Tiny Torments

[Justhereforamoment1]

I could do that. The next few I already have planned out so it'd have to happen after them, but I could make a sequel. Call it "Graduation Day". Anything in particular you'd like to see?

[Saxanas]

Yeah I like the girlfriend scenario! I'm not picky, I just really like the use of butt and farts to mentally and physically break a tiny gal hehe. Especially when they keep them around for a long long time, which you already write really well with your stories~

[AB23]

Loved that you remixed the Breaking Brianna scenario. Would love to see one with 2 cousins too.

[Justhereforamoment1]

Heyo everyone. Figured the collection of shorts could use some giant couple on tiny action. My next couple planned were a basic M/f and then a F/f but I can switch things up and work on the butt one requested earlier? Let me know!

---

Lily adjusted the hem of her dress, smoothing phantom creases as she stood on the edge of the booth’s cushioned seat.

Tinies rarely got a proper date—especially not with a giant—but here she was, perched across from Noah, a man carved from a romance novel’s fever dream. Broad shoulders, a strong jaw, deep brown eyes that locked onto her with warmth and curiosity, not the predatory glint most giants wielded. His smile shrank the room to just her, despite the chasm of size between them.

“Can I just say, I think it’s really sweet what you’re doing?” The waitress, a towering giantess, beamed at Noah as she set his drink down. “Not many guys would be so open-minded.”

Lily bit the inside of her cheek, forcing her smile to hold. She’d heard that line before—every tiny dating a giant had—but it still stung. Like she was a charity case, a dainty bauble for him to flaunt.

Noah chuckled, his voice a low, rolling thunder. “She’s a beautiful woman. Why wouldn’t I take her out?” He glanced down at Lily then, his expression softening.

Her cheeks blazed.

Beautiful.

She wasn’t sure if he meant it or if it was just charm, but she clung to it. She’d spent hours primping—her long hair cascading soft around her delicate face, makeup light but precise, her dress hugging her curves just right, the neckline dipping to tease a hint of cleavage.

She’d seen how giants usually eyed tinies—pity, boredom, hunger—but Noah’s gaze was different. Warm. Genuine.

“So, how’s the food?” he asked, nodding at her plate.

Lily twirled a bite of pasta on her tiny fork, grinning. “Perfect.”

The night was better than she’d ever dared hope.

Lily couldn’t stop smiling.

Conversation flowed like a river—easy laughs bubbling between bites of food and sips of wine. Noah was magnetic—confident but not arrogant, attentive without suffocating her. It felt real, like he truly liked her, not just the novelty of a tiny on his arm.

Other diners kept stealing glances. Some whispered behind their hands, some offered polite nods. A few tiny women at a nearby table shot her envious stares. Lily sat taller, feigning indifference but drinking it in.

For once, she wasn’t a speck in a giant’s world. She was his date.

When the check came, Noah slipped his card in without a glance. “I got it,” he said, flashing that effortless smile.

“You sure?” Lily asked, though she knew the answer.

“Of course.” He leaned back, watching her over his glass. “I don’t want you worrying about a thing tonight.”

Her stomach fluttered. She wasn’t used to this—being cherished, being desired. Her heart raced, and for once, it wasn’t from dread.

As they left, Noah scooped her into his palm, cradling her close to his chest as he wove through the crowded streets. She’d always hated being carried—too vulnerable, too easy to drop—but with him, it felt safe. Warm.

He set her gently on the passenger seat of his car—a sleek, leather-lined beast with tinted windows—securing the tiny harness over her lap.

“Where to now?” she asked, a buzz of excitement tingling through her.

He smirked, shifting into gear. “How about my place?”

Lily’s breath snagged. She’d sensed it coming—the night had been tilting this way—but hearing it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Unless,” he teased, glancing over, “you’re not that kind of girl.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Guess we’ll see.”

As the city lights streaked by, Lily let herself believe it—just for a little longer. She was a normal girl, capping a perfect date with a man who wanted her.

She didn’t know she’d walked into a snare.

Noah’s fingers curled around Lily’s tiny body as he stepped inside, his grip firm enough to remind her who held the power. He felt her shift in his hand, her soft legs pressing together, that nervous little hum vibrating off her.

Cute. She still thought this was a date.

Pathetic.

His eyes raked over her—tight dress barely concealing those thick thighs, her tits jiggling with every twitch, her ass perking up when she squirmed. She’d tried so hard—hair soft and flawless, lips glossy, a faint whiff of perfume clinging to her skin. She wanted him to want her.

And damn, he did.

Noah licked his lips as he carried her through the penthouse, dim lights bathing her tiny form in gold. She was so small in his hand, so easy to bend into whatever he craved.

“Nice place,” she murmured, voice light, trying to play it cool.

He smirked. “Yeah, it’s got its perks.”

She didn’t notice the other presence at first. Not until Noah eased his grip, letting her turn her head—just in time to see the towering woman sprawled on the couch, legs crossed, wine glass in hand. Bella’s dark eyes glinted, her lips curling into a slow, wicked grin.

“Hey there, tiny,” Bella purred.

Lily froze. Noah felt her stiffen in his palm, the quick gasp she sucked in as it clicked.

He squeezed her harder, smirk stretching wide.

“Welcome home.”

Lily’s breath hitched, her wide eyes darting between Noah and the woman on the couch. Her heart slammed, a cold dread sinking into her gut.

“What… what’s this?” she asked, voice small, quaking. “Who is she?”

Noah chuckled, his fingers tightening just enough to flex his dominance. “This is Bella. My girlfriend.”

Lily blinked. The word didn’t compute. Girlfriend? Then why the date? The kisses?

The way he’d made her feel special?

Bella swirled her wine, eyeing Lily with lazy amusement. “Aw, she’s lost,” she cooed, smirking. “You didn’t tell her, huh, babe?”

Noah grinned. “Wanted her to enjoy her little fantasy a bit longer.” He tilted Lily toward Bella. “But now it’s time for the real stuff, sweetheart.”

Lily squirmed. “Real stuff?”

Bella leaned in, setting her glass down with a quiet clink. “We wanted a toy,” she said conspiratorially, like she was letting Lily in on a little secret.

The words hung thick and heavy. Lily’s stomach plummeted.

“A toy?” she whispered.

Noah hummed. “Yeah. Something fresh. Something soft. Something we can play with together.”

Lily shook her head fast. “No, no—this was a date.” Her voice trembled, panic rising. “You liked me. We talked, we laughed, you kissed me—”

Bella rolled her eyes. “Sure. That’s how you test a new pet—see if it’s fun, if it behaves.” She smirked. “And you were all in, weren’t you?”

Lily’s breath quickened. This couldn’t be real.

Noah’s grip shifted, fingers pressing into her thighs, locking her still. “You got all pretty for me. Wanted me to want you.” His voice oozed mockery. “Well, I do. Just not how you pictured.”

Bella leaned closer, dark eyes gleaming. “And now,” she purred, brushing a finger down Lily’s shaking frame, “you’re ours.”

Lily thrashed, but Noah’s grip didn’t flinch. His fingers dug into her thighs, pinning her effortlessly as he let out a low chuckle.

“Look at her,” he murmured, turning her for Bella to see. “Still thinks she gets a choice.”

Bella smirked, dragging a nail down Lily’s bare arm. The tiny flinched, breath snagging. “They always do at first,” Bella purred. “It’s adorable.”

Lily’s chest heaved, her mind racing for an escape. “Please—this isn’t right,” she gasped, eyes bouncing between them. “You can’t—”

Noah’s fingers flexed, wrenching a yelp from her. “Can’t what?” His voice taunted, thick with glee. “Have a little fun? Use what we caught?”

Bella laughed, leaning back, legs spreading just enough to flaunt her ease. “Oh, sweetie,” she drawled. “You walked right into it.” Her gaze raked Lily’s trembling body, hungry and cold. “Let him carry you, touch you. That wasn’t a date.”

She grinned. “That was us picking you out.”

Lily shook her head hard. “No, I thought—”

Noah leaned in, his breath hot against her. “Yeah, you thought.” His grin widened. “Now you know.”

Bella sighed, stretching with a lazy yawn. “Enough chatter.” She glanced at Noah, eyes glinting. “Let’s see what she’s got.”

Noah’s grin sharpened as he tilted Lily up, giving Bella a long, slow look at her quivering little body.

“Let’s unwrap her,” he muttered.

His free hand snagged the neckline of her dress—that tight, flimsy thing she’d fussed over for hours. One sharp tug, and it tore with a loud rip, splitting down the front.

Lily shrieked, her tiny arms flailing to cover herself, but the fabric peeled away fast, leaving her bare under the cool air.

Noah chuckled, deep and rough. “Check out those tits.”

Her small breasts bounced free, nipples stiff and pink, catching the dim glow. He flicked the ruined dress aside, letting it crumple on the floor. His thumb slid over one breast, slow and firm, pressing into the soft flesh until she gasped, her body jerking in his grip.

She couldn’t fight him.

Bella leaned in, smirking wide. “That ass looks tasty too.”

She snatched Lily from Noah’s hand, flipping her over like a doll. Her nails sank into Lily’s thick thighs, spreading them wide, showing off the thin lace hugging her pussy. Bella’s fingertip traced the damp edge, teasing the fabric.

“Dressed up all sweet for you, babe,” she purred, then landed a quick smack on Lily’s ass.

Lily yelped, her tiny frame jolting hard.

“Please—stop—” Her voice cracked, small and desperate, but they didn’t blink.

Noah was already stripping, yanking his shirt over his head. It hit the floor, baring his broad chest, thick arms flexing as he shed his jeans. His cock sprang free, hard and heavy, veins pulsing, the tip slick with precum.

Bella didn’t lag behind.

Her dress slipped off in one fluid pull, pooling at her feet. Her full tits swayed, her pussy glistened under the light, and her round ass jiggled faintly as she stepped closer, grinning.

Noah grabbed Lily back, pressing her against his chest.

“She’s so small,” he grunted.

His fingers rolled her slow, squeezing her breasts tight, dragging her plump ass along his skin. She squirmed, her little hands clawing at him, but it was nothing—just a faint scratch against his grip. Bella watched, her hand sliding down to tease her clit, eyes locked on Lily’s helpless wriggling.

“Use her, babe,” Bella said, voice thick with want.

Noah didn’t wait.

He flipped Lily face-down, pressing her tiny body against his cock with a slow, deliberate force that radiated raw control. Her soft frame barely spanned its girth, her delicate curves molding to the searing heat of his length.

He groaned low, dragging her up the throbbing shaft, her plush tits smearing through the thick, sticky precum leaking from his swollen tip. Her face sank into the slick head, her cheeks coated in the musky mess as he rubbed her down, then up again, savoring every frantic twitch of her body.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his breath hitching as her tiny form writhed against him.

Lily’s muffled shrieks buzzed against his skin, her little hands clawing uselessly at the pulsing veins, her legs kicking in desperate bursts. Noah’s grip tightened, his fingers curling around her waist with unyielding possession, pinning her as he ground her harder into his cock. Her soft thighs squeezed together, her plump ass jiggling faintly with each rough drag, sending sharp jolts of pleasure ripping through him.

He tilted her slightly, letting her breasts drag along the sensitive underside, her stiff nipples catching on the ridges of his flesh, her glossy lips parting in a choked gasp as his precum smeared across her face, matting her soft hair into damp, sticky strands.

“Keep fighting, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice thick with dark pleasure. “Makes it so much better.”

He rocked his hips, slow and punishing, letting her feel the full, unrelenting weight of his cock—thick, throbbing, inescapable. Her tiny body shuddered against him, her struggles only grinding her deeper into his slick heat, her soft curves drenched in his mess.

Noah’s breath grew ragged, his cock twitching with every helpless squirm, the sensation coiling into a raw, hungry edge that pulsed through his veins.

Bella laughed, stepping closer. “That looks like too much fun. Let me have a go.”

She grabbed Lily from his hand, fingers slick with her own juices, and shoved the tiny between her thick thighs with commanding ease. Lily’s face sank into the dripping folds of Bella’s pussy, her small body swallowed by the suffocating heat as Bella ground her down hard.

Lily whimpered—her tiny hands grasping at Bella’s clit, trying to push away, but it only made her shudder with pleasure.

“She’s just right,” Bella moaned, her voice thick with lust.

She rocked her hips, dragging Lily’s trembling form along her clit in slow, relentless strokes. The tiny’s arms flailed, her muffled cries lost in the slick mess as Bella smeared her breasts and stomach with her arousal, coating her completely in the wet heat. Then, with a wicked grin, Bella pulled her out and flipped her over.

“Here too,” she muttered, her tone low and predatory.

She pressed Lily feet-first against her tight asshole, her fingers curling around the tiny’s waist with unshakable control. Lily screamed, high and frantic, as Bella rubbed her up and down the puckered hole, teasing the clenching rim with her squirming body.

Slowly, deliberately, she pushed—Lily’s plump ass sinking in first, her thighs kicking wildly in the tight, humid heat as it swallowed her inch by inch. Bella moaned, savoring the stretch, the way Lily’s soft curves molded to the suffocating grip, her tiny struggles buzzing against her insides like a live wire.

“Fuck, she fits just right,” Bella gasped, her breath hitching as she worked Lily in and out.

She ground her hips, slow and deliberate, dragging the tiny deeper, then pulling her back just enough to feel the clench again. Lily’s muffled sobs echoed faintly, her chest and head the only parts not engulfed as Bella’s asshole tightened around her, the searing heat an inescapable cage.

Bella’s pussy dripped onto the floor, her arousal mixing with Lily’s trembling desperation, her pleasure spiking with every frantic twitch trapped inside her.

Noah growled, stepping up behind her. “Let’s wrap this up.”

His cock brushed Bella’s ass, hard and leaking. He grabbed Lily from her grip, slick and trembling, and held her up. Her legs dangled, kicking weakly, her body still soaked from Bella’s pussy.

“Time to dive in,” he said.

He shoved Lily head-first into Bella’s cunt with brutal, unrelenting force. She screamed, the sound cutting off as he forced her in, her tiny frame sinking into the wet, pulsing heat.

Bella moaned, loud and raw, her walls clenching around Lily’s wriggling body as Noah lined his cock up, the tip brushing Lily’s kicking feet. With a single, savage thrust, he slammed in hard.

The stretch hit them both.

Lily was pinned—trapped between Noah’s thick shaft and Bella’s throbbing walls, her tiny body slick and helpless in the tight squeeze. Every thrust ground her deeper, her soft curves pressed into the slick heat, her muffled screams sending shivers through Bella’s pussy as Noah pounded in, grunting with each slam.

His cock throbbed against her trembling form, the friction of her squirming body sending sharp jolts of pleasure through him.

“She’s—damn—she’s perfect,” he groaned.

His hands gripped Bella’s hips, pulling her back into him, driving his cock deeper. Bella rocked back, panting. “Harder—use her—shove her deeper—”

Her voice broke into a loud moan, her walls tightening around Lily, squeezing her against Noah’s shaft. He thrust faster, hips slapping against Bella’s ass, the wet smack of it filling the room. Lily couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t move—just a slick, squirming toy caught in their rhythm, her tiny frame shuddering with every brutal push.

Noah’s breath hitched.

Heat coiled tight in his gut, his cock pulsing harder with every slam. Bella’s moans peaked, her pussy clenching, and then—hot, thick cum flooded around Lily. Noah groaned, pumping deep, his release soaking her as he thrust through it, coating the walls surrounding her and her tiny body in the mess.

Bella shuddered, her own climax ripping through her.

Her walls squeezed tight, crushing Lily into Noah’s cock even harder, trapping her in the throbbing heat, cum and slick mixing around her quivering form. Noah kept going, slower now, dragging his cock through the mess, letting her feel every twitch.

They collapsed onto the couch, still tangled.

Noah’s cock softened but stayed inside, pinning Lily in the wet prison. Bella sighed, lazy and spent, her pussy still twitching around them both. Cum dripped down her thighs, pooling on the leather beneath.

“She’s a keeper,” Noah said breathlessly.

His eyes were half-closed, smirking as he leaned back. Bella hummed, already drifting off, her breath slowing.

“Keep her in there,” she mumbled.

They didn’t move her.

Didn’t check if their toy was still breathing.

Just fell asleep like that—Lily stuck deep inside Bella, surrounded by Noah’s cum, her tiny body too weak to fight the suffocating heat. The penthouse went quiet, their heavy breaths the only sound.

Inside, Lily’s world was a haze.

The heat pressed in, thick and humid, clinging to her skin like a second layer. Every breath was shallow, tasting of salt and musk, her chest heaving against the slick walls that held her tight.

Her body ached—thighs trembling, arms pinned uselessly at her sides, the weight of Noah’s cum soaking her from head to toe.

She couldn’t move.

Bella’s pussy twitched around her, a slow, lazy pulse that squeezed her tighter, dragging a faint whimper from her lips. The wet heat was everywhere—coating her face, matting her hair, dripping down her legs. She felt Noah’s cock still there, soft but heavy, pressing her deeper into the mess.

Her mind spun.

This wasn’t what she’d wanted—dressed up, smiling, hoping for something sweet. Now she was theirs, a toy for their pleasure, her soft body twisted and ravaged. The thought seared, but her skin prickled too—raw, alive, caught in the suffocating grip of their sex.

She squirmed, just a little.

The walls clenched in response, a low hum rumbling from Bella’s sleeping form. Lily froze, heart pounding, her tiny frame shuddering in the dark, wet trap.

She was alive—barely—but trapped, lost in the heat of them, waiting for whatever came next.

[Justhereforamoment1]

A more basic one, less crazy things and more bread and butter M/f content. Its also my personal favorite so far. Don't know why. Hope you like it!

---

Faye thought college would be her salvation. Six inches tall, a tiny with a scholarship, a dorm room with a desk carved out just for her.

Freedom.

She’d bled for this—late nights hunched under a makeshift lamp, tiny fingers cramping around a pencil as she wrestled textbooks bigger than her bed.

She wasn’t just another tiny doomed to warm some rich giant’s sheets—she had ambition.

A degree in literature, maybe journalism. She wanted to write, to claw her own space in the world, to prove tinies were more than trinkets or vermin.

She’d pictured quiet nights buried in notes, her brunette waves tucked behind her ears, her cute face aglow under her lamp as she scratched out ideas. Her body—soft curves with a ripe chest and a large, plush ass—stayed muted in simple clothes.

She didn’t crave eyes.

Just respect.

Just a shot.

Then she met her roommate, Tara. Loud, reckless Tara, who smeared makeup on the mirror and left fast-food wrappers strewn across the floor. Who cranked music, laughed too loud, and hauled in guys every night—big, sweaty giants reeking of beer and sex.

Faye learned to fade. To make herself a ghost. She’d seen how they leered at tinies—heard the chuckles, the crude jabs, the tales swapped over swigs of liquor. Silence was her armor, and she wrapped it tight around herself.

Until Tara’s new boyfriend, Tyler, showed up with him.

Mark.

He sauntered in behind Tyler one muggy night, lean and sharp-eyed, scanning the room like it was his domain. Faye froze on her desk, pencil trembling in her grip, her brown hair spilling soft over her shoulders.

His gaze locked on her—dark, ravenous—and a slow, crooked smile split his face.

“Well, damn,” he said, voice low and thick. “Who’s this?”

Tara flicked a hand, barely looking up. “Just Faye. She’s boring.”

Mark didn’t seem to agree. “She’s cute,” he murmured, stepping closer, his shadow swallowing her whole. Faye’s pulse hammered, her breasts heaving with a quick breath under her shirt, and he smirked down at her.

After that, whenever Tyler showed up, Mark trailed along—and for Faye, it meant plenty of 'quality time' with a needy new 'friend.'

---

“Damn, man, remind me again why you didn’t mention your girlfriend’s roommate?” Mark’s voice sliced through the dorm, laced with dark amusement. He sprawled on Tara’s bed, jeans shoved past his hips, one hand lazily pumping his cock. Between his grip and the pulsing shaft?

Faye.

Her tiny, naked body thrashed, slick with sweat, pressed tight against the searing heat of his dick.

Her shredded dress hung in tatters, barely veiling the plush swell of her ass or the jiggle of her chest—sweet, ripe handfuls bouncing with every slow, ruthless drag along his length. Her damp strands clung to her delicate face, soaked with sweat and terror, framing wide, pleading eyes.

Tyler’s laugh echoed from the couch across the hall, his arm slung around Tara as they watched a movie. “Didn’t think you’d care about a six-inch virgin.”

Mark’s grip tightened, crushing her harder against his cock. Her muffled sobs buzzed against his skin, sending a jolt up his spine. “Yeah? Well, you should see her now.”

He pressed her face into his leaking slit, smearing her cheeks with thick, sticky precum, coating her delicate features in his filth. “She’s a fucking natural.”

Faye whimpered, her small hands clawing feebly at his skin, her large ass quivering as she writhed.

Tyler snorted. “Shit, man. You’re having too much fun with that.”

Tara kept her eyes on the screen, unbothered by her roommate’s ruin.

Mark chuckled, rolling his hips, letting her soft curves mold to every ridge and vein. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

His fingers dug into her butt, kneading the plump flesh as he dragged her down slow, relishing every tremor. “Soft little thing like this? Feels fucking perfect.”

Her legs kicked, useless against his power. “Please—stop—” Her voice splintered, small and raw, barely cutting through the wet squelch of her body on his cock.

