Posts made by Olo

My first breakfast with Pet was something of an auspicious occasion, and somehow full-frontal nudity didn’t seem quite appropriate, so I donned some pajama bottoms immediately after I got up on my way to take my morning piss.

Pet was nowhere to be seen when I entered the kitchen, but I didn’t panic because I presumed she had burrowed into my boxers, and retrieving them from the terrarium confirmed it. Holding her upright in my fist, I pulled my boxers away to expose her head and shoulders. It was plain she had been crying during the night.

“Good morning, Pet,” I said gently. I held an expectant smile while she steadily met my gaze, then she took a deep breath.

“Good morning, sir,” she said, perhaps not as loudly as she might have. My face warmed.

I extracted her from my boxers and stood her back on the floor of the terrarium. I was about to place her clothes within her reach when I noticed that she had taken a few bites of cheese, and a thought occurred to me. I reached under the terrarium where one end hung over the table edge and detached the home-made septic tank. Opening it revealed it to be empty and dry. Returning the tank to its original configuration, I looked patronizingly at Pet.

“You need to use the potty,” I explained.

As I sat down at the kitchen table to observe, I realized that I had neglected to provide Pet with toilet tissue as I had for Rosa. I extracted a single sheet from a nearby tissue box and dropped it into the terrarium next to the toilet I had fabricated. When Pet failed to approach it, I helpfully pointed at it.

She had been watching me with her arms crossed, but she finally let her arms and eyes drop and walked over to the toilet. It wasn’t much more than a hole in the floor fitted with a rubber sleeve that only I could remove and a cap that Pet could remove (and replace) herself. I had provided Rosa with a separate water basin for washing and rinsing, but I wanted to see Pet’s performance first.

She didn’t hesitate before kneeling and lifting the cap, and I suspected she had already investigated it. She turned to face away from me before she squatted over the hole, at which I took no offense. She’ll lose her self-consciousness soon enough.

After she did her complete business, Pet tore off some scraps of tissue, wiped herself, and tossed the paper down the hole.

“Very good, Pet,” I said approvingly as I got up to fill her wash basin and set it down next to her. I also collected her clothes and deposited them in the terrarium. “You can get dressed if you like.”

I stood up to make coffee. I had recently replaced my old blade grinder with a burr grinder, which in addition to producing more consistent grounds it was also likely less harsh on shrunken eardrums. My preferred method for home-brewing was a staggered pour-over into a specifically-designed carafe. Between the carefully weighed beans and timed pours, I found the ritual aspect very satisfying.

I didn’t have anything to eat in the pantry other than a couple of old croissants from Town & Gown in the bread saver. I didn’t have time to make anything before class (Intro to Political Theory, as it happened), and I decided not to skip it because I felt it was important to establish a routine. After I had ground the beans and started the kettle, I put the croissants on a plate and set it on the table.

Pet had opted to get dressed, and when she was ready I lifted her out of the terrarium and placed her next to the plate. Rosa’s old chair and table were a bit small, but they would have to do until I could find replacements. I tore off a bit of croissant and put it on her table, then turned back to the counter to start the sequence of pours.

Periodically I turned to look at Pet. She hadn’t yet had a bite of croissant, but she was watching me with what I fancied was professional interest. I wondered if she would dare try to advise me on my technique.

Opening the cabinet to get a coffee mug, I noticed the nested stack of shrunken glasses, and I realized I could shrink a mug for Pet. Rosa had only drunk water from her dish, and that simply wouldn’t do for coffee. On the other hand, a ceramic mug could be broken to create a cutting edge. I suppose I could collect it after each use. I found myself unable to let go of the idea of sharing my coffee with Pet.

I went back into my bedroom to don my bathrobe and cache the medallion in a pocket. Returning to the kitchen with my hand in the pocket pinching the medallion, I moved to shield the cabinet from Pet with my upper body and saw a mug reduced to her scale, and it was. Releasing the medallion, I gently plucked Pet’s mug from the shelf and set it on her table.

I then had to thoroughly rinse out an eye-dropper from the bathroom before it would be suitable for dispensing coffee. I filled my mug and then siphoned enough to fill Pet’s.

“There’s no milk,” I told her, “so you’ll be taking it black like me.” I watched her as I took a long sip, and she eventually followed suit. She set her mug back down with deliberation. Her entire body seemed to withhold comment.

I munched on half a croissant and imagined that watching me eat must have had an extra resonance for Pet. She tore off a mouthful of the soft bread and chewed it, followed by another considered swig of coffee. Then, to my astonished delight, she raised her hand.

