First post of 2021 right here and coming in with the first completed story in literal months!

So, the background on this story is that in December I came across a tweet that just…struck me. It was the kind of flashing inspiration that hits me once in a while, but for once I actually had the time to follow through on it.

Here’s the original tweet by the seriously awesome Pseudoclever (@Pseudo_size):

Naturally, things changed between the original draft and the end product, but this is perhaps the core of how I got started with it. It took me probably two days of 10-12 hours each of writing to finish the first draft, with barely any sleep because I was just so excited to make headway on something.

The original version was a lot darker, but in looking at the characters’ motivations, I realized that there was a dissonance between their words and their actions, so I began the process of correcting that and making sure there was an internal cohesion didn’t break. So often, my biggest trouble with any piece of media is internal cohesion. It is why I sometimes have difficulty getting into other fiction. The story is still a little dark, because, well, 2020 was a year that happened, and I was in a curious place mentally, but it’s brightened up quite a lot since the first draft.

With regards to the ending, I like to leave it a little ambiguous. Obviously, were the situation happening for real there’s a whole host of things they have to talk about. That’s why I’m tagging this dubcon. This is not meant to be indicative of a totally healthy relationship, but it is a fantasy fictional one that I thought interesting to explore.

With that said, I hope you enjoy this story at least a fraction of how much I enjoyed writing it. As always, if I miss out on any content warnings or tags, please feel free to reach out to me and let me know. I’m always trying to be conscious of others and am happy to learn or be made aware of any mistakes.

Content Warnings: giant man, shrunken woman, M/f, mini giant, dubcon (dubious consent), shrinking, playful domination, praise kink, some objectification, gentle, mouthplay, dry humping, toy insertion, some overstimulation, and very very NSFW

Estimated Reading Time: 40 mins

The doorbell chimed bright and early that Saturday morning, and Marisol was half-asleep—brown eyes bleary, brain pea-soup foggy, chestnut hair askew—when she answered it.

A dark-haired hulk of a man stood out in the hall, looking far too cheerful under the aged fluorescent lighting and ungodly hour. He held a tray with two steaming styrofoam cups in one hand and wore a tight forest-green sleeveless top that showcased every single one of his very distracting abs. Rafael beamed and opened his arms wide as if for a hug. “Marisol!”

Marisol yelped, panicked, and slammed the door in her personal trainer’s face.


She closed her eyes and leaned back against the door, thoughts blurring into each other. Saturday. Right. Yes. Today was Saturday. First Saturday of the year. She’d known he was coming. At least, a past version of her had known. Everything else was still fuzzy.

This was the first time she’d seen him since…June was it? She’d first blown him off in favor of a Doctor Who marathon and demolished half a dozen boxes of thin mints in the same day. One thing led to another and before she knew it a month had passed. And then it was December, the year sifting through her fingers like sand. One awkward run-in at the corner store and impromptu New Year’s resolution later, they’d arranged to pick up with her classes again.

He knocked on the door. “Marisol? It’s me, Rafael.” She heard him shuffle in place, waiting for her to open. “Do you need to reschedule again?”

“Yes!” she shouted back reflexive, before guilt tore that down. “Wait, no! I mean yes, but no! It’s just…ugh.” I need coffee. The earthy scent of freshly brewed coffee from her favorite corner café wafted in from the other side. She looked over at the mess that was her living room.

Picking right at the heart of her hesitance, Rafael said, “Look, if you’ve got other stuff going on, I can drop the invoice for this lesson and you won’t ever have to hear from me a—”

“Wait!” Making a split-second decision, Marisol quickly primped herself—smoothed her hair, tucked it behind her ears, wiped the drool from her cheek—and opened the door before he could leave. Rafael looked too put together for someone who just braved an early January New England morning on foot, but the only hint of his trek was the light sheen of perspiration on his warm brown skin. “Hey! Hi! Uh, sorry about that.” There was an awkward pause as she floundered for words that could somehow explain her previous absences. “Come on in.”

He flashed her a brilliant smile and followed inside. Pure mortification shot up her spine as she led him past the reminders of last night’s Lord of the Rings binge session: discarded clothing, chocolate wrappers and an empty tub of ice cream were only some of what laid strewn about in plain sight.

He placed the coffee tray on the center table and looked around. He seemed amused about something. “Fun night?”

Oh my god, kill me now. “Just a party with some old girlfriends from out of town.” It was better than admitting the mess was all hers and that she’d forgotten he was coming “They’re gone now. It’s just us.”

Rafael arched an eyebrow, and Marisol’s treacherous heart ka-thudded inside her chest. Her other resolution rang within her ears, eager yet somehow hesitant to voice itself. “Well, I guess it won’t be in the way much. Today’s a special lesson to catch you up, after all.” He sat on the couch, his strong muscled legs vaulting like Roman columns that he leaned forward on. His bark-colored mane was longer than last time she saw him, reaching down to his shoulders, granting him a wild, more leonine appearance. “You might want to freshen up, have some coffee. We still have to talk about your expectations for these sessions.” He punctuated this with a playful wink.

“Um.” Marisol swallowed and blinked rapidly to quell the sudden dryness in her eyes. Her cheeks burned, giving her away. “Oh. Uh. Um.”

Even sitting down he had a presence she usually associated with large animals. It used to fluster her, more than his exercises would tire her out, and made talking around him an ordeal. She’d thought she’d gotten over it, but evidently not. Now if only he could stop being a regular nightly visitor in her dreams, then everything else would be a lot less awkward.

After excusing herself to change into something more fitting—finding only a black sports bra and grey yoga pants that fit a little tighter than she remembered—she returned to find Rafael still on the couch, sipping his coffee.

“Hey,” she said, drawing his attention. There was lightning in his eyes. Marisol blinked and it was gone, a trick of the light. “Sorry for bailing on you last year. Things kind of got to me there for a bit and I nosedived on a lot of things.” He was still staring. Marisol swallowed thickly and resolutely maintained his gaze. “So, uh, thank you. For sticking with me. I swear I’ll be better this time.”

He waved her concerns off. “You’re not the first person to struggle, you won’t be the last.” Raising his cup to her, he said, “Though you lasted a lot longer than most of my clients if it makes you feel any better. Most just drop me by February.”

She slid into her armchair opposite him. “You know it’s not you, right?”

He offered her a grateful smile. “I’m just not used to people sticking with me. I know I can be intense.”

“Some people like that.” Grabbing her coffee, she dragged a long sip from the cup to give herself time to think. She noted the lovely flavor of the cocoa beans, the slight tingle of cinnamon on her tongue. She couldn’t help but note he’d remembered her favorite order after all these months. “Like me. I like intense.”

“Careful there.” He wagged a finger. “Too much talk like that I’ll start thinking you actually like me for more than my body.”

Fuck it, might as well take the leap. New year, new you, right?

“Want to grab breakfast after this?” She blurted out. Seeing him jerk back, and blink owlishly at her, she sped on, not giving pause for her telltale nerves to steal the wheel and bring her to port once more. “Or brunch, if you do that sort of thing and you don’t have somewhere else to be.” Like far, far, away from me.

She wasn’t sure what the ethics of asking out someone she already hired to help work her body to mush was, but it was too late now.

Rafael stared for far longer than she expected. She was on the verge of spiriting into her bedroom and vowing to become a hermit when he let out a long, shaky breath. “You really don’t do anything by half, huh?”

It wasn’t a ‘no’. “Half measures is how I got where I am now.” She gestured to the messy room. “I’m trying something new. Got a trial subscription to this thing called assertiveness.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Not sure.” She swallowed the thickness building in her throat. “Still waiting to find out.”

He stared off into space, looking pensive, before focusing on her. “I’m not saying ‘yes’, just yet.” At her crumbling look, he raised a hand. “But I’m also not saying ‘no’.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“Try asking me again after our class.” She looked annoyed and he hastened to explain. “I’m not jerking your chain. Trust me, it’s for both our sakes. You might change your mind afterward. You’ll see why in a little bit. I just…wasn’t expecting to have feelings come into play today.”

He seemed genuine. Marisol wondered what he was planning that he was so sure might change her opinion. “Fine.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Damn, Marisol, you really love to throw me curveballs huh?”

“Call me Mari. All my close friends do.” Hint hint, wink wink, pretty boy.

“Alright, Mari then.” He shook his head, as if marveling at her, before rolling his shoulders. “Let’s get down to business: what do you want out of these classes?” His attention was scalding but she sat ramrod straight, sipping her coffee carefully.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are you looking to get out of this?” He was definitely larger, she noticed. Rafael had always been lean, but now his shirt contoured to strong sinewy muscle that drew and teased her eyes with promises of what was beneath. It also made following his words an exercise in self-control. “Are you looking to tone up? Lose weight? Run a marathon by a set date? What are your goals?”

“Oh.” Those were actually good questions. She gave it a few seconds of consideration. “I guess I just want to feel like I’m accomplishing something. Changing. Growing into a better person.” As soon as she heard herself say it she looked down at her lap. “I just don’t want to fall into bad habits again. Sorry, that’s probably not very helpful to hear.”

“You’re wrong.” His lips quirked up. She didn’t think she’d said anything particularly amusing. “It’s actually really helpful.” He seemed to hesitate before asking, “What do you know about incubi?”

She frowned, thinking back to terrible special effects and low-budget horror movies. “Not much. Why’re you asking?”

“Because I am one.” He said it with such severity she almost believed him.

“Right.” She quirked an eyebrow at his strange joke while her stomach broiled with discomfort. “So you mentioned working out the details? I gotta warn you. I haven’t so much as looked at my kettlebell in months.”

“You think I’m lying.”

She snorted, and tried not to feel too disappointed he was too gutless to give her a straight answer to the breakfast question. “I think your brain is oxygen deprived from climbing four stories in excessively tight spandex and I think you’re trying to let me down easy and—”

“Mari,” he interrupted. His smile faded. “Look at me. Closer.”

She did, and then she stiffened. His canines were sharper. Not a lot, just enough to draw the eye when he smiled or licked his lips. Which he did, just for her. “That’s a neat trick.”

“Not a trick.” He leaned forward in his seat, rolling his shoulders once again as if to stretch and somehow stretching out, legs diving under the coffee table as his knees bumped the edges and rocked it back. “I don’t do this for just anyone.”

She laughed instead, hoping to deflect and reboot her brain. “I bet you say that to all the pretty girls.”

“Just the one pretty girl, actually.”

She couldn’t stop the blooming cotton-candy feeling under her skin at that. Whatever riposte she had left fled her, because Rafael was still changing. Growing.

His mild expression curved into something roguish as he grew. He hunched forward as his eye level rose up past hers. His shirt rode up his midriff, no longer form-fitting but stretched to its limits, hiding none of his torso. His shorts remained, way past snug and outright bulging with muscle as well as other more tantalizing body parts. Even her couch sagged in further where he sat, burdened by his gradual ascent.

He examined the empty styrofoam cup, which looked smaller than a shot glass in his grip, before tossing it over his shoulder and waving down at himself. “What do you think?”

Marisol stared, heart thundering at a thousand beats per second, unsure if she was seeing what she was seeing or if her dry-spell-driven brain had snapped. “You’re huge.”

Rafael preened at her description. “Thank you. You look positively petite yourself. Like a little doll.”

Those words should not have had the effect on her that they did. Her heart pounding in her burning ears stopped her from formulating a response. Stop staring. Say something. Lust later. Rafael picked up a pillow in one dinner plate sized hand. Okay, lust now, but quietly. Was she blinking a lot? Oh god, could he tell what kind of effect he was having on her? She cleared her throat, trying for something resembling normalcy. “So…incubus?”

He nodded, taking her shock in with aplomb. “Incubus.”

“Is this…normal?”

“Nothing’s quite ‘normal’ with us,” he said, using finger quotes. A very insistent and growing part of her wanted to know just how big those fingers were, for reasons. “But in general, yes, we’re larger than average than most of you little humans. Makes persuasion easier.” He grinned, showing off his sharp teeth. “More fun.”