Mark grinned, grinding her harder. “Hear that? Little thing’s begging.”

Tyler took a slow swig of beer. “Think she’ll shut up eventually?”

“She’ll learn,” Mark murmured, his strokes turning savage. Faye’s screams shattered into gasps, her strength ebbing as he used her, her tiny form shining with sweat and his heat.

Her dark locks plastered to her neck, her tits bouncing wildly, her ass rippling with every thrust against him. “Just gotta break her in first.”

His breath snagged. Heat coiled tight in his gut, his cock pulsing harder.

“Fuck—gonna—”

He groaned low, his cock jerking hard. Thick cum blasted over her, the first jet slamming into her tiny frame, flooding her senses, drenching her curves in a hot, sticky wave. She choked, sputtering, her sweet face twisting as it poured over her, coating her lush body.

Mark kept pumping, milking it out, rubbing her through the mess—her ass slick with it, her tits dripping as he smeared it over her trembling form, his grip firm and possessive.

Tyler whistled. “Damn. You ruin her yet?”

Mark leaned back, dragging Faye’s limp, cum-soaked form along his shaft. Her hair stuck to her cheeks in wet strands, her chest glistening, her soft butt shining with his release.

“Nah,” he panted, pressing her face to his leaking slit, his cock still hard and primed for more, smirking. “Just getting started.”

---

Days dissolved into a haze of heat and despair.

Mark didn’t relent. Every night he was over, Faye was his—plucked from her desk mid-study, her books kicked aside, her tiny, naked body shoved against his cock while Tara and Tyler fucked in the background.

Her brunette waves bounced as he moved her, her breasts swaying, her plump butt jiggling with each brutal drag.

He’d grin, muttering filthy things—“So fucking sexy,” “Squirm harder, baby”—as he used her, cumming over her trembling frame, her soft skin gleaming with his mess, then tossing her back like garbage when he was done.

One night, he absentmindedly stroked his dick with her, grinding her bare body against the leaking tower of flesh while he smoked a joint, laughing with Tyler about some party. Her cum-streaked tits pressed flat, her thighs twitching as he rocked her up and down slow.

It was a torturous drag that coated her whole body in his filth, her fine features drowned in him, her gasps lost in the haze of smoke, her body sending shivers of pleasure up his spine.

She’d tried slipping a note under the door once, a shaky plea for help scratched onto a torn page. The RA had laughed it off—“Tinies overreact”—and flicked it back.

Another time, he shoved her into his boxers during a party Tara wouldn’t let her skip, letting her writhe against his half-hard cock while he drank and bantered with friends, her muffled cries swallowed by the thumping music.

Her curves soaked up his precum, her cute face buried in the stifling heat of him, smothered between pulsing flesh and musty fabric.

She’d been trapped there for hours, barely breathing, until he pulled her out at the end to stroke himself and cum on her face, leaving her a sputtering wreck.

She’d screamed for help the whole time, but the partygoers just chuckled—“Sounds like someone’s having fun.”

Another evening, he lounged on a chair in Tara’s living room, lazily stroking himself while Faye dangled in his grip, her naked skin shining in the dim light.

Her brown locks tangled around her shoulders, her chest bouncing faintly as he dragged her along his shaft, her large ass soaked with sweat and precum.

He barely glanced at her, laughing with Tara and Tyler—mid-makeout on the couch—about something trivial, while she squirmed helplessly against him, her lush frame gleaming in the faint glow.

Each time, he’d finish with that same slow rub—coating her in his thick, warm cum, smirking as he chatted on, her broken whimpers just background noise.

Her body shone as he left her there, trembling and used.

Then Tara moved out.

She packed her shit one weekend, giggling about shacking up with Tyler full-time. “Hey, Mark,” she called, tossing him a key. “You want the room? Rent’s cheap.”

He caught it midair, smirking. “Hell yeah.”

Faye’s stomach plummeted. Even though he’d been here most nights, she’d clung to the rare moments when he’d crash at his own place.

Now he’d be here—always.

She barely slept, barely ate, her once-bright eyes dulled with dread behind her tangled locks. Her ripe frame—her tits, her thick ass—felt heavier now, burdened by what loomed ahead.

She’d thought about the cops once, when he’d left her alone for an hour. But she’d heard the stories—tinies filing complaints, only to get brushed off. “Not worth the paperwork,” they’d say.

Mark moved in the next night, dumping his stuff in a corner. Faye stayed on her desk, curled tight, her skin prickling in the cool air, praying he’d leave her be.

He didn’t.

“New digs, new rules,” he muttered, scooping her up. His fingers curled around her, rough and possessive, digging into her ass as he shoved his pants down. “First rule? No clothes.”

Her shredded dress hit the floor, leaving her bare—her breasts bouncing faintly, her brunette waves spilling over her shoulders, her cute face pale with fear.

After that, Faye never wore anything again.
Life became a prison of flesh. When he left for class, he tucked her into his boxers, her tiny, naked body pressed against his cock, the heat and musk choking her as he walked.

Her chest mashed against him, her soft backside soaked in his precum by the time he got home. He’d pull her out glistening, grinning.

“Miss me?” he’d taunt, pressing her cum-slicked face to the tip of his cock, her small tongue trembling as she licked it off, gagging on the salt coating her cute face.

At night, he’d piss right at her, aiming for her face—hot streams splashing over her cheeks, dripping down her curves, pooling around her shaking thighs.

“Drink up,” he’d order, smirking as she sputtered, her brunette hair plastered to her skin with the wet mess.

Cum became her meals—thick, warm globs he’d feed her after jacking off, smearing it over her breasts, her butt, her face when she couldn’t take more. Her body gleamed—tits dripping, rear slick, hair tangled with his release.

One time, he held her upside down after, letting it drip over her delicate face while he laughed, her breasts shining with the sticky load, her large cheeks trembling in his grip.

She stopped fighting. Stopped begging.

The bright-eyed girl who’d dreamed of college was gone—replaced by a twitching, cum-soaked toy, her lush body existing only for his pleasure.

---

The TV flickered, explosions lighting up the dim room. Mark sprawled on the couch, legs spread, one hand lazily pumping his cock.

Faye was pressed against it.

Her once-smooth brunette hair clung to her cute face in matted, cum-streaked strands, her naked body quivering—her chest bouncing faintly with each slow stroke, her plump ass twitching as he dragged her along his shaft.

Her skin glistened, slick with his mess, her curves shining in the faint glow—tits coated, backside dripping, thighs shuddering.

She didn’t scream anymore. Just whimpered, soft and fractured, her dull eyes staring into nothing. She’d stopped hoping someone would hear—stopped believing anyone would care.

Tinies didn’t matter, not to them. Not to anyone.

“Fuckin’ good movie,” he muttered, barely glancing at her. His thumb rolled over her ass, pressing her tighter into his cock, a low hum rumbling in his chest as she squirmed weakly, her cum-slicked rack sliding against him. “You like it, Faye?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

He smirked, sinking deeper into the couch, his cock twitching against her trembling, glistening body. He dragged her slow, letting her soft curves grind into him, her helpless twitches feeding his lazy pleasure.

The movie droned on, but he kept her there, rubbing her along him absentmindedly, her tiny form a wet, warm toy in his hand, her brunette hair a tangled wreck, her cute face lost under the sheen of his cum.

This was home now.

[Saxanas]

I also really like the idea of a giant kidnapping a tiny girl and using her for typical sex slave stuff at first, but then one day he discovers how amazing it feels to have her pleasure his butthole. It's like a sexual awakening and makes it 100x worse for the hopeless tiny. It could also be a means to keep her in line when her will starts to break. Farts are of course optional to your taste but it'd certainly make for some wicked scenarios hehe~!

[Justhereforamoment1]

Another purely F/f for those that enjoy it. I'm thinking of working on the butt one next.

---

Chloe slipped through the dorm bathroom door, bare feet brushing the icy tiles. The clock had crept past midnight, and the co-ed showers—cavernous stalls carved for giants, with tiny showerheads bolted low—should’ve been a ghost town. She’d dodged the daytime crush all week, sick of giants’ stares clawing at her skin, their whispers slithering up her spine.

The air hung heavy, thick with stale steam and a faint whiff of soap lingering in the haze.

She clutched her towel tight, knuckles whitening.

The stalls sprawled before her, wide and shadowy, white tiles glinting under dim, flickering lights. Her eyes darted to the mini showerhead in the nearest one—a stubby nozzle hugging the floor, dwarfed by the giant spout towering overhead. Progressive, they called it—tinies and giants sharing space.

Chloe’s lips twisted into a bitter frown.

Right, until you’re a smear under someone’s boot.

She let her towel drop to the bench outside, her thin nightshirt peeling off slow, clinging to her damp skin in the humid air. A shiver rippled through her as it fell, baring her small, soft frame. Her hair—long, dark, tangled from sleep—cascaded over her shoulders, grazing the tops of her perky tits as she stepped in, tiles slick and cold beneath her soles.

She twisted the mini knob.

A sputter coughed out, then a warm stream trickled free, shaky but steady. She tilted her head back, letting it drench her hair, water sliding slow down her scalp, tracing her delicate collarbone, teasing the curve of her chest. Her nipples stiffened under the spray, goosebumps prickling along her slender arms.

She grabbed her soap bar—tiny, worn smooth—and rubbed it between her palms, coaxing out a thin, creamy lather.

The water pattered around her, a soft rhythm against the tiles.

She shut her eyes, smoothing the soap over her skin—up her arms, across her slim neck, down the dip of her waist. Bubbles clung to her fingers, slick and warm, as she lathered her hips, her full thighs, the faint scent threading through the steam.

No leers, no giants—just the hiss of water, the drip on tile, the soft squeak of suds on her curves.

Her breath softened, tension bleeding into the quiet.

Heavy footsteps thudded outside.

Chloe’s eyes snapped open, soap slipping in her grip.

Too loud—giant loud.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she crouched low, pressing against the stall wall, water still dribbling through her hair. She held her breath, praying they’d pick another stall, praying—

A shadow swallowed the light.

Gina strode in, all lush curves and careless swagger, her towel slung loose over one shoulder. A giantess—tall, thick, her dark hair pinned in a messy bun, wet strands kissing her neck from the dorm’s heat. Her skin gleamed with a faint sheen of sweat, beads glistening along her collarbone, her bare feet slapping the tiles without hesitation.

Chloe whimpered, shrinking back.

Gina didn’t notice her at first.

She flicked her towel aside—it landed with a wet smack—and tugged her tank top off with languid ease, her heavy tits spilling free, swaying as she shed her shorts. Her plump ass jiggled, full and ripe, water droplets already clinging to her wide hips in the steamy air.

She stepped under the giant showerhead, cranking it on full blast.

Water roared down.

It hammered Gina’s broad shoulders, streaming over her curves, tracing the dip of her spine, pooling at her feet and flooding the stall. Chloe gasped—a choked, desperate sound—as the deluge crashed over her, crushing her under its weight, the mini showerhead choking beneath the tide.

Soap suds stung her eyes.

She swiped at them, her long hair tangling wet across her face.

Gina turned, soap in hand, and froze.

Her dark eyes locked onto Chloe—small, drenched, trembling against the wall. A slow, wicked smirk curled her lips, water dripping from her lashes as she tilted her head, drinking in the sight.

“Well, well, well,” she purred, voice low and thick with heat. “Look at you, all wet and ready. Why don’t you help me out tonight?”

Chloe’s breath hitched as she lunged to run. “Wait, no, Gina, please—” But Gina’s hand shot down, snagging her fast.

Gina laughed, a rich, sultry rumble that cut through the steam. “Oh, you know my name already? That’s adorable.”

Her fingers curled around Chloe’s small body, warm and slick, pinning her arms tight. Water poured over them, soaking Chloe’s hair into a dripping mess. Her plump breasts spilled between Gina’s fingers as she kicked her slender legs, thrashing to break free.

Gina didn’t flinch.

“You’ll help a girl out, right? Be my little scrub?” she teased, glee dripping from her tone.

She hoisted Chloe to her face, dragging the tiny’s squirming body across her skin—soft, warm, soap-slick.

“Please, stop,” Chloe begged, her voice quaking.

Her full breasts mashed against Gina’s face, suds smearing across her cheeks as water streamed down. Gina slid Chloe over her mouth, popping one breast inside, her tongue teasing the nipple before clamping down with a sharp bite, marking the soft flesh and wrenching a choked scream from Chloe’s throat.

She pulled her out with a wet pop, a bite mark blooming red on the tender skin.

Gina dragged Chloe slow over her collarbone, the tiny’s perky tits flattening against the curve as she whimpered, soap stinging her nose. Gina turned, aiming the spray directly at her.

Water flooded Chloe’s mouth.

It choked her cries into wet, gasping sobs. “No, no, no,” she sputtered as Gina slid her down to her heavy tits. Thick, creamy suds spilled over Gina’s chest, coating Chloe’s soft belly and thighs as she unleashed a long, terrified wail.

The giantess’s breasts pressed in, warm and yielding, her stiff nipples dragging across Chloe’s skin. The tiny’s wriggling sent shivers up Gina’s spine.

She pressed Chloe to one, rubbing her struggling form in slow circles, soft moans slipping from her lips at the sensation. This was shaping up to be a damn good shower.

She moved Chloe down to her stomach, scrubbing her belly and sides, ensuring every inch was lathered with the tiny’s form, then paused.

“Oops, missed a spot,” Gina teased, sliding her back up.

She tucked Chloe into her armpit, pressing her into the warm, slick hollow. Chloe’s screams muffled into low, panicked whimpers. “No, please,” her small hands clawed at the giantess’s flesh as soap lathered thick, dripping down her side.

Her hair matted against her face as Gina ground her in, using Chloe’s face to scrub every crevice. The pungent reek of sweat and unwashed skin invaded her nose, inescapable as she was used.

Her breasts squished tight under the pressure, water washing over her, her cries steady but fading.

Gina hummed, lazy and low.

She pulled Chloe out, dangling her by one leg, and ran her along her thick thighs. “Stop, n-no,” Chloe stammered, her screams dissolving into sputtering sobs as water streamed down Gina’s legs, soap coating her trembling form.

Chloe’s kicks slid off the glistening muscle.

Her full thighs smeared suds, her hair a soapy snarl as Gina dragged her up, over the swell of her hips, then back down to her feet.

Gina rubbed her along the arch of her foot, the sole warm and rough.

“N-nooo,” Chloe choked, her scream splintering into a ragged burst. Her breasts flattened against the heel, her legs twitching feebly.

Gina used her big toe to tease Chloe’s inner thigh, drawing a shudder from the tiny’s frame.

“Almost there,” Gina said, a smirk tugging at her lips.

She flipped Chloe onto her stomach, sliding her down to her plump ass. The cleft was warm, slick with soap, and Chloe’s cries slurred.

“N-n-n—”

Incoherent, terrified, as Gina pressed her deep inside. The giantess’s cheeks clenched around her, soft but crushing.

Lather coated Chloe’s back, her slender legs kicking faintly as she sobbed. The weight of the flesh, the streaming water—she couldn’t breathe.

Gina’s smirk sharpened.

She pulled Chloe out, gripping her tight, and held her up to her face.

Chloe tried to beg, “Please—let me go…” She sobbed, choking on the water.

Gina just smiled. “Oh, but there’s one last place you haven’t cleaned!” She lowered Chloe to her crotch. “Make it good down there,” she cooed, pressing the tiny’s soaked body against her pussy.

The wet folds parted, hot and slick, swallowing Chloe’s face, her chest.

She wailed, “N-nn,” her words lost in a long, shuddering sound, muffled by the flesh around her. Gina moved her in and out slow, Chloe’s form teasing her clit with each drag and push, water mingling with the dripping arousal between them.

Chloe couldn’t fight anymore.

Soap seared her throat, water clogged her nose, and Gina’s pussy pressed in—warm, pulsing, slick with more than just the shower. Chloe twitched feebly, her small hands fluttering, legs jerking weakly.

Gina groaned low, tilting her hips.

With a slow thrust, she shoved Chloe fully inside—head-first, her tiny body sinking into the tight, throbbing heat.

Chloe’s voice broke.

Her wails faded into choked, wordless sobs—soft, trembling gasps—soap and slickness coating her tongue, her hair matted to her face.

Gina’s walls pulsed around her, tight and hot.

Each weak kick sank Chloe deeper.

Gina leaned back against the tiles, water pounding her shoulders, her full breasts swaying as she settled in. She smirked down at her pussy, spreading the slick folds with her fingers, teasing herself with Chloe’s faint squirming.

“F-fuck, keep it up in there,” she muttered, voice thick with lust.

Her hand lingered, rubbing her clit in slow, lazy circles, dragging out the pleasure as Chloe’s feeble struggles buzzed inside—her legs kicking faintly, her soft hips shifting weakly. Gina gripped one of Chloe’s legs between her fingers, using it to pull her out and push her deeper, letting the tiny’s wriggles stroke her walls just right.

She moaned, low and raw.

Her other hand slid up to cup her heavy breast, kneading the soft flesh slow and deliberate. She pinched her nipple hard, twisting it as water streamed over her quivering belly, her thighs flexing with each roll of her hips.

Chloe’s sobs vibrated through her, sending electric jolts of pleasure through her pussy.

Gina tilted her head back, water dripping off her chin, her smirk widening as she worked Chloe like a toy—slow, selfish, savoring every kick. Her fingers pressed harder on her clit, rubbing steadily, her pussy clenching tight around the tiny’s limp form.

“Perfect little scrub,” she purred.

Her moans deepened, thighs clenching at the mounting heat, drawing it out. Chloe’s faint whimpers—constant, broken—pulsed against her walls, pushing the fire higher. Gina’s thighs trembled, her belly quivering as she squeezed her tit again, nails biting in.

She shuddered hard.

Her pussy clamped down, a wet rush soaking Chloe as she came, hips jerking sharp against the tiny’s trapped body. She panted, dragging her fingers off her clit slow, letting the aftershocks ripple through her pulsing walls.

Her curves quivered as she caught her breath.

Then she reached in, fingers slick, and pulled Chloe out—slowly, letting the tiny’s drenched form slide free with a faint, wet squelch.

Chloe dangled upside down by her leg, limp and shaking.

She dripped with water, soap, and Gina’s release, her hair plastered to her cheeks, her perky breasts heaving with faint whimpers, suds streaking her flushed thighs.

Gina dropped her, plopping her under the tiny showerhead.

The weak spray sputtered over Chloe’s wrecked frame, rinsing her off in slow, pitiful trickles.

“Enjoy your shower,” Gina said with a smirk.

She turned back to the giant spout, rinsing off leisurely—water tracing her shoulders, her breasts, her hips—then sauntered out of the stall like nothing had happened, leaving Chloe trembling, exhausted from the ordeal.

[Justhereforamoment1]

As requested, a more butt/ass focused story. Some fart and crush at the beginning. Hope you enjoy!

---

The coastal town of Marin’s Bay simmered under a late summer sun, the air thick with salt and heat.

Josh trudged along the cracked sidewalk, sneakers scraping, shirt clinging to his back. His jaw was tight, brow furrowed. Oakley’s birthday was in two days—and he had nothing.

For three years running, he’d scored her the perfect gifts: tiny, squirming, living toys, just the right size to use. Each one bought from backdoor dealers who never asked questions.

But new laws had changed everything—sweeping raids, tighter borders, the whole trade drying up. He’d burned through every contact. No options left, and his wallet was down to fumes.

Meanwhile, Oakley’s texts lit up his phone with a steady buzz: Can’t wait, babe! You always spoil me!

He grunted, wiping sweat from his neck. “Fuckin’ laws.”

At noon, he pushed open the door to Sal’s Diner, the bell above the frame jangling lazily.

The air inside reeked of grease and old ketchup. Fans whirred overhead, barely cutting the heat. He dropped into a cracked vinyl booth with a sigh, his broad frame making the seat creak. A waitress wordlessly dropped a burger in front of him—hot, greasy, dripping.

He hadn't seen her.

Willow was already sitting there, barely six inches tall, sketchpad balanced on her lap, dark hair tied back from her delicate face. She’d picked the booth for the view—sunlight hitting the cliffs just right through the greasy window.

She was lost in the motion of her pen, capturing the curl of a wave, when a shadow eclipsed her.

Whump.

Josh sat.

Willow didn’t scream—there was no time. The world simply ended.

His weight slammed down, a mountain of denim and sweat flattening her into the seat. The sketchpad snapped in half beneath her, her arms crushed beneath her body.

Her soft curves were smashed into the sticky vinyl, breasts compressed into flattened, tingling heat, her thighs trembling, pinned wide beneath the obscene mass of his ass.

Her lungs barely moved. Denim rasped across her skin, dragging her blouse to tatters. Her skirt rode up as the rough fabric ground into her hips, leaving her soaked with his sweat and gasping mouthfuls of humid musk.

The sheer weight of him made her ribs groan with every twitch of his hips. Then, a low rumble vibrated through his body—a sharp, sour fart erupted, the acrid stench flooding Willow’s nose, searing her throat as she choked, her tiny face pressed deeper into the suffocating denim. Above, he chewed his burger, oblivious, the booth creaking with his slow movements.

Every shift was agony.

