaked. I then silenced her squeak by covering her face with the tip of my tongue.

I was so giddy with the license that I was taking, I had to chuckle. Relieved of my tongue, Jennifer sputtered and coughed. Before she could recover, I lowered my fist and pinned her to the tabletop with my thumb while I selected the adhesive tape. My smirk returned in force as I rolled her onto her back and taped each of her limbs down in a spread-eagle position.

I gave the briefest of glances to my pet, not long enough to read much from her expression, but I did discern that she was standing a couple of steps back from the plexiglass and watching the proceedings with her arms crossed in front of her. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

I felt a grin spread across my face as I positioned the magnifying lamp for its long-awaited purpose. I switched it on and Jennifer winced under its glare. I selected my X-Acto knife and brandished it over the bound woman.

“Gordon, what are you doing?” she cried. “Stop, please, stop!” I leaned around the magnifier to give Jennifer a less severe view of my face.

“I suggest you hold very still for this part,” I said amiably, rolling the knife’s shaft between my fingers. Somehow her fair skin became even paler. Even better, she visibly gulped.

Leaning back over the magnifier, I gently placed the point of the blade on Jennifer’s shoulder to precisely determine the depth of her shirt’s fabric. I applied no pressure, but she shrieked anyway.

“Hold still,” I repeated, less amiably.

She shut her eyes tight as I slashed at the front each sleeve, from the shoulders to the collar, and from the collar to her waist. I then used the tweezers to expose her bra and belly. She opened her eyes when I lay the dull edge of the blade on her belly, the point just at the base of her sternum. The slightest flick forward and up sliced through the band of her bra, releasing her magnificent breasts.

Wouldja look at that, I thought, setting the blade and tweezers down for the moment. I had suspected Jennifer had a spectacular rack, and now it was within my grasp. Imagine how much more there’d be to play with if you’d only shrunk her down to, oh, eight-inches-tall? I’d have nowhere to keep her, let alone getting her out of the club unnoticed. Ah, well.

My tongue had snaked its way out between my lips, and Jennifer’s horrified expression indicated how it must have appeared on her side of the magnifier. She did not, however, see my thumb approach until it landed on her chest and started fondling her boobs. I’m afraid my own expression only became more smug.

As I moved my thumb lower to feel her heaving belly, I searched her eyes for any sign of outrage at my violations, but she was still alternating between bewilderment and denial. You gotta be open to new experiences, Jenny.

I picked the blade back up. Let’s get those pants off. Leery of the risk of injury from cutting her inseam, I sliced only the outside edge from the waistband to the cuffs, then tweezed her pants out from under her. Next off came her thong, revealing her dark landing strip and cute little pussy.

I paused a moment to take in the sight of this gorgeous woman bound naked and splayed wide on my kitchen table. I put the knife down for good and rested my head in my hands for some fulsome ogling. One of my pinkies slipped between my lips and my tongue eagerly set upon this proxy. It seemed only natural at that point to press the slickened tip of my pinky into her crotch.

It didn’t begin to fit inside, of course, but after sufficient stroking her tiny labia parted slightly and conformed to the motion of my fingertip. Jennifer shut her eyes and twisted her face away briefly, then turned back with a wide-eyed glare. That’s right, I thought. This is really happening and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

I withdrew my pinky and returned it to my tongue. Sweet and sour, the perfect marinade. I swung the magnifier arm to the side and looked directly down on Jennifer. She seemed to be holding her breath, which she released forcibly when I brought my face down to within a couple of inches of her helpless body.

Resting the tip of my nose on her belly, I took a deep whiff of her bestirred sex while filling her vision with my besotted eyes. My lips and cheeks brushed against her thighs as they struggled to contain my roiling tongue, and I finally had to lift my mouth out of reach before I lost control. No longer looking cross-eyed at my prey, I blinked and smacked my lips.

Jennifer’s jaw tensed and a gentle resolve filled her eyes. “Gordon,” she said with startling plangency, “will you please let me go?”