I inclined my head toward her. “Yes, Pet?”

“Sir, may I ask a—uh, some questions?”

“Of course.”

“Sir, how did you make us small, me and that other girl?”

I was ready for this one. “Pet, I understand why you asked that question, but you must understand that I will never answer it. Ever.”

After a pause, she raised her hand again.

“Yes, Pet?”

“Sir, may I ask why you did it?”

I was torn. On one hand, I could demonstrate her impotence by revealing my every feeling, secure in the knowledge that she could never use it to harm me. On the other hand, I didn’t want to overwhelm her with too many new facts and concepts. She had been shrunk for less than twenty-four hours, after all.

Keep it simple. “I took you to be my Pet,” I declared. “I wanted you in my hand and in my mouth, and that’s where you’ll go whenever I desire it.”

“And in your stomach?” No raised hand that time.

I hoped it would never come to that, but somehow I didn’t think it would be helpful to let her know that right now.

“Not for now,” I said with a grim smile.

Panic began to creep into her voice. “What about that other girl? How do I know I won’t end up like her?”

There it was. The bare minimum that she needed for her spiritual survival, some assurance that I wouldn’t dispose of her like yesterday’s coffee grounds. I had better make this good.

“Pet, you are the most precious thing in the world to me,” I said sincerely, leaning forward to look into her eyes. “After class, I’m going to pick up some lunch and come back here and prove it to you.”

I could see that she was trembling. I reached for her with both hands, and while she successfully fought the instinct to flee, her face was full of fear and misery. I cupped her and brought her close to my face. I felt like kissing her, but I also felt that doing so at that point would undercut the impression I was trying to make.

Instead I returned her to her terrarium, followed by the chair and table. I managed not to spill her coffee, but then I remembered I didn’t want to leave her with the ceramic mug and collected it. There didn’t seem to be anything more to say, so I took a shower.

Act as if it’s a fait accompli, and it will be, I told myself as I dressed. Presume acceptance. You will show her what her new role is and how much you value it. Believe, and she will believe.

I didn’t look in Pet’s direction as I headed out the door and walked to class.

Class was uneventful; an absent student or two was hardly worthy of remark. A taco truck I liked was parked next to campus, and I grabbed a big burrito on my way home.

Pet was standing next to the plexiglass when I entered the kitchen, and I flashed her a warm smile. I set the takeout bag on the counter and got out a plate, utensils and a can of Coke.

Sitting down with my lunch, I noticed that Pet was watching me warily. After I had had two or three bites, she turned around and sat in her (too small) chair.

“What is it, Pet?” I asked with a mouth half-full.

She shook her head. I set my fork down with noisy disapproval. Her eyes went wide.

“C’mon, Pet,” I said with an expectant smile.

Slowly she stood and approached the plexiglass, hugging herself and meeting my eyes.

“I thought,” she began, “When you said you were going to pick up lunch, I thought you were going to . . . bring back another person.”

I concealed my amusement with a patronizing smile. This was not the moment for mockery.

“Not today, Pet,” I said. “It’s just you and me.”

Continuing to eat, I poked through the scraps of Jennifer’s ruined clothes with my tweezers. I plucked and lifted her pants, and her tiny phone fell out and bounced on the tabletop. I stopped eating and swung the magnifier lamp back in front of me and held the shrunken device under it with the tweezers.

It was still functional, but my fingers were far too big to access it even if I knew her code. I didn’t know when Jennifer might have been reported missing, but her phone had been in my kitchen for longer than twelve hours. If shrunken phones could reach a cell network, they had all the data they needed to find me.

Curiously, I allowed myself to instantly conclude that this proved shrunken phones presented no danger to me. I should have been in a panic, frantically calculating triangulation radii and glancing out the window trying to spot unmarked cop cars, but I wasn’t. My only reaction was an unguarded “Huh.”

Pet was doing a poor job of pretending not to watch me. I set the tweezers and phone down and pointed at the remaining burrito.

“Want some?” I asked. She nodded, and I got up to reach into the terrarium and set her on the tabletop. I cut a chunk for her and slid it to the end of the wrapper, where she sat down and pulled out a handful.

I really need to get her a set of properly-scaled utensils and a chair and table so she can dine with me. She tried to be casual when she glanced in the direction of Jennifer’s phone, and I refrained from taking notice. I simply took the next pause from forking burrito into my mouth to pick up the tweezers and deliver the phone to Pet’s lap.

She looked up sharply at me. I almost shrugged, but in the end I just nodded.