His casual readjustments caused his ass to drag against her body, smearing her deeper into the seat. Her body ached, flattened and rubbed raw against the vinyl. Her legs kicked uselessly, scraping against the cushion.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream—only endure, dizzy from pain and pressure, drowning in heat and the lingering reek of his gas.

His ass settled lower.

Her face was mashed sideways, mouth open against the sweat-drenched fabric. Her tongue tasted the salt of him, thick and acrid. His musk filled her sinuses. Each breath dragged more of it inside her, making her groan, eyes rolling back.

She was being used—not out of malice, but pure, unknowing dominance. Just a cushion. A warm, soft pad beneath his massive, uncaring body.

Then he shifted again—this time leaning his full weight to one side.

The pressure intensified, her body molding to him completely, every inch of her tiny form sealed against his jeans. She thought her spine might snap.

Then—he stood.

But Willow didn’t fall.

She stayed stuck to his ass—plastered there by sweat and pressure, her body suctioned against the denim like a second skin. Her limbs dangled limply, twitching as he began to walk, each step jolting her.

She moaned softly, trapped in rhythm with his stride, the world swinging wildly behind his oblivious back.

From her place on his ass, she could smell everything—musky heat, salt, fabric, oil from the burger, the faint sourness of his earlier fart clinging to the denim. Her tiny face rubbed against the seam of his jeans, smeared with sweat.

She sobbed, voice muffled and unheard, just another stain on his backside.

Josh’s beat-up sedan baked under the sun, shimmering like a furnace. He opened the door and went to sit—then paused.

A soft thump hit the leather.

He looked down.

There she was.

Willow lay crumpled on the driver’s seat, her limbs splayed like a broken doll, hair wet and plastered to her face. Her blouse was torn down the middle, her tits bruised and rising with shallow gasps. Her skirt hung in ragged strips, her thick little ass trembling with every breath.

Her brown eyes locked onto his—wild, shining with terror, flushed with sweat.

“Holy shit,” Josh muttered, stunned for a moment. Then a grin split his face. “She’s fucking perfect.”

He reached down, scooping her up in one broad hand. Her plush body squirmed desperately, little fists pounding his fingers. “No! Please! Let me go!” she cried, her voice cracking.

He barely heard her.

He popped open the glovebox and slid her inside, her sobs echoing from the plastic chamber before he shut the door with a satisfying click. His heart pounded with relief and something sharper, darker.

This was forbidden now. Dangerous. Illegal.

And that made it hotter.

He checked his rearview mirror, scanning for flashing lights. Nothing. Just a sleepy coastal road and the rising pulse of excitement in his veins.

---

That night, Oakley tore open the gift with a shriek of delight, her leather jacket still on from a long ride, the scent of gasoline and asphalt clinging to her.

Willow trembled in her hands, skin gleaming under the lamp. Her hair was a tousled mess, her body still slick with Josh’s sweat. Her tits trembled with every tremor, her thighs slick and pink from friction. Her voice was hoarse, breath ragged.

“Oh my god,” Oakley whispered, eyes wide with hunger. “You got one?”

She kissed Josh hard, tongue greedy, her hazel eyes shining. “I thought they were cracking down.”

She held Willow up, letting the little body dangle between her fingers. “She’s gorgeous. All broken in already, too…”

Willow whimpered, her limbs shaking as Oakley’s thumb grazed her breast.

“She’s my new butt toy, isn’t she?” Oakley said, her voice low, sultry, as she peeled off her jacket, revealing a tight tank top damp with sweat from her ride. “All mine?”

Josh nodded, watching as Oakley licked her lips.

Willow’s sobs were ignored—drowned beneath laughter and arousal, her tiny voice fading into the hungry dark.

Oakley didn’t wait.

Jeans stripped, thighs spread wide, she sprawled across her bed like a queen settling onto her throne. Her bare ass, thick and plush, glistened in the low light, the heat of anticipation rising off her skin, mixed with the faint tang of leather from her riding gear.

Between her fingers dangled Willow—tiny, trembling, her dark hair clutched tight in Oakley’s grip.

Willow’s brown eyes widened, bruised lips parted in a gasp. Her body—still slick from Josh’s palm, flushed and raw—thrashed weakly. But Oakley only smiled, a slow, savage grin curling across her lips.

“Time to go home, little toy.”

She dragged Willow downward, feet-first toward the humid heat between her cheeks. The air thickened—musk and sweat, earthy and electric, laced with the faint scent of motor oil from Oakley’s hands. Willow screamed as the pulsing ring of Oakley’s asshole kissed her soles, twitching in anticipation.

Then it opened—hot, greedy—and Willow was shoved inside.

Her legs vanished instantly, devoured by the slick warmth. The tight ring clamped around her thighs, crushing the softness of her curves, squeezing her deeper as Oakley moaned and arched her back.

Willow clawed at the rim, tiny fingers slipping against slick flesh, but Oakley just purred and pushed harder, both hands on her cheeks now, spreading herself wider, easing the tiny girl into her tightest depths.

The musky stench hit Willow like a wave—rancid, thick, inescapable—choking her senses as it flooded her nose and mouth. The tightness was suffocating, the walls gripping her body with relentless pressure, molding her curves to their pulsing rhythm.

The searing heat enveloped her, sweat and juices coating her skin, seeping into her pores. Each breath dragged in more of the foul air, her mind fraying under the assault of stench, constriction, and scalding warmth.

Oakley’s moans grew hungry, each sound a wave that rippled through the clenched tunnel, grinding Willow deeper into the reeking dark.

Willow’s screams were muffled now, swallowed by flesh. The musky stench clung to her tongue, the tightness crushed her ribs, and the heat burned her raw—together, they were unraveling her, breaking her will with every pulse of Oakley’s walls. To Oakley, it was a buzzing pressure, a perfect little hum deep in her gut.

“Oh fuck… yes,” Oakley gasped, fingers circling her clit in smooth, practiced strokes. “You feel so good in there.”

A few nights later, Oakley lounged on her bed, legs propped up, a lazy smirk playing on her lips. The room was dim, the air heavy with her scent and the faint rumble of her motorcycle cooling outside her window. She reached between her thighs, fingers curling around Willow’s trembling form, pulling her free with a slow, wet sound.

Willow gasped, her tiny body slick and flushed, dark hair plastered to her face. Her chest heaved, her face glossy with Oakley’s juices. She whimpered, limbs twitching, too weak to fight.

Oakley chuckled, holding her up by one ankle, letting her dangle upside down.

“Look at you, all messy,” she purred, her hazel eyes glinting with cruel delight.

Still holding her, Oakley reached for a damp cloth she’d set aside, dragging it slowly over Willow’s curves. She was deliberately gentle, wiping away the slick shine with slow, teasing strokes. Willow’s soft gasps and flinches only seemed to please her more.

“There we go,” Oakley murmured, her voice low. “Now you’re ready.”

She brought Willow closer to her parted lips, her hot breath washing over the tiny, making her shiver. “Let’s have some fun.”

With a wicked grin, Oakley dragged Willow’s squirming body across her tongue, tasting the salt and musk clinging to her cleaned, flushed skin.

Willow let out a muffled cry, her tits pressing against the slick heat of Oakley’s mouth as she was pulled deeper, the vibrations of Oakley’s moan rolling through her. Oakley suckled lightly, teasing, savoring the helpless kicks of Willow’s thighs.

When she pulled Willow away, the tiny was drenched—her curves glistening, her breath ragged and uneven. Oakley licked her lips, wiping a trail of saliva with her thumb.

“Much better,” she said, voice thick with arousal.

She trailed Willow lower, pressing her trembling body against the swell of her breast, letting her feel the heat of her skin. Willow’s hands grasped weakly at Oakley’s nipple, trying to push away, but Oakley only laughed, dragging her down further.

“Let’s see what that pretty mouth can do,” she whispered, spreading her legs wide.

Her pussy glistened, wet and hungry, and Willow’s eyes widened in panic.

“No—please—” Willow gasped, but Oakley’s grip tightened, nails dimpling her soft flesh.

She pressed Willow’s face against her folds, grinding her slowly, smearing her delicate features in sticky heat. Willow’s screams muffled, her tits dragging across Oakley’s clit, her plush ass kicking uselessly in Oakley’s palm.

Oakley took her time, savoring every moment. She tilted Willow’s tiny body, angling her so her trembling lips brushed the sensitive bud of her clit, teasing it with featherlight touches.

“Lick, toy,” Oakley purred, her voice dripping with sadistic delight.

Willow’s sob choked in her throat, but Oakley’s fingers pressed harder, forcing her mouth against the slick flesh. With a shudder, Willow’s tongue darted out, tasting the salty, musky heat, her reluctant licks sending shivers through Oakley’s core.

“Harder,” Oakley growled, rolling her hips to meet Willow’s face, dragging her tiny mouth up and down her folds.

Willow’s tongue worked frantically, lapping at the swollen clit, her sobs muffled as she fought to please. Her tits pressed into Oakley’s skin, her plush ass quivering in Oakley’s palm, every desperate motion stoking Oakley’s pleasure.

The sticky heat coated Willow’s face, seeping into her nose and mouth, her senses drowning in Oakley’s arousal.

Oakley’s breath hitched, her free hand tangling in her own hair as she guided Willow’s movements, savoring the tiny’s helpless efforts.

“That’s it, little thing,” she moaned, pressing Willow’s face deeper, forcing her to suckle the sensitive bud.

Willow’s muffled cries vibrated against her, her tongue swirling in a panic, each lick pushing Oakley closer to the edge. The slickness smeared across Willow’s delicate features, her brown eyes glistening with tears, her body trembling under the relentless grind.

“You look like you could use some air,” Oakley teased, pulling Willow back slightly, letting her gasp.

Her tiny chest heaved, slick with Oakley’s juices, her lips swollen and glistening. Oakley smirked, dragging Willow’s face along her inner thigh, teasing her with the musky scent before pressing her back to her pussy.

“Keep going,” she commanded, angling Willow so her tiny hands clutched at her folds, her mouth forced to work the clit again. Willow’s fingers slipped against the slick flesh, her tongue lapping desperately, her sobs lost in the wet squelch of Oakley’s arousal.

Oakley’s hips bucked, her moans growing louder. She tilted Willow’s body, letting her plush ass drag across her folds, using every inch of the tiny to heighten her pleasure. Willow’s tits grazed her clit, her trembling thighs slick with sweat, her face buried in the pulsing heat.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Oakley gasped, pinning Willow in place as the tension snapped, pleasure crashing through her in hot waves.

Willow’s muffled cries faded under Oakley’s moans, her tiny form trapped in the pulsing grip, her tongue still working as Oakley rode out the aftershocks.

She pulled Willow free, letting her dangle, soaked and panting.

“Not bad,” Oakley purred, smirking at her wrecked form—hair matted, face smeared with juices, body trembling. “But you’re not just for one hole, little thing.”

Her smirk deepened, a glint of cruel delight in her eyes as she spread her cheeks with one hand, exposing the tight, pulsing ring of her asshole. The musky heat wafted up, thick and rancid, making Willow’s eyes water.

“No—no, not again, please!” Willow sobbed, her tiny hands clawing at Oakley’s fingers, but Oakley’s grip was unrelenting. She pressed Willow’s face to the twitching rim, letting her feel the scalding warmth, the slickness of her sweat.

“Lick,” Oakley commanded, her voice low and hungry. “Make it good, and maybe I'll let you stay out tonight.”

Willow’s body shook, her breath hitching as the stench overwhelmed her. She hesitated, her lips trembling, but Oakley’s fingers tightened, pressing her harder against the pulsing hole.

With a broken whimper, Willow’s tiny tongue darted out, brushing the sensitive rim. The taste was bitter and earthy, searing her senses. Oakley moaned, her hips twitching at the delicate touch.

“Harder,” Oakley growled, grinding Willow’s face into her asshole, smearing her delicate features with musky heat.

Willow’s tongue worked frantically, licking and pressing against the tight ring, her sobs muffled as she fought to please. Her tits dragged against Oakley’s skin, her plush ass quivering in Oakley’s palm, every desperate motion sending shivers through Oakley’s core.

“Fuck, yes,” Oakley gasped, her free hand circling her clit as Willow’s tongue swirled, the tiny’s reluctant efforts stoking her pleasure.

The musky stench clung to Willow’s face, her mouth coated in the taste, her mind fraying under the humiliating act. Oakley’s moans grew louder, her hips bucking as she chased another edge, Willow’s tiny tongue pushing her closer with every trembling lick.

She pulled Willow free, letting her dangle, soaked and panting.

“You did good,” Oakley purred, smirking at her wrecked form—hair matted, face smeared with musk, body trembling. “Back you go.”

With a slow push, she guided Willow's sobbing form feet-first into her asshole again, the tight ring swallowing her with a wet squelch. The musky stench enveloped Willow once more, thick and rancid, clogging her senses as the walls clamped tight, their crushing grip and scalding heat grinding her resolve to dust.

Each pulse of Oakley’s flesh pressed the reeking air deeper into her lungs, her mind splintering under the relentless assault.

Oakley wore her like a secret, especially on her motorcycle.

She rode everywhere—through campus backroads, along sunlit coastal highways, to late-night meetups with her crew—her thick thighs gripping the roaring machine, the engine’s vibrations thrumming through her core.

Willow, trapped in her asshole, felt every jolt, every rev of the throttle, the relentless motion compressing her over and over in the stifling, stench-filled dark. The bike’s rumble amplified the crushing grip of Oakley’s walls, grinding Willow raw, her tiny body slick with sweat and juices, her senses drowned in the musky heat.

Each turn, each acceleration, pressed Oakley’s cheeks tighter, squeezing Willow deeper into the reeking prison, her muffled sobs lost in the roar of the engine.

Sometimes, in a deserted gas station bathroom, Oakley would park her bike, still hot from the ride, and bend over the sink, pressing her ass to the grimy mirror. She’d pull Willow out, dangling her by one leg, the tiny’s body glistening with musk, her chest heaving.

“Look at you, all used up,” Oakley taunted, licking her lips.

She dragged Willow’s trembling body across her tongue, tasting the musk and sweat, letting her squirm against the slick heat. Willow’s tits pressed into Oakley’s mouth, her muffled cries vibrating as Oakley sucked lightly, teasing her.

“Time to work,” Oakley murmured, spreading her cheeks against the sink.

She pressed Willow’s face to her asshole again, commanding, “Lick, toy. Make me feel it.”

Willow’s tongue moved weakly, brushing the sensitive rim, her sobs choked by the rancid taste. Oakley moaned, grinding her harder, savoring the tiny’s reluctant efforts, her plush ass trembling in her palm, the faint hum of her bike outside adding a pulsing rhythm to her pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re good,” Oakley groaned, hips bucking as she came, pinning Willow against her asshole until the tremors faded. She pulled her free, smirking at her wrecked form—hair matted, body slick. “Back you go, toy.”

She shoved Willow into her asshole again, the tight ring swallowing her with a wet squelch, the musky stench and crushing heat reclaiming her, breaking her further with every suffocating pulse. Oakley zipped up, straddled her bike, and roared off, the engine’s vibrations grinding Willow deeper into her prison with every mile.

Willow faded by degrees.

Her spark—her sketches, her cliffs, the salt-kissed light and sleek motorcycles she used to draw—drowned in that humid, reeking dark. Her body became soft, pliant, sustained by whatever juices Oakley fed her.

She lived by swallowing the musk that surrounded her, the tightness and heat eroding her will, her eyes dulled, her limbs too tired to fight.

She was just a toy now. A body for Oakley to use. A presence to clench around, especially when she rode.

One night, beneath dim lamplight, Oakley lifted her again, fresh from a long ride, her leather pants still warm from the bike. Willow didn’t resist. Her face was slack, lips parted. Her skin glistened. Her plump thighs trembled in the open air.

Oakley kissed Josh, slow and deep, fingers playing along Willow’s bruised ribs, the faint scent of exhaust clinging to her skin.

“Best gift ever,” she whispered.

She spread her cheeks and guided Willow back into her hole, slow and smooth. Feet. Legs. Ass. Breasts. Each inch pulled inside with wet pressure.

The musky stench flooded Willow’s senses, the tightness crushed her bones, the heat seared her raw—together, they were her undoing, her mind a shattered husk in the reeking grip of Oakley’s flesh.

The last thing Willow felt was the kiss of Oakley’s flesh as it closed behind her, sealing her in the pulsing, stench-soaked dark. Heat claimed her. Pressure swallowed her whole.

Her world. Her prison. Her end.

[dubiouskey]

I love these stories. Excellent work all around! I do have a request though, a story I've been tossing around for a while but never get the chance to write because I've spent all my SW hobby time coloring pics and comics.

I like M/f, or M/ff, etc. Here's my request: a super hot but super mean blonde gold digger gets into an argument with her teenage stepson, and he shrinks her to 5 or 6 inches tall for revenge. He punishes her for making his life a living hell since she moved in, roughly using her as his personal sex toy. I've always pictured Tasha Reign as the gold digger.

From what I've seen, I think you can take this idea and really kill it. Thanks!

[Justhereforamoment1]

So if people haven't noticed so far, I'm trying to go for a loosely connected world with these stories, so there wouldn't be shrinking. However, I could do something similar with an already tiny bossy stepmom? How's that sound?

[Justhereforamoment1]

A hot tiny babysitter and an annoyed 18 year old? Whoever could have predicted this outcome??? I'm currently working on the Greek Life sequel and one set in a spa, then I plan to work on the stepmom stuff. Hope you enjoy!

---

The late summer heat smothered Falcon Cove, thick and sticky, clinging to the house like a damp rag. Cicadas shrieked through open windows, their relentless buzz burrowing into the walls, a constant itch in the stale air.

Inside, the living room was a wreck—pizza boxes slumped on the coffee table, crusts curling with grease stains. Game controllers sprawled across the carpet, cables tangled like dead vines. A dented soda can rolled under the couch, leaking a syrupy trail.

The TV blared—some reality show flashing over the mess.

Will slouched on the couch, curls plastered to his forehead with sweat, thumbs swiping his phone.

Eighteen now, legally an adult, but still chained by his parents’ bullshit rules. A meme flickered on his screen and he snorted, half-amused, half-pissed. He stretched, legs kicking a stray controller, muttering under his breath.

In charge of his life? Yeah, right.

The front door rattled. Keys jangled.

“Late shift,” his mom called, voice clipped, already fading toward the car. “We’re out. Sitter'll be here in an hour.”

Will didn’t look up, scowling at his phone. “We don’t need a fucking sitter,” he grumbled, thumb flicking harder.

His dad lingered in the doorway, boots scuffing the floor. “It’s for Miles, not you. You’re not calling the shots here kid.”

The door slammed shut behind them.

Will tossed his phone onto the cushion, scowling at the ceiling. Seriously? Not trusted to watch his own brother? But part of him felt relieved.

No babysitting. No responsibility.

He sank deeper into the couch, fishing his phone back up, smirking at a text from a buddy about some party. Maybe he’d sneak out later.

Ding-dong.

He groaned, hauling himself up, socks skidding on the hardwood as he trudged to the door. He yanked it open—and froze.

There she was.

Six inches tall, perched on a takeout box like it was her stage, golden hair spilling down her back in a silky wave. Her tight tank top hugged petite, perky tits, nipples faintly teasing the fabric. Tiny denim shorts clung to her hips, framing a plump, round ass that bounced with every shift.

Green eyes sparkled, bold and bright, a grin tugging her lips as she gazed up at him.

“Hi! I’m Cleo. Here for Miles,” she chirped, voice sharp and confident, cutting through the humid air.

Will blinked, a slow, crooked grin creeping up. “You’re shitting me.”

She hopped down, landing with a soft thud on the doorstep, unfazed. “Nope!” Her gaze flicked up, sharp and teasing. “You’re Will, huh? The big brother?”

Before he could answer, she strutted past him, hips swaying like she owned the place. Her bare thighs caught the dim light, golden hair swishing with each step.

She planted herself in the living room, hands on her hips, surveying the mess with a dramatic huff. “Wow. You guys live like this?”

Will leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes tracing her curves. “I could’ve handled him,” he said, voice low, testing her.

Cleo spun, smirking. “Oh, I’m sure you’re a real pro. But I’m not here for you, big guy. Just keeping this dump from imploding. Let’s play nice, yeah?”

Her tone was smooth, edged with sass, a challenge that made his pulse kick.

He huffed, dropping his gaze, but didn’t push.

She clapped her hands, tiny but commanding. “Hey, Miles! Dinner soon, okay? Get your butt down here!”

Upstairs, Miles’s game blared—explosions, trash talk. “Babysitter? Lame,” he said, not pausing.

Cleo rolled her eyes, muttering, “Kids these days.” She turned to Will, pointing at the room. “Pizza, soda, game crap everywhere… You two need me more than you think.”

Will snorted, grabbing a pizza box, but his eyes kept drifting. Cleo bent to nudge a controller aside, her shorts riding up, ass plump and teasing. His grip tightened, heat stirring low.

“Whatever,” he muttered, tossing the box onto a pile.

Miles trudged downstairs, controller still in hand, eyes widening at her. “Whoa. You’re the sitter? For real?”

“Yup.” She poked his shin playfully, grinning. “My name’s Cleo. Let’s get this mess sorted, huh? Then food.”

She directed them like a tiny drill sergeant—Will stacking boxes, Miles sweeping cans into a bag. She perched on the table’s edge, legs crossed, barking orders with a smirk.