“So you not agreeing earlier was…” She didn’t even know where to go with that trail of thought. She was still stuck wishing she had cameras in her eyes.

Rafael’s head tilted to the side, inspecting her as if she were a curio. “Mostly? Respect. I was already planning on revealing this to you. I just didn’t want to give you an answer before you ah, knew who you were dealing with.” Lightning eyes crinkled in amusement. “That, and there’s a decent chance you’ll hate me after we’re done.”

“Why’s that?”

She was having a conversation with an incubus. Raphael was an incubus, which apparently meant he was also a giant. What the hell was her life?

“You know your little ‘bad habits’ problem? What if I said I could help you with that?” He tugged at the hem of his shorts, which were riding up thighs each as big as her. There was a very noticeable bulge along one leg. “Call it a special talent of mine.”

“A talent,” she said, skeptical.

“A gift.” He crossed his legs, ankle over knee, and leaned in, resting his head on his palm. “From me to you.”

“You make it sound sexual.” She ignored the tiny voice inside her eagerly nodding along and shouting please like there was no tomorrow.

Rafael snorted. “I’m literally a supernatural sex demon. What do you think it is?”

Gurk! That was the extent of her thoughts. She tried not to ogle, but his casual movements only highlighted the fluid grace he possessed—the overwhelming physical power compressed in his very large body.

He started drumming his fingers over his leg, each tap sounding more like a thunk that had her thinking of dark rooms and bed sheets. “Of course, if you think you can’t do it, you can always take the easy route. The boring route.”

She glared up at him, hearing his teasing tone. “What’s with the sing-song?”

“Because I already know which one you’re going to pick,” he rumbled. “You haven’t exactly been subtle with your staring.” A finger tugged at his collar. “Not that I can blame you.”

“You’re not that pretty.”

“I am, in point of fact, that pretty. Kind of the point of the whole incubus deal.” Rafael looked her over with half-lidded eyes. “Well, what do you say?”

“You haven’t even given me an answer to the breakfast question.” She was feeling contrary, even if every fiber of her being was also very curious what his special talent entailed.

Rafael startled, as if her question caught him off guard, before languid confidence took over. “Tell you what, you accept my offer and go through with the whole lesson, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

She frowned, and folded her arms. “You weren’t this difficult last year. Or upfront.”

“You weren’t this interesting last year.” The giant on her couch flashed her a starlight smile. “New Year’s resolution working out for you?”

“Can’t complain.” She really couldn’t. She’d been hoping for post-workout endorphins and waffles. Not pre-workout blushing and flirty giants. Steadying herself, she met his stare, defiant. “Okay, it’s a deal.”

The approving noise he let out as he rose from the couch made her stomach somersault. “Good.”

There was a snap of air, a flash of color, and her vision went cross-eyed as she leaned back even further in her seat, which shouldn’t have been possible.

Rafael’s head brushed just under the top of her ceiling, thudding against the light fixture in the center. The sound spurred something in her, some primal instinct that called on her fight-or-flight. She pushed herself off the seat, ready to bolt…and fell, landing among her sports bra, cotton fabric cushioning her as she bounced once, twice. Her hair elastic plopped down around her, like an oversized hula hoop.

“Ow!” Marisol winced, rubbing where she’d hit the floor. Then she took notice of her surroundings. “What? What happened to me?”

One colossal leg came down beside her, and she couldn’t help the instinctive shriek that escaped her at the gargantuan limb. Another joined it on her other side, and Marisol bit down on the second gasp before glaring up at the culprit.

Rafael crouched down, the mere movement from bending his knees and sudden displacement of air blowing Marisol back on her ass. “Why don’t you take a guess what happened, Mari?”

Marisol chanced a glance away, trying to realign her frame of reference. Her single-seater reached up to the ceiling like some ancient architecture built into the side of a mountain. Underneath it lay a Coke can she’d discarded the night before. Even laying on its side, it was just barely taller than she was.

“I shrank,” she said, numb. She tried to tie a point between when she sat down and when she shrank and found her mind sliding over the details as if it were black ice on a winter’s morning.

Rafael tutted and treated her to an up-close view of what happens when a tonnage of defined calf muscles flexed. It was…distracting. “Close,” he said, sounding much like when he would help her crush a push-up or correct her plank form. “I shrank you. Welcome to your very own VIP treatment. Let’s see if we can’t work some of that laziness out today, eh?”

Those specific words reminded her of the predicament she was in. Marisol glared up at him, at once overwhelmed, aroused, and afraid, but unwilling to give him either satisfaction. “This wasn’t what you promised.”

“I didn’t promise anything. I just said I’d cure you of your little laziness problem.” He rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet. His shorts, once comfortably slack enough to allow some breathing room, looked fit to burst just from that simple motion. Marisol couldn’t help how her eyes drifted up along his leg and landed at the bulge that ran along his inner thigh. “Hard to be lazy when you’re tiny. Oh we’re going to have fun, aren’t we?”

“Like hell we are! This is insane!” Marisol flipped him the bird. At his appreciative lewd gaze, she startled and realized she was naked. With a minor squeak, she spun around, covering her breasts and crotch to shield herself from his stare. Her stomach fluttered as she realized he’d already seen everything, but that didn’t stop the warmth spreading through her limbs as his shadow encompassed her. “And stop staring!” she shot back over her shoulder.

“None of that now.”

Two fingers—each wider than her torso, and still bearing that intoxicating heat that seemed to radiate from him—clamped around her sides, pinning her arms in place. She yelped, too slow to react, and then she was rising, air rushing around her, and it hit her then, that this was real, that this wasn’t some weird fever dream from too much junk food and lustful fantasies. She was tiny, a little taller than two inches, and he was a hulking, enormous titan.

Fuck, he’s big, her brain supplied. Big felt like something of an understatement when he looked like he could hip check Godzilla. Her heart fluttered beneath her breast even as she struggled in his pincer grip.

“Careful,” he said, bringing her up to eye level. His grip was gentle, despite the immense disparity between them, and Marisol’s stupid lizard-brain couldn’t decide between focusing on the shape of his mouth or the way his bright eyes roved her minuscule self like she was something to be savored. “Wouldn’t want to tire yourself out before we even start, Mari.”

Mari. The sudden switch felt deeply personal, another step over the professional barrier between them. Marisol’s cheeks flushed harder, this time not from exertion. “What lesson? I’m freaking tiny.”

Rafael hummed and tilted his head. His sleeveless shirt had bunched up around his chest, exposing more flesh than she’d ever seen from him before. He grabbed the collar and ripped the whole thing off with a flourish, unmindful of the casual display of strength. Her breath hitched as she took in the hard lines and grooves of his upper body, each as large as an earthly crevasse compared to her.

“You’d be surprised at how easy it is to internalize things when you’re smaller than a mouse. A lot fewer distractions when you’re that size. Or just the one. Me.” The wooden frame of the couch creaked as he sat down once more, the noise rising in urgency until it snapped and he sunk into the now broken seat. “Besides, you agreed. How else do you think you’re going to get back to normal?” He laughed, leaning back against upholstered fabric and drawing another whine from the wood as he stretched out.

“Hey!” she shouted, wriggling and kicking empty air, “That’s my stuff you’re breaking you big oaf! And don’t go getting a big head! You’re— you’re not that attractive! You’re just big!”

“Really? ‘Just’ big?” Rafael looked her over with half-lidded eyes, and she squeaked. “Thought so. You’ve always been a spitfire.” He smirked and, gentle as an ocean breeze, deposited her just above his navel. The surface of his skin was smooth and hard, and very warm. “Let’s see you focus that energy elsewhere. Cardio sounds like a good start. Climb.”

Marisol stilled at the command, fighting against the instinctive urge to follow his instructions. He sounded like he would any other time, walking her through exercises. “What?” She took him in, noting the way the incline of his upper body got steeper the higher she looked. His pectorals stood out as massive cliffs that she doubted an experienced free-climber could scale. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Rafael’s sultry smile gave nothing away. The ground beneath Marisol’s feet sunk and then bounced back. A simple core tightening exercise he’d shown her many times over only now on a scale many times larger. Any remaining protest left her as she tumbled back, rolling over twice and stopping just above the waistband of his shorts.

Oh fuck oh fuck. Her thoughts were a whir of rapid-fire curses and swears and a pooling heat in her belly that had nothing to do with exercise. Oh my fuck, he’s huge.

Her body tingled, thrumming with yes and please wherever her skin touched his. She tried to remember the sights and sounds of her home, tried to ground herself in something less unreal and dangerous for her self-control, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from him, from the monolith of lines and curves that were her surroundings, all belonging to him.

“See what complaining gets you?” He said it like that had been a punishment. Draping his arm around the back of the couch, he fixed her with an unassailable look of someone who expected to be listened to. “Climb for me.”

Gulping, Marisol did the only logical thing she could. She got on her knees and began her slow, careful climb up his body. She passed his bellybutton, now an opening large enough to catch her leg in if she fell, and her progress hiccuped as the vast difference between her and him impressed on her impressionable mind once more. His warm golden skin was a vast vista that demanded her full attention.

“Good.” The word settled in her ears like a blanket and she jerked, surprised at the electric way her body reacted to his voice. “You’re doing so well, Mari.” A ravenous, shuddering breath rippled down his body and under her palms. “Keep going.”

“I hate you so much,” she hissed, wiping her hair from her face.

“We both know that’s a lie.”

(He’d never been this commanding before. She kind of liked it.)

Marisol didn’t dignify him with a response and kept her gaze on the ground in front of her: the strong, living flesh of her PT, whose live wire attention felt oppressive when she was smaller than his thumb. It slanted here, near his obliques, both off to the side and downward to his Adonis belt, a reminder of how far she’d made it already. She pressed closer, unintentionally grinding against him to keep as much of her stuck as possible.

“There we go,” he cooed. Marisol whimpered, biting her lip to muffle the sound. She flattened herself against his body again, hoping he wouldn’t see her expression as she all but humped him. There was a rustle and rumble as he adjusted himself, his body tensed and coiled, moving with a fluid grace she envied. “Come on, you’re almost there.”

She opened her eyes and shook. Sweat drenched her, and every part of her that wasn’t in contact with him felt cold and aching.

He could fuck me with his pinkie, she thought, as her climb turned near vertical, near his pecs. Fuck, he’d break me in half if he tried.

(Part of her wanted him to try.)

Rafael’s breathing was loud, but even. His chest rose and fell in measured beats, and Marisol had to resort to careful positioning and timing to make any progress. Several times, her foot would slip or her nonexistent grip would loosen, and she’d lose several critical inches in her climb, which to her were like several feet. Her arms strained, her legs shouted at her to rest, Marisol blocked it all out and focused on the climb.

Climb higher, she thought, fighting to press her lower body tighter against his chest. Get closer. Keep going!

She never even noticed how Rafael’s words of praise and encouragement became the base for her mental chant, how her hips ground against his muscle in time with the words, how her synapses fired with every vertical gain.

“Yes, that’s it.” Smoky words emboldened her sore limbs. “Almost there. You can do it.”

Unsure of whether that was him or her own stubborn self speaking out loud, Marisol grunted, drawing strength from the lactic burn—the sweet, sweet ache of work and stubbornness. With a roar that would have shocked her at her normal size, Marisol threw her leg up over the top of his chest, right where the muscle met bone at his clavicle. She hooked her foot over and, with all her remaining strength, heaved herself up, rolling onto her back in the small dip of Rafael’s shoulder.

Rafael applauded. He grabbed her from his shoulder and placed her on the coffee table, a veritable marvel of glass and metalwork at her size now, one larger than a football field.

I did it. I did it, she thought, still gasping and sucking in air. Rafael hovered in the corner of her eye, a monument to gorgeousness and impossibility. Holy shit. I actually did it.

It was the most thrilling thing she’d done in weeks. She almost couldn’t believe it, even more than she could the situation. There was a sunset-glow ache in her, deep and throbbing, but so satisfying that it brought tears to her eyes.