“Can’t reach the network,” I explained. “Signal’s not strong enough.”

Pet picked up the phone and turned it around gingerly—it was beneath even her scale—but she couldn’t get past the lock screen. She looked back at me, and I could tell she was debating whether to try an emergency call to 911. I hadn’t intended to test her—not now, not this way—but that seemed to be the way she was taking this. I turned back to my burrito and left her to her thoughts.

When I’d had my fill, I invited Pet to open her backpack so I could inspect its contents. She indeed had her laptop in there, and I gave her the wrong wi-fi password just to see if she could get an error message. When she didn’t get a response from the router at all, I knew the laptop, too, was too weak to connect to anything.

“Sir,” she said, “the battery’s gonna die soon. Do you have any way to charge it?”

That was a bit of a puzzler. I’d have to shrink only one end of a charging cable, and even then I couldn’t be sure it would still work or that the current wouldn’t fry the shrunken laptop. I knew they made devices that could be charged wirelessly, but that was on a slippery slope toward many expensive and traceable purchases. Better to nip this in the bud.

“Nope, sorry,” I said.

Pet lowered her head and shut down the laptop. She stared at the black screen while I cleared the remains of lunch.

I was still standing when Pet spoke again. “Sir,” she began, her face still downcast, but raising her head to look up at me by the end of her question, “what happened to her, the one you kept here before me?”

I wasn’t ready to talk about Rosa yet, but I knew prevarication at this point would be disastrous. I wore a solemn expression as I looked down at Pet and said, “She couldn’t find a way to be happy.”

I stood motionless and just let that answer hang there for a while. Pet kept watching me and didn’t move either. Finally I sat back down and rested my chin in one hand. I raised my eyebrows at her appraisingly.

“Inspection time, Pet,” I said. “Off with your clothes.”

She inhaled deeply but she did not hesitate as she stood to comply. Her disrobing was neither stoic nor sullen; she seemed more unsettled by my scrutiny than at any time previous.

When she was nude, I pointed to a spot on the tabletop directly in front of me, about an inch from the edge.

“Stand here,” I said. She had to crane her head back to maintain eye contact as she approached my abdomen, which was still processing burrito. By the time she had reached the designated spot, I was looking almost directly down on her.

“About face, Pet,” I commanded. “Stand with your feet hip-width apart, bend forward, and pull your ass cheeks apart.”

She blinked and hesitated for a second, but she kept complete control over her expression. She then turned and did exactly what I had instructed.

What a good fucking girl, I thought. Time to see how closely she had wiped. She jumped slightly when I scooted my chair back, but she maintained her position. I leaned in until my face was no more than two inches from her bent figure. Her tiny brown pucker looked clean, but I knew there was more to Pet than met the eye.

Finding every square centimeter of volume within my lungs, I took the deepest possible whiff of Pet’s asshole and pussy, my tongue convulsing at the back of my mouth to drink in every last ester and pheromone. I detected the soap from the previous night’s impromptu bath, sulfur notes from the eggs she must have had for breakfast yesterday, and good old Lactobacillus. I let out a deep and resonant “Mmmmm.”

I exhaled and smacked my lips. “On your hands and knees, Pet.” After she complied, I continued: “Fold your arms in front of you and rest your head on them, then spread your legs.”

Oh, what a scrumptious sight, I thought as she assumed the position. Her round juicy ass presented to me like a ripe cherry tomato. I leaned in even closer, opening my jaws to let my teeth graze her cheeks and thighs. Pet let out a brief squeak before burying her face in her arms.

I could only slow but not stop my tongue as it slid out of my mouth and nuzzled its tip against her asshole. All of my concentration was poised within the taste buds at the extreme point as it circled and probed her trembling anus.

Vanilla, rosemary, and bell peppers. She had wiped away every last bit of shit, leaving only the aftertastes of her meals. I grunted my satisfaction. My tongue, quite convinced of its entitlement, started to proceed toward her pussy, but I wrested control and lifted my head up and away.

“You are a very clean, good girl, Pet,” I enunciated softly but deliberately. “You may stand up, if you like.”

She slowly got to her feet, and I briefly thought she would avert her face from mine, but she just started rubbing her arms and met my gaze once more. I like to think it was my approving smile that made her stand up straight.

“Good girls get treats,” I said, extending my hand to the edge of the table, palm up. My smile was undiminished, but my posture was full of awareness that Pet was again being tested. She tilted her head and hesitated, but I suspected it was more out of unfamiliarity with the maneuver than distrust.