“Pick up the pace, boys. I’m not here to watch you mope!”

Will rolled his eyes but obeyed, muttering, “Bossy little thing.”

Miles snickered, tossing a can at the trash and missing. Cleo laughed—a bright, sharp sound—and Will’s jaw clenched, her voice grating against the heat in his gut.

Dinner was takeout—greasy burgers and fries spread across the table. Cleo sat cross-legged in a doll-sized plastic chair she’d pulled from Miles’s old toys, nibbling a fry with delicate bites.

“You guys eat like cavemen,” she teased, licking salt off her thumb. Miles chattered about his game—some boss he’d crushed—and she nodded, humoring him, dodging Will’s stare.

Her tank top shifted as she leaned forward, tits pressing against the fabric, and he looked away, fork scraping louder.

After dinner, she stretched, arms overhead, a mock yawn escaping her. “Dishes time. I’d help, but…” She gestured at her body with a pout. “Kinda fun sized.”

Will groaned, hauling plates to the sink. Miles splashed water, half-assing it, but they got through under her watch. She clapped, perched on the counter now. “Not bad, team. Maybe you’re trainable after all.”

Then it happened—Miles flicked the sponge, a wave of soapy water arcing through the air. It slammed into Cleo, drenching her in a cold surge.

She shrieked, stumbling back, tank top clinging to her like wet paint—nipples hard, peaking through the now transparent fabric. Water dripped from her golden hair, pooling around her bare feet.

Will froze, blood roaring south, cock twitching in his jeans.

Cleo covered her chest, face flushed. “You little-!" she snapped before bolting toward the bathroom, leaving tiny wet prints across the floor.

Miles scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Oops.”

“Nice going, dumbass,” Will said, shoving him toward the stairs. “Go play your game or something.”

Miles shrugged and wandered off. Will stayed put, Cleo’s image seared into his mind—her wet curves, the way her body glistened. He adjusted himself, trying to shake the thought, but it clung to him.

Ten minutes later, she emerged, hair damp and clinging to her neck, a hand towel wrapped around her like a makeshift dress. It barely held—deep cleavage spilling over, hips flaring, her thick ass peeking with every step.

She clutched her soaked clothes in a bundle, voice tight. “Will, can you toss these in the wash? Please?”

He stared, eyes raking her body. The towel teased, slipping slightly as she shifted, her curves begging to be grabbed. His cock throbbed, pulse hammering in his ears. She didn’t see the shift—the way his smirk turned sharp, mean.

“You okay?” she asked, frowning, a flicker of unease in her green eyes. “What’s with the face?”

He stepped closer, looming over her. “Just had an amazing idea,” he said, voice low, thick with intent.

Her breath hitched. “Will, don’t—”

He lunged.

His fingers snagged her golden hair, yanking her up with a brutal tug. She gasped, feet kicking air, the towel unraveling as she thrashed.

It fell, leaving her naked—creamy tits bouncing, plush ass quivering, thighs trembling in his grip. Her tiny body twisted, hands clawing at his knuckles, but he held tight, hoisting her to eye level.

“Look at you,” he said, dark eyes glinting with hunger. Her perky tits caught the dim light, nipples stiff and pink. Down below, her slit glistened faintly from the lingering dampness. He shook her, her long hair tangling around his fingers, a sharp whimper slipping from her lips.

“Let me go, you asshole!” she cried, voice cracking, legs flailing uselessly. Her ass jiggled with each twist, stoking the heat in his gut.

He chuckled, low and cruel. “Go? Nah, Cleo. You’re not going anywhere.”

His free hand shoved down his jeans, boxers dropping with them, his cock springing free—thick, veined, already leaking. The tip pulsed as he pointed her at it and her eyes widened, darting to it with a panicked gasp.

“No! Please, don’t do this!” she screamed.

Will shifted her closer, letting her bare feet graze his cockhead, the heat searing her soles. She jerked, trying to curl up, but he lowered her further, pressing her calves against his shaft.

“Feel that, tiny?” he murmured, dragging her legs along his length, her smooth skin sliding through the slick bead, coating her thighs.

He shifted her in his grip so that he was holding her waist now. She squirmed, a ragged squeak escaping, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, sticking to her sweat-damp chest.

“Stop it—!” Her voice broke, tiny fists pounding his fingers, but he smirked, rolling her body forward so her stomach brushed his tip.

Precum smeared across her skin, a glistening streak marking her plush curves. He dipped her lower, nudging her slit against his throbbing heat, and she sobbed, thighs clamping shut. His fingertip pried them open, slow and deliberate, relishing her shudder.

“Shut up and take it,” he growled, voice thick with lust.

He dragged her up his shaft—slow, possessive—her tits grazing his skin, her ass molding to every ridge. Her hair tangled further, catching in the slick mess as he pulled her back down, smearing her chest through his precum, coating her nipples in sticky warmth.

She choked on a scream, her green eyes pleading, but he didn’t give a shit.

His grip tightened, twisting her hair around his knuckles, and he tilted her face toward his slit.

“Look at it, Cleo,” he growled, lowering her until her lips brushed the leaking tip, musk flooding her senses.

She twisted, a muffled “No!” cut off as he pressed her harder, smearing precum over her mouth, her cheeks, her chin. Her tongue flicked out, gagging on the salt, and he groaned, cock throbbing against her trembling frame.

“Breathe it in, you little tease,” he said, voice rough, rubbing her face through the slick heat, her long hair matting with his mess.

She sputtered, hands shoving weakly, but he pinned her there, dragging her face along his slit until her delicate features glistened.

His other hand cupped her ass, fingers dwarfing her, kneading the plush flesh as he slid her down his shaft again—her thighs straddling his length, her tits sliding through the sticky trail he’d left.

“Goddamn, so fucking soft,” he breathed, pace quickening, grinding her naked body against him—up, down, relentless.

He turned her around so that she was leaning on his cock. He tugged her hair tight, scalp stinging, her back arching as he pressed a fingertip to her chest, feeling her frantic breaths.

“P-please—stop—you bastard—” she whimpered, voice fracturing, her face flushed and streaked with tears and his filth.

He flipped her onto her stomach again, smirking at her jolt. Her tits pressed flat against his cock, her ass up, quivering in his grip.

He smacked it with a fingertip, sharp and stinging, drawing a ragged “Ah!” from her lips.

“Sensitive little bitch,” he mused, smacking again, her soft flesh rippling.

She squirmed, blonde hair spilling over her back, catching in the sweat and precum as he ground her harder, her slit dragging along his pulsing ridges.

His cock leaked steadily now, and he dragged her back to his tip, pressing her face-first into the slick heat. She choked, gasping, her tiny mouth flooding with his taste as he rubbed her there, slow and cruel.

“You’re mine tonight, tiny,” he growled, holding her tight, her body shuddering as he smeared her through the mess.

Her nails scraped his skin, useless, her sobs fueling his heat.

Will’s breath hitched, cock pulsing hard, and he pinned her against his slit, her face buried in the throbbing heat.

“Fuck—gonna—” he groaned, and then it hit.

The first jet blasted out, thick and scalding, slamming into her tiny frame. She choked, cum flooding her mouth, coating her face, drenching her golden hair in a sticky wave. The second pulse followed—then a third—each heavier, painting her tits, her stomach, her ass in relentless spurts.

He pressed her harder, forcing her to take it—cum pouring down her throat, bloating her tiny stomach, clogging her nose as she sputtered.

Her hands flailed, body convulsing under the sheer volume, the heat overwhelming her senses.

Will rode it out, groaning low, his cock twitching as the last spurts slowed. He eased his grip, letting her gasp—chest heaving, cum leaking from her lips, her green eyes dazed, unfocused.

“Damn,” he panted, smirking, running a fingertip through the mess on her back, spreading it over her quaking ass. “You’re fucking wrecked.”

She whimpered, limp in his palm, her slick, trembling body glistening—hair matted, thighs dripping, stomach swollen with his load.

Over the next few hours Will used her.

His bedroom was a dim haze, the air thick with stale sweat and the faint drone of a TV left on downstairs. He sprawled across his bed, sheets twisted, his lanky frame swallowing the space.

Cleo dangled from his grip, her long blonde hair twisted tight around his fingers, her naked body slick and trembling—hours deep into his game, and he wasn’t close to done.

His cock twitched against his thigh, half-hard again, as he dragged her up by her hair, letting her bare tits brush his knuckles, her curves quivering with each shallow breath.

“Still kicking, huh Cleo?” he muttered, voice rough, smirking as he tilted her to catch the light.

Her green eyes flickered, dull with exhaustion, cum streaking her delicate features. He didn’t rush—time was his to waste. He toyed with her, dangling her over his chest, tracing a fingertip down her spine, pressing until she arched with a soft whimper.

Her curves glistened, marked by his earlier mess, and he hummed, rolling her between his palms—squeezing her tits, kneading her ass, savoring her weak squirms.

“P-please… let me go…” she gasped, voice fractured, but he just chuckled, flipping her onto her back.

His thumb rubbed her slit, slow and teasing, her thighs clamping shut uselessly.

“Not a fucking chance,” he said, voice low, dragging her along his hardening cock—up, down, her soft flesh sliding through fresh precum. She sobbed, hair tangling in the slickness, her body shuddering as he pressed her harder, smearing her face against his leaking tip.

He got bored after a while, tucking her into his boxers instead. She burned against his shaft, trapped in the damp heat, every twitch sending jolts up his spine.

He scrolled his phone—texts, dumb videos—while her muffled cries buzzed through the fabric, her tits dragging along his skin, her ass grinding with each shift of his hips.

He left her there for an hour, her hair matting in the musky trap, her curves soaked by the time he pulled her out.

“Fuck, you’re warm,” he groaned, pinning her to his cock again, cumming hard—thick jets coating her trembling frame, her swollen stomach quaking under the flood.

She slumped in his grip after, limp and panting, but he wasn’t done playing.

He dangled her over his desk, letting her kick at a pencil, smirking as she flailed. “Thought you were in charge, huh?” he taunted, flicking her ass with a fingertip, watching it jiggle.

She whimpered, too weak to fight, her golden hair a tangled wreck.

Later that night, the front door creaked open downstairs. His parents shuffled in, voices heavy with fatigue. The house gleamed thanks to Cleo’s earlier orders. Miles had crashed hours ago, bought off with a lie and Xbox time.

“Where’s that sitter we hired?” his mom asked, yawning, kicking off her shoes.

Will sprawled on the couch, shrugging, boxers hiding the faint bulge where Cleo twitched. “Never showed up. I handled it.”

His dad clapped his shoulder, tossing him a wad of cash—her pay. “Good job, kid. Stay up if you want. We’re crashing.”

They trudged upstairs.

Will’s smirk deepened, fingers brushing the damp fabric. Cleo whimpered inside, her tiny tongue flicking his slit, her sobs lost in the heat. Her hair clung to his skin, her thick ass trembling with each breath.

“Back to work, tiny,” he murmured, spreading his legs wide.

The cicadas screamed outside, swallowing her muffled cries as he settled in, her slick, broken body his to keep.

[dubiouskey]

So if people haven't noticed so far, I'm trying to go for a loosely connected world with these stories, so there wouldn't be shrinking. However, I could do something similar with an already tiny bossy stepmom? How's that sound?

Sounds good to me!

[Justhereforamoment1]

Hello hello. Got a new one for you. Next up is going to be the sequel to Greek Life, and its shaping up to be a big one. Hope you enjoy!

---

The air in Serene Haven Spa was thick with lavender and eucalyptus, a fragrant haze that clung to every polished surface. The luxury retreat gleamed with glass and marble—vaulted ceilings, cascading water features, plush robes draped over velvet chaise lounges.

Giants lounged in oversized soaking tubs or sprawled across massage tables, their voices a low hum beneath the ambient trickle of fountains. To them, it was paradise.

To the tiny female staff scurrying through the shadows, it was a gilded cage—one they’d signed away their freedom to enter.

Elise darted along the narrow walkway suspended above the main floor, her small hands gripping a tray of steaming towels.

At six inches tall, she was a speck in this sprawling world, her uniform—a thin, shimmering tunic—clinging to her slender frame. Her auburn hair was tied back in a tight braid, swaying with each hurried step, her pert breasts pressing lightly against the fabric.

She kept her hazel eyes fixed ahead, ignoring the chaos unfolding below.

Tiny rights laws had been a hot topic for years—promises of equality, protection, fair treatment. But loopholes lingered, and Serene Haven exploited them all. The spa teetered on the edge of legality, its practices shielded by ironclad contracts every tiny employee had to sign. “Voluntary participation,” the fine print called it, waiving liability for “incidental contact” or “client-directed activities.”

Elise had skimmed it, desperate for the money—art school tuition wasn’t cheap, and the spa’s wages were unmatched. She’d told herself she could handle it, stay under the radar. Just a few months, then she’d be out.

But the reality was messier.

Below her, a tiny coworker named Suki—her delicate frame topped with a bob of black hair—yelped as a giant client plucked her from the floor mid-task. The woman—lounging in a steaming bath, her full breasts buoyant in the water—held Suki up with a lazy grin, dangling her over the rippling surface.

Suki’s slender legs kicked, her tunic riding up to expose the soft curve of her hips, the damp fabric clinging to her small chest. The giant dipped her into the bath, letting the hot water soak her before lifting her out, laughing as Suki sputtered and squirmed.

Elise’s grip tightened on her tray.

Keep moving, she told herself. Don’t look. It wasn’t her business. Suki would be fine—shaken, maybe, but fine. The contracts covered this; the spa’s lawyers made sure of it. Clients couldn’t go too far in the main areas.

That’s what the private suites were for.

She reached her station, a low table beside a giant man dozing under a towel. His broad back glistened with oil, the scent of sandalwood rising from his skin. Elise set the tray down, her arms trembling from the weight, and began arranging the towels. Her movements were quick, practiced—place the cloth, adjust the heat, step back—her braid brushing her shoulders.

She didn’t linger. Lingering invited attention.

A faint scream echoed from across the room. Elise flinched but didn’t turn. She knew that sound—another tiny, probably Cassia, a curvy blonde with a bold streak, caught by a client. Cassia always flirted with the edge of the rules, thinking her charm would keep her safe.

It never did.

Last week, Elise had seen her pinned against a giant’s chest, the woman’s massive hand cupping Cassia’s full figure while she chatted with her companion. Cassia had laughed it off later, but her eyes had been hollow.

Elise shook her head, focusing on the towels. She wasn’t like them. She kept her head down, did her job, stayed invisible. The giants barely noticed her, and that was the plan. Just a few more shifts, and she’d have enough to quit.

“Careful down there,” a voice rumbled above her.

Elise froze. The man on the table had shifted, his square jaw tilting to peer at her with one bleary eye. His lips curled into a faint smirk, his gaze sliding over her small form.

She forced a tight smile, dipping her head. “Yes, sir. Just finishing up.”

He hummed, settling back down, but his hand twitched toward her—fingers brushing the edge of the walkway. She stepped back fast, heart pounding, and grabbed her empty tray. She didn’t wait to see if he’d reach again.

The walkways were her lifeline, a fragile network of safety above the chaos. Below, tiny women darted between massive feet, carrying oils or stones, their delicate bodies vulnerable to every careless step.

One stumbled—a new girl, Lila, her slim frame and chestnut ponytail shaking—her tray clattering as a giant’s sandal grazed her. She scrambled up, clutching her arm, while the giant didn’t even pause his conversation.

Elise’s stomach twisted. She hated this place—the way it turned tiny women into props, the way the giants acted like they owned them, all sanctioned by those damned contracts. But she couldn’t afford to care. She just had to survive it.

At the supply station, she refilled her tray, keeping her movements brisk. A giant masseuse, Vara, loomed nearby, her hands slick with oil as she kneaded a client’s shoulders.

Vara was one of the kinder ones—tall, with sharp cheekbones and a cascade of black hair, her full figure moving gracefully—but even she didn’t intervene when things got rough.

“They signed up for it,” she’d said once, shrugging. “Same as you.”

Elise didn’t argue. She couldn’t afford to.

A sharp squeak pulled her attention despite herself. Near the steam room, a tiny named Mira—her petite body framed by dark curls—was pinned against a giant’s thigh, pressed into the muscle as the woman flexed, laughing.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” the giant rumbled, shifting Mira higher, her fingers digging into the tiny’s sides.

Mira’s tunic bunched up, but she didn’t fight—just nodded weakly, playing along.

Elise turned away, bile rising in her throat. She wasn’t Mira. She wasn’t Suki or Cassia. She wouldn’t let them touch her like that. She’d be careful, invisible, untouchable.

The shift dragged on—hours of dodging hands, ignoring cries, pretending the world below didn’t exist. By the end, her legs ached, her tunic clung to her sweat-damp skin, and her braid had started to unravel. She just wanted to clock out, go home, sketch until the tension melted away.

But as she headed toward the staff room, a shadow fell over her.

“Elise.”

She stopped cold. That voice—low, smooth, edged with authority—belonged to Kalia, the spa’s manager.

A giant woman with bronze skin and piercing green eyes, she towered over the walkways, her tailored suit hugging her voluptuous form. She rarely spoke to the tinies directly unless something was wrong.

Elise turned slowly, forcing her voice steady. “Yes, ma’am?”

Kalia’s lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

Elise’s pulse spiked. She clutched her tray tighter, following as Kalia led her down a side corridor, away from the main floor. The air grew quieter, the sounds of the spa fading into a distant hum. They reached a small office, its door clicking shut behind them with a finality that made Elise’s skin prickle.

Kalia sat at her desk, gesturing for Elise to stand on the edge. The tiny complied, setting her tray aside, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

“You’ve been doing well,” Kalia began, her tone measured. “Quiet, efficient. No complaints.”

Elise nodded, unsure where this was going. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“But,” Kalia continued, leaning forward, “I think it’s time we moved you to a new position.”

Elise’s breath caught. “A new position?”

Kalia’s smile widened, sharp and knowing. “The couples’ suites. We’ve had a special request, and you’re one of the perfect fits.”

Elise’s stomach dropped. The couples’ suites were notorious—private rooms where the contracts’ vague clauses stretched to their limits, where tiny women weren’t just attendants but tools for pleasure, all “voluntarily” agreed to on paper.

She’d heard the stories: tinies rubbed into sensitive places, passed between partners, used alongside giant staff who weren’t shy about their roles. She’d spent months avoiding that fate.

“No,” she blurted, then caught herself. “I mean—I’m fine where I am. I don’t—”

Kalia raised a hand, silencing her. “It’s not a request, Elise. You signed the contract—flexibility’s part of the deal. This is a promotion. Better pay, better tips. You’ll thank me later.”

Elise’s mouth went dry. “But I—”

“Enough.” Kalia’s voice hardened, her gaze pinning Elise in place. “You start tonight. Room 12. They’re waiting, and you won’t be alone.”

Before Elise could protest, Kalia scooped her up, fingers curling around her tiny body with effortless control. The world tilted as she was carried down the hall, her pleas lost in the hum of the spa. Kalia didn’t listen—didn’t care.

She deposited Elise on a cushioned ledge outside Room 12, alongside two other tinies—Lila, her slim frame shaking, and Rhea, a willowy brunette with wide eyes. The door was ajar, soft moans drifting through the crack.

“Be good,” Kalia murmured, her tone laced with amusement. “They’re excited to meet you all.”

Elise stumbled back, heart hammering, but the ledge offered no escape. The door swung open to reveal a couple—giants, both naked and sprawled across a massive massage table.

The woman’s dark hair cascaded over the edge, her full breasts gleaming with sweat, nipples erect in the humid air. The man’s broad chest shimmered, his thick cock swollen and throbbing, a bead of precum already dripping from the tip.

Beside them stood two towering masseuses—Vara, her sharp cheekbones framed by black hair, and Selene, a statuesque blonde with a predatory grin. Both were nude, their bodies slick with oil, breasts swaying as they moved toward their tools.

“There they are,” the woman purred, reaching out. Her fingers closed around Elise with a wicked smile.

Selene grasped Lila and Rhea, her grip firm and unyielding. “Our little helpers,” she added with a satisfied smirk, her eyes flicking to Vara with a challenging glint, as if daring her to match her pace.

Elise gasped, kicking uselessly as she was handed to the man. His grasp tightened, his thumb pressing into her soft belly, smearing oil across her tunic as he chuckled.

“Perfect,” he rumbled, eyes gleaming with hunger as he glanced at his partner, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, like he savored her greed for the tinies.

Vara stepped forward, her dark eyes flickering with a fleeting apology to the tiny ones—her kindness a brief, useless spark—before her hands, dripping with warm oil, positioned them.

They wasted no time.

Vara poured a thick stream of oil over Elise, Lila, and Rhea. The scalding slickness soaked their tunics, seeping into their skin until it burned. Elise squirmed, her braid unraveling, but the man’s fingers clamped down harder, pinning her as Vara pressed her into his shoulders, her small body kneaded in slow, deliberate circles to loosen his taut muscles.

Her pert breasts flattened against his skin, oil pooling in the dip of her spine as she choked back a cry. The heat of his body seared her raw.

“Lower,” the woman murmured, her voice thick with desire, nodding to Selene, her fingers brushing her partner’s arm with a teasing nudge, as if urging him to enjoy their game.

