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.

KinkyScribble: Lift Me Up, Raise Me Gently

I’m jumping on the #KinkyScribble train here. Before I talk about this story and how it came to be, here’s some quick numbers

Writing: 2 hours and 15 minutes
Editing Time: 30 minutes

I think going forward this I’m going to stick to that 1/4 ratio of writing/editing time for a #KinkyScribble. I certainly could have spent a considerable amount of time touching this up, but I know myself and I know I would have wanted to expand this story up, which…is probably not what the story deserved.

It’s a story that deserves to be raw and unfiltered and which I think is better for the lack of polish. It certainly sprang from my head fast enough, so I can only assume it wanted to exist as is. I was just the vehicle by which this idea was written. So, forgive the rushed editing, haha.

Over on Twitter, the fantastic Elle Largesse (and if you aren’t already following her, stop and go do that now) posed the question of “What’s a size do [I] rarely explore?” and “What’s a thing [I] love to do at other sizes, that would be strange or significantly different at that size?”

My answer to that first one was “city-size” but really I actually have a bit of trouble with anything large than a small house. The sense of scale is so difficult to convey properly. So, for this scenario, I went for a happy medium between my usual size and a city.

My answer to the second was “visiting the spouse at work”

I hope you enjoy the story. Mind the tags please!

Content Warning: giant man, nsfw, sexy, cum, M/f, brief M/m, gentle, language, established relationship, mentions of toxic work environment

Estimated Reading Time: 17 mins

Clara smiled prettily at Todd, ignoring the way he gave her a once over in the middle of his conversation with his secretary, and sat down at her desk. She logged in to her computer and let herself enjoy the thirty seconds of peace before the five minutes of hell she needed to endure began.

She counted it out in her head.

Three… two… one…

“Clara, can I see you in my office?”

And there it was. Five minutes. That’s all she needed to wait out without breaking his teeth.

She affixed a perfect plastic smile to her face and said, “Sure thing, Todd.”

“It’s Mr. Hannigan now, dear.”

Opportunistic fucker, Clara thought instead.

If she hadn’t seen the proof of it herself, she’d never have believed Todd had gone over her head with the unfinished project she’d been working on presenting to the 42nd floor. The fucker had someone clone her entire system, including all the private files she’d been compiling for weeks, and he’d called in a favor to have a private meeting with the 42nd floor a full week before herself.

He hadn’t even scrubbed the most basic identifying details out of the various powerpoint presentations before claiming it as his own. It’s just that no one would believe it’d been her idea this whole time. Nor would they care. All they’d see is a brunette’s pair of tits instead of the business pantsuit and triple PhD’s.

Marco was right, she needed a new job.

Which is where today came in.

The door to Todd’s new office – what should have been her office – was heavy glass with a stainless steel handle. It and the entire wall offered the inhabitants a perfect clear-cut view of the floor, while obscuring the inside from the opposite direction through some one-way fog effect. It took every bit of restraint Clara had not to smash the door.

Todd sat in his chair. It was a lush, high-backed leather monstrosity. Clara hated it on sight.

“Please sit,” he said, gesturing to the fancy looking but uncomfortable guest chairs in front of his desk. The asshole specifically picked them out for their price and discomfort. Clara knew this because she overheard him bragging about it at the watercooler two days ago. Called it part of his assertive management style. “I have a concern about your progress.”

She stared at him. She catalogued every aspect of his face. The frat boy smugness that never sloughed off once he got his first taste of the real world, the arrogant confidence that came from thinking he got one over her and she was none the wiser.

“What about my progress, Todd?” she said. She made sure to enunciate everything perfectly. She’d put on her favorite shade of lipstick today – a ruby as vivid as her own rage – and judging by how Todd shifted in his seat, he’d noticed.

“Call me Mr. Hannigan, Clara,” Todd said. “I’m your superior now. I don’t want to be unprofessional.”

Clara tilted her head and smiled, not saying anything.

“Anyway, me and the guys up on forty-two-”

She counted the time out in her mental clock. About three minutes, she wagered.

“-we got to talking over drinks and-”

In the windows behind Todd, she saw the first sign. A tall, dark shape rising in the horizon. Dark shaggy hair as wild as a lion’s mane draping down its back. Debris tumbled down its shoulders like a living avalanche.

“-we’re thinking the timetable we’re on isn’t going to work.”

Clara tore her eyes away from the shape manifesting on the horizon. With the sun at her back, it was easy to dismiss the heat rising through her body as the result of poor chair positioning. Another Todd idea.

“What do you mean the timetable doesn’t work?” she said, one eye on Todd and another drinking in the sight of Marco stretching and reaching high for the heavens. He definitely overshot it with the serum, but it wasn’t like Clara was complaining.

“I mean, the guys like the idea, but they want the proof of concept out faster. I mean, we’re talking about something that’ll revolutionize our entire industry. We can’t let it fester in the pipeline for too long. Corporate espionage is a thing.”

Oh, she knew that. Sitting in front of her was the human garbage that proved it.

One minute, maybe less. The floor trembled a little more with every one of Marco’s strides.

“Hey, Todd?”

Todd drew himself up, trying to look intimidating and just looking constipated.

“Really, Clara, you can’t keep calling me Todd anymore. I know you have a little crush on me from when I used to work under you-”

Ugh, someone gag her. Quick.