I leaned back and made a judicious face, then shrugged. One by one I freed each of her limbs by peeling the tape up. She kept her eyes on mine as she got to her feet, then she made a sober survey of her surroundings. For the first time, she seemed to take notice of my pet behind the plexiglass.

A deep rumbling chuckle had been building in my belly, and I chose that moment to finally release it. Jennifer spun around and looked up at me, and she did not like what she saw. She started running toward the terrarium, reaching out and crying, “Help me!”

I brought my head down fast, my jaws enclosing the fleeing woman, taking her T-Rex style. As I raised my head again, lifting her off her flailing feet, I noted that my pet had stepped forward and was watching me intently.

Jennifer’s head and shoulders lay in the middle of my tongue, and she placed her hands on my upper teeth in a pitiful attempt to prevent them from slicing through her abdomen. I had no intention of chewing her, but she couldn’t know that. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, exposing my throat to my pet, and slurped Jennifer’s legs into my mouth.

Tongue time, I thought. Still displaying my throat muscles, I gave Jennifer a full tour of my mouth, pressing her against each cheek, spinning her around so her head was oriented toward my lips, and slamming her back and ass against my palate while effortlessly separating her legs with the crest of my tongue.

My tongue began rhythmically pulsing against her from her taint to her tits. Gradually she was pushed forward until her head emerged from between my lips and she sputtered and gasped for breath.

Oh, how I missed this, I thought. Not just the taste of her twat but also the feel of her flesh trembling against my palate, my gums, and of course my tongue. She was utterly enslaved to the service of my senses.

As Jennifer recovered her breath and devoted more of her vocalization to reacting to my tongue, I opened my eyes and tilted my head forward so I could gaze upon my pet. She was enraptured, both hands on the plexiglass and staring up at me with . . . what, exactly? Could it be anticipation?

Remembering how dazzling she had looked on the dance floor, I let my tongue take the full measure of Jennifer’s supple breasts. I wanted you so I took you and now you’re mine. Her cries increased in volume and pitch. Whether they were more from terror or arousal I’ll never know because I abruptly muffled them when I sucked her back in and swallowed her down.

Reflexively I put my hand on my chest to feel Jennifer’s passage, but all my concentration was on my pet. She had raised both hands to her mouth when she watched Jennifer slide down my gullet, and now she was holding herself by her upper arms. Her face was tilted down, but she dared not take her eyes off me, and they peeked up through her curls. Totes adorbz, I thought.

After my stomach contents had settled down, I calmly stood and reached into the terrarium. My pet instinctively backed away, but there was nowhere to run and after a moment she stood still and let me wrap my fingers around her and lift her out. I sat back down and gently stood her on the table before me, only a few inches from my belly, which was still a bit noisy.

“Time to get undressed, Pet,” I said matter-of-factly. My hands didn’t move, but the blade and tweezers remained within easy reach.

Her breathing was still labored, but her face was controlled. Her gaze dropped from my eyes to my belly, and then finally she spoke, faintly but distinctly, “Yes, sir.”

Blood rushed in my ears and I felt unsteady in the kitchen chair. Is this it? Is she going to obey me from now on? Is she complying out of shock, or has she accepted her new station? Don’t rush it. Maintain your posture, but let her find her repose.

I kept my face placid as I leaned back and returned my hand to my belly. She had a grim expression as she shot me a glare before grabbing the bottom of her black camisole and pulling it over her head and her unruly curls.

She must have changed out of her Starbucks shirt before leaving the store, I mused. Her bra was black, too, and to my inexperienced eyes it looked fancy. Would have been a shame to have to chop through that.

It seemed impossible that she could have pulled her tight jeans over those hips without my assistance, but she did it without complaint. She took her panties down at the same time, so I didn’t get a clear look to determine whether they matched the bra. Her pussy was clean-shaven for now. She won’t be getting any grooming supplies from me.