The blonde grinned, her fingers curling around Lila’s slim frame. She dragged the tiny body across the man’s thighs, rubbing her in firm, massaging strokes to mimic kneading muscle, before sliding her against his pulsing cock.

He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, as Selene moved Lila along his throbbing length. The delicate form glided through the slick mix of oil and precum. Lila’s chestnut ponytail clung to her neck, slender legs kicking feebly as the swollen head smeared her face, coating her lips with musky heat.

Selene guided her slowly, her smirk widening at Vara’s careful pace, as if proving she could push further. Her small breasts dragged along the throbbing ridges, each twitch sending shivers through the man’s frame. His cock pulsed harder, another bead of precum welling up and dripping down Lila’s trembling chest as she gasped. Her cries were lost in the wet squelch against his skin.

The woman laughed, snatching Elise from Vara with a greedy glint. “My turn.”

She spread her thick thighs, her pussy already glistening, slick with arousal. She rubbed Elise’s tiny body along her inner thighs first, kneading the tense muscle with the tiny’s squirming form, before pressing her into the pulsing folds. Elise’s scream was muffled against the hot, wet flesh, her hands clawing at the slick walls as the woman ground her deeper, rolling her hips with a low moan.

The oil made Elise slip, her slender frame sinking into the throbbing heat, her braid tangling in the woman’s pubic hair. The giantess groaned, dragging Elise in and out, using her like a toy to tease her swollen clit.

Each thrust flooded Elise’s mouth with tangy slickness. Her pert breasts mashed against the pulsing flesh, her legs twitching as the woman’s walls clenched, threatening to pull her fully inside.

A sudden shudder tore through the giantess. She came with a sharp cry, a hot gush of cum soaking Elise’s face, dripping down her heaving chest, clogging her nose as she sputtered. Her body trembled under the sticky flood.

The couple traded the tinies back and forth—rubbing them over tense muscles, grinding them against sensitive skin—while Vara and Selene worked in tandem. Their nude forms amplified the chaos.

The man seized Rhea next, his massive hand dwarfing her willowy frame as he kneaded her into his lower back, her soft curves pressed in slow arcs to ease the knots, before lifting her to his cock, smearing her along the shaft. Rhea’s dark curls matted with oil and precum. Her wide eyes pleaded as he dragged her slowly, her plump ass molding to his throbbing length.

He groaned, guiding her tiny hands to rub against his shaft, the slickness of her body making every movement smooth. Another pulse of cum leaked out, coating her arms, her breasts, her quivering belly.

Vara leaned in, her fingers slick as she pushed Rhea harder, grinding the tiny’s body against the head, her movements precise but cautious, aware of Selene’s smug glance urging her to go rougher. Each squirm drew a guttural moan from the man.

Rhea’s cries splintered, her legs kicking as the sticky heat engulfed her. Her delicate frame shuddered under the relentless friction, cum streaking her thighs as he bucked, nearly drowning her in the mess.

Selene wasn’t idle. She plucked Lila from the man, smirking as she rubbed the tiny along the woman’s calves, her slim body kneading the muscle in firm strokes, before shoving her face-first against the woman’s pussy. Her slim form sank into the pulsing, cum-slicked folds.

Lila’s muffled wail vibrated through the giantess. Her slender legs flailed outside as Selene thrust her in and out, using her like a dildo to stoke the woman’s pleasure.

The giantess moaned, her full breasts bouncing as she clenched around Lila.

Hot cum gushed with each push, flooding the tiny’s mouth, her hair, her trembling shoulders. Lila’s hands scrabbled at the slick walls, her body twitching as the woman’s hips rocked.

Each thrust buried her deeper in the throbbing heat, her sobs drowned by the wet pulse of release.

Selene chuckled, her fingers teasing the woman’s clit, her eyes darting to Vara with a triumphant glint, as if claiming the louder moans. She drew out another shuddering wave that left Lila drenched. Her slim frame was limp as cum dripped from her parted lips.

Elise wasn’t spared.

The woman passed her to Vara, who hesitated for a heartbeat—her kindness flickering—before kneading Elise along the man’s hips, her tiny body rubbing in slow arcs to soothe the muscle, then pressing her against his heavy balls. She rubbed her tiny body into the warm, musky skin. Elise’s tunic ripped fully now, her bare breasts spilling free, slick with oil and sweat as she screamed. Her auburn hair plastered to her face.

The man groaned louder, his cock twitching above as Vara ground Elise harder.

Her soft belly smeared cum and oil across his sensitive flesh, each squirm sending jolts through his core.

He reached down, snatching Elise himself, and rubbed her against his length, her small frame sinking into the pulsing heat as he came with a growl. A thick jet of cum slammed into her chest, her mouth, her stomach bloating under the flood.

Elise choked, her hands clawing at his fingers. Her body convulsed as the sticky tide coated her white. Her cries faded into wet gasps.

The couple collapsed at last, sated and panting. The tinies were trapped among them—shuddering, soaked, pressed into their cum-drenched skin. Vara sprawled beside the man, her hands kneading his shoulders, her fingers brushing Elise’s trembling form.

Elise was now tangled in his pubic hair, slick with his release.

Selene lounged against the woman, stroking Lila’s limp body. Still glistening with cum, Lila’s slim thighs quivered as she gasped for air. Rhea lay pinned under the woman’s breast, her willowy frame streaked with oil and cum. Her dark curls matted to her tear-streaked face, each shallow breath a whimper.

The woman ran her fingers through Elise’s sodden hair, purring, “Best massage yet.”

Elise didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her world had shrunk to this—oil, cum, and the crushing weight of their hands. The spa hummed on outside, indifferent. Its legality was a thin veneer upheld by the contracts she’d signed.

She lay there, one of many, a tiny tool in their pleasure, her dreams of escape buried beneath the lavender haze.

[Justhereforamoment1]

Welp folks, here it is. The sequel to Greek Life. I decided to go a bit of a different route from the original. All the familiar characters are there, but this one focuses on multiple tinies used by the bros. Next will be the stepmother one so look forward to that. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

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The sun scorched Easton University’s quad, a relentless golden haze baking the sprawling lawn into a shimmering mirage.

Black gowns rippled in the faint breeze, tasseled caps bobbing like buoys in a sea of graduating seniors. The air hummed with sweat, pride, and the faint sting of cheap cologne, voices buzzing as families snapped photos and professors milled in pompous regalia.

For most, it was a day of triumph, a crowning moment. For Blake Calloway and his Delta Rho brothers, it was a coronation of a different kind.

Blake stood tall among the frat’s cluster, his linebacker frame filling his robe like a warrior’s armor, buzz cut gleaming with beads of sweat.

At twenty-two, he was a king in all but name, with four years of ruling this campus, bending it to his will. His broad chest swelled with a heady mix of pride and hunger, his dark eyes scanning the quad not for diplomas but for the empire he’d built.

Delta Rho wasn’t just a frat; it was a brotherhood, forged in beer-soaked nights and tiny-breaking rituals, and today they’d walk away not just as graduates, but as legends.

Beneath his gown, pressed tight against the pulsing heat of his cock, a tiny freshman squirmed.

Her name was Jade, though Blake neither knew nor cared. She was six inches of trembling perfection, snatched from a dorm raid two nights ago.

Dark hair spilled in tangled waves over her delicate face, green eyes wide with terror, her soft body a plush toy molded to his shaft. Her perky tits and thick, jiggly ass pressed against his length, every panicked twitch sending a low hum of pleasure through his core.

She was trapped in his boxers, soaked in his precum, her tiny fists pounding uselessly against the musky fabric that caged her.

Blake shifted his hips, savoring the muffled whimper that buzzed against his skin, a secret thrill hidden beneath the solemnity of the ceremony.

Two nights ago, Blake and a crew of Delta Rho seniors crept through the dark to the tiny dorms’ fenced-off corner.

Under a moonless sky, they slipped past the guards’ half-assed patrols, boots quiet on damp grass, the air thick with the hum of crickets and the low chant of their frat’s raiding song. Blake’s pulse thumped, already hard for the soft prize inside.

Jade had been asleep when he peaked through her window, curled under a thin blanket, her small form barely a lump on her bed.

Her dark hair fanned across her cheek, lips parted in soft breaths, oblivious to the shadow looming over her. She’d worn a loose tank top and panties, her lush curves lit by the dim glow of the streetlight leaking through the glass.

Blake’s pulse had quickened, his cock stirring as he reached down, his massive hand closing around her like a vice.

“Wait, no—” she’d gasped, waking in a panic as his fingers crushed her against his palm, her legs kicking wildly.

Her green eyes had locked onto his, wild with fear, but he’d only smirked, stuffing her into his pocket, her muffled sobs fading under the heavy thump of his boots as he slipped back into the night.

Now, standing among his brothers, Blake’s smirk widened as he caught Justin’s eye across the row. The lanky stoner, his gown hanging loose on his lean frame, grinned back, one hand lazily adjusting his pants, no doubt nudging his own tiny deeper against his cock.

Blake knew that look. It was the thrill of a tiny’s terror vibrating through your shaft while professors droned on about “bright futures” and “ethical leadership.”

Richy, wiry and brash, stood a few feet away, his phone tucked under his gown, likely filming the crowd for later, his own tiny—a blonde with big tits, knowing his tastes—squirming in his boxers.

Chad, ever the showoff, had his tiny pinned to his tie, her tiny legs kicking faintly under a fold of fabric, disguised as a decorative pin.

Ethan’s cap sat slightly askew, a faint bulge where his tiny was stuffed inside, her muffled squeaks drowned by the crowd’s applause.

Blake smirked, catching Ethan’s annoyed grimace, clearly not thrilled with his tiny’s muffled squirms up there. Should’ve listened, Blake thought, remembering how he’d told him to stuff her in his pants instead, where the real fun was.

Oh, the laws had changed, sure. New regulations had swept through like a storm, cracking down on tiny trafficking. Raids had cleared out backdoor dealers, borders tightened, and tinies were now even more protected than they had been.

But Delta Rho didn’t kneel to rules.

They’d been taking tinies for years—freshmen, professors, strays from rival campuses—and no law would stop their reign, not with their secret stash of tinies hidden in the frat’s basement cage.

His cock twitched, Jade’s squirming intensifying as he adjusted his stance, pressing her harder against his shaft. Her soft curves molded to every ridge, her frantic breaths stoking his heat.

His hand found her head through the fabric and pressed her face against his leaking slit, smearing precum over her pretty features, her breaths turning into choked gasps around the liquid. It was a rush, the absolute dominance he had over her.

A professor’s gaze swept the crowd, and Blake straightened, his face a mask of solemn pride, his hand casually adjusting his gown to hide the faint bulge.

They wouldn’t suspect a thing.

Delta Rho had this campus wired—cops had been paid off, admins were willfully blind, and no one was looking for them.

The bros had been smart, though, playing it safe. They’d hidden their tinies carefully, each placement a middle finger to the law. Boxers were the safest spot, Jade’s struggles a constant tease against his cock, but he admired Chad’s audacity and Ethan’s creativity, even if he enjoyed his way more.

The ceremony dragged, the dean’s voice a dull hum about “shaping the future.”

Blake’s focus stayed on Jade, her tiny body jolting with each subtle shift of his hips, her sobs a faint vibration that kept him half-hard. He caught Richy’s smirk from the next row, the bro’s hand slipping under his gown to nudge his tiny, her faint kicks visible through the fabric.

The dean called names, and the crowd clapped mechanically. Blake’s pulse quickened—not from nerves, but from the anticipation of what came after.

The post-grad party.

The real celebration.

His name boomed through the speakers, and he strode across the stage, broad shoulders squared, gown billowing like a conqueror’s cape. The crowd cheered, but his focus was on Jade, her tiny body bouncing against his cock with each step, her muffled cries sending fresh heat coiling in his gut.

He shook the dean’s hand, flashed a grin, and palmed his diploma, the weight of it nothing compared to the trembling prize in his pants.

As he descended, he caught Justin’s nod—time to wrap this shit up and get to the good part.

The Delta Rho frathouse was a fortress of chaos that night, the air thick with beer, sweat, and the low thrum of bass from a battered speaker system.

The living room sprawled like a battlefield—couches sagging under the weight of drunken bros, a pong table sticky with spilled booze, empty cans piled in corners like war trophies. The windows rattled with the music, the walls vibrating with shouts and laughter, and the faint clink of a keg ritual in the corner.

Blake leaned against the wall, a cold can in one hand, his other lazily stroking through his jeans, feeling Jade’s squirming intensify.

She’d been in there all day, trapped next to the stifling heat of his cock, soaked in his musk, her soft curves slick with his precum. Every shift of his hips ground her deeper, her faint whimpers trembling against his length, a constant reminder of his power.

Across the room, a senior stumbled, laughing as he dropped his tiny—a wiry brunette with sharp cheekbones—onto the hardwood floor. She hit with a faint thud, her small body curling in pain, a ragged gasp escaping her lips.

His boot came down hard, crushing her leg with a careless step. She screamed, clutching her bruised thigh, her angular frame shuddering as she sobbed, her high-pitched cries lost in the party’s roar.

A bro nearby cackled, nudging her with his toe. “Clumsy little thing,” he slurred, scooping her up and tossing her back to the senior, who stuffed her into his pocket without a glance.

Blake’s gaze drifted to the trophy case in the corner, a glass shrine to their dominance. Inside sat Red, formerly known as Dr. Cynthia Reed, groomed to a glossy shine.

Her fiery red hair was brushed neatly, her lush curves draped in a scrap of silk that barely covered her full breasts and round ass.

Her hazel eyes stared out, forlorn and empty, a living memento of Delta Rho’s reign.

She’d been their prize, a cum sponge used until her spark died, now a relic locked away where no cop or professor would dare look.

Blake remembered the way she’d fought when they stretched her holes with Sharpies and bottle caps, her screams fading to whimpers as they painted her body with cum.

Good times.

Justin slouched beside him, grinning, his lean frame slumping against the wall. His hand was tucked into his waistband, fingers nudging his own tiny—one with a fighter’s spirit, judging by the faint kicks visible through his jeans.

“Mine’s feisty as fuck,” Justin drawled, his voice thick with amusement. “Keeps trying to bite my cock. You believe that shit?”

Blake chuckled, rolling his hips to feel Jade’s perky tits drag along his shaft, her thick ass quivering against him. “Mine’s learning fast. Give her a week, she’ll be like Red—broken in, but still fun.”

Nearby, a bro had his tiny—a curvy blonde with wide, fearful eyes—pinned face-down on a table, his hand crashing against her plump ass with a sharp smack. She yelped, her whole body trembling with each blow, her golden hair spilling loose as she writhed under his grip.

“Stay still,” the bro grunted, delivering another hard spank, her ass glowing red as she gasped, her soft thighs shaking. He flipped her over, smirking at her tear-streaked face, and shoved her back into his boxers, her faint kicks teasing his cock.

Richy swaggered over, phone already out, filming the chaos with a grin. His tiny was stuffed in his boxers, her faint kicks buzzing through the denim.

“Yo, check Ethan,” he said, jerking his chin toward the couch where a bro was leading a Delta Rho chant, hyping the room.

Ethan sprawled there, legs wide, his tiny pulled from his cap and now pressed against his cock. Her brown hair was matted with sweat, her wiry frame thrashing as he rubbed her up and down slowly, smirking at her fractured cries.

Jess, Ethan’s girl, was perched nearby, watching lustfully at the display. Her own tiny—a freckled redhead with sharp features—was trapped in her cleavage, squirming desperately between her heavy tits.

Jess caught Blake’s eye and grinned, pressing them together to make the tiny writhe, her husky voice cutting through the noise. “Best grad gift ever. You boys know how to throw a party.”

Across the room, a bro had his tiny—a petite girl with short black hair and a dancer’s lean build—pinned on the floor, his hand delivering sharp spanks to her tight ass.

Each smack echoed, her toned cheeks reddening as she screamed, her small body jerking with every blow.

“Quit squirming,” he growled, landing another hard spank, her slim thighs trembling as tears streamed down her face.

He scooped her up, pressing her bruised ass to his cock, her choked whimpers humming against his length as he ground her against his shaft.

The room buzzed with similar scenes—seniors trading stories, swapping screaming tinies, their laughter drowning out the faint cries of their prizes.

Chad’s tiny, freed from his tie, was passed to a bro who pinned her face to his leaking slit, groaning as she gagged on the precum.

Another senior had his tiny dangling from a chain around his neck, her soft body bouncing against his chest with every drunken laugh, a dazed look on her face as she started to bruise from the impacts.

The law? Fuck the law.

No cop would crash this party, not with Delta Rho’s pull. Professors might whisper about missing tinies, but they’d never snitch—too many favors owed, too many of them keeping tinies of their own.

Blake drained his beer, tossing the can into a pile with a clatter.

His hand slipped into his boxers, fingers curling around Jade’s trembling form. He pulled her out, her dark hair plastered to her flushed face, green eyes wide and darting with panic.

Her tiny body glistened—tits heaving with frantic breaths, nipples hard, slick with his musk and precum. Her tank top was torn, barely clinging to her soft curves and covering nothing, her panties shredded from hours against his cock.

“Time to shine,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with hunger.

He pressed her face to his leaking slit, smearing a thick bead of precum across her delicate features.

Her stifled gasps quivered against his cock, sending a jolt up his spine, her tiny tongue brushing his skin as she fought for air.

Jade’s small hands clawed at his fingers, her plump ass quivering as she writhed, but Blake’s grip was iron, pinning her tight against the searing heat of his cockhead.

He held her there, letting the sticky mess flood her mouth, her ragged whimpers muffled against his length as he smeared her cheeks and chin, coating her in his filth.

He dragged her along his cock, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of her plush body.

Her soft curves molded to his throbbing shaft, her perky tits bouncing with each ruthless drag, her thick ass rippling as he ground her face tighter into his length.

Jade’s screams splintered into choked sobs, her body shining with sweat and his precum, her dark locks matting to her neck as he rolled her up and down, her helpless twitches stoking the heat coiling in his gut.

He tilted her slightly, letting her breasts drag along the sensitive underside, her stiff nipples catching on the ridges, her glossy lips parting in a fractured cry as another bead of precum smeared across her face, drowning her delicate features.

Blake groaned, his pace quickening, grinding her harder against his cock.

Her tiny legs kicked uselessly, her plush thighs squeezing together as he dragged her back to his slit, pressing her face deep into the pulsing heat.

The wet squelch of her body filled his ears, her cries a faint tremor beneath the party’s roar.

He pinned her there, letting her struggle, her small mouth flooding with his musk as she fought for air, her green eyes wide with terror.

Her frantic squirming only made him harder, her soft body trembling against every vein, her curves drenched in his slick heat as he worked her mercilessly, savoring the electric jolts ripping through his core.

On the pong table, a senior had his tiny—a raven-haired girl with full, heavy breasts—pinned in his palm, his fingers spreading her creamy thighs wide.

He dragged her face along the rim of his girlfriend’s tight asshole, her shrieks piercing as he rubbed her delicate features against the puckered heat.

With a laugh, he shoved her inside, her curvy body vanishing into the clenching hole, her screams silenced as the girl moaned, her hips rocking to savor the squirming intrusion.

The room pulsed around him—Justin’s tiny now out, her wiry brunette frame thrashing as he ground her against his shaft, her desperate wails quivering against his cock.

Justin leaned back, smirking, his hand wrapped tight around his brunette tiny’s quivering body.

Her sharp cheekbones glistened with sweat and precum, her angular frame shuddering as he dragged her along his cock.

Her stifled cries trembled against his length, her small hands clawing at his fingers, but he only pressed her harder, smearing her face with a thick bead of precum.

Her brown hair clung to her cheeks in wet strands, her eyes wide with panic as he shoved her face into his slit, letting the sticky heat flood her mouth, her choked gasps sending shivers up his spine.

He rolled her slowly, savoring her wiry curves, her small breasts quivering with each drag, her lean thighs trembling as he ground her against his throbbing length.

Her screams fractured, her body shuddering as he tilted her upside down, gripping her ankles tight to drag her pussy along his shaft.

Her slim slit rubbed against the pulsing veins, her frantic kicks only stoking his heat.

Justin groaned, his cock twitching as he smeared another jet of precum across her trembling form, coating her sharp features and lean stomach, her small body convulsing as the mess poured over her, drowning her in his musk.

“This one’s got fight,” he said, glancing at Blake, his voice thick with arousal. “How long do you think it’ll take to break her?”

He pressed her face harder into his slit, another thick jet of precum flooding her nose and mouth, her faint wail vibrating through his cock.

Her tiny body jerked, her legs kicking wildly as he dragged her back down his shaft, her slick curves molding to every ridge, her small breasts glistening with his mess. Justin’s pace quickened, his breath hitching as he ground her harder, her wiry frame a wet, warm toy in his grip.

Richy was filming, like always, his blonde tiny’s kicks buzzing through his jeans, his phone capturing every squirm.

Richy’s grin was wide, his phone panning across the chaos as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his blonde tiny, pinning her tight in his grip.

Her large, soft tits heaved with each frantic breath, slick with sweat and his precum, her wide, fearful eyes darting as he ground her against his shaft. Her cries were muffled, her delicate face buried in his leaking slit, her golden hair matted with his mess.

He dragged her slow, savoring her curvy body, her full breasts stretching against his cock, her plump ass rippling as he used her, her struggles sending sharp jolts through his core.