“My, my,” Rafael’s voice cut in, mellow and pleased. Marisol squirmed, too tired to hide herself from his gaze any longer, but still at odds with how she longed to please this trickster. “See what happens when you put the effort in?” He threw his head back and let out a throaty happy noise that stoked the embers inside her. “You feel delicious, Mari.”

Marisol covered her face. The flush and high of victory was a persistent pressure of pleasure under her skin. Even though every bit of her ached, she couldn’t help her simple, hungry need for his praise.

“You did a good job,” Rafael continued. He sounded so happy for her that Marisol’s arousal—muted from her previous exhaustion—returned full force. “I’m proud of you.”

She arched her back, hot magma gathering in her center, and she squeezed her legs together as his words sunk far deeper into her soul than any previous lover’s, melding with the heat and overflowing for just a brief instant. A quiet, intimate tremble held her together, even as her eyes closed, and then opened wide. She ached then, with a need that both scared and enticed her.

Ohmygod, she thought. Did I just…?

His beaming expression, pointed incisors and all, was pure wanton pleasure and it elicited more of those feelings in her she didn’t want to feel, not with the man that stole her size and left her in this predicament.

(But she did want that. She wanted it a lot.)

Swallowing thickly, she directed a question at the behemoth in her house. “Can you grow me back now?”

Rafael’s smile only widened. It was so devout, caring, and kind that Marisol almost forgot what she’d even asked. “Not yet,” he said. He inched closer in his seat, crunching several pieces hidden in the couch’s frame, looming over her and casting her in shadow. To her he was more a god then, than an incubus. “We’re just getting started. Unless you want to call it quits already?”

She gaped and spluttered indignantly, gesturing to her sweaty self. “There’s no way I can do more! I’m exhausted!”

He sighed, melodramatic. “Guess that date wasn’t worth much after all.”

“You incorrigible jerk!” she shouted, but she couldn’t deny the lightness in her chest and belly. This was the most alive she’d felt in forever. “I shouldn’t have to pass a test to get you to go out with me!”

“Think of it more as a taste than a test.” A pause, a chink in his normal blithe armor. “Incubi aren’t known for doing simple, dear. There’s a reason most people leave eventually. Unless you think you can’t handle it…”

Well…fuck. He was clearly goading her and what was worse she was falling for it. She wanted to surpass his expectations. Prove him wrong. Earn his praise. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Keep going. Just take it easy on me.”

“You’re just out of practice,” he offered, as if this were the norm. Maybe it was for him. His face was a massive mountain carving of desire, mischief and danger, and each of those struck a chord in her. “If it helps, you’re doing better than I expected. Besides, you’re missing one very important thing here.”

She stood up, limbs burning as she put her sore muscles to use once more. Hands on her hips, she glared, defiant. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“I’m still in charge here.” Rafael made a show of licking his lips, running it over his canines, before looking Marisol up and down. “And Mari, precious, the lesson isn’t over yet.”

She stilled at the nickname again, but more importantly at the succeeding word. Precious…

He swiped her off the table before she could react, never mind that she had no strength left to resist. He scooped her into his cupped palm and carried her, the thick trunks of his fingers blocking most of her view as he lumbered through her apartment, rummaging through her kitchen cabinets and turning the sink on for some unknown reason.

Oh. This is nice, she thought, leaning back into the crook of his palm. His hand differed from the rest of what she’d seen of his impeccable body: his skin was rougher here, more worn, but still soft. This was the sign of someone used to working with his hands.

Sudden boldness taking her, Marisol rolled onto her front and pressed a kiss into the largest groove—his heart line if she wasn’t mistaken.

“I felt that,” he said, earning a squeak of surprise from her. Marisol looked up at him, and even at their difference sizes she saw the teasing grin. “Don’t go thinking I don’t know what you’re thinking.” She didn’t even know what she was thinking. “Ready for the next part?”

Marisol ignored her combative gut response, and instead asked, “What’s that?”

“Hydrating.” He turned his palm upside down and dropped her in a bowl of water so deep it might as well have been the ocean for all the difference it made to her.

The shock of the cold water hit her system like a freight train. The sounds of the world faded away, leaving only the rush of blood in her ears as she kicked, punched, and thrashed before finally figuring out which direction was up. When her head broke the surface, she gasped, the taste of oxygen too delicious to pass up.

“You…fucker!” she yelled, coughing and spluttering as she floated in the bowl. She blinked, focusing on her surroundings. She was in her nice glass bowl, the one she reserved for baking. “What did you do that for?”

He chuckled. “Can’t have you getting dehydrated on me.” Rafael’s face hovered over her like some great storm cloud. He blew on the surface, creating powerful ripples that sent her sprawling and paddling harder to keep herself afloat. “Besides, I thought you were being good for me?”

Marisol’s curse muffled as she choked on some water. She was ready to swim to the rim of the bowl to see if she could climb over the edge like she’d climbed Rafael just now. At first it was like the sway of the sea, push and pull on her entirety, but then the water level angle changed. She spun around, frantically splashing as she saw Rafael holding the bowl to his mouth, lips parted to drink in the bowl’s entirety.

“W-wait a second!” He didn’t seem to hear her. “Now hold, what’re you—” Water gushed into her mouth and Marisol gave up on yelling and instead swam against the powerful current, pushing herself harder and faster than she’d ever before. Still it wasn’t enough and soon, Rafael’s mouth—maw widening to receive her and oh god he was so big—became all she could see.

She kicked her legs, hoping for some purchase or stroke of luck, but he was too big to fight against. Her upper half pounded against his septum, trying and failing to pry herself out while her lower half dangled in his mouth, warm and humid despite the cold water rushing past her body into his gullet. He’s enormous. Her mind couldn’t help but focus on this. He could just—

Her thoughts melted away as she felt something soft and moist lapping at her bottom. His tongue. It licked and lunged and tackled her legs, separating them and touching her intimately, at once gentle and unimaginably powerful.

“Oh god,” she whispered, the little core of heat from earlier returning with a vengeance. Tears pricked in her eyes as she struggled and fought the oncoming tide, but his tongue stayed where it was, lovingly resting against her vulva. As if in response to her plea, his tongue moved back and forth against her. Marisol whimpered. “Oh god. Rafael…please…” She didn’t even know what she was asking for anymore.

Rafael’s lips curved against her—a well-deserved pat on the back for flustering her so absolutely that all she could think about was how to earn more.

Marisol tensed, unable to do anything but comply with the behemoth toying with her. She tried swinging her legs away, but Rafael’s tongue was there, parting her thighs as easily as before. This time, the tip of his tongue pressed against her vulva and she whined, torn between escape or surrender to her giant incubus.

“Please,” she pleaded, breathless, putty to his whims. “Please, Rafael. I…I…” Her voice trailed off as he pressed his tongue against her entrance once more. “Fuck,” she gasped.

The water in the bowl emptied at last, but his toying with her didn’t abate. No, instead, Rafael stopped reclining his head, letting Marisol dangle from his lips like a miniature push-pop. The force of gravity on her body yanked at her already weakened limbs and she mewled, batting her arms against his upper lip even as she rested against his bottom one. Her mind was awash in a fog of need that she couldn’t quantify, even as Rafael’s tongue teased, tortured, and taunted her past the limits of what should be possible.

I’m gonna—

Marisol’s first clear thought in a while shorted out as Rafael started humming. The vibrations wrapped around her lower half, passing from mouth to tongue to cunt as he filled her with his sound.

“Good,” he murmured through his lips, the words husky, low, and possessive. “You’re doing so well, aren’t you?”

Was he talking to her? Marisol couldn’t focus.

“A good little thing for me.” His lips puckered around her like a kiss, his saliva coating her breasts. She felt it coming, that terrifying, wondrous, enormous feeling that couldn’t belong to someone as small as herself. “So precious.”

Marisol quailed at the word, unable to believe how good it felt to hear. She couldn’t remember why it scared her earlier.

Rafael’s tongue settled on her vulva once more, its tip somehow finding her clit, and he throbbed against her.

Her predicament didn’t seem so strange anymore. Rafael was huge, unearthly, massive and gorgeous and she was small and in his grasp. Where was the wrong with that?

She ached. Oh god, she ached. Her limbs burned with a soreness that felt unreal. Her mind was gibbering at everything, the impossibility of her situation, how delicious Rafael looked with half of her between his lips, and the unending, pervasive, touch of wetness between her legs, which he took and took and took as was his right.

“Rafael,” she said, his name tasting like nectar, sweat beading down her brow as she lay prostrate in his mouth. “Rafael, please I-I’m gonna’—”

A pause, a single terrifying moment where she thought he wouldn’t continue, and then she felt it, like the incoming tide.

Cum for me.

They weren’t her words. They were his, his command, given to her by his tongue and unimaginable size to her diminutive existence.

“Fuck,” Marisol gasped. Her entire body tensed, quivering, and at last she slouched back, washed away by the bursting dam inside her. Rafael’s tongue wrapped around her and licked her and caressed her and where he touched, she turned to honey.

She felt seen and touched and worthy, basking in this indescribable luxury, and she knew now, she was irrevocably changed.

I’m in trouble, she thought, not for the first time. That was twice she’d cum already: once in the afterglow of his praise after dry humping his chest, and once from his tongue. How much more could she endure?

With care that belied his own strength, Rafael spit her out and back into his palm as he hunched over on all fours, out of the kitchen and back into the living room. She lay there for a bit, a wet, sopping mess, cheeks flushed, and unable to muster even a word of protest.

“That takes care of cardio too,” he said. His lips looked fuller, a stark reminder of him sucking and kissing her entire body, lavishing attention she felt almost unworthy of receiving. “Do you know what comes next, dear?”

He is having way too much fun with this. Marisol gulped. I am too. She pushed herself up on trembling arms into a sitting position. Fatigue tugged at every inch of her, what little there was, but his voice roused the primal piece of her that longed for more. She examined her surroundings instead, hoping to still the pulsing want that Rafael inspired in her. They were in her bedroom. “How long am I going to be like this?” she said instead.

“Tsk!” Rafael plopped her on her bed with a flourish, stretched his arms out, his reach as long as the room was wide. “Practice and patience are the key components to any change in physique.”

“Unless you cheat and use magic. Then it’s just playtime.” She tried to glare at him, but she wasn’t sure how effective it was when he’d just proven he could turn her inside out with just his tongue.

“Now you get it!”

She glared some more.

Rafael snorted and turned around to rummage through her dresser. He spent a few seconds fumbling on the drawer handles with his thick fingers before he just lifted the whole thing and shook them loose.

“Hey!” She stomped her foot on the bed, the memory foam topper offering just enough give to throw her off balance. “That’s mine! And private!”

Rafael spared her a glance over his shoulder, bemused. “Do you have anything to hide after what we just shared?”

Marisol eeped at his blunt reminder. She folded her arms across her chest, and turned to the side, hiding her front from him best as she could. Being tiny wasn’t disorienting enough, Rafael’s enlarged form had a heavy presence on the environment and her. Her attention gravitated to him, space and reality bending around him as he sifted through panties and bras and favorite shirts that now dwarfed her a dozen times over. If he’d been his normal tall, lean self, then maybe Marisol could reconcile her situation and the pool of delicious sensations waiting on the shore of her consciousness.

Phantom touches along her legs elicited real shivers. Even if he was a beast, a monster, a giant, she could never forget what it was like to have his tongue lavishing her with intimate care she seldom received.

Rafael let out a soft hum of approval, holding up something she couldn’t see before facing her. “What comes after cardio?”

She blew a stray lock out of her eyes and refused to look at him.


The memory of this mouth still scalded hot against her skin. She bit her lip.

“Look at me.” His tone was a dulcet song.

She brought her hands to her neck, feeling how warm and flushed she was. Magic, she reasoned, Incubus magic. She wasn’t into this. She couldn’t be. She was just following along because she needed to shove it into his arrogant face that she could.

“Mari.” The soft, almost loving way he used her nickname eroded her resistance in an instant. “Precious, would you look at me?”