“-but this informality isn’t appropriate. I am in a happily committed relationship with Janet-”

Janet broke up with him just last week. Something about how he thought oral was “too demeaning” for men and didn’t ever let her get a word in. Clara had no problem believing it. Todd had the attitude of someone who thought sex started with his balls and ended with his pecker.

“-and I can’t let anything impede my career here. A supervisor and employee relationship-”

A shadow blotted out the window. The massive form of her husband’s pelvic V enshrouded the entire floor to ceiling glass. 

“Hi honey!” said a voice like thunder.

Clara jolted in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to be so loud.

Todd, for his part, yelped and fell out of his chair.

She stood from her chair and walked over to the small open aperture in the floor to ceiling window to open it fully, pushing the panel out enough to let a gust of wind in. Her breath caught just from getting this close to him, to the enormous heat emanating from Marco’s core. Despite the plan, she couldn’t help but stare at just how fucking huge he was.

Definitely overshot on the dose. 

She wasn’t complaining.

“What the- what the fuck!?” Todd said, pulling himself up. He raised a trembling hand outside. “What the fuck is that?”

Marco chuckled and he seemed to grow a little more from the attention. Clara was mesmerized, watching him and every part of him grow in proportion. His ascent brought his engorged cock, larger than a goddamn pickup truck just about level with their floor. It stood erect, hard and enchanting, and Clara exhaled, realizing she’d been looking forward to this part most, seeing him loom larger than life over the place that had been sucking so much from her life for the past ten years.

“Hey handsome,” Clara said breathily.

“My eyes are up here,” Marco chided from way on high. He didn’t sound too bothered.

“I said what I said.”

The dick twitched and swung just close enough to brush against the window with its tip. The glass creaked, screeched in its sidings, before the enormous penis swung back. It left a thick trail of pre-cum hanging between it and the glass, like some enormous spit trail from a super-sized kiss.

It’s more cum than she’s had inside her in her entire life.

“You get to the good part yet?” Marco called down. Or whispered. It was hard to tell with how gigantic he was.

“Not yet,” she said, sticking her head out and looking up at him. She could barely make out his features against the bright shining sun. He looked like a colossus, a thing of old given form and woken from his deepest slumber. “I was just getting there.”

A hum filled the air like a low-string symphony. Marco moaned high above, gripping the top railing of the building for the vaguest amount of support he could get without toppling the thing over.

“You – fuck, I’m massive – better hurry up then,” he said, grunting between words. His entire upper body was working in unison, gulping down air to cool himself down. “You never mentioned – god this feels so good – how horny I’d get.” As if in response, his hips bucked and thrusted forward just a little. Not enough to breach the glass, but close enough Clara wanted to wrap herself around him and never let go.

It was such a miniscule movement to him, that he probably couldn’t tell, but it was the thing of dreams for Clara.

And a thing of nightmares to Todd, who let out the closest thing to an animal squeal she’d ever heard from a human and crawled as far back as possible from the cock, tossing his chair and knocking a lamp off his desk in the process.

“Get it away, get it away,” Todd gibbered, hair askew and eyes too wide with panic.

“Oh shut up,” Clara said, addressing him for the first time since Marco showed up. “It’s just a dick. You have one too, last I recall.”

Todd looked from the Then making careful thrusting motions and the enormous human blocking his entire office view to Clara. “What did you do?” he accused, trying for some kind of authoritarian voice.

I didn’t do anything,” Clara said. She smiled prettily at him, just like when she came into the office earlier. Then she glanced outside and couldn’t stop herself from licking her lips. Marco’s entire head would be enough to pin her down and the more she thought about it the more she wanted it. She wanted to be utterly covered by her husband’s cock, as effortlessly by him as he put on clothes in the morning. “I just moved up the timetable, Todd.”

She watched him repeat the words to himself, for once in control of himself since the sight of the giant man outside ruined his peaceful morning. 

“Move up the timeta-” his eyes widened even further, somehow, “- you bitch! You psychotic whore! What the fuck were you thinking, you stupid c-”

Marco, who’d been serving as the best kind of fetish fuel for Clara, growled. The noise was inhuman, traveling down the building like a waterfall of disgust and seemed to sock Todd in the gut, who paled to the point of sickness and trembled.

“Finish that sentence,” Marco said. The building didn’t tremble, nor did it shake; it just went eerily still. Even with the klaxons and alarms sounding in the distance, Clara couldn’t hear enough except the world-shuddering rumble of her husband’s restrained fury. “Finish that sentence, Todd, I fucking dare you.” 

Massive fingers, each the size of a couch, tapped against the window glass. Loud booms echoed in the office, prompting Todd to let out jittery cries with each one. In the corner of her eye, Clara saw the last of her coworkers disappear down the stairwell. They were the last two on the floor.

“W-why?” Todd said, when Marco stopped at last. He directed the question at Clara. “Why?”

Clara looked down at him, in his rumpled suit, tear-tracked face, and pathetic fragile ego who thought she wouldn’t fight back against his betrayal. That she’d just take it, like some demented doll.

She’d prepared a list of things to tell him. An honest to god speech. She’d thought she would relish this moment when it came. Rub his nose in it the way he’d shoved her face in his promotion.

Him, shown up and broken down into an idiotic mess just by the mere appearance of something of her own design, her proud and admittedly very horny for her giant husband, stroking himself outside to stave off his uncontrollable arousal to hump the building into submission.