Richy paused, smirking, and grabbed another tiny—a petite brunette with a dancer’s lean build—from a nearby bro. He pressed the blonde’s face between the brunette’s trembling thighs, forcing her to lap at the brunette’s slick slit.

The blonde’s tongue flicked reluctantly, her large tits quivering as she worked, the brunette’s sharp cries echoing as her lean body arched under the forced pleasure. Both tinies squirmed, their muffled gasps mingling, the blonde’s wide eyes brimming with shame as she licked, the brunette’s toned legs kicking weakly.

Richy groaned, his cock twitching as he watched, then shoved both tinies against his leaking slit, a thick bead of precum flooding their faces, their choked whimpers trembling against his skin as he smeared them in his filth.

Jess handed the redheaded tiny off to another bro, who laughed as he shoved her into his boxers, her muffled screams vanishing into the denim. Then Jess turned to Ethan, grabbing his cock and grinding the brown-haired tiny against it.

They locked eyes, a shared hunger burning between them.

Blake’s gaze flicked to Red in her cage, her forlorn stare taking in the chaos. Once, she may have protested. Now, though?

He remembered her fighting, the way they’d pinned her to their cocks, stretched her holes with markers, drowned her in cum until she was nothing but a glistening toy. Jade would get there too.

Blake’s grip tightened, pinning Jade’s trembling body to his cock, her plump ass quivering as he rubbed her faster. Her faint wails shivered against his length, her tiny hands clawing at his skin, her soft curves slick with his precum.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he growled, pumping his hands to grind her faster, her perky tits stretching against his length, her thick ass rippling with each brutal drag.

He pressed her face into his slit again, another thick bead coating her pretty face, flooding her mouth as she choked, her green eyes wide with terror.

Blake held her there, letting her struggle, her small mouth suffocating in his musk as her frantic squirming pushed him closer to the edge.

Her body shuddered, her plush curves molding to every vein, her slick heat a perfect toy in his grip.

He dragged her back down, rolling her along his shaft, her tits bouncing wildly, her thick ass glistening with his mess as he ground her harder, the wet squelch of her body filling his ears.

The heat coiled tighter in his gut, his cock throbbing with every helpless twitch.

Blake groaned, pinning her against his slit again, letting a brutal jet of precum flood her face, her tiny frame jerking as it poured down her throat.

He kept grinding her, slower now, savoring her trembling form, her soft curves drenched in his slick heat, her muffled gasps a sweet melody beneath the party’s roar.

Across the room, Justin was lost in his own pleasure, his brunette tiny pinned to his cock, her wiry body glistening with sweat and cum. He pumped her slowly, smirking as her lean legs kicked, her fractured cries quivering against his shaft.

Justin’s breath grew ragged, his cock pulsing as he dragged his brunette tiny along his shaft, her sharp cheekbones slick with his mess.

Her small breasts bounced faintly, her lean thighs trembling as he pressed her face into his slit, another thick jet of precum flooding her mouth, her stifled wails humming through his cock.

He tilted her, letting her tight ass slide along his cock, her slick slit rubbing against the pulsing veins, her feeble struggles trembling against his skin.

Her brown hair clung to her cheeks, her eyes wide with panic as he shoved her deeper, her wiry body shuddering under the weight of his arousal.

Richy laughed, his phone panning across the room, capturing Jess now riding Ethan.

His tiny wasn’t in either of their hands, but if one looked, they might catch her frantically kicking legs every time Jess went up. The tiny girl was shoved deeper inside Jess with each thrust.

Richy’s phone stayed steady, his grin wide as he filmed Jess riding Ethan, her thick thighs flexing with each thrust.

Jess moaned, loud and raw, her full tits bouncing as she ground her hips, the brown-haired tiny’s muffled screams vibrating through her walls, sending shivers through her core.

Ethan groaned, his hands gripping Jess’s hips, pulling her harder, his cock throbbing as the tiny’s wiry frame pressed against him through the slick heat.

Jess’s breath came in sharp gasps, her pussy clenching around the tiny, squeezing her tight as she rocked faster, dragging the tiny’s lean curves along her sensitive walls.

The tiny’s stifled sobs buzzed inside her, her small hands clawing uselessly at the pulsing flesh, her tight ass trembling as Jess ground her deeper, savoring every frantic twitch.

Richy zoomed in, capturing the slick mess dripping down Jess’s thighs, the tiny’s kicking legs a fleeting blur with each thrust.

The air was thick with musk, sweat, and the sound of tinies’ terror, their faint cries a constant undercurrent to the bros’ laughter and the chant of “Delta Rho!” echoing from the keg corner.

Blake’s cock throbbed, Jade’s struggles pushing him closer to the edge.

He groaned, heat coiling tight in his gut, and pressed Jade harder, letting her soft curves take him over. Her tiny body shuddered, her plump ass glistening with his precum, her faint wails trembling against his length.

Blake’s breath hitched, and he pinned her against the tip of his cock one last time, a brutal jet of cum erupting with savage force, slamming into her tiny frame, flooding her mouth, drenching her perky tits, bloating her stomach taut.

Jade choked, her green eyes wide with terror, her plush body buckling as the sticky heat poured over her, coating her in his mess.

Another pulse followed, then a third, each one heavier, drenching her soft curves in his cum. Her perky tits dripped, her thick ass slick as he kept pumping, smearing her through the mess, milking every shuddering jolt of pleasure.

Jade’s body convulsed, her tiny hands clawing weakly at the sticky heat, her gasps turning into a gurgle.

Blake dragged her along his still-hard shaft, savoring the wet squelch, her plush curves sliding through his cum.

He groaned, rolling his hips to grind her harder, her broken whimpers just background noise to the party’s roar.

Around the room, others were finishing too.

Justin’s breath hitched, his grip tightening on his brunette tiny as he pinned her to his leaking slit, a guttural groan escaping as he unleashed a thick torrent of cum.

It slammed into her trembling frame, flooding her mouth and nose, coating her sharp cheekbones and lean thighs in a sticky deluge.

Her brown hair matted to her face, her choked whimpers muffled against his length as he smeared her through the mess, her wiry body writhing under the relentless flood.

Richy’s pace quickened, his phone still filming as he ground his blonde tiny and the brunette together against his cock, their trembling bodies slick with each other’s juices.

With a sharp grunt, he erupted, a hot jet of cum drenching both tinies, coating the blonde’s large tits and the brunette’s toned stomach, their fractured cries quivering against his shaft as he smeared them in his mess.

He laughed, panning the camera to capture their glistening ruin.

Ethan and Jess came at the same time, Jess’s moans peaking as she rode him, the brown-haired tiny trapped in her pussy squirming frantically with each thrust.

Ethan groaned, his cock pulsing as he flooded Jess’s walls, the tiny caught in the slick tide, her stifled sobs turning to gurgles as cum drowned her wiry form.

Jess shuddered, her climax crushing the tiny tighter, her thighs slick with their mixed mess.

Blake leaned back against the wall, catching his breath, Jade dangling limp in his grip.

Her tiny body glistened—tits slick, ass dripping, her green eyes dull with exhaustion. He smirked, pressing her face to his slit one last time, letting another thick bead coat her.

“You’re a keeper, freshman,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

He glanced at Justin, who was tucking his brunette back into his boxers, her faint cries muffled through the denim. “You keeping yours?”

Justin shrugged, stroking his tiny’s trembling frame through the fabric. “Maybe. I’ll see if anyone wants to trade first.”

He laughed, pressing his hand harder, her muffled gasp barely audible.

Blake’s smirk deepened, his fingers curling around Jade’s slick body, her plush curves warm in his palm. “This one’s coming with me. Gotta have something to remember Easton by.”

He tucked her back into his boxers, her faint squirming a sweet hum against his cock, her perky tits and thick ass molding to his shaft.

The sensation sent a fresh pulse of heat through him, a promise of more to come.

Blake’s gaze drifted to Red’s trophy case one last time, her empty stare a reminder: Delta Rho owned this campus, laws be damned.

Graduation was just the start.

He’d carry Jade into the world where she’d be proof he’d always be king. The music pulsed, the bros cheered, and Blake leaned back, his cock twitching against Jade’s trembling form, ready for whatever came next.

[Justhereforamoment1]

Welp as requested, here is the stepmother one. It got a bit mean, so hopefully you all like that. Also I have a question.

Would people be okay with/interested in a story that features a bit of cuck/NTR? A Wife Swap episode featuring a tiny and a giant couple is an idea I had but its kind of hard to do that without some cuck. The tiny dude would be fine, but his wife, eh... lets just say she would be the focus of the episode. Please let me know! Anyways, enjoy!

---

The August sun hit like a sledgehammer, baking the driveway to a crisp. Jason slumped in the passenger seat, his backpack heavy as hell, his eyes locked on his dad’s new house.

It was big. Too big. Too... clean.

A monument to a guy who couldn’t deal with turning 50 without trying to prove he was still relevant with a gold-digging stepmother’s touch.

His mom’s hands gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles white, eyes fixed straight ahead.

“I know you don’t want to stay with him, Jason,” she said quietly. “Or that... woman. But it’s just for the weekend. Your dad has custody, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Jason didn’t say anything. There was no point. His jaw was clenched, fists tight in his lap.

Her. Amber.

The tiny stepmother that broke everything.

She was 28, all curves and fake smirks, flashing jewelry his dad’s money bought. And she was the reason his family went from bad to ruined. His dad hadn't just cheated on his mom; he'd traded her in for a doll he could rub on his cock.

A six-inch trophy that'd make anyone question reality. Golden hair, sharp green eyes, curves that were absurd on a body so small—full hips, a plush ass that bounced with every step, and breasts that spilled out of every outfit—her whole existence made Jason want to puke. She was everything that had destroyed the family he used to love.

She was a walking taunt, and every glance at her stirred a heat in him that twisted tight with his anger.

His mom glanced at him, her voice low. “Please. Just get through the weekend. Don’t give your stepmother a reason to make things worse.”

He nodded, not bothering to reply. He loved her—hell, he’d rather be anywhere with her. But this wasn’t something she could fix. Not this time.

He slammed the door when he got out, and as the car pulled away, he was left with the heat and the resentment gnawing at his stomach.

Amber. Fucking Amber.

The front door creaked when he pushed it open. The house smelled like her—sweet perfume that clung to the air, bought with his dad’s credit card. He could already hear her.

“Finally,” she called from the kitchen, voice dripping with that knowing edge that made his skin crawl. “Took you long enough. What’s the matter? Your big feet too tired?”

She was perched on the kitchen counter, tiny wine glass in hand, a red dress hugging her body, her golden hair falling just so, like she’d planned every angle to flaunt her sugared-up status.

Jason didn’t say anything. He just dropped his bag by the door and glared at her, trying to keep his eyes from lingering on the way her dress clung to her thighs.

She eyed him from across the room, smirking, her gold bracelet glinting. She always had that look, like she knew something he didn’t.

“What, no greeting?” she teased, standing before strutting toward the edge of the counter, her hips rolling with each step.

Her breasts shifted under the fabric. Her thighs pressed together, full and soft. Every move was a challenge, daring him to look, and his pulse quickened despite the anger burning in his chest.

“Your dad left me in charge,” she said, swirling her drink. “So don’t try any of your moody little tantrums, stepson.”

Jason just grunted and headed for the stairs.

“Uh-uh,” Amber called after him, her voice sharp as glass. “You’re not disappearing yet. Your dad told me the guest towels are still in the dryer.”

He stopped halfway up and turned, his expression blank. “You’re joking.”

She gave a slow, taunting smile. “Nope. Towels. Chop-chop.”

The words hung in the air like a slap.

He stood there a moment longer, jaw tight, the cool air of the stairwell prickling his skin. He wanted to tell her to go to hell. He wanted to scream. But his mom’s voice echoed in his head: Don’t give her a reason.

With a sharp breath, he turned and stomped toward the laundry room. The smell of warm cotton hit him first. The dryer groaned as he yanked it open, towels spilling into a heap.

Down the hallway, he could still hear her. The low hum of music from her phone. The clink of glass. Her laugh—sharp and smug, like she knew he’d obey.

Back in the kitchen, she lounged on the counter like it was a throne, one leg crossed over the other. She took a lazy sip from her wine glass and cocked her head.

“Fold them before they wrinkle,” she said sweetly. “Your dad hates a mess, and I like keeping my man happy.”

Jason dropped the basket with a thud.

“Why don’t you do it?” he muttered.

Her smile thinned. “Because I’m in charge,” she said. “You’re the kid. You do what you’re told—or I tell your dad you were disrespectful and aggressive. Think he’ll take your side over his pretty little wife?”

He didn’t respond. He folded, slowly, each towel a jab to his pride. Her gaze never left him, her green eyes tracking his every move, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

“Good boy,” she purred when he was done. Then, with a stretch that lifted her breasts and bared a sliver of her stomach, she hopped off the counter. Her bare feet landed lightly. “Now vacuum the rug. It’s gross.”

The next hour crawled.

The vacuum roared. She lounged. He scrubbed, pushed, and tried to keep his eyes off her—but he couldn’t. Every time he glanced her way, she shifted. Stretched. Let the dress ride up her thighs. Her movements felt calculated, each one pulling his gaze, stoking the heat that tangled with his anger.

When the vacuum finally clicked off, the house was quieter—and darker. The sun had dipped low behind the trees, casting amber light across the floor. Amber stretched again on the couch, her tiny tablet glowing in her hands, a new charm dangling from her wrist.

“Soda,” she said without looking up. “Diet. Not regular.”

That was it.

He stood there, shoulders taut, hands trembling. Two years of this. Two years of his mom crying and his dad acting like Amber wasn’t the problem. And Amber—smirking, lounging, acting like she owned him with his dad’s money.

She was six inches tall. And she thought she could control him.

The quiet filled the room like smoke as he stepped toward the couch. His shadow grew across the floor, climbing up the cushions, swallowing her small frame.

She looked up.

Her smirk faltered.

“Jason?” she said, her tone shifting. “What’s with the face?”

He didn’t speak. Just stared. Her dress was twisted slightly, one strap fallen down her shoulder. The light caught her pale skin, her full curves, her lips parted just slightly in surprise. For the first time, she didn’t look so smug. She looked...

Small.

“Don’t do something stupid,” she said, her voice careful now. She sat up straighter, adjusting her dress, her green eyes flicking toward the hallway. “Your dad’ll be home tomorrow. You don’t want to screw that up.”

He stepped closer. His jaw clenched. His fists tightened.

The thoughts weren’t rational anymore. They were a tangle of fury and want, her body—those curves, that sway—fueling both. She was right there, within reach, her smallness a dare he couldn’t ignore.

“Jason. Seriously. Back off,” she said, a tremor in her voice.

His fingers twitched. Heat surged through him, tightening in his chest.

“Shut up,” he snarled, voice rough and jagged.

He lunged without thinking.

Her startled squeal pierced the air as his hand shot out, wrapping around her waist and lifting her off the counter. She kicked and thrashed in his grip, the hem of her red dress sliding up her legs as she struggled.

“Let go! Let me go right now! When your dad finds out—”

“I said,” Jason growled, voice shaking with rage as he reeled his arm back, “SHUT UP!”

With a snarl, he hurled her across the room, every ounce of pent-up frustration exploding from his body. She flew like a ragdoll, screaming until she crashed into the wall with a sickening thud, bouncing off and landing hard on the couch. Her red dress was twisted around her hips, hair spilled across her face, limbs splayed limply beneath her.

Silence fell.

She lay there, breathing hard, her body still. Jason stood over her, chest heaving, heart pounding in his ears.

For the first time since he got here, she wasn’t taunting him.

Jason loomed over Amber, his shadow swallowing her crumpled form on the couch. Her green eyes wide with fear. His pulse pounded, fury and heat twisting in his gut, his cock stirring against his jeans.

“Dad’s not here,” he growled, voice low and sharp. “And I’m done with your shit.”

Amber’s breath hitched, her six-inch body scrambling back, bare thighs scraping the leather cushion.

“Jason, don’t—” she started.

His hand shot out, fingers clamping around her waist. She squealed, thrashing in his grip, shapely legs kicking, tiny feet smacking his knuckles. Her dress rode up, baring her plump ass, her panties digging into her full hips.

Jason’s jaw tightened, eyes locked on her wriggling rear, heat surging lower.

“Stop it!” she shrieked, small fists pounding his fingers, breasts bouncing with each twist. Her dress strained, the neckline slipping to reveal her cleavage, skin flushed with sweat.

He pinned her arms, grabbed the dress’s hem, and yanked. The fabric tore with a loud rip, splitting open to expose her lush body—full breasts spilling free, nipples stiff, panties clinging to her wide hips. Her curves jiggled as she squirmed, warm and soft in his hand.

“Fuck,” he muttered, breath catching.

She was a perfect, squirming toy, and the sight of her—nearly naked—stoked a raw hunger tangled with his rage.

He lifted her, thumb brushing her trembling stomach, then her breasts, rolling one soft mound under his fingertip. She whimpered, arching despite herself, thighs squeezing together.

Her green eyes blazed, voice cracking. “You’ll regret this, you little shit—”

“Shut up,” he snapped, nudging her thighs apart.

Her panties outlined her slit, and his cock twitched, hardening at the sight. He dragged his thumb over her plush ass, feeling it quiver, her smallness fueling his need to break her.

“You think you’re untouchable,” he snarled, tilting her to face him, her body dangling. “Strutting around, acting like you own this place. You broke my mom. You broke us. A fucking gold-digging doll?”

Amber’s eyes widened, kicks slowing. “Jason, you don’t get it—” she stammered, but he cut her off.

“You’re nothing,” he said, fingers tightening until she gasped. “Just a toy to play with.”

He rolled her in his palm, thumb teasing her panties, feeling her slit’s faint warmth. Her choked sob sent a dark thrill through him, his cock straining in his jeans.

Then sharp pain hit.

Amber’s teeth sank into his finger, her jaw clamping hard. He yelped, his grip loosening, and she dropped to the couch, scrambling across the cushion. Her golden hair streamed behind her, plump ass bouncing as she sprinted for the edge, breasts swaying wildly.

Jason froze, eyes on her jiggling curves, his cock throbbing.

“Get back here!” he roared, lunging. His hand slammed down, missing her as she dove off the couch, landing hard on the hardwood.

She darted toward the hallway, her breathing frantic.

His boots thundered, hardwood trembling as he gave chase. Amber sped across the floor as fast as her tiny legs would allow. Her naked body glistened with sweat and torn panties barely clung to her hips.

She was a fleeting toy, and her desperate run made his cock throb, precum dampening his boxers.

He yelled again as his hand slammed down, fingers just barely missing her. Amber squealed, diving under the coffee table. Her thighs scraped the floor, ass rippling as she vanished into shadow. Jason’s breath hitched, the sight of her curves burned into his mind.

He dropped to his knees, the floor creaking under his weight.

Peering under, he saw Amber crawling toward the far edge. Her breasts were dragging against the wood, stiff nipples rubbing raw against the grain. He reached, fingers swiping, and grazed her ass, but she slipped out, sprinting for something on the other side of the room.

“Fuck,” he growled, shoving the table aside with a crash. Her bouncing ass, trembling thighs, fueled the fire in his gut. He lunged forward—but she was already gone.

Jason’s fists clenched, breath ragged. He knelt again, scanning beneath the couch, behind the chair, even under a pile of scattered blankets. Nothing. She had vanished. Maybe under the couch? Behind the curtains? His eyes swept the dim room, jaw tightening.

She flinched in silence beneath the entertainment center, curled into herself. The gap was barely wide enough—her body was curled tight, golden hair matted, back against the wall, breasts squished against her knees.

“You can’t hide forever,” Jason snarled, standing. He kicked a remote aside, his shadow sliding over the floor. He circled the couch, eyes narrowing. She’d moved. He just didn’t know where. But when she ran again, he’d be ready.

Amber’s heart pounded, breaths sharp in the suffocating dark. She pressed deeper under the entertainment center, cold wood biting her bare skin, breasts aching after they scraped the floor.

Jason. Her stepson. Panic clawed her.

She’d pushed him, sure, flashing her new jewels to keep him in line, but this—his burning eyes, his rough hands—changed everything. He’d torn her dress, played with her like a toy. She bit her lip, stifling a sob, green eyes searching the shadows.

The hallway was too far, the kitchen a trap. The couch was her only shot, but he’d be waiting. His footsteps shook the floor, and she froze, his shadow looming above.

He’d kill her. Or worse. Her stomach churned, his bulging jeans flashing in her mind, his grip’s heat lingering.

She had to move, but her legs felt heavy, her smallness a curse. His boots creaked closer. She held her breath, heart deafening, fingers digging into the wood, curves pressed tight. Trapped, with him coming.

Jason circled, eyes scanning the room, cock pulsing with every thought of her squirming body. Her panic was electric, making him harder every second she evaded him.

He replayed the moment she ran—ass bouncing, breasts jiggling, green eyes wild. The chase was a drug, her smallness making it all the better.

He crouched by the couch, peering under, searching. Nothing. He frowned. He couldn't find her, but he knew she was still in the room. He moved slowly, using heavy footsteps to try and rattle her.

“Come on out, Amber,” he taunted. “I promise to forgive you for ruining my life with your gold-digging ass.”