He could just make her. Pick her up and drop her in his palm like he’d done before, force her to meet his eyes. But he didn’t. His words weren’t supplicant, but they held her even so.

Okay, she admitted as she turned around and experienced seeing Rafael in his immense state once again. Maybe it isn’t incubus magic.

She had to crane her neck to grasp him, and even then she felt lacking, unable to take him in with her little eyes. Her bedroom ceiling was somewhere around twelve feet tall, vaulted steps receding from the walls in order to make the room feel more spacious. Rafael stole that space and made it his. His dark locks looked more like vines now, scalable and luscious with a vivid shine. His shoulders spanned most of the wall behind him, longer than the dresser he’d discarded at his feet. Arms like machine pistons waited, hiding something behind his back.

He was there, he was huge, and he was looking right at her.

“Good.” Goosebumps rose along her skin as she heard the word. “Was that so hard?”

It had been too easy. That was the problem. Marisol’s breath came in shallower the longer she stared at Rafael.

“Strength training,” he said, answering his earlier question. Without warning, he sat down on the dresser behind him, crashing through it with his ass and resting on the skeleton frame like a throne. “Your favorite.”

He brought his hands out from behind his back, revealing his surprise. It was a dildo. It was her dildo. Purple, frighteningly thick, nine inches long, and ribbed in her favorite way. Rafael waved it over her like a wand, a gluttonous indulgence in his every motion. Every bit of fight in her fled, and Marisol watched, mesmerized, as he placed the toy beside her. She stared at it, disbelieving it was even hers.

Had she ever been that big? How had she ever fit something that enormous inside her? It seemed impossible, standing so close to it now. It towered over her, leaning purple silicone with a tip that would tear her in two if she ever entertained the ludicrous thought of trying to insert it.

“I can’t,” she said. Nerves made her hesitant to even be near the thing. “I-I can’t do it.”

He leaned forward, smirking, his immense form swallowing her in his shadow. “You don’t even know what I’m going to suggest.”

“I can’t.” Tears pricked at her eyes for reasons unknown—was it fear? Shame at being unable to do his bidding?—and she angrily wiped them away. “It’s too big.” She worked at the words that felt wrong to say, but not untrue. “I’m too small!”

“Nonsense.” Rafael reached out with a single proffered finger and wiped the tear streak with more care than should have been possible for someone so big. Had she shrunken some more? Or maybe he’d grown. It was getting hard to keep track. “You’re perfect.”

Marisol hated how the flow of warmth and pleasure inside her quivered at those words. She hated it.

(She loved it.)

“It’s not you that’s the problem here,” he soothed, knuckle-brushing her hair back behind her ear. “I’ll sort it out.”

He raised his other hand over the dildo, palm flat, and face down. Within moments the purple monstrosity was dwindling, much like she had. It happened fast, faster than she could almost make sense of. Between one blink and the next the gargantuan faux-penis disappeared, and in its place a much smaller replica.

Marisol walked over to it and picked it up. She giggled. It wasn’t intimidating anymore; it was just cute, the size of her palm, more a novelty item, with how small it was. Hard to believe it had ever been as long as her forearm. The mere idea seemed more like a dream now.

“Call it a gift,” Rafael mused, watching her intently, chin in his hand. “I do like you. Even if you did ghost me.”

Instinctive, reflexive shame rose in her belly, and Marisol looked down. She’d done that, hadn’t she? Everything before this morning felt foggy and out of focus.

He huffed. His next words were clipped, purposeful. “Now, put it in.”

Marisol hesitated at first, but grabbed the toy. His instructions seemed harmless on first glance. The dildo was minuscule compared to before. She turned away from Rafael, somehow embarrassed despite everything that transpired already. Parting her legs, she maneuvered the tip of the toy to her pussy’s entrance. Her body trembled under his attention, and in preparation she dipped her fingers there, ready to provide more lubrication. She parted her lips with one finger, grazed her clit with another and—

She jerked, falling to her hands and knees. A guttural moan escaped her, a sound so lewd and perverse she covered her mouth, shaking with the implications. Goodfuckinggodthatfeelsgood, she thought, panting and squinting her eyes shut against the influx of pleasurable noise on her senses.

It wasn’t the dildo. It wasn’t even inside her. She was clutching its base in one trembling hand, its tip just touching her folds, tapping against her thigh while her whole damn arm shook from the pleasure-quake. With her other hand Marisol gripped at the cable wire thick fibers of her cotton sheets, digging her face into the material to hide from Rafael’s waiting, watching face. That wasn’t even an orgasm. Marisol struggled to put the feeling into words, into thought.

It was the instant right before she came, when she stood on a precipice, staring out at something vast and deep and rushing right at her, when she relinquished control to her body’s hunger. That moment encapsulated in a single brush against her clit, which ached and yearned for more. Regular aftershocks started hitting her. Waves that felt like tsunamis had her buckling every few seconds.

“Having a little trouble?” Rafael’s amusement rang like silver bells.

Marisol swore, gritting her teeth to stop herself from rewarding him with another moan like that. It was his touch driving her wild, his words pushing her senses to their limits, and his magic saturating the air and everything he touched. It was all his fault.

“M’fine.” She was light-headed, but determined. “Just gimme’ a second.”

The giant incubus toying with her started tapping the bed, reverberations of impatience through the cloth. “I’m waiting.”

With hitched breath, Marisol tentatively reached down once more, mindful of the way she tingled even so long after his tongue left her. She twitched, fought off two more not-orgasms, and let out a strained breath as her fingers came away from her inner labia slick and lubricated.

With a grunt and a hiss, Marisol rose to her knees. She positioned the dildo so it wouldn’t send her into another sensation-overload and inched it in, the girth of it much more manageable at its relative size. Certain it would stay lodged, even with its diminished size, she rose, the pleasurable pressure comfortable and normal compared to everything else.

“How’s it feel?” Rafael asked. He loomed over her and she could see the faint pinched spots in his chest where she’d climbed him, a lifetime ago.

Marisol sighed and faced him. The action caused little thunder shocks of pleasure to radiate out from her pussy, but she didn’t show it. “S’fine.”

Rafael’s knowing grin was almost as unbearable as how much she wanted him to use that tongue of his again. He leaned closer, inspecting her, before tutting. “It’s not all the way in.” A pair of monolithic fingers pinched her sides, holding her in place, much like one would a figurine. “Don’t worry, I’ll spot you. Just relax.”

“Easy—” Gasp. Shudder. Fullness drumbeating bliss throughout her. “—for you to say.”

Another finger caressed her backside, and Marisol writhed having some understanding of what he was going to do. She yelped, and kicked, but he was too big—no she was too small, so small compared to him. Without further ado, he parted her legs with the side of his enormous finger, adding pressure to the toy and her mound. She clenched, the toy somehow filling her more than before, touching on that core thirst that never quenched. Rafael’s finger rested against the base of the dildo, pausing as if to let her brace herself, and with the most minor nudge possible, the dildo went deep inside, and Marisol groaned, helpless in his hand.

“You’re doing fantastic.” He let her down to rest on her front on the bed. “There’s a good little one. See, I knew you could do it.”

Marisol writhed, stuck in pleasure hell. She tried to relax, thinking of peaceful things, but her cavewoman brain kept yanking her back to the oh fuck feeling permeating every aspect of her being. The dildo she’d thought harmless stuck out of her, filling her so much more than ever before. The width of the toy stretched her insides when she inhaled and tightened her core. The special siding sent jolts of mind-numbing goodness with every breath.

Had he grown the dildo with it inside her, she wondered. It didn’t seem possible she could fit something this big in her and yet he’d done it with just a dab of his finger, a flex of minuscule power that was everything to her.

“How does it feel?” His words thrummed inside her like a drum beat, and she somehow knew he wasn’t expecting an answer. “Nice?”

Nice didn’t cover even the first paragraph of the volumes of her pleasure. Nice was a simple term, reserved her past self who thought the best sex could get was a halfhearted oral session from a one-night stand. Fuck the word Nice.

“You ready for the last part of the lesson?”

Marisol’s eyes shot open. This wasn’t it?!

Rafael chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised. What did I say came after cardio? Strength training. This was just prep.”

“Fffff.” She tried to swear, but her mouth didn’t make the right noises and her body rebelled, quelling her rising ire in favor of toe-curling throbs from her cunt, where the ribbed edges of the dildo tapped at her G-spot. Her breath came in short, wispy gasps, and she laid prone, helpless. A gathering mass of sensation was forming inside her, not close, but not far either.

Taking that as assent, Rafael scooped her into his palm and crawled out into the living room, hunkering down to jam his way through her doorway. It caught on his upper back just as he surged out, and a drunken giggle was all she could manage as she watched her PT carry her to her fate. Rafael was unmarked, only sporting a divine glow, and even the hanging corner of the doorframe around his neck didn’t disturb him.

He was bigger than before. Marisol wasn’t one for math—even without the lurid violet haze of arousal—but someone who busted a six and a half foot tall doorway with just his shoulders couldn’t stand up in her apartment without ruining her insurance. Rafael crawled through her home on all fours, brushing aside a bookcase with a swipe of his hands and kicking her couch into the corner with his heel.

She raised her jelly arms up as if she could somehow wrap her arms around even the idea of a giant, sexy Rafael in her living room.

The basso rumble chuckle he let out was impressive and louder than a jet engine to her ears. “Yes, Mari. I’m big,” he said. “And you’re small. So small. Tiny. And all for me, isn’t that right?”

Panic registered as a blip of emotion on her radar before it ebbed out to the ocean. She sounded her answer out with her lips before saying, “Yesh.”

What she didn’t say was how she was having trouble conjuring memories of when she didn’t use to be small. She knew they existed, she knew she’d once been normal-sized, but now she struggled to even put into words what normal was. Rafael had a habit of distorting the world around him, whether it was physical as with his growth and her shrinking, or immaterial. Would she even be the same Marisol when he left?

The questions weighed deep on her consciousness. The appeal of surrendering to her shrunken state was growing by the second. She was tiny. She was Mari. She was precious.

She repeated those three sentences, over and over as Rafael wrecked her home. They’d always exercised in the living room for her sessions, after she had the forethought to clear space for them. It wasn’t even a rampage either. Rafael crawled backwards and forwards on his arms and knees, clearing space for some unknown reason, and he did it with such efficiency and practice Marisol had to wonder how many times he’d done this before.

The arm holding her bumped against something—a wall, a chair, she didn’t catch it—and another storm of overwhelming sensations invaded her very being, spreading out from her center. The dildo was no longer hers and maybe had never been. It belonged to Rafael, yet another teaching tool to toy with her. She could feel his touch inside her somehow, his magic filling her even while his body played with her.

“You have no idea how perfect you look. A little treasure, all for me.” He hunched forward on his knees, his shorts somehow holding on after all this time, well past the point of reason. With unimaginable care he cupped his hands together and guided her onto the floor. She laid flat on her back, gazing up at his immense overhanging body spanning wall to wall. “Now we can begin.”

What maddening demand would he make of her this time? Despite everything, some morbid, tamed piece of her was curious to see.

Marisol arched her back as the floor vibrated around her while Rafael got into a push-up position. Everything was a dull ache, with herself used and fucked in more ways than she thought possible for someone as small as she was.

“It’s simple,” Rafael said, unheeding of her inner thoughts. He straightened his body, drops of sweat snapping off as he tensed. “You just have to get away. Lift me up and get away.”

Marisol frowned, his words running into some logical disconnect in her soul. Get away? That’s what she’d been trying to do this whole time. Except she hadn’t. She’d fallen in line. Sassed him a few times, sure, but she’d followed instructions, as if this were any normal lesson.

But what was that nonsense about lifting him?

“That’s all you have to do.” His face was somewhere far away too, out of sight. “Just get away before I finish.” He balanced himself on one hand and brought the other down to his elastic shorts. A blue flash spread over the material and before Marisol’s tired, overwhelmed mind could react the largest cock she’d ever seen crashed into her, free from its confines. It hit her with a wet, fleshy, thud, smothering her face against his frenulum.