“I don’t owe you anything,” she said at last. “Least of all an explanation.”

Outside, Marco’s jubilant laughter buoyed her already soaring spirits. God, she was so done with this place. With Todd. With this whole fucking company.


Clara ignored him and made her way over to the window again. She stuck her head out the window and called, “Hey honey? Change of plans, I’m done with this place.”

Marco groaned, and she could hear it in his voice how close he was getting. He was trying so hard, just for her, and perhaps paradoxically, that made her feel powerful. 

“A-are you sure?” he said, hunching down. His long hair draped his magnificent face like a waterfall – tan, a hint of stubble, and dark eyes as wildly horny as she felt. “I-I can still hold on, Clara. If you want to mess with him…”

“No.” Clara shook her head, unsure if he could even see such minor details at his size. “No, he’s not worth it. I can think of much better things to do with my time.”

Marco’s breath came in pants and grunts now, and his cock looked so hard it was fit to burst any second. His free hand kept going up and down his shaft at a ridiculously slow pace, gripping hard and gentle to prolong this as much as possible. He grunted, closed his eyes, and re-opened them.

“So what now?” he asked.

He was already at the edge, she could tell, but she admired Marco’s self-control. She’d vastly underestimated the effect the serum would have on him. Either that, or he found the situation just as mind-numbingly hot as she did, in which case, she and he were going to spend a good long while exploring this new aspect of their relationship before she started at her newest job.

An idea struck her.

“Pick me up!” she said, hanging the top half of her body out the window, arms outspread. 

They never talked about this part, never even had the chance to practice handling protocols but it didn’t matter, because Marco, gentler than anyone could say a man of his stature would guess, easily plucked from her spot. There was a brief thrill of weightlessness, lost amidst the utter care and affection she could feel in Marco’s grip. She felt more secure in hand grip than any elevator she’d ever ridden.

Two fingers pinching her gently switched into a cupped palm around her, and still she felt protected, safe in his power. The hand holding her was careful to raise her so as not to whip her through the air, but soon she came face to face with her gargantuan husband. He pinned her in place with his stare, hungry and loving, even as he continued his soft, slow jerks on his cock, edging closer to a release.

“What now?” he whispered, and it was a little like being proposed to all over again. A bright blue sky, a summer sun harsh enough to scald skin, and a vast future, waiting to unfold.

She told him what she wanted. Marco’s eyes lit up and the curl of his smile would lift her spirits for years to come.

He deposited her down on the base of his cock, taking care to catch her in case she lost her grip. She struggled to mount the absolute behemoth he’d been working up this entire time, and as she straddled the shaft, her thighs rubbing against a particularly throbbing vein, Clara couldn’t stop the giddy laugh that escaped her.

Todd stood in the window where Marco had grabbed her from. He stood in the opening, mouth agape, looking lost and ever so punchable.

Clara pressed herself against Marco, putting as much of herself against the enormous dick as she could and still coming up short. Marco was already large before the serum, but now he was absolutely stunning.

“Go!” she yelled, laughing with glee as Marco resumed stroking. He started just above the base, barely an inch from where her head laid against him, and went up and down in patient yet eager movements.

She began grinding against the dick, feeling his heat against her core, the slickness that dribbled down his shaft engulf her.

Todd choked.

“God, honey,” Marco boomed, a giant in the sky and all hers. “God, you feel so good.”

She couldn’t even hope to wrap her entire arms around him, but she tried anyway. She felt the pressure building beneath her, a coil and tension that would flood a small pond, and she delighted in it, in causing all this.

She heard banging. Looking up, along the shaft of her gigantic husband, she caught sight of Todd slamming his fist, shoulders, body against his glass door. He was locked in his office.


“Fuck,” Marco roared for the entire city to hear, hunching over. His eyes were half-lidded, lost in pleasure, but still he held for her. “Fuck fuck fuck!”

“Cum,” she whispered into his flesh. Feeling the crescendo that would mark the end of her old life. “Come on, honey, cum!”

His release came like a tsunami. Marco aimed his head right at the little opening he’d plucked her out of and came stronger than she’d ever seen him cum before. Jizz exploded out of him hard enough to rattle the windows of the entire building, and even knock a couple loose, but Clara didn’t care about that. She felt every monumental twitch and throb with her entire body like nothing ever before and it was nothing short of wonderful, an adult-rated thrill ride just for her.

Marco’s cum splattered against the entire side of Todd’s office, most of it jettisoning straight into the open window. It shot across the room, covering everything possible, but more importantly slammed right into Todd, who fell back against his door in shock or awe. Pgoing to both.

It was an event for the history books, the largest amount of cum deposited in a single shot, yet all Clara could think of as Marco carefully lifted her from his still hard member – walking through the city like it was fine china and in the direction of their ranch house out in the country – was how much she couldn’t wait to break that record.

“What’re you thinking,” Marco rumbled, adroitly sidestepping some fire trucks on the way to her former office building.

Clara smiled up at him. She was hot, a little jittery from nerves, arousal, and the confrontation, but right then, that moment, she wouldn’t trade anything for what she already had. “Nothing.”

“You’re always thinking something.”

“Well, now I’m not.”

Marco huffed. “Well, I’m thinking something.”

