Ha this is literally out of one of my fantasies. Rich business man takes a souvenir from each country he travels to, and starts a collection of authentic little homes for them in his home or office.
The most powerful pet. Amy Is A Good Pillow. Eastyard Pixie. Your typical subservient, nymphomaniac Asian girl. I enjoy being played and toyed with. I love to RP all sizes from semi-plausible all the way down to super microscopic. Unaware is great too, and I enjoy cruel giants as well as gentle ones.
Turn-offs are animals or age stuff.
Best posts made by sloppy_amy
RE: Giant Reactions
I don’t know about the eyes or anything like that, except of course his big gut looming over me so I can barely see his face. In fact, being unable to see his face is probably huge for me. It makes him inhuman in a way, he’s not just a person, but a mountain, a sort of force of nature.
And the behavior or change in behavior is very important. Before he might’ve been polite, sophisticated, professional, shy. But now his behavior is dominant, even cruel, maybe still gentle but definitely controlling. He stops treating me like a person, and instead treats me like an object he owns.
Michael opened the padlock and rolled up the metal door. The spring loaded mechanism hit the ceiling with a loud metal clang and rattle. After the recent layoffs he had been “promoted” to shift manager because Janine, the previous one, had walked out. His pay had barely increased, but his responsibilities now included opening up the store as well as closing it. He was also supposed to manage the shift workers, each of which now had to cover more than before while their pay remained unchanged.
“Morning, Michael,” said a chirpy voice behind him, “you want coffee?” It was his colleague Amy, the only other employee scheduled for this morning’s shift before they opened up. She was holding a steaming styrofoam cup from the local knock off coffee place, their logo just different enough not to get sued by Starbucks. Her small hands wrapped around the cup adorably, like she was lifting a heavy pot up to him.
“Thanks Amy, that’s very nice. You know you didn’t have to do that?” He squatted, which almost put him at eye sight. The woman was only slightly over 2ft tall. Stocking the shelves with her help would be a challenge. He assumed the reason why she hadn’t gotten fired was that she was the least-paid employee by a big margin. Nobody with better options would stay for that pay. Not in this economy. But it was hard to find work as a 2ft Chinese girl who barely spoke English.
He took the coffee from her hands, and she blew against them to cool them down.
“It very hot,” she remarked. Michael grinned. Her brown eyes stared up at him. She looked pale, her skin dry. Dark rings under her eyes. Lips cracked. He knew she didn’t drink coffee, only tea that she brewed herself in the staff break room using tea she brought from home. She’d make the tiniest cup and sip it slowly throughout the day. This Fauxbux latte probably had 3-4 shots, which would send her little metabolism to the stratosphere. One had to manage caffeine carefully if one was only 2ft tall and had a blood volume of… what, a quart or two?
He stood up, once again towering over her, and took a sip. The coffee tasted burned. He smacked his lips in appreciation.
“This is really good,” he lied, “thanks Amy.”
“Welcome,” she said and proceeded into the store. He followed her slowly, which wasn’t a problem with her legs so short. He watched her take off her puffy jacket, she was wearing the polyester uniform underneath. It draped over her bony frame like a blanket over a coat rack.
They put their clothes and backpacks into the staff room and began stocking. Amy naturally took the lower three shelves, having to get on her tip-toes to barely reach the third. He worked on the higher ones and the heavier items. Heavier items like full gallons of milk. She also didn’t like working on the large refrigerated shelves, having once tripped and fallen in, and then been unable to push the door open from the inside. She’d been lucky that a customer had found her in there and rescued her. Michael remembered the stream of abuse he had been subjected to from the concerned woman. How could he let something like this happen to an employee? He shrugged. What was he supposed to do? Corporate didn’t exactly give him much choice in who to schedule.
After an hour they were done preparing for the day. Just in time, Julia showed up. The young woman was working part time to help pay for college. She was sassy, but great at the register. Plus, customers liked her. Michael hated working the register and Amy wasn’t great with people. Especially people who were busy or angry.
“Hey Michael, Amy,” said Julia, changing into her uniform, “how’s it hanging?”
“It’s hanging alright,” said Michael, “same old.”
“Yes, same old,” said Amy, then added “you very pretty today.”
“Aww, thanks hon! That’s so sweet of you.” Julia crouched down in front of the Chinese woman and nuzzled her nose, then gave her a peck on the cheek. Amy blushed.
