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.”
“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.”
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.
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.
“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.
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