Clara craned to look up at him properly. He was focused on the horizon, on the ground below, taking care and stepping in the empty spots that he could, but she could still feel the intensity of his attention, like a weighted blanket. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he said, twisting and finally breaking free from the hot mess that was downtown. She knew there would be problems to sort out later, damages to be paid to the city, but all she cared about was him. And their life from then on forward. “I’m thinking about how I’m going to have you all to myself for the next, I dunno, how about a month?”

“That… that sounds nice, yeah.” Clara closed her eyes and draped herself across his open palm. “Fuck Todd. Fuck the job. Fuck that company.”

Marco guffawed. “I’m pretty sure I just did.”

She groaned. “God, over three hundred feet tall and you’re still a giant dork!”

“Love you, Clara.”

“Yeah.” She couldn’t hear the sirens anymore. The expanse of the world was all that awaited them now. “I love you too, dork.”

It Begins With a Smile

This was my entry for the quarterly SizeRiot contests – specifically GiantJuly19 – organized by AborigenGTS. I was pretty surprised with how good it did, personally. It managed to entice the readers of that contest enough to name it one of the most attractive/arousing of the entire lot.

Link to SizeRiot

Link to GiantJuly19 Stories

This version of the story has about an extra 270 words, and a lot more editing, and hopefully it conveys each characters’ circumstances a bit more.

If you’re interested in the original story that complied with the word limit, and how incredibly haphazard my editing for that one was, please click the above link to find it. There are some fantastic stories in that collection, and it makes me glad to see giant men explored.

I remember thinking I wanted to put a little spin on the topic for that month, which was the idea of a “First Date”. It didn’t take long to brainstorm the idea, which is good because I think I wrote it all in around 5-6 hours of non-stop, frantic writing.

One thing I recall I especially enjoyed with this story was describing how absolutely smitten both the main characters are from the start, because you know what, first impressions are important. Like the title says, a lot of times it really does just begin with a smile. And despite the overwhelming physical disparity between the two, I wanted to place the two on something of a level playing field somehow: Talos with his relative isolation, and Lynd with his fascination.

Content Warning: giant man, tiny/shrunken man, gentle, M/m, brief F/m interaction, NSFW, mentions of past violence

Estimated Reading Time: 11 minutes

Despite the circumstances of his predicament, Lynd could admit the grounds were gorgeous. They stretched beyond his sight; the borders obscured by distance and fading into blurs as his eyes watered from trying to take it all in. The expanse of the royals’ lands was breathtaking.

In another life Lynd would’ve loved to capture the view on a canvas. Without all the jostling and haphazard bumping of his transportation.

Said transport, a low-class servant judging from her drab gray dress, cupped him closer to her body as she traversed over a vast canyon which to her probably counted as a stream. Lynd winced as his ears popped from the change in elevation.

Finally, after being thrown around in the cage that was her palm, the servant stopped. Precious seconds of peace.

There was an expectant air, followed by a hum. That hum culminated in an offended huff after a few moments of no response.

“Sir, your guest has arrived.”

Lynd frowned and tried to force the servant’s hand open so he could see his host. Her grip, dainty as her fingers seemed, was unbreakable.

A soft baritone voice chuckled. “You can let him down, Marisol.”

Lynd’s breath burst from his lungs as the servant pressed him closer to her dress and pivoted, as if to shield him from the speaker.

“I won’t harm our little guest, my dear.” The words were gentle, but the tone was warning. “But I won’t repeat myself a second time. Put him down.

What followed was more akin to thunder than any human sound Lynd ever heard. It ran through Marisol’s body like the promise of a hurricane on the horizon. After a second of hesitation she released Lynd from against her mud-stained dress. Then the hands that were his cage lifted him up and unfurled, gentler than a spring flower on the precipice of bloom.

Lynd squinted against the onset of light and noise, grateful for the reprieve. When his vision cleared, he saw something even more astonishing than the mountain ranges and valleys that served as the garden they now stood in.

A giant three- no, four times larger than Marisol. Whereas the servant woman was casually enormous compared to Lynd, this man was vast. Anything short of superlatives would do him a disservice. 

With hair like captured midnight, and the sharply cut cheeks of his bloodline, the giant rose from his lying position and propped himself up on both hands.

“Well met, Prince Lynd,” the giant purred.

Lynd swore. That immense size… there was no one else it could be.

Talos’ stare was beatific as he locked stares with Lynd. The royal court’s infamous bastard prince was a standard human in appearance: he had the same general shape – a head, a body, and all the associated limbs – but whether by sheer size or simple aesthetics Talos’ form, propped up on arms thicker than the largest of tree trunks back home, demanded attention.

Talos’ lips pulled back in coquettish amusement. “Judging by your reaction, I suppose this arrangement was sprung on you as well?”

Lynd floundered, trying to find the right words amidst the rising sea of inspiration that threatened to overcome him. 

By the empty sky, no one had ever told him Talos was gorgeous in addition to heart-stoppingly massive.

“Prince Lynd?”

After a few more seconds of his tongue stuck in his throat, Lynd recovered and said, “It wasn’t sprung on me so much as I was thrown into it. By catapult.”

Talos blinked, and then threw his head back, laughing. His voice was thunderous and deafening, and it felt less like a man’s laugh than a force of nature’s. The closest sound Lynd could compare it to was his stepfather’s favored war drums.