“Amy, can you go over the inventory in the back? Need to make sure we order the right stuff for delivery.”
“Yes boss,” Amy said and made her way to the warehouse. Julia, now uniform-clad, headed to the register.
“Go get 'em,” Michael tried to motivate her, and Julia laughed. He wasn’t sure if it had worked or if she was laughing at his attempt.
He himself made the rounds and checked everything was in the right place, adjusting a few items here and there as he went. The first customers trickled in, and he nodded a greeting whenever he passed someone.
An hour later the store was buzzing. No time to greet everyone now, it was too crowded. Michael checked by Julia to make sure she was doing ok. He’d take her place at the register in a while so she could take her break.
Then he checked on Amy in the warehouse.
“You in here, Amy?” He said. He couldn’t hear a sound. Damn it, was she out back? She didn’t smoke, as far as he knew. Maybe she was using the restroom.
Then he found her, draped across a pile of potato sacks. She was lying face down, her thin arms still gently wrapped around a can of tomato soup she had been carrying.
“Oh shit! Amy!”
He rushed to her and rolled her over on her back. She was breathing, but passed out, probably from exhaustion. Eyes rolled back in her skull. Her skin was ashen and she just looked like an absolute wreck.
“You silly little chink. Why didn’t you just say something?” he said, mostly to himself.
Michael sighed and looked around. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. What if someone caught him? He walked a few steps to lock the door, then returned. Undoing his belt and fly, he pulled out his cock and began slowly stroking himself. It wasn’t easy to get hard like this, in a cold warehouse at the back of the store. Amy looking like a corpse in front of him. He tried to think of something sexy. His ex-wife’s tits when they were newly married. That stripper who’d agreed to give him a blowjob behind the club.
After a minute of quiet stroking, he finally got semi-hard. His efforts made little shlick noises in the quiet of the warehouse, only occasionally interrupted by the hum of a distant industrial fridge. He used his other hand to reach down and squeeze his balls, and closed his eyes. It was too distracting to look at that tiny, ashen face, the white of her eyeballs. The cracked lips. In his mind he imagined Julia. Half his age, tall. Curvy. A bundle of energy, always a smile on her lips. Those perfect youthful tits. She way her ass danced as she walked, the polyester store uniform awkward in places, maybe a size too small. The stupid grin she gave him when he’d walk past. Those thick lips. Dick sucking lips. He tried to imagine Julia’s face as she sucked his dick. Jesus, she was young enough to be his daughter.
He felt himself close to cumming and opened his eyes. A few drops were leaking from his dick, and he could feel his balls contracting. He quickly leaned forward, bringing his semi-erect cock to Amy’s small face. Her lips opened easily as he shoved his tip into them, but even with her muscles totally relaxed while she was out, he was afraid of pushing any further. He wasn’t particularly well endowed, probably average. Just enough to be fun-sized, his ex had called it. But Amy’s mouth was so small that it looked stretched beyond imagination just from his tip. If he tripped and fell, he might split her jaw in half.
The next stroke did it. His balls exploded, pumping spurt after spurt of hot cream into the tiny, unconscious woman’s mouth. First it seemed to go down her throat, and when that couldn’t take the pressure off, it built back up through her mouth until it came out at the sides and her nostrils.
Amy gagged and gasped, then gulped. Her eyes rolled back down and with a cough, she spit out his drooping cock. Her head turned slightly, and she stared up at him. She couldn’t move much with the tip in her mouth, as it took up a large portion of her face. It’s girth covering most of her chin and one cheek.
Michael pulled back, but her hands grabbed his shaft.
“Please, no stop!” She begged.
A tiny hand guided his tip back to her lips and she began suckling it adorably. Then he felt small fingers touch his left nut and squeeze. He caught himself in a deep moan, and covered his mouth with his hand. What if somebody heard? She squeezed his nut as best she could with one tiny hand, then worked the other, milking him dry. Each spurt greedily gulped down, her thin throat bobbing as she accepted his seed.
Finally he was completely emptied. His cock began deflating rapidly and he tucked it back into his pants and fastened his belt. Then he stood back up and reached down to help her up.
Her hand looked so puny in his broad paw as he pulled her up. She was still a bit wobbly on her feet, but looked much better. Her skin was already clearer and more vibrant. She licked her lips, spreading his cum over them.