As she stepped into my hand, I was reminded that Pet had a higher center-of-gravity than other women I’d taken, making open-palm carries more precarious. Pet grasped this immediately and instinctively sat down cross-legged in my palm. As gratified as I was by her adaptation, I decided that in the future the safest method would be curling my fingers around her torso.

I walked carefully to the living room, then closed my fingers about Pet as I stretched myself out along the length of the couch. Once I was fully supine, I gently released Pet onto my chest. She remained in a sitting position.

“Pet,” I began with an encouraging lilt, “climb up onto my face and lower your legs into my mouth.”

She was almost below my field of vision, so I could not see her immediate reaction. I didn’t want to disturb her seat, so I simply lay there, wondering how long I should wait before taking notice of her failure to comply. Before long, however, she got to her feet.

“Sir,” she began, then cleared her throat. “Sir, are you going to eat me?”

“No, Pet,” I replied. “I don’t want to eat you. I want to taste you. All of you.”

I could feel her walk toward my head, step onto my clavicle, and place her hands on my chin. I closed my eyes as she pulled herself up, dragging her boobs and belly over my rough skin. I held my jaws shut to provide her stability, and she crawled over my lips and propped herself up on my nose to look into my eyes. I went cross-eyed, of course, but I was delighted by the confrontation.

“Is this my ‘treat’?” she asked. It was difficult to be certain at that proximity, but I coulda sworn she had a slight smirk.

“Indeed,” I replied. “You’ll have to tell me if you like it.”

I gave her a moment if she had anything further to say, then I slowly opened my mouth wide. My tongue reclined at the back of my mouth, dignified by the imminence of Pet’s arrival. Breathing through my nose, I enjoyed the overture of odors as she gathered her legs to slide them past my nostrils, over my upper lip and incisors, and into my waiting maw.

A sense of abandon entered Pet’s movements as her abdomen passed over my upper lip and her center-of-gravity shifted against my lower jaw. She sank deeper into my mouth, and my tongue rose to cushion her descent. My lower incisors raked her back, but I suspect she found the leverage helpful.

Pet spread her legs and ran her feet along the insides of my lower gums, leaning forward to grip my upper incisors. My tongue embraced her belly first, which tensed against my tasting. As more of my tongue draped over her, she lay her breasts on its wide mattress and squeezed her legs around its pliant edges. I was enchanted as both of her nipples and her clit perked up against my supple muscle. I bathed her with a grunt.

It wasn’t until then that I finally appreciated that Pet’s relatively large size would prevent me from swallowing her whole. This was immediately followed by my conviction that Pet had realized this before—perhaps long before—I had. I was so overcome by the beauty of this revelation that I briefly stopped attending to the delicacy in my mouth, but I quickly recovered and amplified my vigor.

My tongue roamed freely over every swell and hollow of Pet’s body, returning to her asshole, compressing her thighs, wrapping her feet. I sat up slightly, putting Pet on her back. I sucked her in some more, engulfing her arms and rolling my upper lip over her boobs and back and over again. I was totally unconscious of the slurping and sucking and smacking noises I made as I drank down all of her essences.

Throughout all this Pet gave as good as she got. She writhed against my tongue, resisting its every effort to pin or hold her, even leaning into it when she felt it go slack. Her thighs, in particular, straddled the crest of my tongue no matter how much it bucked and swerved, and her pussy was determined to kiss my taste buds with its tiny lips, even as my incisors were poised to decapitate her.

Each pulse of my tongue was accompanied by a resonant groan of ecstasy, and I soon detected Pet’s keening gasps matching my rhythm. I wish I could see her face, I thought. My cock surged at her noises, but I was still clothed so my hands could only grip the cushions.

Slowly I sucked Pet further and further inside until my lips rolled entirely over her head. She still grappled my tongue, but there was much less room to maneuver with her fully enclosed by my jaws. In the end I could only hold my tongue stiff as she humped it, knocking her head against my palate.

When she finally released my tongue, I tilted my head back against the wall and opened my mouth to give both Pet and the taste of her fluids some air. She made no detectable effort to extricate herself from my mouth, so I brought one hand up to pluck her by a slippery shoulder and draw her all the way out. She was too drained to hold her arms free, so I pinned them to her side as I curled my fingers around her and brought her face under my gaze.

I thought about asking if she had liked her treat, but I decided to see if I could glean the answer from her expression and her posture. She was limp in my hand, but she was still breathing heavily. Her tight curls were strewn and slicked with spit and lust. Her eyes remained bright, neither defiant nor apologetic. Perhaps relief mixed with pride at having survived the experience. I’ll take it.