He was just glad he’d thought to grab some wax from his stores and stuff it into his ears before his stepfather, the king, ordered him to leave posthaste.

“Come, come, join me!” Talos patted his bare chest, burned bronze with the blessings of a life unconstrained by walls or darkness. “There’s plenty of me to spare!”

The woman holding Lynd twitched at the statement. “Sir, I must insist-”

“Marisol, you’re still here?” Talos interrupted, his smile as white and blinding as the sun. “Do you wish to keep me company during an official function again?”

For all her attempts at composure, Lynd was in a prime position to see her reaction. He turned and saw Marisol glance down the length of Talos’ body and stare at the loincloth covering the mass of something immense. Luminous pink crawled up from her neckline as she stiffened at the suggestion.

“Forgive me, Milord,” Marisol muttered, bowing her head. In a low breath, she added, “Brute.”

Talos moved

A split-second heartbeat of terror for Marisol tore through Lynd and he flinched awaiting the giant’s response and-

Marisol squeaked and Lynd’s world was thrown askew as she clutched at him. Scrambling, Lynd reoriented himself and stared up at the giant’s outstretched hand which was… cupping Marisol’s face?

“I heard that,” Talos chided, smiling softly. He let go of her face, reverting to his lounging position. “Now, why don’t you run along now before someone important thinks you care for this brute.”

Marisol placed Lynd on the edge of Talos’ abdomen, clearly reluctant. She fussed over him for a second before Talos cleared his throat, eliciting a girlish eep from the servant. He dismissed her with a gruff grunt and a swiping gesture that, back in Lynd’s homeland, would have toppled a good section of a forest.

“She’s protective of your kind, our Mari,” Talos said as he and Lynd stared after the woman, disappearing over the bridged ravine. It was impossible not to notice how alive the surface he stood on was. “And around me especially. Sadly, I can’t say it’s not without good reason.”

Lynd tried to pin down why his heart was lurching in his chest. It currently resided somewhere in the valley of petrifying terror and dazzling enchantment.

He forced himself to swallow and reply, even as he started walking along the rippling surface of Talos’ midriff. “Her concern is why this is happening. Who’d have thought our kingdoms would ever entertain peace? Though, having the Butcher of the Plains be the emissary…”

“Ludicrous, no?” Talos relinquished his sitting position and laid back down, arm under his head. Lynd threw himself against him so as to not fall off. It was like the earth was alive and, even worse, feeling playful. “Almost as insane as sending the youngest of the Blessed Seven to meet said Butcher for the opening talks. No retinue in sight.”

He raised a good point. Lynd’s stepfather had set him up.

Talos raised an outstretched hand to the sky. Lynd traced the lines of the man’s arm in his mind’s eye. There was so much to capture. Too much. He’d need a lifetime to ingrain all of the man’s body respectfully, without insulting the masterpiece. Talos was the perfect blend of softness of the human condition combined with the angular rigidity of a warrior.

There he went, sinking into his thoughts. Despite the clear and present danger of the most infamous monster of recent years, Lynd kept getting distracted. At this rate his heart would prove more dangerous to himself than Talos.

“My family won’t be happy to learn you were appointed as emissary,” Lynd warned. “They won’t abide the insult.”

“And mine will be all the happier for it,” Talos sighed. He blew a lock of hair out of his eyes, and propped a hand behind his head to look down at Lynd, who was navigating the treacherous and warm terrain that was his host’s chest. “Last I knew, you had no formal training beyond some tutoring in Magicks.”

He let the unspoken question hang, even as Lynd climbed up the trough between Talos’ pectorals. Every step was coiling, tense, but he gained confidence with every inch of progress.

When he finally reached the Talos’ collarbone, Lynd looked up. Talos was focusing on him with an intense expression that would have singed a human. As it was, it stunned Lynd into gaping at the man’s beautiful features, eyes like almonds and the color of dark chocolate, before he regained his senses.

The mention of Magick brought memories of fractured friendships and lost dreams. He’d always been a poor student. “My talents lie elsewhere than the arcane.”

“Don’t suppose it would be diplomacy?” Without even checking to see if it was okay, Talos brought his immense hand up to Lynd, and brushed him with a graze of his fingers. Lynd, in turn, tumbled down the vast angled cliff he’d just climbed, coming to a stop in the amphitheater formed by Talos’ raised legs and his abdomen. Talos continued, unfazed by Lynd’s fall. “Did your king purposefully send his most inexperienced and least valuable prince to wreak havoc on these peace talks?”

“Just important enough to die, but not useful enough to live,” Lynd repeated the phrase he overheard around the kitchens whenever he left his room for some snacks. “Such is the fate of the sparest of heirs. Unwanted by the crown, unknown to the people.”

Talos stilled, conflict fleeting across his face before he resumed his normal insouciance. “They expect me to kill you.”

“They expect someone to kill me, not necessarily you.” Lynd wasn’t sure why but he had to make sure Talos understood the distinction. He wasn’t what Lynd had expected. He was calmer, for one. Magnificent, for another. “I imagine they’d be surprised your maid didn’t crush me on sight.”

“Marisol is a gentle woman,” Talos offered. “She’s mouthy, and oversteps her bounds half the time, but she is one of the few able to come near me without running in terror. She would never hurt another soul.”