Her movements re-lit the bonfire stoking inside, and that full, punch-drunk, goodness flooded her senses once more. She could only blink and gasp as the throbs and pulses of her body and his cock encompassed all of her being. The dildo stretched her out from within, and his cock pressed her in from all directions, trapping her between them.

“Come on,” he urged her, his voice muffled through the cock covering her.

After a few seconds he rose, lifting the weight from her. Marisol coughed as some thick and salty liquid coated her face. She was too tired to move, too small to offer even token resistance. She could only marvel at the twitching leviathan rising in the air above her.

“One.” Rafael counted, finishing his push-up.

And then he dipped again—slow, lumbering, absolute. Marisol froze, unable to do anything but lay helpless as his penis flopped onto her tiny body once more. It pressed into her, hot and throbbing as one particularly thick vein pulsed against her gut. She inhaled, bracing herself against the satisfying pressure of being held down by his dick. Another sliver of precum touched her lips, and she moaned, amorously licking it, ashamed and turned on at the same time.

Marisol’s heart thundered in her chest, muted compared to Rafael’s pulsating dick.

The weight lifted once more, and this time she missed it.


This time he didn’t wait or pause for breath. Rafael dipped, and once more his cock smothered her so much she couldn’t even squeeze an arm out from underneath him.

“Come on,” he whispered down to her. “You’re so close. Three.”

The pressure lessened as he rose. Sweat glistened off his broad, muscular chest, in the morning light pouring in from her windows. He was ethereal, a dream turned real. She couldn’t not gaze in awe as he pushed off the floor with such ease. Did she start at his chest and try not to sink into the memory of vaulting herself over his pecs? Did she drool at his abs, sculpted perfection and powerful enough to have tossed her earlier with a simple crunch?

Rafael groaned, and a thick slip of cum dribbled out of his slit. It slithered down his shaft, before gathering in a single spot and—


—right onto her.

Fuck me. Marisol shook as his drop of cum coated her, her eyes rolling up into her head as her legs shook uncontrollably. Fuuuuuck.

There were no coherent thoughts anymore: her self-control was washing away, as more and more dripped and covered her. She tried to speak but somewhere between her brain and her mouth the words crumbled and all that escaped was a high-pitched whine. Her body was on fire in the best way possible.

And then Rafael’s cock landed on her once more, and her thoughts turned to mush. Her insides twinged with delight as she clenched and unclenched. No worries, just dick. Huge, incubus dick.

When he rose, it was too soon. When he spoke, it was heaven. “Four…”

And on and on it went. Rafael’s form was perfect and every time he lowered himself. Marisol was in paradise. Subsumed by his scent, his strength, his size, she could only lie there and take it. Everything tingled, her body punch-drunk with pleasure and unwilling to do much but savor it all. The heat mounted inside her once more, and where before she balked at its approach, now she welcomed it. She kissed Rafael’s cock whenever it touched her and longed for it whenever it didn’t.

“Mari,” he groaned, breaking the count after dozens of reps. “You need to try. F-fifty eight…”

Cum-covered dick fell atop her one more time. He added an extra thrust this time, rubbing her along the floor on the underside of his shaft, knocking out what little breath she had left.

Mustering every ounce of her remaining strength, Mari thrust her arms up into him. The pulsating heat of his member, skin slippery with fresh precum, resisted her push, not even letting her extend her arms.

The bestial, hoarse moan that Rafael let out was subsonic and coaxing. “More.”

He rose and dipped, one fluid action that shook the floor as his dick made contact, forming a vacuum seal of space that eclipsed and pinned her.

“More.” And then he did it again. “More.” Again, just as earth-shattering as the last. “More.”

She felt the building orgasm in him with every thrust, every edging step he took to completion, and she welcomed it with open arms. Pushing against him when she could, breathless, but undaunted by his request. She wanted to be good. She wanted to earn that title of hers.


The hulking giant in her home thrust against the surface once more, and Marisol felt the cresting wave of warmth in her churn and morph into something unstoppable. Before she knew, it she was peaking, flying, leaping over the horizon, too much too much too much to keep it all inside. Wet, watery gasps; muscles clenching; the last ruins of resistance fading. Marisol’s third orgasm of the day crashed into her like a meteor, purging all nonessentials from her system. Self-control, defiance, shame. All that remained was the chocolatey pleasure, an endless ocean’s worth.

Rafael’s breathing rose to a fever pitch, and something in his rhythm changed. He sucked in a hot air balloon’s worth of oxygen and, in one throaty gasp, growled out, “Mine.”

His release was tremendous to behold. Rafael arched his back, pushing up into the ceiling, his body so huge as to fill the space of her home even curled in on himself. His cock jutted out along the floor, pinning her underneath, and exploded all over the floor. Thick ropes of cum hit the far wall, splattering against hanging photo frames and knocking a souvenir from abroad off a shelf. Marisol only just glimpsed this, trapped under his throbbing dick, only able to enjoy the ride.

Desperate, heavy huffs filled the space between them for some indeterminable amount of time afterwards. Marisol let it all pass her by like a river, with her on its banks.

“Good.” Rafael’s voice strained. “Perfect. Fucking amazing.”

Marisol closed her ears and wiggled beneath him, sending arcing tingles of goodness throughout her body. Her pussy ached, sore and used and still so full, but she was…happy.

Rafael jerked, and righted himself before he burst out of the room, laughing. “Careful there, or I’ll take you home with me. Steal you away all for myself. Forever.”

Forever? What was forever? Marisol rubbed her face against his now-flaccid dick, failing to find the words to put meaning to what was coursing through her.

He shuddered when she did that. There was a pregnant pause. “Hey, did you hear me?”

She murmured something against his flesh. The first words she’d spoken in, well, forever, but too quiet to reach him.

“Mari?” Her body was goo, useless and unresponsive to most anything, but the effect was instantaneous. Mari whimpered and hugged what she could touch of him.

She couldn’t place what happened next. Thick clouds of magic conjured from nowhere, bending space and time like a pretzel knot. When the smoke cleared she wasn’t on the semen-covered floor anymore, but in his hands. Rafael was no longer so large he could break supporting beams, but her apartment still laid trashed. She could make out at least a dozen holes in the walls and ceiling, little bits of plaster drifting down in pieces almost as large as her.

Rafael inspected her. His sleeveless shirt was back, obscuring his chest in a way that felt insulting to Mari.

“Can you hear me?” he murmured.

She nodded, giggling. He’d removed the dildo inside her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still overflowing with pleasant sparks and bubbles. She concentrated on the syllables in her mind, formed the shapes with her mouth, lips wobbling, and tried again. All that came out was a reedy little exhale.

“I can grow you back now.” His voice was a whisper, nearly inaudible, but if anything she did not want that anymore. She couldn’t remember wanting that.

He turned his ear to her, leaning down to hear her.

Mari sniffled, banished all doubts plaguing her and tried one more time. She gathered the word in her gut and pushed it out with all her strength. “Yours.”

Rafael blinked, face going through a myriad of expressions, before settling on something like caring. Protective, yes, that’s what it was. “Of course.” A massive finger caressed her, gentle, flitting over her front like a plush down blanket. “Mine. My precious little Mari. So you…want to stay little?”

She nodded, covering her face. It felt like such a selfish request after everything, but she wasn’t ready to be big again. She wasn’t ready to return to that self, filled with indecision and awkwardness. Maybe later she would, but not right now.

(Maybe never.)

“I’ll have to take you with me. To keep you safe.”

That sounded wonderful.

But there was still one last thing buoying her awake. It was with no small effort and no tiny amount of pride that she uttered one final word. “Date?”

“I’m a incubus of my word.” Rafael chuckled. “Congratulations on getting through your first workout of the new year, Mari.”


He continued like that, feather-light pets gracing every course of her miniature body, turning her over and over, touching as much of her as she could handle, careful not to overstimulate. He lulled her with his words and his praise and the comfort and safety of his presence, until she could no longer fight the growing drowsiness, and drifted off to sleep.

Who We Were; Who We Are – Chapter 2

One thing that is probably obvious to those who’ve read more than one of my stories is that I thoroughly enjoy when characters enjoy themselves or at least have thoughts and opinions on their circumstances. While we are all subject to various outside factors, I try to be an agent in my own life or at least an active participant. Likewise, I seek to reflect this in writing.

Characters who want, characters who act, and characters who talk are some of my favorite characters. They don’t need to develop in my opinion, as static but exciting characters can tell a fine story, but if they take an active role in their story that’s my ideal.

Someone with a more concise style could probably have unveiled this chapter with a quarter less of the words, but, and this might came as a surprise to some, I’m often indulgent when writing. I’ve already cut out a fair amount of unnecessary fluff here. That said, this was fun to write from start to finish.

In this, we get a couple more glimpses into their relationship, along with a healthy heaping of domination.

You don’t necessarily need to read the first chapter, as I tried to make this one as standalone as possible for the enjoyment of those who pursue erotic Size fiction for, well, the erotica.

Previous Chapter ||||| Next Chapter — In Progress

General Story Warnings: giant couple, NSFW, MF/f, MF/m, MF/mf, growth, shrink, cruel, insertion, oral sex, humiliation, domination, noncon, clothes ripping, sexist slurs, former bullying and harassment, language, alcohol use, pain, established relationship.

Chapter Specific Warnings: shrunken woman, domination, language, MF/f, humiliation, insertion, penis, mouthplay, minigiant, oral sex, some pain

Estimated Reading Time: 20 minutes

The library was almost pitch dark. Natural moonlight filtered through wide windows ad provided the only illumination, but cast the room in eerie shadows. Bookcases, cubicles, and tables with ancient computers decorated the layout, interspersed with racks of faded magazines. A large round table was tucked away behind a semicircular bookcase with bowing shelves loaded with knowledge. It reminded Hazel of a hidden glade, sequestered away even from the solitude of the rest of the library.

Maya navigated and led him there without second-guessing her footsteps, and he guessed this was a favorite spot of hers. She stretched her arms out to both sides upon reaching the table and let out a satisfied sighed, as if more relieved to be here with the weight of memories around to keep her safe. She walked over shelf, examining the laminated spines of various books.

He almost asked her why there specifically, when his foot—sluggish and crammed into a suede Oxford shoe more befitting a man than the behemoth he was—jammed into a wheeling cart stacked with a tower of books. Hazel grunted and bit back a curse, bracing himself against the bookcase while Chloe struggled in his other palm.

“Let me go!” Chloe yelled. Maya had handed her off to him so she could pick the lock to the library. “Let me go, you fucker! You can’t do this to me!”

Hazel dangled her by a foot, upturning her. Chloe shrieked at the sudden swaying movement, but didn’t relent in her verbal assault. “She’s loud,” he said, scrutinizing her. Her face was blotchy with makeup and exertion. On a whim, he puffed air onto her, eliciting a fresh round of screaming as she clutched her ears. “Not very smart either.”

She started, “Fuck you, you overgrown—”

Hazel switched hands and pressed her down with his thumb. All she could do was let out a weak gasp as his finger passed over her face, her chest, and parted her legs without resistance. He let his thumb rest there, enjoying her whine. “She’s fun to play with though, even if she’s mouthy.”

Even with their difference in size, the warmth in Chloe’s body’s exuded through her skin to his like a tactile signal flare. Her miniature whimper was crystal in the low whiskey silence of the library, and he just knew she was horrified and wretched at being so easily manhandled.

“Yeah, she’s always been like that.” Maya stopped her inspection of the books and turned to him. “Always with an opinion. Always sharing that opinion. Always running to her daddy if something didn’t go her way.”

Shared history there, but he didn’t press. “Sounds like a lot,” he said instead.

“She is.” Maya nodded. She stuck her hand out to him, expectant. “Now hand her over. We’re going to have a long overdue conversation.”

Considering library sex was on the bucket list she mentioned earlier, he doubted it.

“Ruin my fun, will you?” Hazel said, but complied anyway. Chloe tumbled from his hand into Maya’s open palm. She looked dazed and exhausted, and it took her a few seconds to rise.