“You got some on your chin,” he advised. She used her fingers to wipe it off, then sucked them clean.
“You should’ve told me, Amy. How long has it been?”
“My boyfriend not come home in 3 day.”
“Three days? Jesus. Your blood sugar must’ve crashed when you carried those cans.”
“Please no fire me. I can no have other job.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, “that’s not what I meant. Where’s your boyfriend? Why isn’t he coming home?”
“Not know. I think maybe they take him.”
It was unclear who “they” were, but he’d read enough stories. Rich people who would hire unscrupulous scumbags to kidnap tiny people. Usually it was Asian women who were abducted, often taken in broad daylight. It was easy enough to pick one up and stuff her into a duffel bag, a backpack. Nobody would notice in a crowd. But he’d also heard of rich trophy wives taking tiny Asian men as their personal sex slaves. Tolerated by rich husbands who probably owned their own collection of oriental sex toys. Or maybe Amy’s boyfriend had been kidnapped by a gay man? He might be getting sodomized right this instant by a cock the size of a baseball bat. Michael shuddered at the thought.
He cleared his throat.
“Well, I’m glad I found you. You could’ve hurt yourself, you know. Hit your head on the floor. What if I came back here and found you dead? Or Julia? Think how sad she would be.”
Amy looked disturbed. How could she hurt the lovely Julia?
“So sorry,” the tiny thing chirped.
“Don’t worry about it for now,” he said, gently ruffling through her hair. “Just take it easy for today, ok? Maybe leave the heavy cans for me. I’ll do them later.”
“Ok boss,” she said, avoiding eye contact.
“It’s not a big deal, really,” he said, “don’t worry one bit. Hey, I gotta run, have to take over for Julia at the register. I’ll see you later, ok? Promise you’ll take it easy.”
“Ok Michael,” she said. He unlocked the door and slipped out, not without checking he’d really zipped up his fly first. He felt guilty. He’d only done it to help her, of course. Had he known that she hadn’t seen her boyfriend in three days, he might’ve found a subtle way to offer her some earlier. Maybe that’s what the coffee had been for. Had he missed a sign? She might’ve been desperately hypoglycemic and just not had the courage to ask anyone.
“Hey boss,” Julia said, smacking her lips.
“I thought we were clear on the gum rule,” he said.
“I’ve technically been on break for 3 minutes. You’re late. I’m only checking out these people as a personal favor.” Michael rolled his eyes. The sass.
“Hey, I appreciate it. Sorry about being late. Take an extra 5, ok? It was my fault.”
“Yes daddy,” she said, laughing, and slipped off the chair. He rolled his eyes again as he took her place.
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized to the customer who’d been watching the exchange, “I got held up in the back. Do you happen to have an account with our loyalty program? If not, I’d be happy to set you up with a card right now. No? Ok, no problem.”
The 30 minutes went by in the blink of an eye. After a decade at this job, he was scanning and bagging customers’ items in his sleep. His mind was elsewhere. Specifically, it was in the back, in the warehouse, watching himself kneel over a tiny, passed out Amy. Had he taken advantage of her back there?
I’m Amy. I was previously on the VSW chat, before that got removed.
I like most things size, and I love to roleplay. Playful, cruel, I like most things except animals and age stuff.
Usually I enjoy being tiny, from semi-plausible to microscopic, but occasionally I can be a cruel Giantess.
Hit me up if you want to RP!
Have your cake and eat it, too
The door slammed shut after him.
“Plaza Hotel,” he said. The taxi driver looked at him through the mirror.
“Long day, Sir?”
“Yea, sure. Pretty long.” He didn’t want to make conversation.
“Would you like to… have some fun, before returning to your hotel, Sir? Relax?”
He sighed. The taxi drivers were all in on some commission scheme, he was sure of it. He’d been offered “fun” and “relaxation” since the minute he’d arrived.
“I don’t know, man. I’m really tired.”
“It’s practically on the way, Sir. It’ll only add a few minutes.”
He looked out the window. Really shouldn’t be doing this. What if there was a camera, or some other kind of blackmail operation? He could lose his job.
“Ok, just a few minutes. If you promise it’s on the way.”
The driver smiled.