And then finally I did kiss her. Right in the face, no tongue whatsoever, just my lips covering the front of her head and puckering slowly to enclose it. When I pulled away, her eyes were closed, and she kept them closed as I gently laid her on the couch cushion.

I sucked my tongue one more time, then I stood up, crossed my arms, and turned to look down on Pet, still recumbent where I had laid her. I couldn’t tell if her eyes were open at first, but after I started getting undressed she rolled onto one side and propped her head up on one arm.

When I had taken everything off, I reached down and picked her up, holding her upside-down. “Point your toes, Pet,” I said, “and keep them pointed.”

I didn’t see her expression, but she complied. I bent over and squatted, spreading my ass open. I lowered Pet between my legs and brought her pointed feet to my asshole. That relief might have been premature. Slowly but firmly, I fit Pet’s feet into my anus up to her ankles.

“Hook your feet,” I commanded. She bent them forward, and I released her from my hand as I slowly straightened up. A reassuring clench of my Kegels confirmed that she was both securely inserted and in contact with my prostate.

I turned and carefully sat back on the couch at the outer edge of the cushion, allowing the dangling Pet to drape over the edge before I delicately scooted back, pinning her torso under my taint and covering her arms, shoulders and head with my ballsack. I leaned back at an acute angle to minimize the amount of weight I put on her.

My treat now. My precum had already spotted my boxers, so I didn’t need very much spit to get slick. I kept the pumping slow, luxuriating in the sensation of Pet beneath my taint. I couldn’t see her face, of course, but I tried to imagine what it must be like to have a faceful of warm, hairy, wrinkled flesh, buried by enormous muscles straining toward a singularly insistent goal.

My voice was more distant from Pet than when she had been in my mouth, but she was experiencing far greater pressure and heat. I couldn’t help clenching her firm little feet into my prostate with almost every stroke. A long sigh started building in my chest and expanded into a rutting drone that filled my entire torso.

She really liked her treat, I thought. She likes this, too. She wants more. She wants to be kept by me. My hand was pumping at its own pace now. Was I imagining it, or was Pet hugging and kissing my ballsack? Sure. Why not.

As my passion coursed through my veins and surged into my extremities, I took less and less care to keep my crushing weight off of Pet. Her tiny frame remained at the center of my awareness, but only as the fulcrum of my desire.

She might not be passing through my gut, but all of my appetites were dangerous. All the effort and concern I had invested in Pet’s happiness hovered at the edge of my consciousness, but I was heedless in pursuit of my gratification. Would she survive uninjured, or at all? There’s always another test.

All questions and cavils fell away as I pistoned into a frenzy. Here. Now. Every muscle went taut as I arched my back and thrust upward, cum spurting and flowing over my fist and onto my thighs. There was no measuring the elapsed time before I finally lowered my abdomen and pelvis back onto the couch.

I could still feel Pet’s body, but it was impossible to discern any movement independent of my own post-climactic tremors. My heart was still pounding, my belly still heaving with deep breaths. I strained to hear her gasps or groans, but there was nothing.

Did I kill her? Did I consume her after all? I was afraid to find out. I tried to relax my muscles without putting any more weight on her. Still no detectable movement. All I could hear was my own heart.

Then, at last, a tugging on my ballsack. A gasp as she finally pulled her face clear, then a delicious writhing as she kicked her feet free of my asshole. I felt her reward in the form of a drop of cum sliding down my thigh and I held my breath as it fell. Her indignant sputtering confirmed where it had landed.

“Back for more, eh?” I said with a grin.

Olo

@kisupure

New title: Soylent Gray

“Captain Rhyd Wesson, it’s time you learned what retraining is.”

So is the implication here that Wesson is about to be inducted into the mysteries of the Corps, and that by the time he sees Gray off he knows that non-officer corpsmen (along with the rest of humanity) are just livestock? That’s some red pill.

Either way, Wesson is an irredeemable shit. Conflating treason against the Corps with betraying him personally is pathetic, and sending Gray off to get mulched is as cold as it gets.

Gray goes through a lot and learns a lot in this chapter, but you did well to make us feel each blow as it lands. The death of the Corps cuts the deepest. Gray’s body might still be intact, but her spirit has been puréed.

Olo

Hers to Ride

She clearly needs someone to perform the male role. I hope she gives me a call next time.

Olo

by manuel7777777

Olo

@shrunkenlaura The original image is gone, but I think giant couples are okay as long as the tiny is female.