“Don’t worry, there’ll be more fun for you.” Maya blew him a kiss and then closed her fingers around Chloe, leaving just her head exposed. “Heya, girlfriend,” she said, sounding far too cheerful to be anything but trouble.

Chloe wheezed, her chest too compressed to speak words.

“God, how long has it been? Ten years, right? Ever think you’d see me again?” Maya said. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and continued, “What was it you said, ‘everyone gets what they deserve’?” She shook her fist, drawing a nonsensical gasp from the shrunken woman. “Well, Chlo, think you deserve this?”

Hazel pulled a chair out for himself a couple seats down and draped his blazer along the back of another. He’d heard several ominous tears along the seams of his outfit and he needed to burn off some size before he outgrew their little nook, if not the library wing itself. Without prompt, he unzipped his pants and released the absurd pressure in his crotch.

At his sigh of relief, Maya’s glanced at him, eyes widening as she took in his magnified appearance. One cheshire grin and a wink later and before Hazel knew it she stood before him, glowing in the moonlight. Her chest rose and fell with a heavy pause between each electric breath while she looked him up and down. She brought Chloe up to her face and let loose a throaty laugh. “Well? Everyone get’s what’s coming to them, right?” she said.

Chloe was helpless to reply. Even when Maya loosened her hold and let the woman scrabble on, over, and under her fingers like a spider, it looked like it took everything she had just to hold on without falling.

Hazel tracked the way Maya’s eyes followed the tiny woman, never wavering as Chloe slid, clung to, and grappled with fingers the size of tree logs. It was less what she deserved, he mused, and more what he and Maya wanted. He had no quarrel with anyone at the reunion short of the assholes who’d singled her out earlier, and even then, it wasn’t his call. Maya needed this, despite her earlier assurances of wanting a night to just ‘show him off’.

He let out a pleased hum as he extricated his cock from the confines of his boxers and slid his pants down, watching his wife dominate her old acquaintance. A low drone lilted in his ears, telling him to grow, to shrink, to take, to give, but he focused on Maya instead. He centered her in his mind, focused on her presence and slowly wrestled his volatile power and growth to a stall. He even reversed some of it. His shirt, stretched taut across his chest and belly, loosened its stranglehold and he released the tension building in his body. Sore muscles grumbled their discontent, but at least claustrophobia stopped clawing at his extremities. Just to be on the safe side, he unbuttoned his shirt, exposing a gray undershirt damp with sweat.

After shrinking back to a higher-than-average NBA player’s height, he was still level with Maya while sitting down. His brain was even happier to remind him of just how much smaller Chloe was.

Hazel closed his eyes and remembered Paris, when he and Maya spent their honeymoon week with a young couple in their grasp: Julius and Jean, tucked into recesses and bouncing between the size of gnats to action figures, had been far more enthused about the arrangements than Chloe. They even had an open invitation to come visit whenever they wanted, provided they didn’t mind experimenting with the opposite end of things. When he opened his eyes, Maya was tossing Chloe up and down like a toy. “Having fun?” he said.

“Something like that,” she replied. Her lips turned up with curious glee.

The little blonde’s dress had torn in the meantime, a single strap of cloth trailing in the air like a gilded streamer. Suddenly, Maya pinched the end of it and began dangling Chloe out over one hand like a yo-yo. Incoherent squeaks and obscenities echoed through the air, and Maya stopped. She brought the shrunken woman to her ear, paused, and snorted with derision.

Without further ado, Maya grabbed Hazel’s erect dick with the hand holding Chloe, earning a harsh gasp from him. Like a hungry beast, his power prowled at the edge of his attention, wanting more. Grow, shrink, give, take. Power like his was less servant and more belligerent copilot, and he wasn’t in the habit of giving in to anything except Maya, who pushed and challenged him with every word.

“Speaking of fun, someone’s enjoying himself.” Maya formed a ring with her thumb and index fingers, and started stroking him, sweet, sensual, and slow. “Was this your plan all along?”

He kissed her, before biting her lower lip and earning a sharp inhale from her. He let her go. A tempting pink tinged Maya’s cheeks. “Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind,” he murmured.

“Terrible influence,” she said, quoting him earlier. Her breath steamed against his face, and Hazel shivered at her dulcet tone. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Before I met you, I used to be pretty vanilla.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that. “Tell me, which one of us thought tucking herself into my cock would be an appropriate way to join me on my morning run after two weeks of dating?”

Maya’s blush was luminescent. “Shut up. It’s only because you dared me to come up with something exciting.”

“Mm-hmm. Sure.” He leaned back in his seat, a rumble building in his chest the longer she touched him. He felt Chloe struggling against his shaft, her tiny body working magic on his cock, smearing herself with his precum the longer she fought. Maya leaned over him in his seat, one hand on his chest while she stroked and teased him with her shrunken former classmate. He reached up, cupped her face, and nibbled her lower lip once more as she squeezed and released, squeezed and released. “You’re still the one calling the shots tonight.”

“Putting all the work on me then?” Maya asked, grinning wickedly even as he trembled at her touch. In one motion, she let Chloe go, dropping her between his legs, trailing her fingers to his base. “What a lazy husband you are. Not even going to help me out?” The inflection in her words was clear.

“Now, I didn’t say that.” Hazel kept one eye on Chloe, who recuperated well enough and stumbled to the edge of the chair where a multi-story drop awaited her. One of her shoes was missing. She looked up at them, some combination of exhausted and terror visible in her stance even in the dim light. “I’m just saying, I’m keeping my mouth shut. Unless you’re looking for ideas.”

“Ideas.” Maya’s fingers trailed down his chest as she knelt before the chair. Chloe recoiled at the sight of her immense face looming over her. “Like what?”

“Oh, you know—” he waved airily, “—ideas.”

Chloe scrambled back, running toward his balls, only to come to a full stop as she realized her predicament.

Ravenous power flooded through Hazel. The wooden chair creaked with a sudden increase in weight as his thighs filled each leg of his boxers to the point of bursting. His breathing heavy, Hazel adjusted himself, all his progress in reversing himself undone in an instant.

Chloe cried out at the sight his towering cock, now many times larger than her. He wasn’t as large as he could get, but still he felt extraordinarily powerful.

Smirking, he winked at Maya and with one hand started guiding his erect cock down. Chloe fell back, turned on her stomach and tried crawling away.

“Look at him,” Maya voice was clipped and demanding. “Fucking look at him, Chloe.”

Chloe looked up from her belly crawl and flinched. Something in the Maya’s voice tone must have sunk in though, because she flipped onto her back. Hazel hovered his cock over her, delighting in the way Chloe struggled to look anywhere but at him. Her hair was in disarray and still she covered her eyes.

With surgical precision, Maya knocked her hands out of her way and pinned them to the sides with one finger each. Chloe wrenched herself, trying to free her arms with all her strength, failing in the face of undeniable mass.

“Chloe, meet my husband, Hazel. Hazel, meet the bitch who got me suspended because I told her her boyfriend was cheating on her. Tell me honestly, Chlo,” Maya said, her brown locks hanging over the side of her face like some portentous storm, “He’s got a nice dick, right?”

Chloe blinked and gaped up at her, while Hazel enjoyed himself with the scene. A tiny shrunken woman completely at their mercy, despite her fighting, all while Maya coaxed and talked and worked her way round to demonstrating this former classmate her new reality.

“Wha?” Chloe said. She sounded breathless, even with how quiet her small voice was.

“His dick.” Maya snuck a glance at him and he nodded. She dabbed a finger against the tip of his cock, soaking it in precum, and Hazel let out an animalistic grunt in response. “Here you go. Remember what you used to say, girlfriends share everything?”

“No! No!” Chloe turned her head, even as she kicked and kicked and tried to free her pinned arms. “This is bullshit!”

“We can always make you smaller,” Maya said, nonchalant, even as she waved her cum-soaked finger above the woman. “Small enough I wouldn’t be able to see you. Small enough… to lose. How long do you think you’d last if I just left you here?”

Chloe paled, and it was several seconds of her starting and failing to sound out words before she said, “You wouldn’t. You can’t.”

“Can’t?” Maya’s smirk was evil and everything he could ever want. “Nah. We definitely can. Wouldn’t? Well, that’s up to you.”

Sparkling, glittery tears sprung up in Chloe’s eyes.

Without prompt Maya smeared his pre in her face. She rubbed the shrunken woman’s face, turning it back and forth, covering her in his juices. Despite rubbing her earlier along his cock, this was much more personal.

“There we go,” Maya cooed, admiring her handiwork. “Much better. You’re much better like this. So much more likable.” Her voice gained a dangerous edge. “Do you it, Chloe?”

“L-like what?” Chloe hiccuped. Her legs pressed tight as her chest heaved, desperate for her nightmare to end.

“Do you like being a slutty little toy.”

Maya nodded at Haze, and before Chloe could react, he covered her entire body with his cock. A surprised wail pierced the air before getting muffled by a mountain of dick.

“Fuck this is hot,” Hazel growled. Soft pats against his cock hooked right into the pleasure center of his brain and he groaned. Temptation begged him to follow through on Maya’s promise: shrink her smaller, so small she’d stick to him.

After a minute of rubbing himself on her, Hazel lifted his cock to admire the results of their work. Chloe’s dress was unrecognizable, ripped in many places, including her chest. A miniature pale breast poked out of her dress, while tears, makeup, and precum smeared her face. She swallowed three heavy breaths, helpless as she stared up at both him and Maya.

A second of contemplation later and Chloe sneered. She spat out one word, “Bitch.”

Maya snorted and then broke out into uncontrollable giggles.

“Bitch. Whore. Skank. Slut.” Chloe tried many words and seemed to grow more and more hysterical with the futility of each one. Finally she said, “When daddy hears about this you’ll regret it you stupid c—”

Maya didn’t give her the chance to finish. She slammed her hand atop Chloe—with all her break-a-bitches-face-in-half strength—and silenced the woman. Hazel didn’t worry though, because as Chloe found out, her new size came with some benefits. All the energy and pressure applied in that instant dissipated throughout her body, lightning quick and painful, leaving Chloe keening like a whelp even as Maya brought the woman up to her face again, pinched between two ruby-tipped fingers. She sounded dismayed that that hadn’t ended it.

“I was being nice, y’know, for old times sake,” she said, observing the way Chloe’s head lolled around with disorientation. “But I guess the kid gloves have to come off for you.”

She opened her mouth wide and angled the tiny woman towards it. Chloe fought against the fingers, voice turning nonsensical, wheedling, and panicky the closer the gaping maw got. Maya’s gaze was flinty and uncaring as she reached out with her tongue, suffocating Chloe’s whines and eneveloping the smaller woman in one gulp.

Maya moaned as her lips closed around the woman’s legs. One hand came down between her legs and Hazel smiled, delighting in her enthusiastic participation.

“What’s the plan?” he asked, eyes roving every inch of her. He could grow her, right here, right now. Grow her big enough to fit even a normal person in her mouth, and god if he didn’t want to, but this was her night, and he promised her this. Like hell was he giving into his baser urges.

Winking at him, Maya climbed onto the desk. She kicked off her footwear, slid the hem of her dress up, and shot him a sultry, inviting look. She closed her eyes and hummed, rolling Chloe around in her mouth. After a few seconds, she spat the woman out into her hand. Saliva coated the woman, even as she groaned from the thrashing she’d received via Maya’s tongue.

“You taste disgusting,” Maya said, one sliding her dress up and pulling the lining of her panties aside. “Not even good enough for that, Chlo? At least I know you can’t fuck up this next part too much. Hazel, if you’d be so kind?” She offered the shrunken woman out to him.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he said and accepted the tiny. His visceral delight in handling her was palpable after her last ditch barrage of insults.

He scooted the chair closer to the table and leaned close, lining his face up with Maya’s crotch. Chloe righted herself and scrambled to toss herself off the edge of his hand, now content to try her luck with a fall. He caught her just as she leapt, pinching her around her midsection and rolling her between two fingers like a marble. “She’s still got some fight in her,” he noted.