It seemed he was done laying down, because soon Lynd was rolling and struggling to right himself as Talos lifted, rising into a proper sitting position, bent legs spread. Lynd had lived through earthquakes more peaceful than Talos rising, but the experience was infinitely more exhilarating. What kind of change could a being like Talos enact if they so wished? Not with magic, not with steel, but pure physical power.

“It would seem then we’re at an impasse,” Lynd said at last, stopping his vantage search to admire the hard lines and creases in Talos’ skin. The loincloth rested loosely between Talos’ thighs, but there was no mistaking the mind-numbing heat that emanated from beneath the covering. “My people and your people both wish to sabotage these peace talks, and yet here we are, both absolutely miserable at it.”

Talos’ chest rumbled with assent. “Truly, we are terrible negotiators. What say you to a truce?”

“A truce within a truce?”

“An actual truce. My father thinks himself the grand politicker, and me the brutish warrior. Naturally, I take umbrage with his opinion of me.” Carefully, deliberately, Talos spread his legs further apart. Both ends of the loincloth now draped over his mammoth member. “And clearly there is more to me than you expected.”

Lynd’s eyes fixed on Talos’ risen cock, barely hidden by the cloth anymore. He couldn’t resist the urge to be cheeky. “A lot more.”

Talos laughed. “Oh, I like you! Most people are afraid when they see me at my proudest. But you! You only see a summit to climb!”

It was dangerous, how much his praise stoked feelings Lynd long thought lost to him. Pride. Giddiness. Lust.

“But still, what say you? Wouldn’t a sunset without war be kind for once?” Talos’ expression turned melancholic as he looked out at the sun on the horizon. “I tire of bloodshed, my dear prince. So very much. These talks… they could change things. For real.”

“I-” Lynd hesitated. It was ludicrous. He understood what Talos was hinting at, how could he not, but as enticing as an indulgent bacchanalia sounded, he had something to say. One burning wish, taking up space in his chest. “Before I agree to this, I’d like to make a request.”

That piqued Talos’ interest. He was massive and encompassing on all sides, his sheer scent and presence effusing Lynd’s own logical and restrained compulsions.

“Before I leave, before I go back and report our…. success, I’d like to do one thing.”

Talos face was massive. Lynd would need days just to capture the outlines of his features. “Do tell, little prince.”

“I want to paint you.”

Confusion and then shock graced the man’s features. For the first time, true vulnerability lingered in the air. “That is a most unusual request.”

The tension remained. Lynd shrugged helplessly. “I’m an unusual person.”

“You’re a very small person,” Talos teased. He was dodging the question. “What are you? About the width of my finger? So much courage in such a small body.”

One of Talos’ fingers brushed down, and knocked Lynd on his back, but instead of offense, he couldn’t help the bubbling of laughter rising in his chest. He bravely batted the giant’s probing digit away and stared up at his newest compatriot in uncharacteristic challenge. “Well? What say you, Talos?”

“Any attempt worth the effort would take weeks, months even.” Talos warned, but he didn’t sound discouraged. Only exultant.

“Then it’s a good thing our people have so many troubles to address, I expect we will need to meet many times in the coming months.” Lynd stood, emboldened by Talos’ presence and his own intoxicating aura. “We have to be thorough, after all.”

“Thorough,” Talos repeated slowly, before the curl of a grin appeared once more. “Of course. Thorough.”


So this story was made in something of a rush. It’s gone through about twice as much editing time as it actually took to write at this point, and once I realized it I decided to to cut it short there, before this turned into another multi-thousand WIP that never sees the light of day.

Alas, in favor of actually giving something back to the community, I decided to cut it a little short.

The main idea behind the execution of this story was to just pick up with something without needing to give the relevant characters intricate backstories to bog down the reader. It’s just meant to be a glimpse, a peek behind the curtains if you will, of these three’s particular lives. Not to say that I won’t re-use them at some point.

Content Warning: NSFW, Growth, Shrink, M/ff, Poly relationship, Language, gentle

Estimated Reading Time: 14 minutes

“Sit still.”

The woman in front of him turns around and gives him a strange look.

“Sorry!” Mara says, coming to his rescue. She grabs Enrique’s hand and holds it up, the picture of a couple still in the honeymoon stage. “I’ve been wanting to see this movie for so long. I’ve just been driving him up the wall.”

The woman stares at the two of them, skeptical, but a not-so-quiet curse from the teens she’d been corralling draws her attention away.

“Thanks,” Enrique says, turning his attention back to the wriggling shape in his shirt. He taps his chest with his palm, firmly pressing the tiny woman inside his chest pocket against him.  “And you, stop moving around like that. People are getting suspicious.”

There’s no way for Ava to respond – not without giving away her presence – but her answering wiggles come across a lot more defiant and bratty than before.

Enrique sighs and turns to Mara in her floral print top and summer sweet smile. “Next time, you get to be the mule.”

She shrugs, remarking, “Fine by me. You know how she gets when you shrink her down like that. I thought you’d keep her somewhere where she’d make less trouble, if you catch my drift. Not your shirt pocket.”

He eyes her, unimpressed. “Last time we did that I ripped up my favorite outfit. You know I can’t control it when either of you get me going like that.”

“You poor thing.” Mara says nothing more until after she blithely smiles her whole order to the register and they’re let through the security check. As soon as they’re just out of earshot she turns to him and says, “I’m just saying, being trapped in an elevator with your cock and balls pinning me to a wall while she’s desperately trying to get you off? Sign me the fuck up.”