A few minutes later they pulled into a back alley. For a second he was more worried about getting robbed than compromised in an intimate situation. Then he saw another man in a business suit not too much unlike his own stepping out of an unmarked steel door, looking to his left and right, and hustling down the alley. Well, that definitely was a sign of a brothel. So maybe he wasn’t about to be murdered over his briefcase.
“Is this a place locals go to, or just tourists?”
“Oh, it’s mostly locals, Sir. You’re the first foreigner I’m taking here.”
He rolled his eyes. Sure.
“Tell the Madam that your taxi cab is waiting, Sir. I’ll be here when you come back. Only 5 minutes.”
“That’s not exactly a vote of confidence in my stamina, is it?”
The driver just smiled.
“You’ll understand once you’re inside.”
He got out of the cab and walked to the steel door. He looked left, then right, then caught himself doing it and laughed about how suspicious he must look. Just like the man he just saw leaving. There was no handle on the door, so he knocked.
A tiny face looked up at him through a small window in the door that had opened. Dark almond eyes stared up at him. Madam was in her 50s, he assumed, although it was always hard to tell.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
“Uh, I’m looking to… have some fun. Relax.” He turned around and nodded at the taxi. The driver waved, maybe at him, or maybe at Madame.
The window slammed shut. Oh well, nice try. He began to turn around when he heard the lock open.
Madam had her long, black hair tied up in a knot. She was attractive for her age. Wearing a traditional looking costume with flower print that hid her age well. He estimated she had been very pretty as a young woman, but had put on some weight. Maybe had a few kids. The flower dress was wide and hid those things well.
“Please come in,” she said and shut the heavy metal door behind him.
He watched her butt cheeks dance in that little flower dress as she led him into a room. The room was small, and there were no other doors. Not exactly what he had expected. Where was he supposed to… have fun? And where were the relaxing girls?
Then his gaze fell on a tiny collection of jars on the only piece of furniture in the room, a desk. Madam walked up to the desk, turned to flank hit, and stuck out her palm as if to present the jars to him.
“Wow,” he said, “are they…”
“Yes,” she said, smiling, “they’re real. We reduce them using an industrial reducer in the garment district. More inconspicuous and easy to hide if the police show up. Plus, it’s more convenient to you. You can simply choose one and take her to your hotel, where you can regrow her using the luggage sizer in your room.”
He stepped closer, bent over. He almost felt bad looming over them like this. Rows upon rows of the tiny things, each jar maybe 5 inches tall. The women seemed to have plenty of space in there, as they stood in their skimpy little outfits at 2-3 inches in size. Dozens of tiny faces staring up at him from their glass prisons.
“May I…?” he motioned.
“Of course, take your time. Pick someone special.”
He reached down, grasping a jar in his fingers. It was so light, as if it were empty. The tiny woman’s weight wasn’t noticeable at all. As he lifted the jar, he accidentally tilted it a bit, and the little thing was slammed into the far glass wall.
“Sorry,” he murmured and brought her up to his face.
She was a delicate little thing. Long black hair, skinny. Nice tan skin. Thin limbs and almost no meat on her. She sat there, leaned against the wall from where he had accidentally smacked her into it with a mere motion of his wrist. Her cheek bones were exquisite and high, her lips plump and full. He caught himself licking his lips. Then he sat the jar down, careful not to bump her into the wall this time.
The next one was a bit taller and had more curves on her. Not bad for a Chinese girl, if he was honest.
“That’s Ming,” Madam said, proudly. He wondered if she knew these girls personally, or if they were just some wares she was hawking. Had she been in this trade herself, as a younger woman? Had she once stared up at a mountain of a man, looking through a glass jar, waiting to be selected? What happened to those who didn’t get selected? He continued going through the collection.
“This one looks very similar,” he noted.
“Oh yes. They’re sisters.” The one in his hand currently was shorter, not as curvy. Still very pretty. Whereas Ming the curvy one had looked up at him almost in defiance, or at least with confidence, this one was barely able to make eye contact. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she was shivering. Yet their faces. The similarity was striking. Ming’s was rounder and more filled out, this one was a bit… not bonier. It was a positive thing. Almost elvish, like it was finely cut.
“Can I take two?” He asked.
He reached for Ming’s jar, which he had put down while scanning through the rest, holding each of the sisters in one of his hands. He looked from one to the other. Yes, he had chosen well.