His gaze flicked to the entertainment center. There, the only place he hadn't checked. He stepped closer, shadow swallowing the floor.

Amber froze beneath the entertainment center, her naked body pressed against cold wood, breasts throbbing from scraping the floor. Her heart pounded, each beat loud in the dark. Jason’s boots creaked closer, his shadow blocking the gap, his steps shaking the ground.

She held her breath, green eyes wide, praying he’d miss her.

His boots stopped inches away, then turned, steps fading. Amber exhaled, thighs trembling, hope flickering. Maybe he’d given up.

Fingers wrapped around her waist.

She screamed, the sound choked as he yanked her out, the world spinning. Her golden hair whipped across her face, torn panties slipping down her hips, full breasts bouncing as he held her up in the dim light.

“Got you,” Jason growled, voice thick with triumph, eyes burning with rage and hunger.

Amber thrashed, legs kicking, fists pounding his knuckles. “Let me go, you bastard!” she shrieked, her plump ass jiggling, nipples stiff in the cool air. Her curves shook with each twist, a soft toy in his grip.

Jason smirked, cock throbbing against his jeans, her panic fueling his arousal. Her smallness, her bouncing breasts, her fear—it drove him wild. He needed her now.

“No more running,” he snarled, ripping off his belt. The buckle clattered, jeans and boxers dropping. His cock sprang free—thick, veined, leaking precum, pulsing with need.

Amber’s eyes widened, kicks slowing. “Jason, don’t—” she gasped.

He pressed her against his shaft, her curves molding to its heat. Her full breasts squished against his length, her plump ass rippling as he dragged her up slowly, savoring her warmth. Her skin slid through his precum, her whimper buzzing against his cock, sending a jolt through him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, breath catching.

Her hands clawed his skin, thighs squeezing together, but it was useless. He ground her harder, her nipples catching on his shaft, her lips parting in a sob as he smeared her face into his leaking slit.

The chase had him on edge, his cock twitching with every frantic twitch of her body. He couldn’t hold back. With a guttural groan, he pinned her against the tip, her small mouth flooding with a brutal jet of cum.

Amber choked, her green eyes wide with terror, her plush body convulsing as the thick, hot flood slammed down her throat. It poured relentlessly, bloating her tiny stomach taut, spilling over her full breasts, coating her golden hair in sticky strands. Her small hands flailed, clawing weakly at the mess, her gasps turning to gurgles as the cum drowned her, her curves glistening with his release.

Another pulse hit, then a third, drenching her. Her ass dripped, tits slick, stomach swollen as she shuddered. Jason smeared her through the mess, milking every jolt of pleasure, his cock still hard.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, rolling her along his shaft, her slick curves sliding through cum. Her whimpers were faint, her body a warm toy.

He didn’t stop.

For an hour, he used her. He dragged her along his cock, her breasts bouncing with each drag, her ass quivering as he ground her against his length. Her cries trembled against his skin, her hands clawing weakly, green eyes dull but defiant.

He tilted her, her slit rubbing his shaft’s underside, her pussy warm against his veins, her struggles stoking his heat. “Keep fighting,” he growled. “Makes it better.”

Her hair clung to her cheeks, matted with cum and sweat, nipples raw from rubbing. He pressed her face into his slit, precum flooding her mouth, her gasp sending shivers through him. Her curves molded to his cock, her ass glistening as he rolled her up and down.

He flipped her face-down, spreading her thighs across his cock. Her ass jiggled with each grind, breasts squishing against his length. He groaned, dragging her harder, her wails quivering, her body shuddering with each thrust.

“Fucking toy,” he snarled, fingers tightening around her waist. He smeared her through precum, coating her, her lips parting in a cry as the sticky heat drowned her face.

Another hour passed, the room dark, sun gone. Jason sat on the couch, pumping her along his shaft. Her ass rippled, tits stretched against his cock, curves sliding through his mess.

He tilted her upside down, gripping her ankles, letting her breasts dangle as he rubbed her pussy along his shaft. Her slit quivered against his veins, her kicks making him grind harder. Her hair swayed, matted with cum, eyes tearing as precum flooded her face.

Her body betrayed her. The relentless grinding, the heat of his cock, the pressure on her slit—it built against her will. Her thighs trembled, a sharp gasp escaping as her pussy clenched, a forced climax ripping through her. She shuddered, a weak sob mixing with the unwanted pleasure, her slick heat coating his shaft.

“Still think you’re in charge, stepmom?” Jason growled, pressing her harder, her sob making his cock twitch. Her body convulsed, thighs shaking as he ground her mercilessly.

His cock twitched, heat coiling tight. With a final groan, he came again, a thick jet flooding her. It coated her curves, drenched her hair, spilled over her swollen stomach. She choked, body buckling, a dripping wreck as he smeared her through the mess, savoring every twitch.

Jason’s breath slowed, cock twitching as he held Amber, her curves slick with cum. Her eyes were dull, hair matted, breasts heaving with gasps. He smirked, savoring her broken body, a toy used for hours. The room was dark, the house silent.

He opened his hand, letting her drop.

Amber hit the hardwood with a wet splat, cum splattering around her. Her ass quivered, tits bouncing, stomach taut. She lay shuddering, too weak to move, curves glistening.

Jason stood, towering over her. His boots creaked as he shifted, one foot hovering above. Her eyes widened, a whimper escaping as she tried to crawl, thighs scraping the floor, breasts dragging through cum.

He pressed his foot down, pinning her. Her scream pierced the air, hips twisting, hands clawing his boot. Her ass flattened, tits squished, cum oozing from her stomach as she writhed.

“Let me get one thing straight,” Jason growled, eyes cold. “Dad won’t hear about this. You’ll tell him I was perfect.”

Her small body convulsed, her shapely legs kicking weakly, her plump ass trembling as the pressure bore down. Her glossy lips parted, gasping for air, her curves pinned flat, helpless beneath his boot.

“If you don’t, well…” He leaned forward, applying more pressure, her tiny frame creaking under the strain. Her scream died, replaced by a ragged wheeze, her chest heaving uselessly, lungs crushed under his weight. Her breasts were squashed against the floor, cum seeping out around her.

He lifted his foot.

Amber gasped, coughing, curling into herself, hair clinging to her tear-streaked face. Her thighs trembled, tits heaving, stomach quivering in the sticky mess.

“Clean yourself up,” he growled, stepping back, zipping his jeans. His eyes stayed on her broken form, cold satisfaction settling in.

Amber dragged herself up, wincing, cum dripping as she crawled away. Jason watched, his rage sated, the heat simmering low.

He grabbed his backpack and climbed the stairs, her labored breaths fading below. She’d keep quiet. Or else.

Maybe staying with his gold-digging stepmom wouldn’t be so bad.

[dubiouskey]

Excellent work! It came out even better than I imagined. Thank you!

[Justhereforamoment1]

Glad you enjoyed it! If you have any other requests let me know

[Vic391137]

I’ve been reading this thread for a while, but finally got around to making an account. Wanted to let you know I’ve really enjoyed your stories, they’re fantastic! The ones set in colleges are particularly great IMO. I’m excited to see what else you come up with!
If you’re looking for requests, I’d love to see one where a college girl named Kara is shrunk in a lab accident and found by her friend Nick. She’s too embarrassed and afraid of what others might think so she has him agree to take care of her in secret. He starts off being kind to her, but after she becomes ungrateful for his care and takes him from granted he starts to use her as his toy.

[Justhereforamoment1]

So I said earlier in the thread that I won't be doing shrinking (I like them already small), but I can modify it a bit. What about this:

A tiny named Kara is going to school in a state that suddenly gets rid of tiny rights. Watching all her tiny friends get grabbed, she asks her giant friend, Nick, to register to be her 'owner' so shes not snatched off the street. Everything else the same with her being ungrateful. What do you think?

I could call it 'What are friends for' and draw some different ideas from the chapter 'New Leash on Life.'

Also I'm currently working on a new chapter and was planning on doing the wife swap chapter after, so this would have to go after them. That good with you?

[eddiegiantman]

- A tiny woman kept as a pet and has been broken to the point she forgot her name and sense on time as she's kept in a terrarium and fuck toy for someone. The only thing she remembers is how she shrank.
- A young college age and doll sized babysitter decides to cover herself with doll clothes, little she knows, the father of her charge has had a fascination with dolls.
- A shrinking superheroine faces off against a villain who has captured her and breaks her down to the point she's become the villains assistant.

[Justhereforamoment1]

Gosh dang it was thinking just yesterday how I was running out of ideas and here some are. So as I've said before I try to keep them in the same sort of world where tinies are normal but outside of that there's no sci-fi or fantasy things, so I'd have to modify your ideas. What about these:

- A tiny woman kept as a pet and has been broken to the point she forgot her name and sense on time as she's kept in a terrarium and fuck toy for someone. The only thing she remembers is how she was grabbed. (A little modification to not do shrinking)

- A young college age and doll sized babysitter decides to cover herself with doll clothes, little she knows, the father of her charge has had a fascination with dolls. (This one required no modification)

- A tiny detective/spy faces off against a villain who has captured her and breaks her down to the point she's become the villains assistant. (This one I'm sorry wouldn't include the superhero stuff, not my area of writing. I could write it more like a corporate espionage type thing where the tiny is trying to stop the evil ceo/scientist/mob boss/etc but no superheros. Is that okay?)

[Vic391137]

So I said earlier in the thread that I won't be doing shrinking (I like them already small), but I can modify it a bit. What about this:

A tiny named Kara is going to school in a state that suddenly gets rid of tiny rights. Watching all her tiny friends get grabbed, she asks her giant friend, Nick, to register to be her 'owner' so shes not snatched off the street. Everything else the same with her being ungrateful. What do you think?

I could call it 'What are friends for' and draw some different ideas from the chapter 'New Leash on Life.'

Also I'm currently working on a new chapter and was planning on doing the wife swap chapter after, so this would have to go after them. That good with you?

Sounds great! Sorry for forgetting about your starting small rule. Excited to see how it turns out!

[eddiegiantman]

Gosh dang it was thinking just yesterday how I was running out of ideas and here some are. So as I've said before I try to keep them in the same sort of world where tinies are normal but outside of that there's no sci-fi or fantasy things, so I'd have to modify your ideas. What about these:

- A tiny woman kept as a pet and has been broken to the point she forgot her name and sense on time as she's kept in a terrarium and fuck toy for someone. The only thing she remembers is how she was grabbed. (A little modification to not do shrinking)

- A young college age and doll sized babysitter decides to cover herself with doll clothes, little she knows, the father of her charge has had a fascination with dolls. (This one required no modification)

- A tiny detective/spy faces off against a villain who has captured her and breaks her down to the point she's become the villains assistant. (This one I'm sorry wouldn't include the superhero stuff, not my area of writing. I could write it more like a corporate espionage type thing where the tiny is trying to stop the evil ceo/scientist/mob boss/etc but no superheros. Is that okay?)

Sure also I have 2 more fun ones.

-80s set dark comedy about the nerd impressing a tiny woman and she falls for him but he might be more sinister than she thinks.

- A brothel near Las Vegas where tiny women who are there are being used as living sex toys. Fittingly called the Dollhouse.

[Justhereforamoment1]

So this one started out as a simple idea. Girl grabbed while on vacation. Then it turned to two girls. Then I added scenes. They some more scenes. Then even more. By the time I'd finished, I ended up with a 10k words 'short' though at this point it's more a short story than a chapter. Working on the wife swap short next, I think it'll be good.

Spicy stuff starts about a fifth of the way in, but I'd reccomend reading the whole thing. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the read!

---

The bright neon lights of the Vegas Strip blazed overhead, casting a shimmering glow across the pavement as Isla strolled with a confident sway beside her best friend, Chloe.

The buzz of the city wrapped around them—music spilling from open doors, crowds weaving in waves, the air thick with perfume and cigarette smoke.

Isla’s white sundress fluttered in the breeze, the fabric skimming her thighs, clinging lightly to the gentle curve of her breasts and the generous swell of her hips and butt. Dark brown curls tumbled down her pale back in waves.

She moved like she belonged here—eyes sharp, lips curled in a soft smile, each step purposeful.

Chloe lagged just half a pace behind, her gaze darting nervously around. She tried not to flinch when a giant's leg thumped too close, her heart skipping a beat with every passing footstep.

Her thick black curls were pinned back in a messy puff, but strands had already escaped to frame her freckled face. Round glasses slipped down her nose for the third time in a block, and she pushed them back up with a sigh that turned into a small laugh.

She hadn’t wanted to come. Not really.

Isla’s texts had been relentless—photos of rooftop bars, hotel pools, sunset shots of the Strip with captions like “Next weekend. You. Me. No excuses.”

Chloe had sent back a string of worried emojis, then tried to list the reasons tinies didn’t hang out around Vegas crowds unless they wanted to end up smeared on someone's heel or carried off in a shopping bag.

But Isla had promised to be careful.

“I’ll find us the safest spots,” she’d said. “We’ll stick to the side paths. We'll dress cute and stay sharp.”

And she had meant it.

Now, as they strolled past a row of flashing signs and towering casino entrances, Chloe couldn’t help but smile.

Her lemon-yellow blouse was tucked into pale cotton booty shorts that clung snug over her slender frame and the soft swell of her rear. She was smaller than Isla at five inches, having to take quicker steps to keep pace, but there was a bounce in her gait now that they were here.

They paused at a crosswalk, and Chloe caught a glimpse of a man’s gaze lingering just a moment too long as he passed, his eyes flicking from Isla’s face down to the curve of her hips. She didn’t let it bother her, though.

Isla didn’t seem to notice at all, her expression unbothered as she nudged Chloe with her elbow.

“Okay, I'm having fun,” Chloe murmured, pretending not to smile.

“I told you you would like it.”

Their laughter mingled with the roar of a passing bus. Music pulsed from a nearby club, and the pavement beneath them vibrated with the bass.

They posed for a picture beside a glittering fountain, Isla’s dress flaring in the wind, her shapely curves catching the light. Chloe threw a peace sign and stuck out one hip, her shorts pulling up tight across her round butt.

A couple of people nearby glanced in their direction, one or two lingering for just a second, but Isla remained unfazed. She adjusted her posture slightly, angling her body toward the lens, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. The sun glinted off Chloe's glasses, catching attention from passersby across the plaza. A man walking his dog slowed down, sneaking another look at the pair before moving on.

Chloe flushed but tried to focus on the fun, grinning as Isla tapped the button on her camera.

“See? You’re already blending in,” Isla teased, nudging Chloe gently as they continued walking. Chloe laughed, the warmth in Isla’s voice settling her nerves a little.

As they turned back toward the Strip, Isla looped her arm gently through Chloe’s. There was a thrill in every step, in every near miss and sidelong glance, in every moment they moved freely in a place that wasn’t built for them.

Unbeknownst to them, Darren, a broad-shouldered rugby player, was watching with hungry eyes.

He’d heard about how tinies had rights in the States and was curious what that really meant. He’d been eating some chips at the pub when he noticed the brunette one with the fat ass. He'd spotted the smaller freckled one right after.

Back home in Hull, tinies didn’t strut around like they were real women. They scurried, kept quiet, and knew better than to draw attention. Nobody called it wrong when a bloke slipped one next to his cock for the night—it was just a bit of fun and pleasure.

After a few pints, someone’d pull one out, set her on the table, and bets would fly about who could get her clothes off first. Darren hadn’t been the worst of them, but he’d had his share—soft little things, warm and squirmy in the palm of his hand. They were more like living toys than people.

But here?

That brunette one walked like she had no idea what she was.

Ass swaying, sundress bouncing with every step. And the tiny freckled thing beside her—cute, nervous, like she might run if he so much as blinked too hard. It made his cock twitch just watching them.

He wiped his fingers on a napkin, tossed back the last gulp of his warm beer, and stood. “Yanks and their bloody tipping,” he muttered, chucking a few coins onto the table like an afterthought. “Paying extra just to get served what you already bought.”

Darren smirked, slipping into the steady tide of foot traffic as the two tinies wove their way down the Strip.

His eyes never left them.

The city buzzed around him—horns, music, laughter—but it all faded as he watched the sway of Isla’s wide hips beneath her fluttering dress.

Like she was daring someone to take her.

He didn’t need to rush. He’d stalked game before. The trick was patience. Let the little things think they’re safe. Let them get comfortable.

Let them wander just one step too far.

Chloe giggled as Isla pointed at a street performer juggling knives on a towering unicycle. The neon lights bathed them in shifting hues—pink, then electric blue, then a harsh green that made Chloe squint and laugh harder, her full lips parted, cheeks dimpling with every breathless giggle.

They posed with a fake Elvis outside a casino, the giant crooner crouching for the photo while both girls leaned in close, each blowing exaggerated kisses toward the camera, Isla wobbling as she bent forward, her sundress dipping low to offer a deep view of her soft cleavage. Beside her, Chloe mimicked the pose, her balance faltering as she bumped into Isla.

They each took sips from a shared daiquiri the size of a bathtub, Isla dragging a long straw up to her lips, pink tongue flicking the edge before passing it down to Chloe, her hand brushing a signpost she didn’t notice. The smaller girl had to climb onto a planter just to reach it, her shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of soft belly as she leaned in, giggling, nearly slipping off the edge.

“You’re gonna fall in,” Isla teased, swaying as she watched her friend wobble

“Worth it,” Chloe declared, wiping strawberry slush from her chin with a grin. Her flushed face and bright eyes shimmered under the neon, giving her an almost tipsy glow. “This is actually kinda fun.”

“See?” Isla grinned. “Vegas is magic.”

They wandered farther, swaying side by side, the gentle bounce of Isla’s full breasts visible beneath the soft fabric of her dress, her hips moving in smooth rhythm. Chloe’s smaller frame shifted with energy beside her, her tight little shorts catching the eye of more than one passing stranger.

At the Bellagio fountains, they paused to watch the water erupt skyward, music swelling behind them. Chloe leaned into Isla’s side, warm and giggling, her curves pressing lightly against her friend. For a moment, they stood there—two tiny women adrift in a giant city, bodies soft and bright under hard lights, dwarfed by steel and noise, but radiant in their own small way.

Then Chloe pulled back, stretching her arms over her head, the move lifting her blouse and flashing a quick glimpse of underboob as she swayed. “Okay, okay. I’m officially done. My legs are made of regret. Can we head back?”

Isla arched a brow, smoothing the hem of her sundress as she turned. The fabric clung to her rear in a way that made Chloe blush and look away.

“Already? You were just starting to loosen up.”

Chloe nodded, her shirt slipping off one shoulder as she adjusted her glasses clumsily. “I am loose. I’m super loose. I’m like... noodles.” She gestured vaguely, her shirt slipping further. “But also tired noodles.”

Isla laughed, then looked around. The Strip curved ahead, glowing with promise but packed with giants.

“We could cut through here,” she said, gesturing toward a narrow side alley nestled between two casinos, her arm swaying slightly. “It’s like, five minutes instead of twenty.”

Chloe frowned. The alley was dim, half-lit by flickering bulbs and neon runoff, the kind of place where every footstep sounded louder than it should.

“I don’t know…”

Isla rolled her eyes playfully. “Come on. It’s not like we’re going to get mugged by a rat. I’ll go first.”

She stepped forward, her sandal catching briefly on the pavement, and Chloe, biting her lip, followed close behind, her steps uneven. Their sandals clicked quietly on the concrete, the Strip’s roar dimming behind them, their attention drifting from the shadows at their backs.

They were about halfway through when the shift came.

A shadow loomed behind them.

“Evenin’, ladies,” Darren called, voice smooth and low.

Both of them froze. Isla turned first, curls bouncing. Chloe stiffened beside her, her pale face going sheet-white beneath her freckles.

He stepped into the light.

Shoulders broad, smile lazy, eyes dark with hunger. The alley’s mouth vanished behind his bulk.

Darren gave a lazy grin. “Bit far from the lights, aren’t you?”

Isla turned her body slightly, her drink held close to her chest like a shield. She tried to remain steady, but her pulse quickened. Her gaze flicked past him, down the dim alleyway, looking for an escape. But the shadows stretched far behind them, and the streetlights didn’t reach here.

She cleared her throat, raising her chin. “We’re fine. Just heading back to our hotel.”

Darren cocked his head. “Didn’t ask if you were fine, love. Just saying—bit late for girls your size to be wandering alleys alone.”

Chloe opened her mouth, then closed it. Her pulse thudded in her throat. Isla stepped half in front of her, chin lifted.

“We’re heading back now,” Isla said. “So if you’ll excuse us…”

He didn’t move.

The silence between them thickened. Chloe’s breath hitched beside her, and Isla felt her friend’s hand tremble against her arm. The warmth of Chloe’s smaller frame was a comfort, but it didn’t ease the sudden knot in Isla’s stomach.

She glanced at Chloe, whose round eyes were wide with panic. “We just want to get back to our hotel,” Isla said, her voice steady but her heart pounding. “Please, let us pass.”

Darren didn’t respond right away. His smile widened, but there was no humor in it. He took a slow step forward, his shadow swallowing them both. “You don’t seem to understand the situation, love,” he said, his voice smooth and low, almost like he was savoring the moment.

Isla instinctively stepped back, her body turning slightly to shield Chloe. But the alley was narrow, and there was nowhere to retreat to.

“Listen,” she said, trying to keep her voice firm, but the flutter in her chest betrayed her. “We’re not causing trouble. We’re just two people trying to get by in this city, okay? You don’t want to do this.”