Enrique stumbles, stands upright, and fakes a cough. No one around pays them any mind, but he still feels exposed like this.

He glares at Mara. “You’re the devil.”

“Guilty,” she admits, composed. “Though I’d check myself first before accusing anyone of sin. Been having lustful thoughts lately, Enrique?” She punctuates this with a cursory nod and not-so-significant glance down at his crotch.

And then she beelines for the empty register at the snack bar, robbing him of a retort.

He groans, planting a palm against his forehead. “She’s going to be the death of me,” he mutters, aloud and to no one in particular.

Ava wiggles against his chest, and he can’t tell if it’s in agreement or because she’s throwing her lot in with Mara.

When Mara returns, it’s with a single bottle of water.

The next clerk checks Mara’s shoulder strap bag before waving them through the next partition, where all the theatres live. Though they’re early he and Mara enter the dim room, their conversation hushing as they listen for anyone else: other patrons or even any straggling cleaners.

“… okay, you’re good, babe,” Enrique whispers into the darkness. 

On cue, a miniature redhead pokes her head out of his pocket, supporting herself against the lip of his pocket.

“You jerk,” Ava says, kicking her heel back against him. He’s felt rain drops hit harder. “My leg was falling asleep. That’s why I was moving.”

“Sure you were,” Mara comments as they walk up the stairs to their seats. “I’ve seen you masturbate under the sheets, Ava, I know what it looks like when you’re getting off.”

Enrique isn’t looking at Ava when Mara says this, but he too knows Ava’s body feels like when she’s riding high from being the size of a quarter. He thought there’d been something familiar about her movements.

“Ava! What the hell! We could have gotten caught!”

Ah, he says that but the thought of her touching herself, pressed tight against his body like that…

His collar slides around his throat as he swells just a little larger.

Mara laughs, ever the pot-stirrer. “Try saying that when you don’t look like you’re about to pop that zipper off with your dick, love.”

“We should have just stayed home if you two were going to be like this.” He tries to surreptitiously adjust himself as they ascend the last step, but Mara’s knowing look back at him tells him how well he succeeds at that. “The only reason we did this tonight is because you didn’t want to pay full price for the three of us. I was fine with a night in, getting the fireplace going-”

Lips – sweet, delicious and hanging with a faint fragrance of cherries – interrupt him mid-sentence.

Ava squeaks, suddenly trapped between their two massive bodies. She writhes in place, pressed between Enrique and Mara, helpless and subject to their whims and gooseflesh broke out along his skin at the sensation. Mara runs a hand through his dark hair, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss his jawline, before breaking off and looking up at him.

“Losing control there,” she says, hand against his chest, cupping Ava’s pocket. Before he can answer, Mara plucks her up and out of his pocket like a flower from a field. The tiny woman struggles on instinct, but soon turns pliant and putty. “Gotta be careful there, Ri. Wouldn’t want to lose little Ava.”

Enrique groans, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he shakes his head to clear the thoughts running rampant and trudges his way down the aisle, dropping into his assigned seat with a thump that shakes the floor.

He looks out at the empty theatre. “You know, it’s pretty empty here. Almost like someone planned this.”

“Imagine that,” Mara says. 

There’s a wicked look in her eye as she passes Ava from hand to hand, rolling her tiny body over and over and running her fingers over every inch. Or half-inch, as the case was. 

Ava protests feebly, but that’s lost amidst Mara’s hums of pleasure.

They sat down next to him, Mara looking comparatively shorter than five minutes ago and Ava, so small as to fit spread eagle on the tip of one of his fingers.

He eyes his shrunken girlfriend in his fiancee’s hands. “Sounds like a certain someone whose turn it was to arrange date night this week.”

“Who could that have been?” Mara pinches Ava between her thumb and forefinger, rolling her back and forth along her thumb pad like a miniaturized stress toy. She dangles the little redhead from one foot in front of her face. “Who do you think it was, Ava?”

“Fuck,” Ava gasps, swaying. Even in the poorly lit room he sees the full-body flush of exertion and arousal, clear as day. “Fuck, Mara. Do that again.”

Mara contemplates this request before she complies, trapping Ava between her fingers once more.

He’d allowed himself some slack when picking out his clothing, but even so the slow steady rise of his shirt hem from his slacks and the cramped space in his shoes were evident how much of a failure that was.

And there was Mara still playing with Ava in hand, planting warm wet kisses against the shrunken woman’s form with something akin to hungry pleasure.

“Give her here,” he growls out. His voice escapes louder than intended, but that’s only because it’s taking everything he has not to grow further.

Mara drops Ava into his outstretched hand, and he’s right. With a grunt, he pulls at his collar, unbuttoning the top two buttons so he doesn’t choke in his own clothing. He rips his shoes off with gusto with his free hand and spends an inordinate amount of time eyeing the woman whose turn it was to be small tonight.

“What to do, what to do,” he thinks aloud. Ava stands up in his palm to look at him and, on a whim, he lets out a soft exhale, blowing her down as easily as a dandelion seed. “I have to keep you somewhere safe…”

He trails off as Mara slides down to her knees in front of him. Her dark tresses drape across his thigh as she trails kisses along the inseam.

“I can think of somewhere for her,” she murmurs, reaching his crotch.