“Not for long.”

On seeing where she was going, Chloe started biting, kicking, punching his palm, harping about No and Stop. All of which drowned as he traced her upper body against his wife’s inner folds. Maya was wet and inviting, and her breathing turned pitched as he rubbed the little blonde against her labia much like a vibrating toy.

He smiled softly as he elicited a keen wanting noise from his wife. “So impatient,” he chided, humor in his tone.

“Bastard,” she breathed, and then gasped as he pressed Chloe’s entire body against her lips. Thigh muscles on both sides tightened as he held the fidgeting tiny against her most sensitive spot. “Tease,” she followed up with.

Chloe was tiring. She’d tried covering her head with her arms, but even the mild gentle force of Hazel guiding her against his wife’s vagina made it pointless. Her hair was matted and askew with both his juices and Maya’s, but still she resisted. It was almost admirable.

Hazel hummed with satisfaction and continued his ministrations, pausing now and then to appreciate every soft noise, including Chloe’s fruitless panting and desperate squeaks. He propped his other hand on the table and parted Maya’s labia, exposing the hooded pearl of her clit. She squirmed, herself growing impatient with his continued abeyance, at least until he brushed Chloe against her and she jerked at the sudden influx.

“She’s so small,” he crooned, twirling Chloe in his hand like a paintbrush, earning cries from both women. “And she’s all yours.”

Maya’s hand clamped down on his wrist, and he looked up to see her, radiant with a flush he’d never tire of, and with a silent, demanding face. Her nostrils flared, even as a vein in her neck pulsed with every minute twitch in his fingers.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Please,” Chloe said, in between sputtering coughs.

Satisfied he’d frustrated them both, Hazel carefully but purposefully parted Maya’s pussy lips and slid the thrashing diminutive woman in his hand up his wife headfirst. She fought him, bracing her twig arms against skin, but he and Maya were inexorable and soon her strength gave out, the last sight of her being a pair of feet kicking uselessly as he pushed her inside.

Maya shook, laughing drunkenly as her eyes rolled back and her body turned languid.

Not happy with leaving it as is, Hazel dove in, tongue eager and mouth hungry for a taste since he could remember.

Maya grabbed the back of his head, urging him closer.

“Not yet,” he chuckled, voice hushed even in the library’s placidity. “Slow down. Enjoy yourself.”

“Your fault.” Gasping, she released her grip and brought her hand back to support herself.

He brushed his mouth against her inner thigh, eliciting goosebumps where lips met skin. He moved his hands to her legs, both propped up on both sides of his head. If he strained he could almost hear Chloe yelling to be let out, her voice muffled to near indistinct.

Maya trembled and slid forward along the desk, but he kept her stable, stopping her from going over the edge.

“F-fuck,” she swore. “She’s still going.”

He continued his journey. For every minor twitch of her body, Hazel savored the reaction, a virtual vista that he’d seen both large and small and he never tired of. His lips moved ever inward. His mouth, tongue, and teeth mapped every step of the way, kissing, licking, nipping lightly the closer he got.

“Tease,” she repeated, growling the word like a curse. “I swear next time I’m— oh!”

His tongue darted out, reaching for her core. His mouth found her bush, and like the addict he was he inhaled, burying his face against the soft pubic hair inviting him to stay.

He heard Chloe even clearer now. She was panting, raging at this indignity. He wondered if she even appreciated this, how lucky she was to be with them? How small she was, to be at their mercy?

“She’s quite energetic,” he mused, trailing kisses around Maya’s mound. Each one earned him a shudder that did wonders for his ego until he reached his goal: the delicious-looking pink nub that made him hunger for her so much it hurt. Before she could react, he darted in, quick as a thief, tracing his tongue along her folds.

Maya bucked her hips again—cursing or praising, he couldn’t tell—moving into his face. Hazel luxuriated in the sounds she made as he continued his dance, licking her, rolling the flat of his tongue against her in time and in various ways to his wife’s pleas.

“Yes.” She rolled her head back, relaxing against the desk. “God yes.”

Hazel started humming, a low, even noise that moved from the back of his throat into Maya’s body. Soft pants decorated the relative stillness, punctuated now and then with a mewl that did things to his hindbrain that should be illegal.

More. He wanted more.

A meek cry for help reached him. Chloe.

“Oh, she’s moving. She’s— fuck! Fuck—she’s trying to get out.” Maya bit her lip. Her face was awash with pleasure. “She’s so small and she’s— she’s stuck!” Giggles turned to gasps. “Oh god, she feels so good.”

His face was covered in her juices but still he heard her want in her every inelegant sigh and whisper that left her lips. Despite taking the time to shrink down to normal earlier, he was once again fit to burst in his outfit even with the loosened constraints. Maya, whose base height was almost a foot shorter than him, was petite to him now. Despite that, his tongue moved, flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue, driving ever more desperate sounds from his wife with every instance.

He heard Chloe again. Stuck inside his wife, she must have felt like she struggling against a force of nature, surrounded by Maya in a way so absolute it was a wonder she hadn’t given up yet. It was forcing Maya to tense and clench to hold her in, which only ramped up the intensity as Chloe’s resistance stimulated Maya past the brink.

“She’s strong!” Maya gasped. “Oh fuck— oh yes, right there you little bitch!”

Hazel smiled against her crotch. Maya had a vindictive streak a mile wide and he loved her for it.

Not finished, Hazel brought up a hand and gently dabbed Maya’s entrance, jolting and interrupting Chloe’s desperate bid for escape. Tiny limbs prodded against his finger and with no hesitation he pushed their owner back inside. Maya’s vaginal walls throbbed as he shoved the tiny prisoner deeper, and the trembling in her body turned anticipatory.

“No!” Chloe’s muted yell reached him. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Maya please get me out please please—”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Maya interrupted. She rose on her elbows and met his own eyes. “Keep going. Keep going, please keep going Hazel, or I swear to god I’ll—”

Her sentence cut off into a pleased moan as he slid a second finger inside her. He curled both finger, and enjoyed the visceral tightening and throb of her walls as pulled back and repeated the motion.

“Fuck. Fuck.” She smacked her palm against the tabletop to brace herself from sliding. “Did you… grow again?”

“I did. Sue me.” He kissed her clit once more, earning another pleased mewl from his wife, all while he explored her inside, massaging Chloe into her soft, wet walls. He was well in the realm of the abnormal now, and he had half a mind to discard his outfit for the evening and find out just how quiet they could be at twenty, thirty, fifty feet tall and growing. “You can’t be the only one having fun.”

Just one finger and he’d pushed Chloe so deep inside his wife she had no choice but to sink into the motions. She was such a little nothing now. Did she realize this yet?

He nipped the pink nub before him as softly as he dared. Maya swore.

It was then someone entered the library, rapped their knuckles against the receptionist’s desk in four symmetrically spaced knocks, and called out, in a loud and inquisitive voice, “Maya? Are you in here?”

Previous Chapter ||||| Next Chapter — In Progress

Who We Were; Who We Are – Chapter 1

One of the biggest struggles with writing people in a romantic relationship is also finding the pieces that make up both of them and figuring out what slots with what and what particular faults and virtues they each have. How do you stop characters from blending into each other and becoming indistinct?

The aim of this particular story, from a writing perspective, is to write the perspective of two people who probably aren’t considered good necessarily in the regular sense, but are still protagonists and can get the audience to root for them. I enjoy a good story where my protagonists’ morality align with my own and all, but I also yearn for more from my stories.

Too often a narrative tries to justify a character or reframe them as something they are not. This one isn’t really an attempt to do that. It’s more to say that this is what happens when two people don’t let the world push them around, and instead push the world together. That, if anything, is the driving force behind the ‘Cruel’ tag.

I’m expecting this one to be 4-5 chapters and already have the second chapter written. It merely needs to undergo editing and betaing. This post will be updated with a link to it once it is uploaded.

(I say this knowing I have another WIP I’ve neglected and fully acknowledge needing to get right back to)

As always, constructive criticism is welcome. Queries and observations as well.

Next Chapter

General Story Warnings: giant couple, NSFW, MF/f, MF/m, MF/mf, growth, shrink, cruel, insertion, oral sex, humiliation, domination, noncon, clothes ripping, sexist slurs, former bullying and harassment, language, alcohol use, pain, established relationship.

Chapter Specific Warnings: established relationship, instant shrinking, shrunken woman, domination, sexist slurs, F/f, former bullying and harassment, slight cruelty.

Estimated Reading Time: 17 minutes

Maya never said much about her high school experience. Judging by the growing coil of tension in her shoulders as they passed a balloon archway there was a reason for that.

The gym was like any other out there: azure painted walls, high ceilings full of trapped discards balls, the sour tang of fear that followed every dodgeball class, and worn beige rubber flooring reeking of dried sweat. White track lines circled the various courts and someone had opened the windows along the upper perimeter to air out the inside. If nothing else, Hazel appreciated the fresh air. Bleachers pushed back against the wall opened up the reception area even more.

Hazel didn’t look up, despite his instincts. Tall ceilings called to his senses with silent challenges, and he already had a hard time staying within the realm of heights on a normal outing.

“You all right there?” Maya said, coming to his side after escaping conversation with the event’s photographer. “If this is too much, we can head back.”

Hazel exhaled, releasing the power he’d gathered with an effort of will. He focused on her instead.

She wore a simple strapless navy dress that showed off her pale calves and she’d done something with her chestnut hair to catch his attention every time her curls bounced. Light makeup drew attention to eyes the color of rain clouds and cheekbones he loved to trace whenever she was small.

Maya noticed his staring. “What? Is there something in my teeth?”

“Nah, just in love.” He grinned.

She pushed him, her small hand strong against his chest in his cinder gray suit. A delightful curl of pink sprouted up her neckline. It was Hazel’s favorite color in the world.

“Jerk,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “Don’t drop stuff like that on me out of the blue. You know I’ve been stressing about tonight.”

All he thought was ‘cute’, even as he answered, “Yes, dear.”

“I’m serious.” Maya looked at the already sizable crowd. People were still filtering in through the gold and silver balloon arch over the entrance, all of them stopping to pose for the photographer. Forecast predicted a cramped dance floor for the night. “I don’t even know why we came to this thing.”

“Because you wanted to show off to your old high school friends how well you’re doing?”

“I wanted to show you off.” She scrunched her nose. “Sorry, that sounds like I’m using you.”

“Don’t be,” he assured, before leaning in and whispering in her ear, “After this morning, I’d say you using me would be completely fair.”

Maya shivered and took a purposeful step back from him. “You’re incorrigible.”

Hazel chuckled and gave a showy bow. “At your service.”

The tension lining her shoulders faded.

A raucous set of high-pitched squeals and giggles pierced the early event hush, prompting everyone with a working set of ears to look over. A group of women hovered around the entrance, jumping up and down, clutching each other tight enough to leave bruises.

“Nope.” Maya muttered, “I am not dealing with her. Not tonight.”

“Friend of yours?” The thrum and pulse from the deejay’s selection rose and reverberated through the reception, but he still heard the women talking. Well, yelling.

“Ten years was too short,” Maya continued from earlier, to herself. “Twenty year reunion would’ve been better. Maybe thirty. Fuck, might as well even do fifty.” She was getting too deep in her own head again.

“Hey hun?”


Hazel pulled her into a hug, his broad arms wrapping around her and pinning her movements. She tensed and then relaxed, falling into the embrace after a second. She was a bird, small in every sense compared to him, awkward and petite, but still free in his arms.

He let her go, but not before squeezing more reassurances into her shoulders.

“Thanks.” She’d added purple highlights, and that combined with the dimmer lighting of the gym made her ethereal.

“Anytime. Want to talk about it?”

“Not a chance.” She resumed her rubbernecking, looking over at the gaggle of women with a sullen focus.

Hazel nearly asked her who she was looking for when she jerked and did an about-face.

“Come on,” she said, ushering him away and toward the drinks table.