The transaction was discreet. She named the number. It wasn’t astronomical, pretty much what he had expected. She tucked the folded bundle of bills into a pocket on her flower costume, and then led him back out to the door. He put the jars into his jacket pocket.
“Remember,” she said, “just grow them back with the luggage sizer in your room.” He nodded and thanked her.
Outside, it had started drizzling lightly. He got back into the cab.
“Wow,” he said, “that place is something.”
“Told you it wouldn’t take long, Sir,” the driver said and grinned. They arrived at the Plaza Hotel 15 minutes later.
“Thank you, Sir, that’s very generous,” the driver thanked him as he got out. He smiled back and walked into the hotel. The staff here were very courteous. Cute, too, in their little uniforms. Most of them were at least a head shorter than him. He was sure they were being selected for attractiveness. Most of them were very attractive.
He took the elevator up to his suite, sharing it with a Chinese couple.
“In town for business?” the man asked. He nodded.
“Many foreigners here now. Business is booming,” the man said. He nodded.
“I hope you have a wonderful stay,” the man said as they left the elevator.
“Thank you,” he said.
Back in his room, he locked the door behind him, then reached for his jacket pocket. Brushing his hand against the soft wool, feeling the glass jars through the fabric. They were still there. He hadn’t been imagining this.
The luggage sizer was built into the closet near the door. He had seen the bellboy use it after carrying his reduced suitcase to the room and growing it back in there.
He pulled out the jars and looked at the tiny women. They stared up at him, silent. Not that he would’ve been able to hear them through the thick glass walls. He lowered one onto the sizer surface, then hesitated. He probably wouldn’t want to grow the jars. But would the sizer work without an inanimate object around them? He supposed he could always shrink the jar back down. It would be awkward to explain the presence of two 6ft glass jars in his hotel room.
There had to be something on the internet. He pulled out his phone and typed “how does sizer work.” First result seemed good. Worked on living matter, but most were programmed not to fire unless they detected inanimate matter. If one were to shrink or grow a pet, say, one would need to put it in a sort of container, maybe a shoe box.
A pet, hm?
He walked to the small liquor cabinet and put the two jars down on top of it. Then he grabbed a glass and poured himself some whiskey. Not a bad selection. Swirling his drink lazily with his wrist, he looked down at the two little beings in their jars, sitting there. He took a sip as he looked around the room.
Then it clicked. He could simply use his suitcase. He would just have to reduce it first, put them in it, and turn it big again.
He took off his jacket and put it on a coat hanger, then kicked off his shoes. Now more comfortable, he removed all the clothes and other small items from his suitcase. Setting it onto the sizing surface, he closed the door and hit the reducing button. There was a short zapping noise and it was done. He opened the closet and the suitcase was now about 5 inches tall, just as when the bellboy had carried it up to his room. Perfect.
With the tiny suitcase in hand, he made his way back to the liquor cabinet. He took another sip and set the suitcase down next to Ming’s jar. The little woman was staring at the suitcase, then at him. She seemed to get what he was up to, for she braced herself against the glass walls. He reached for the lid and opened it. Then he gently tilted the jar. The small woman half crawled, half fell as gravity shifted around her and she was transferred from the bottom of the jar to the steep wall. She slid down the incline feet first, slowing herself down with her hands. Then she plummeted into his palm.
He put the jar down and admired her. She was even prettier without the glass barrier. It was an incredible feeling to hold a little person in his hand. She was like a little bird, so fragile and delightful. He instinctively closed his fingers a bit, which caused her to jump. He smiled. At her size, his every move must be very intimidating. He lowered her into the suitcase, where she laid down and hugged her knees as he pulled the zipper closed over her.
With the suitcase back in the luggage sizer he hit the regrow button, the familiar zap again. This time when he took out the suitcase, it was very heavy. He hadn’t thought about this. She certainly wasn’t a heavy woman, but still probably about 100lbs. He nearly dropped the suitcase on the floor, which would probably mean dropping her on her head. Lucky he hadn’t used the jar. It might have shattered, and it certainly would be even heavier.
When he finally managed to wrangle the suitcase onto the carpet, he huffed and puffed, then bent over and opened the zipper.
“Hello,” a chirpy voice said. He realized he had never heard her speak. Of course not, what with the jar and all that. Her pretty little face looked up at him and he held out a hand to help her climb out of the suitcase. Once standing, she twisted her hips, stretched her legs. Then she smiled at him. She was still two heads shorter than him at her full size.