Stepping out of her jeans, she resumed eye contact as she reached behind her back to release the hooks of her bra. Her face was equal parts resolve and relief as she let her bra straps slip over her shoulders and the cups fell into her arms. She tossed the bra onto the pile of the rest of her clothes, clasped her hands behind her back, and raised her face to me.

She’s mine, I thought. She’s my Pet. I released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

With the faintest of satisfied smiles, I stood up and loomed over her. She tilted her head back but otherwise held still. I moved the chair back to give myself some room, and then I, too, undressed. I did my best to match her performance in pragmatic insouciance.

My cock had been hardening all through my tasting and consumption of Jennifer, and whatever torpor might have followed was overcome by the spectacle of Pet’s obedience. It was difficult to see precisely where she was looking, but imagine the sight of my stiffy snapping free of my boxers snagged her attention.

It bobbed closer to her as I approached the table, so she might not have been watching for my hand when I reached for her and enclosed her in my fist. I brought her close to my face just as I had the first time I grabbed her on the campus path. Now under the bright light, I looked on her bare brown shoulders and resigned face with less menace than possession.

I held her upright with a minimum of sway as I repaired to the living room couch, sitting down and spreading my legs wide. Looking at her helpless in my grip, I hocked back a mouthful of spit. She squeezed her eyes shut, but opened them again in surprise after I spat into my other hand.

Pet nevertheless got a faceful of my spit after I slicked my cockhead and shaft and then held her to the underside, nestling her tiny boobs, belly, and pussy against my electrified skin. I waited a couple of seconds to see if she knew what to do without being told, but finally I had to say, “Hold on,” and she dutifully wrapped her arms and legs around my cock.

I started jacking off slow, as I wanted to savor the delicate friction between our flesh. I surged in response to the sight of Pet’s tiny face rising above my cockhead with each upstroke, and I thrilled to feel her tiny round ass slapping my balls with each downstroke. Even though my hand provided all the motion, her limbs genuinely gripped my shaft, and I’m sure she felt its heat and its insistence with the whole of her body.

Reveling in the shrunken woman wrapped around my cock and the other dissolving my belly, I felt godlike again. I was having my way with these women, and one of them was learning to appreciate her new role in life. This would be the first of many lessons, and she would grow more content with each that she learned. Similarly, I would grow more satisfied with each adaptation that she made.

I succumbed to a grin of triumph as I accelerated my strokes until I reached climax. Pet grunted loudly, possibly also in triumph but more probably because I squeezed her too hard. I shot all over her hair and face, and a dab also landed on my belly in tribute to Jennifer.

I lifted Pet up to the topside of my cock and settled her in my cum-soaked thatch as I lay back and let all my muscles go. I closed my eyes and dropped my arms onto the cushions, letting Pet take everything in. For a while we just breathed together.

Eventually the cum started to harden, provoking me to sit up. Pet hadn’t moved much, and she didn’t evade my collecting hand. I brought her to my face and enjoyed the sight of her marked with my fluids. I pulled her close for a sniff.

“I think you need a bath, Pet,” I said patronizingly. She nodded, and I decided not to prompt her for a vocal agreement. All in good time, it’s been a rough first day.

I got out my favorite clear glass bowl and filled it with warm water and bath soap. I wanted to watch her bathe herself, but we were both exhausted. I gently wiped her with a washcloth, but I couldn’t really do a thorough job on her curly hair. She’ll smell me in her dreams tonight, I thought.

Pet was a little too tall for Rosa’s old bed, so I bunched up my boxers and put them on the floor of the terrarium for her to sleep on. After lowering her onto her makeshift bed, it occurred to me that she hadn’t had any supper. Keeping it simple, I filled her water dish and cut her a chunk of cheese from the fridge. After setting these at one end of the terrarium, I stood over her once more.

“Good night, Pet,” I said sincerely and switched off the kitchen light.

@smolchlo If you have a size kink, you must be prepared to wade through oceans of crap content in order to find that single drop that slakes your thirst.

@smolchlo

Came across this the other day and thought about you Ferngully folks.

Chrysta by Joe Randel