“O… kay?” Maya was a hair above five two, almost a foot shorter than him, but Hazel let her drag him away. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Not a chance,” she said tersely. “Just someone I haven’t talked to in a while. I want to keep it that way.”

Hazel thought the point of a high school reunion was to talk to people you hadn’t seen in years, but who was he to judge? He’d skipped out on his own last year. “Maya?”

She didn’t respond and kept pulling him away.

They passed a group of loud hooting men, who Hazel could only assign the roles of former football team members in his head. They had the same stances and overall shape. Some wore suits, but most just sported their nicest pants and what Hazel could only call car salesmen ties. Boisterous, arrogant, each of them looked like extras for B-list action movies.

One took notice and pointed at Maya. “Hey, ain’t that Slutty Mary’s girl?”

Maya froze in her tracks. War drums burst to life in Hazel’s ears, but he’d promised he wouldn’t do anything without her say so. Tonight was her night.

“The fuck?”

“Shit man, no way.”

“Can’t be she’s way too—”


“No!” said the idiot. This one had a neck like a Mack pickup, and a sunburnt balding pate. “She’s too clean. You guys remember her, yeah? She always had really oily hair and looked fuckin’ gross, like she was sick or something. And she was blonde.”

One of his buddies elbowed him, grinning like a sleaze. “You would know wouldn’t ya? South stairwell, right? How was she?”

The two men engaged in a shoving match more akin to something from Animal Planet.

Maya’s shoulders bunched up. Her face lowered so her bangs shadowed her face and she let go of Hazel’s hand. The war drums in his ears faded to make way for explosions.

“—sides, you remember what happened to her, right? She got sent up to St. Carson’s after that shit with Mr. Tannen—”

Hazel side-eyed them, a not-human snarl rising his throat. His power waited, drifting just below the surface of his skin, ready to answer his call if he so wished. One snap of his fingers and the former football star would lose at least six inches after tonight. If Hazel was generous.

But Mr. Stereotype wasn’t a priority.

“Maya,” Hazel whispered, coming up beside her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “What gives? Come on, talk to me, love.”

“It’s nothing,” she said, not facing him. He could hear the tears building up.

“Don’t sound like nothing.” He stepped in front of her, grabbed her hands, and opted for a tactic that never failed to garner a reaction. “Come on, you and me. On top of the world, remember?”

It wasn’t just a cheesy line. It was an invitation.

She snorted. “We’re in public.”

He grinned and lifted her chin. “Never stepped us before.”

“Those were empty fields and forests. Far away from others.” She still looked to the side, ashamed.

“I mean, yeah, at the start.” Hazel conceded her point with a nod. “Not sure how anything can be far when we get to that size though. Are you saying you haven’t thought about it tonight?” His eyes cut over to the group of simpletons engaging in another verbal dick-measuring contest. “Or what about the opposite? Anyone you feel could be more humble?”

She choked out a laugh and stopped averting his gaze.

There were tears in her eyes. The Jackass over there just got promoted to Supreme Jackass. His power bristled, irritated at the leash holding it back, but Hazel held on. There were benefits to patience.

“Not tonight,” Maya said, seeing his expression. She looked over at the group of men, who’d moved on in topic, heedless of her actual state after being called out. “We’re not doing that tonight, not yet anyway. I wanted to bring you here, dance with you, and maybe catch up with some old friends.”

He wondered if she caught the ‘yet’ she added in the middle there.

“So I’m guessing not mister football captain over there?”

“No, god no.” Maya gave him a curious look. “How’d you know Tyler was captain?”

“Too much of a cliché,” Hazel answered wryly. “That and they’re all wearing their team rings. Not to mention… ”

“Not to mention?” she pressed.

“It’s not a nice answer.”

Maya stepped in close, wrapping her arms around his midsection. Despite their different statures, Hazel got weak-kneed response every time she did this. Clearly, her mood had improved.

“I didn’t marry you because you’re nice,” Maya said. The tightness in her face slackened. “I married you because you’re mine.”

He saw the echoes of her laughter from earlier that day, when she’d spent it in his boxers being a brat, all while he tossed her around with ease. Despite their difference in power, he would have no one else at his side. From the second she walked into his life, he was completely and utterly fucked. In more ways than one.

“Fine, fine.” He rolled his neck and shrugged. If his suit was more snug along the shoulders, well, who would believe it other than Maya? “They just look like they peaked in high school.”

Maya slapped his arm, as if scolding him, but he didn’t miss the way her lips quirked upwards in the ghost of a smile.

“You’re going to be like this all night, aren’t you?” she mused. They found a solitary standing table already covered with the crumbs of cheap hors d’oeuvres. They stood on the outskirts, observing the gathering, apart and still within the growing throng of people. “Just being a complete nuisance. Hiding your little growth spurts whenever you think I won’t notice.”

His response was to put his hands on her waist and lift her. Maya yelped, squeaking at him to put her down. He spun her in the air, conscious of the eyes of every bystander, guest and organizer there. The music was now loud enough to drown out regular conversation, but a man spinning a woman like she was lighter than air attracted attention, music or not.

He put her down, having drifted several feet to the side, in the middle of the dance floor. Maya was laughing, breathless, that tantalizing, gorgeous pink blooming across her cheeks, asking him, daring him to do more.

“Guilty.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Every time I see you getting down, I’ll be there, being a terrible influence.” He smirked. “Such as now, see anyone that ever pissed you off?”

“Of course.“ Maya raised a brow and grabbed him by the elbow, dragging him back to their spot on the outskirts. “There’s this guy: tall, dark-haired, lean, kind of scruffy, standing right next to me.”

“I like him already.”

“He’d be cute too, if he didn’t open his mouth.”

“Love you too, dear, but seriously—”

“Oh! My! God~! Maya?” cut in a voice. “Is that Maya Mendoza I see? C’mere girlfriend!”

Maya looked pained. Before he could react a willowy blonde wearing a peach, strapless dress weaved through the burgeoning crowd of alumni and all but yanked her into one of those hugs made to hurt.

“Oh sweetie!” said the woman, pulling back. She had the plastic smile Hazel would expect from a wax mannequin. “How ya been, you poor thing? Goodness me, when I heard you got sent up with the sisters at St. Carson’s I could not believe it! Y’know I was all for marching right on up there and givin’ ‘em a piece of my mind and—”

“Hi Chloe,” Maya said, interrupting her and extricating herself from the woman’s claws. “Good to see you too. Yeah, no, I didn’t get sent to Carson’s. I actually got into Corrain, funny enough. You remember, your first choice? Oh wait, you knew about that. I won that scholarship, after all.”

Chloe face twitched. It was an experience to watch, all nerves and muscles responding artificially to incorrect stimulus and somehow scrambling to form a response other than a sneer.

“How’s your mother, dear?” Chloe tried this time, her voice still sweet enough to give him diabetes. “Is she still trying to sleep her way onto City Council over in Clearwater Falls? You know no one’s going to vote for her after daddy exposed her business like that. After all, whores don’t know how to be anything but whores.”

Maya stared at the woman with a blank expression for a good thirty seconds. It was thirty seconds too long in Hazel’s opinion but it gave him plenty of time to unlock the mental seals and unlatch the door to his power. If someone had thought to, they’d notice the dry and static taste of a storm on the horizon.

“Hey Hazel?” Maya said, addressing him while staring Chloe down. “I change my mind. This one.”

For all that she reigned him in, Maya was the one who often jumped off that cliff first.

Hazel cracked his neck and took off his blazer. Stupid thing was expensive, and he didn’t want to chance mystical splashback. “How small?”

“Remember Paris?”

His raised his eyebrows, surprised despite the flint and matchstick nature of the situation. “Not sure if I should feel jealous or horny. She’s gonna be a yapper, judging by the bitchy chic dress.”

Maya’s smile sent shivers up his spine. “Good.”

“Excuse me, I am right here,” Chloe interjected. She sounded more irritated with being ignored than the insult. “Who the hell do you think you are, you little hussy, you can’t just—”

Hazel snapped his fingers. At the same time a thunderous boom coincidentally exploded from the speakers set up around the building, drawing everyone’s attention away from the sudden ‘pop’ of air rushing to fill a person-shaped vacuum.

A smaller ‘pop’ followed and there on the table in front of them stood a miniaturized version of Chloe. The woman stumbled as if drunk from the sudden displacement and now struggled to find her balance in a world much more unaccommodating of her than before.

“Wha… ?” Chloe looked around, supporting herself against an electric candle in the center of the table. It was about the size of a solo cup, but more than twice her height. “What’s going on?”

The pitch of her voice had risen. She was larger than he’d left Maya most of the day, but Maya was fond of nestling into his boxers when she was stressing out about something. She enjoyed it when he overwhelmed her body with the most casual of motions, mere breaths or unconscious twitches. It soothed her to be so close and so small.

Maya slammed her hand down on the table next to Chloe. The impact shook the surface and sent the tiny woman sprawling.

“Hey Chloe,” Maya drawled. “How’s it going, girlfriend?”

With one hand blocking any interloper’s view, she finger-walked her other hand over to the tiny woman. Chloe scrabbled back, squeaking, kicking uselessly with a set of heels whose material to cost ratio had just gone through the roof.

Hazel clenched and released a fist, feeling the cuff of his dress shirt pull at his wrist. He still wasn’t used to precision: his shirt was no longer snug, but painful, cutting into his circulation along his neck. Carefully, he released his cuffs, rolling the sleeves up his now bulging forearms and almost popping the top button from his shirt as he fiddled with it for some air.

“Careful,” Maya said, shooting his arms an appreciative glance before rounding back on the shrunken Chloe. “Any more of that and I’m not responsible for what I do to you.”

Without missing a beat she poked Chloe, knocking her down, and then pinning her to the tablecloth with a pinky. She rolled the woman around, back and forth, like a cat toying with its prey. It was a small action, but he saw from Chloe’s disheveled expression that this was most she’d ever been tossed around.

Fuck, he was getting hard just watching them.

The bottom of Chloe’s dress—a tight peach-colored sheath that looked good on her—ripped. It rode up her thigh as she continued a useless struggle against Maya’s hands. She took a breath during a break in the tussle, filled her lungs, and arched her back, readying for a scream fit for a final girl.

“Hush now.” Maya said, smirking, sapping little Chloe’s strength with just her words. She leaned her elbow on the table, hovering over Chloe like a gorgeous kaiju. One hand twirled a stray purple-tipped lock while the other came down again, pressing the tiny woman’s stomach with a finger. “For once in your life, you’re going to listen. Listen and behave.”

Chloe fought even harder. She couldn’t budge Maya’s finger.

“Is there anywhere we can go for a moment of privacy?” he asked Maya. The gym was almost full, and people were spreading out, joining up with old cliques and rediscovering how much or how little everyone moved with their lives. “I’m gonna need a moment to shrink down, and it’s getting kind of, uh, hard to focus watching you toy with her.”

Maya scooped Chloe into her palm.

“There’s always the southern stairwell.” Maya mused. She pinched Chloe around the middle between two fingers, squinting at the expression the little woman was making. “Bet you’d know all about it, wouldn’t you, Chlo? It’s kind of gross, though. Most schools are. How about the library?”

It was taking everything he had not to burst out of his clothes and that was only because he liked this outfit.

“Honey, we can go to a custodial closet for all I care. I just need to get out of here before I—” power surged and his shoes, once comfortable, encroached in on his feet like a bear trap. He groaned and failed to think small thoughts.

Maya blinked, as if waking from a trance, and looked at him properly. “Holy crap, Hazel, how are you still fitting into that?”

“Hard work and determination,” he gritted out. He’d altered his clothing to allow personal growth, but there was only so much before fabric tore and he got blisters because his shoes were cutting into his ankles. “Small or big as you want her to be, I swear, but we need to leave. Library. Now.”

“Alright, alright, but I want some time with you mister before you come down and join the rest of us mortals.”

“Are you talking about—”

“What can I say?” Maya shrugged, tossed Chloe up in the air and caught her. A brief shriek punctuated the shrunken woman’s fall, before disappearing into an inescapable fist. “It’s on my bucket list.”

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