He cups Mara’s face briefly. He’s large enough now that his palm covers half side of her head, the seat armrests struggling to contain his hips as he steadily grows to fill the space it affords him and more. In his other hand, Ava crawls over to the side of his palm, gaping down at the floor falling further away from her.

The wooden frame of the chair creaks ominously as he shifts forward, letting Mara pull down at his pantline, freeing him from its confines. Relief strikes him then as his cock is liberated from its hold, before pure unassailable desire floods through him as it smacks Mara in the cheek.

“You’re…massive.” Mara leans back and looks him up and down, craning her neck. “I can’t even get out of here unless I crawl under your legs, you’re literally blocking my way out.”

Enrique chuckles. “And what about you, Ava? Am I too big?”

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond. He tilts his hand and watches her tumble, free-falling for the barest second, before coming to a sudden landing on his shaft. She bounces, rolling down at a steep incline, before she corrects herself and stops, midway down his shaft, pressed against him like she were a mountain climber and he her mountain.

Mara scoots in, hesitant. Despite her earlier teasing she too is a little awed and intimidated by him at this size, where his ass is taking up the entire loveseat theatre chairs. Squinting against the dim light, she leans in closer to his cock, her own breaths coming in short and heavy.

“She’s grinding against you,” Mara says, mouth dropping open into a smile. “Oh my god. Look at her, she’s barely holding on, but I can hear her. Heya hun.” She presses Ava against him, and he jerks at the electrical shock of pleasure from just being touched. “Are you enjoying yourself? Are you really getting off in a movie theatre?”

Mara’s grip doesn’t fit across Enrique’s entire base anymore, but that still doesn’t stop her from beginning to stroke him. Up and down, soft but firm. He imagines he can feel Ava, trapped in her grip, stuck and helpless against his dick while Mara jerks him off.

“You’re such a tiny little slut,” Mara continues. For all that he’s grown over twice his size now, she’s fascinated with Ava, shrunken and helpless for the evening. “You enjoy rubbing against his cock like this, hun? Can you even feel her, Ri?”

“Not at all,” he huffs. He adjusts his seating, hearing the crunching of wood and fabric as he slides forward a little more to not bump his head on the ceiling. This plants Mara against his crotch, and he shudders at her gasp and reflexive grip of his inner thigh. “Keep going.”

He hears Mara swallow, but soon her ministrations upon him resume, and he bites his lip to not let out the rumble of pleasure building in his chest. She’s pinned now, no room to even eke out a getaway like before. His thighs come down on both sides of her head now, and her previously done up hair is a mess as she continues to jerk him in both hands, Ava’s little mewls of pleasure punctuating the seconds.

“I could- I could just grow. Fill this whole room. Forget the movie,” He says and wonder why he does. He’s never grown larger than this before.

Mara’s motions don’t skip a beat but he feels her grip on him tighten. “You’d…be enormous. Can you even get that big?”

He closes his eyes, biting back the groan as Mara’s hands now fail to cover his girth with both hands. “I don’t know. I’ve never gotten that big before. Used to – fuck, keep going – shrinking others.”

“…do you want to?”

“I don’t know.”

Mara stops. The cheeky, incorrigible woman stops. He can’t stop the thundering noise of displeasure, of need that escapes him, but she doesn’t back down. She looks up at him, defiant and glorious, as beautiful as the dawn, and she holds his cock in both hands as she says. “I want you to.”

The words have an immediate, almost narcotic, effect.

“Bigger,” she says, commencing her strokes. The fire building in his gut is rapidly encompassing everything he knows. “I want you bigger. Big enough to fill this room. Big enough to make me look as small as Ava.

“Where- where is she?” he gasps. He’d gotten too carried away, and lost track of her.

“Right here.” Mara holds up the tiny – miniature to him – woman. Ava’s a sodden, flushed mess, and even from his vantage point he can see the legacy twitches of an orgasm. Mara picks up the young woman lovingly, and kisses her back to coherence. “Well, love? What do you say? Want to see him get bigger? Grow? Want to see how big that-”

Ava rouses from her exhaustion to say something. Enrique’s too large to hear her, but he’s not so large as to miss the look of absolute delight cross Mara’s face.

“What? What did she say?” If she said yes, Enrique didn’t think he’d have the willpower to refuse them.

Mara drops Ava onto his crotch. She disappears into his pubic hair and his eyes lose track of her. With a grunt of effort, Mara pries herself up, climbing onto his thigh. She walks along until she came to the incline that is his abdomen. The movie theatre darkens, the first sign of previews.

In the darkness of the room he can almost believe it’s just the three of them at home now. Ava, tired but still enthusiastic, Mara in charge for the evening, and him so achingly willing and ready to care for the both of them, whatever may come. Even if it were him.

Mara voice reaches him, carrying tidings of his fortune.

“Ava agrees.”

As the crescendo and drums of the first preview comes on, Enrique closes his eyes.

“Next time,” he mutters, “I get to pick date night.”

Mara laughs, husky, already wrapping herself around his growing member. “Oh babe, It’s Ava’s turn next time, and now that she knows how big you can make someone? Just think.”

He does. The possibilities both thrill and arouse him.

“Now, are you going to grow for me, Ri?” Mara plants a single lava-hot kiss that spreads heat through the rest of him. “I want you fucking enormous. Fuck these chairs. Fuck this room. Fuck this movie. I want you to grow.”