Who We Were; Who We Are – Chapter 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Chapter

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

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

Estimated Reading Time: 17 minutes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah, just in love.” He grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The tension lining her shoulders faded.

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

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

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

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

“Hey hun?”


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

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

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

“Anytime. Want to talk about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t respond and kept pulling him away.

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

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

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

“The fuck?”

“Shit man, no way.”

“Can’t be she’s way too—”


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

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

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

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

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

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

But Mr. Stereotype wasn’t a priority.

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

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

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

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

She snorted. “We’re in public.”

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

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

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

She choked out a laugh and stopped averting his gaze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not to mention?” she pressed.

“It’s not a nice answer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like him already.”

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

“Love you too, dear, but seriously—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Remember Paris?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, he was getting hard just watching them.

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

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

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

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

Maya scooped Chloe into her palm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you talking about—”

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

Next Chapter


I have a document multiple pages long with pitches, lines, and ideas for #SizeKink stories: some gentle, some cruel, some smutty, and some soft. I call that document The Pit because it’s a hole I keep digging myself into.

This is just one such piece from that document. I hope you enjoy it.

Content Warnings: shrink, SFW, 2nd person pov, gentle

Estimated Reading Time: < 5 minutes

There is no word for the feeling of skin on skin in an embrace so careful it’s poetry. If there was, it’d be a wonderful, sexy word: capable of drawing the beginning and end of their body, the pleased hum of their heartbeat as it grows and grows and you shrink and shrink.

Your lips are parched with a thirst for affection only they can return, as you dwindle, and fall, and become something precious in their arms. Is that a blush? Are you warm? Is that hitch in their breath one of care, one of dare, or both?

It’s not long before they are holding you aloft, your feet kicking and swinging in the air, and still they hold you, murmuring all the things they want to do with you. Assurances and wishes and kisses.

They look at you like something wonderful, and their stare is hot, and stirs feelings in you so strong it’s a diving freefall into smallness. Their palm holds you now, and you lay aspread, gasping. Even that isn’t enough. they hold you to their chest, right below their heart.

You expect a colossal heartbeat but instead it feels like pulses of love leaping from them to you by touch. It’s not long before they can hold you with a finger at your back, the softness of their skin at your front, a plush heat that surrounds and protects and treasures.

There is no word for the feeling of your tiny body reaching for every piece of them, and their enormity clutching you close. The closest that comes to mind is one: Safe.


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.”