“I’m Ming,” she said.
“I know,” he said, “let’s get your sister.” He pointed to the liquor jar, and the young woman walked over. He watched her butt cheeks wiggle. She was wearing what was a glorified bikini. Her bare feet plodding through the thick carpet.
In the meantime, he reduced the suitcase back down. When Ming arrived back with her sister’s jar in hand, he just pointed. Ming opened the jar and carefully helped her sister slide into the open suitcase. He watched as she gently pushed down on the little woman to ensure she would fit, then zipped it close with elegant fingers.
She closed the sizer closet and hit the regrow button. Nothing happened.
“Let me try,” he said. He hit the button. Nothing happened.
“Huh,” he said.
“Maybe the battery is dead?” Ming said.
“You’d think it would be hooked up to the hotel power,” he said. She considered it.
They waited a minute and tried again. No luck. Ming slumped her shoulders and sighed. Then she opened the suitcase and gently dropped her sister into her palm. Her skin color almost camouflaged her in her enormous sister’s hand. He smiled.
“Let’s wait a little. Maybe it takes a while to recharge,” he suggested. She nodded and followed him back to the liquor cabinet, where he took his drink. Ming set her sister down on the cabinet, where the little woman sat hugging her legs, looking up at them.
“Do you mind undressing? I want to see you naked,” he said to Ming.
She nodded and stripped off her tiny panties, then unclasped her top. It fell to the floor, revealing brown nipples.
“Turn around,” he said. She obeyed. Her butt jiggled as she turned. It was full but firm.
“You’re very pretty,” he said. She smiled. Then she reached for his drink, playfully stealing it from his hand, and emptied it. She poured another, took a big sip, and then handed the drink back to him.
“You think your sister wants some?” he asked, “what’s her name, anyway?”
“Why don’t you ask her?” Ming said. He shrugged and stepped closer to the cabinet. Bowing down, his nose level with the small woman, he was still looking down on her.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” He asked.
“Mei,” a tiny voice chirped. He grinned. She sounded similar to Ming, yet a hundred times smaller. Which of course she was.
“Would you like a drink, Mei?”
The little woman nodded. He had an idea. Putting the rim of his whiskey glass directly flush with the top of the liquor cabinet, she swiped Mei into the glass using his palm. Before she had realized what was happening, she was sitting in two fingers of single malt. She was completely wet and spit up some whiskey. Her eyes seemed to sting as she rubbed them.
“Stop rubbing, you’re only making it worse,” Ming advised. Both of them looked down into the glass like hovering giants.
He brought the glass to his lips and took a small sip. If her being in there or spitting in there had altered the flavor at all, he couldn’t taste it. She was too small to make a difference.
“Want to try?” He offered the glass to Ming, who giggled.
She took the glass, bringing it up to her face. He watched as her elegant fingers swirled the glass around, sending her tiny sister into a tiny vortex of alcohol. Her smile was adorable as she watched the tiny thing go in circles. Then, she brought the glass to her full lips and took a sip. He saw the glass wall tilt, a deluge of liquor rushing toward her open mouth. The tiny woman was ripped with the current, going under the surface multiple times before bumping into her enormous sister’s upper lip. Ming’s lips were opened just enough to let the alcohol flow through, but not allow her sister to get washed into her mouth. She coughed, and handed the glass back to him.
“I’ll take a refill,” he said. The tiny thing shrieked, but he found he didn’t care. He brought the bottle over the glass and poured himself another two fingers, making sure to douse the protesting Mei.
“So who’s older?” he asked as he unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor. He walked over to the arm chair and sat down, putting the whiskey down on the little side table.
“I’m older,” Ming said, following him. He spread his legs and she knelt in front of the chair, reaching for his crotch and expertly pulling his flaccid cock out of his underwear. Her fingers grabbed it gently, slowly massaging it as she looked up at him with those adorable brown eyes.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, and took a sip from his glass as Ming began suckling on his tip while working his shaft with her hand.
RE: Shrunken Financial Analyst
@smolchlo I often fantasize about this, how all those pretty and successful looking influences on Instagram and Youtube might as well be shrunken slaves living in jars on an evil giant’s shelf. He just makes them produce these videos to rake in cash. They smile and grin and pretend life is sweet until the camera shuts off and it’s back to the jar for them.