Darren chuckled, and the sound of it sent a shiver down Isla’s spine. “You think I’m just gonna let you walk away?” His words felt like a threat, lingering in the air. “Nah, I’ve got other plans for you two.”

Isla’s stomach twisted. She could feel Chloe’s hand trembling harder now, pressing against her arm as if trying to hold herself together. She could see the fear in her friend’s eyes, wide and glassy, and Isla’s heart tightened in response. She couldn’t let anything happen to Chloe—not on her watch.

“Please,” Chloe whispered, her voice barely audible, “just let us go.”

For a brief moment, Isla thought Darren might actually listen. But then he took another step forward, and Isla’s chest tightened. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and every instinct screamed at her to fight, to run, to do anything to escape.

Before she could, Darren moved in close, one hand shooting out and wrapping around both of them in a firm grip.

Isla yelped, her drink splashing to the ground, sundress twisting around her as her feet kicked out. Chloe’s glasses slipped from her face, tumbling onto the pavement as her arms flailed, trying to find balance. Their bodies collided against Darren’s palm, their soft forms pressed together as he closed his hand around them.

Isla’s plush ass grazed Chloe’s slender thighs, and the heat of their bodies seeped into his skin, sending a rush of excitement through him.

His cock twitched, straining against his jeans as he felt their panic.

Darren smirked as he tightened his grip on the squirming tinies, their muffled yelps reverberating through his palm.

He’d planned to grab some tacky souvenirs before his flight—maybe a snow globe or a keychain. But these two, with their soft curves and frantic struggles, were far more enticing.

"Shh," he murmured, slipping them into his jacket pocket. He straightened, leaving his hand there, their bodies muffled by the thick fabric of his jacket. The city’s noise seemed to fade as he blended into the crowd of tourists, their cries smothered against his chest.

In the darkness of his pocket, their bodies shifted—Isla’s curves pressing into Chloe’s smaller frame, her soft breasts squishing against her friend's back. He smirked, savoring the warmth and softness of them both.

He nudged them deeper into the pocket, the fabric pressing against their trembling bodies as they struggled for space, frantically wriggling to escape the tight confines and his intrusive fingers

Darren started walking to his car, their squirming bodies buzzing against his chest through the jacket, his cock twitching with every muffled whimper as he melted into the Vegas crowd.

At the edge of a dim lot, Darren slid into the driver’s seat of the dusty rental sedan, the leather groaning under his weight. In his pocket, the two tinies squirmed, their movements frantic, their faces flushed with fear.

He reached in, fingers closing around them, and dropped them into the cupholder between the seats. The plastic was scalding from the sun, searing their skin as their small bodies wedged into its curved base.

Isla’s thick thighs jammed against the edge, her white dress twisting to bare the lace of her panties, sweat gluing the fabric to her curves. Chloe clung to her, curled tightly at her side, her tear-streaked face blotched with terror.

“Stay put,” Darren said, starting the engine. The car roared to life, rattling the cupholder and jolting the girls inside. “It’s a bit of a drive to the airport.”

Isla twisted, clawing at the slick plastic, her breasts heaving under the thin dress as she shouted, “You can’t do this! We have rights!”

Darren gave a low chuckle and shifted into gear. “Not where I’m from, love.”

The highway stretched into the dark, Vegas shrinking in the rearview mirror like a bad memory. The desert swallowed everything around them.

Darren kept one hand steady on the wheel as he drove, the other drifting to the console, his fingers grazing the rim of the cupholder.

Isla was curled along one edge, her thighs clenched, the sundress plastered to her sweat-slick skin. Her dark curls matted to her neck, and her hands gripped the plastic lip, nails scraping uselessly.

Chloe pressed close, her face buried in Isla’s shoulder. Her yellow blouse had torn at the seam, baring a sliver of freckled skin, and her shorts had ridden up, exposing the soft curve of her ass. She didn’t speak. She just trembled.

Darren’s fingers brushed Isla’s thigh.

She flinched, her legs snapping shut, the dress riding higher. Her chest heaved, breaths sharp, her full breasts straining the fabric with each gasp.

He didn’t look down—kept his eyes on the road—but his hand didn’t leave her. It roamed slowly, tracing the swell of her hip through the dress, lingering where her ass pressed against the plastic.

“Please,” she said, voice cracking.

He gave one hard squeeze, his fingers digging into her plush flesh until she yelped. Beside her, Chloe froze, her small body rigid, as if breathing might draw his attention.

Darren’s hand moved to Isla’s chest, his fingers clamping around one soft breast through the sweat-soaked fabric. He kneaded it roughly, feeling its weight yield under his grip, her nipple stiffening against his thumb.

“Fuck, you’re soft,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust. His cock throbbed, straining against his jeans as he rolled her breast, savoring her muffled whimper.

Isla arched, her breath ragged. She bit her lip, stifling a cry. Her hands shoved at his finger, nails scratching, but it was like clawing stone.

He chuckled darkly, amused by her defiance. Pinching harder, he felt her shudder—a sound that sent a surge of heat through him.

Chloe’s stomach churned. Isla’s fear bled into her own. She glanced up, her freckled cheeks flushed, and saw Darren’s hand shift to her. Her eyes widened in panic.

He reached in, fingers curling around her waist. She screamed as he yanked her out of the cupholder like a toy. Her legs flailed, hands clawing at his wrist.

“Let me go—please—”

Darren shifted his grip, hoisting Chloe to eye level with him. He kept one hand steady on the wheel, his gaze flickering between her and the road. Chloe’s breath hitched as he turned her, positioning her ass toward his face, her small body trembling in his grip.

He hooked a finger in her waistband and ripped her booty shorts down, ignoring her cries.

“No—no, please—” Chloe’s voice broke, her body thrashing in vain.

The fabric tore free, baring her panties—soft cotton with little pink flowers, stretched tight over her round ass. The cool air hit her bare skin, making her quake.

As her shorts fell away, Darren’s eyes lingered on her jiggling cheeks, a low whistle escaping his lips. He let go of the wheel briefly to deliver a sharp smack, her whimper echoing as her ass rippled under his touch.

Isla looked up, eyes wide, her mouth tight with rage. Her nails dug into the plastic, splintering the edge.

After savoring her ass for a moment, Darren dropped Chloe back into the cupholder, her bare thighs sprawling across Isla’s lap. She folded over awkwardly, her face pressed into Isla’s chest, her naked ass exposed. Isla winced, her hands hovering, unsure where to touch.

They were left alone for a bit as Darren hit traffic, but it didn’t take long for his hand to move again—this time between Chloe’s legs.

Her whole body jerked. She gasped, then choked it back. Isla felt it through her, every shudder, every jolt. Darren’s finger slid slow between Chloe’s thighs, pressing her panties into her pussy, the cotton damp with her sweat. Chloe squirmed, helpless, her voice a string of fractured pleas.

Isla gritted her teeth.

Then his hand found her, yanking her out with brutal ease, her dress bunched at her waist. He draped her across his lap, then reached for Chloe.

Chloe was pressed beneath Isla, bare skin against bare skin, their sweat-slick bodies sliding together. Isla twisted, clawing at his wrist, her curves grinding against Chloe’s smaller frame. His grip tightened on her side.

“Oi, stay still,” he growled.

She didn’t. She kicked, her thighs smacking his palm, but it was pointless. He pinned her down with one hand, the other still on the wheel.

Chloe sobbed harder under her.

Darren’s fingers slipped under Isla’s panties next. She gasped—a raw, humiliated sound—as he spread her thighs and pressed into her pussy, his rough fingertip grinding against her sensitive flesh. Her breaths came fast and uneven.

“That’s better,” he murmured.

The desert road kept going, endless and dark. The airport lights blinked faintly ahead.

Later, he pulled into the airport car park, the rental saloon's engine ticking as it cooled.

Darren stepped out and went to the boot, hauling out his carry-on—a battered black duffel with a half-jammed zip—and slinging it over his shoulder.

Inside the cupholder, Isla and Chloe huddled, their sweat-slick bodies crammed together in the dim dashboard light.

Darren’s shadow fell over them as he reached in, fingers curling around both at once. Isla kicked, her plush ass bumping Chloe’s thigh, but his grip was solid, pinning them tightly. Chloe whimpered, hands clawing at his knuckles, glasses lost, eyes wide.

"Time to pack you up," Darren muttered, voice low and amused. His cock stirred in his jeans, remembering their wriggling warmth. He’d wanted to keep them in his pocket for the flight, but the crowd inside would be less forgiving.

The duffel would do.

He unzipped a side pocket, the sound loud in the quiet cabin. It was small, lined with rough canvas, with only a crumpled shirt and a pair of his worn, musky boxers tossed inside. Isla’s breath hitched as he dropped them in—first Chloe, then her—his fingers letting go without ceremony.

They tumbled in separate directions, landing in a heap of cloth and stale sweat. Isla hit the shirt, her legs tangling briefly in a sleeve before slipping free. Chloe rolled across the boxers, her cheek hitting a damp patch that made her gag.

“No—please!” Isla’s voice was muffled as she scrambled upright, pushing fabric aside. The zip hissed shut, sealing them in with the sour musk of old laundry and Darren’s scent clinging to every thread.

Darren slung the duffel over his shoulder and started toward the terminal. With each stride, the bag swayed and jostled them violently. Isla's face slammed against the damp fabric of the boxers, the acrid, salty musk hitting her nose hard. She gagged, twisting away, only to have her cheek mashed into Chloe’s thigh.

Chloe yelped as her head knocked against the side of the pocket, Isla’s elbow jabbing her ribs. Their bodies tumbled, limbs tangled and sliding through sweat and cloth. Isla’s bare nipple scraped across the coarse canvas, a sting of pain making her hiss. Chloe landed face-first into a crumpled, sweat-stained fold of the shirt, her mouth filling with the taste of old cotton and stale salt.

Outside the bag, faint thuds appeared on the surface, irregular dents forming as their bodies struck the fabric in clumsy rhythm. Darren barely noticed, his smirk fixed as he adjusted his grip on the strap. He felt the bag twitch slightly and imagined them scrambling inside, helpless.

"Be good in there," he muttered, patting the pocket firmly. Inside, the impact jolted Isla’s ass into Chloe’s face, drawing another muffled gasp.

The duffel swayed again. Isla’s head hit the side wall, her cheek smeared with moisture from the boxers. Chloe's leg slipped under Isla, thigh pressed between her friend's slick, trembling legs.

Outside, the terminal buzzed with footsteps and distant voices, but inside the bag was a furnace of sweat and friction. Isla clawed for space, her nails dragging against canvas. Chloe sagged in her arms, breath hot and shallow.

Their bodies rocked and thudded against the walls in rhythm with Darren’s gait, muffled sounds escaping into the open air.

At security, Darren tossed the bag on the belt. It landed with a dull thud, jamming Isla’s ass into Chloe’s back. The belt pulled them into the scanner tunnel, the whine of machinery vibrating through their bodies.

Isla kicked weakly, her thigh brushing Chloe’s breasts, causing her to gasp.

Working the computer, Greg—wiry, five o’clock shadow, TSA badge dull under fluorescent lights—squinted at the image. Two humanoid figures squirmed among the mess of fabric and underwear. He frowned, curious.

"Sir, over here please," Greg said, waving Darren aside.

He opened the main zipper, then the side. The girls’ whimpers slipped out. He peeled back the shirt. Isla blinked up at him, Chloe curled against her. Torn dress, askew panties, slick skin.

"Help us," Isla rasped, her voice shaking as she gasped for breath. Her breasts heaved, Chloe’s tear-streaked face was buried in her chest, body trembling.

Greg’s eyes lingered on the scene—Isla’s curves, Chloe’s soft thighs, their glistening bodies tangled together.

"I uh, brought them from home," Darren stuttered, his voice edged with a nervousness he couldn’t quite hide. "Bought ‘em fair. I’m just headed back now."

Greg lifted the girls, their warm bodies squirming slightly in his gloved hands. "That so? This is America. Tinies have rights. Got any papers to prove ownership?"

Darren’s jaw flexed. “I... forgot them at home?”

“Uh huh,” Greg said flatly, not buying it.
His grip tightened slightly. Isla gasped, his fingers pressing into her soft curves. Chloe whimpered, thighs drawing together as his touch firmed around them.

Greg sighed. “Step back. You’re not taking them anywhere.”

Darren bristled. “Those are mine. I paid good money for—”

“Do I need to call security?” Greg cut in, voice sharp now, his eyes never leaving Darren’s face.

A beat passed. Darren muttered something under his breath—something about “bloody Americans”—and turned away, storming off into the terminal.

Greg exhaled, shaking his head. “Always one.”

He looked down at the two tiny women in his hands—sweat-slick, shaken, tangled in his fingers. Isla met his gaze, steady despite the tremble in her limbs.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaky as she nuzzled Chloe's neck, holding her close.

Greg’s thumb brushed along Isla’s soft thigh, slow and deliberate. The touch lingered longer than it should have, and his voice, low and smooth, followed, “Yeah, no problem.”

Isla’s breath caught in her chest, a chill running down her spine as his fingers trailed higher, his touch now brushing against her ass.

She glanced up, heart racing, and that’s when she noticed it—the growing bulge in his pants, pressing against the fabric of his uniform. Panic tightened in her stomach, and her pulse quickened.

Fear flashed in her eyes, but when she looked at Chloe, her face was still buried in Isla’s chest, oblivious to the shift in the air.

Before she could react, Greg slipped them into his pocket, adjusting his belt. Their muffled yelps disappeared into the thick fabric, and Greg walked back to his station, cock throbbing with each step.

"Must be my lucky day," he muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips as he disappeared into the crowd.

Chloe’s yelp pierced the stifling dark as Greg’s fingers yanked her and Isla from his pocket. Their sweat-slick bodies tumbled into a clear plastic container, landing with a soft thud. Isla’s plush curves spilled across Chloe’s slender frame, their limbs tangling as they slid against the smooth walls.

The container—some kind of repurposed food storage tub—smelled faintly of stale coffee and grease. Its transparent sides offered a cruel view of their new prison: an employee break room at McCarran International Airport.

The room was a drab cube, lit by flickering fluorescents and lined with chipped linoleum. Above a row of dented lockers, a time clock ticked, and a crooked "Staff Only" sign hung on the door.

Isla pushed herself up, her white sundress bunched at her waist, the torn fabric barely covering her lace panties. Her dark curls clung to her flushed cheeks, and her full breasts heaved with each ragged breath, straining against the ripped neckline.

She wiped sweat from her brow, her green eyes darting around the container, then to Chloe, who was curled beside her, trembling.

“Chloe, you okay?” Isla whispered, her voice hoarse but steady, reaching for her friend’s hand.

Chloe nodded shakily, her freckled face blotched with tears. Her yellow blouse was shredded, hanging off one shoulder, and her cotton panties clung to her round ass, damp with sweat.

Without her glasses, her brown eyes were wide with panic, unable to make out anything.

“Where… where are we?” she stammered, small hands clutching Isla’s arm, her slender thighs quivering against the container’s warm plastic.

“Some kind of break room,” Isla said, her gaze scanning the room’s edges.

“That guy, he’s TSA. Must’ve brought us here after…” Her voice faltered, the memory of his lingering thumb on her thigh, the bulge in his pants, tightening her chest.

She shook it off, forcing focus. “We’re getting out of here.”

Chloe’s breath hitched, her fingers digging into Isla’s arm. “But he’s coming back, isn’t he? What if he—”

“We won’t be here when he does,” Isla cut in, her tone firm despite the tremor in her hands.

She stood, her thick thighs flexing as she shifted her weight, her plush ass swaying with the movement. She tested the container’s walls, feeling the smooth, slightly curved plastic beneath her palms, scalding from the room's heat. The lid—flimsy, a simple snap-on cover—had a small gap at one corner, where it didn’t quite seal.

“Look, up there. We can push that open,” she said, her voice laced with a confidence she didn’t quite feel.

Chloe scrambled to her feet, her bare feet slipping on the slick floor, her bare ass swaying as she steadied herself.

“It’s too high,” she said, voice cracking, her eyes flicking to the door. “And what if someone else comes in?”

“Then we move fast,” Isla said, already climbing, her nails scraping the plastic as she hoisted herself up the container’s inner curve. Her breasts bounced with each push, the dress riding higher, baring her sweat-slick hips.

She reached the lid, her fingers hooking the gap, and shoved with all her strength. The plastic creaked, shifting slightly, a sliver of cooler air seeping in.

Chloe hesitated, then followed, her smaller frame struggling to keep up. Her torn blouse flapped, exposing her soft belly, and her panties dug into her hips as she climbed, her freckled thighs trembling with effort.

The lid popped up a couple centimeter, teetering, and she wedged her shoulder under it, her curves straining against the plastic. “Help me push!”

Chloe scrambled up beside Isla, their bodies pressed close together. Isla’s plush ass bumped Chloe’s slender hips as they shoved against the sides of the container. The lid lifted another few centimeter, letting the stale air of the break room flood in.

Isla’s dark curls tumbled into her face, her breasts heaving as she braced her legs, her nails scraping against the plastic. Chloe’s hands shook, her freckled cheeks flushed, but she pushed too, her small body trembling with the effort.

“Almost there,” Isla panted, her voice tight with hope.

The lid wobbled, nearly free, the gap wide enough for her to slip partway through. She reached up, fingers brushing the edge of the container, her thick thighs flexing as she tugged herself halfway out, her body straining against the tight space.

The door swung open.

Isla froze, her heart slamming against her ribs. Chloe gasped, slipping back into the container, her butt hitting the plastic with a soft thud.

A man stepped in—not Greg, not TSA, but a stranger, his silhouette filling the doorway. He was stocky, mid-30s, with a faded baseball cap and a crumpled tourist shirt, his eyes bleary from too many Strip drinks.

Stu swayed slightly as he looked around. He’d been trying to find the bathroom when he stumbled upon the scene.

“Well, shit,” he muttered, his voice slurred but sharp with interest.

His eyes locked on the tiny brunette halfway out of the container, her sundress bunched around her waist.

Her fat ass swayed with every movement as she clung to the lid. The lace of her panties hugged her curves, sweat glistening on her thick thighs, her full breasts spilling from the torn dress.

“What do we got here?” he said, his cock hardening at the sight.

He crouched down, eyes lingering on their small forms. A slow grin spread across his face—this trip was turning out better than expected. He could definitely make some money off this.

Without hesitation, he reached in and grabbed the brunette with the fat ass first, hed definitely have a use for her. Both of them were trying to speak, but he didn’t care what the tiny women were saying—he ignored their protests completely.

Isla felt the giant’s hand close around her waist. She’d been so close to escaping, and now it was snatched away—cruel and sudden.

She struggled, but his grip was too strong. Without hesitation, he slipped a finger between her breasts, making her gasp.

With a rough tug, he tore her sundress from her body, leaving her bare except for her panties. The cold air prickled her nipples, and she could feel his hot breath on her skin. Before she could react, his hand yanked her panties down and off.

She was bare in his palm, his eyes roaming over her exposed skin. His hand moved over her body, fingers exploring with slow, deliberate touches. His thumb pressed against one breast, rolling the soft mound between thumb and fingers. Then, he pinched her nipple hard and tugged upward, making her whimper.

He continued to fondle her breasts, squishing them roughly before bringing them to his mouth. His lips picked and bit at her skin, sharp and teasing. She twisted and squirmed, but there was nowhere to escape.

Eventually, he stopped and shifted his attention to her ass. He seemed to take a different kind of interest there. Spreading her cheeks, he inspected her tight hole with a low hum of approval and a nod.

Burning with embarrassment and pain, Isla’s fear deepened when he suddenly shifted her down. Her face came level with the bulge straining against his cargo shorts.

He wasted no time, casting a quick glance toward the door before tugging down his shorts. Isla found herself face to face with the largest cock she had ever seen—long as she was tall, thicker than her waist, and slick with leaking precum.

She’d known, logically, that giant cocks would be proportionally bigger, but there was a difference between reading about it and having her face forced into the tip of one.

She tried to scream, but before she could, her mouth was shoved onto the thick bead of precum at the tip. Her cries turned into muffled gurgles as the slick coating spread over her face.

Stu pressed the tiny's face firmly into his slimy slit, holding her there for a few seconds before letting her face slide up and down through it.

Isla’s desperate cries only made her mouth fill with the slick precum. She swallowed some, gasping for air, feeling like she might choke at any moment. Only then did the giant man pull her away from his cock.

He grinned down at her slimy face, her fearful eyes locked on his, before pressing her lush body tight against his thick shaft. He savored the feel of her curves molding around him before tucking both her and his cock into his shorts and zipping them up. She was trapped, pressed hard against his length inside the fabric.

Chloe watched in terrified silence, trembling as her best friend was treated like a sex doll. She wanted to move, to do something—anything—but her body refused.

All she managed was a soft whimper as his gaze shifted to her. Without hesitation, he reached down and snagged her by the waist.

Stu lifted the smaller tiny up to his face. She wasn’t as curvy as the first, but still pretty cute. Her torn yellow blouse and just her panties covering her ass made for a tempting sight, so he didn’t bother stripping her like he had the first.

She was clearly terrified, almost frozen still. If he hadn’t seen her move before and felt her trembling, he might have thought she was a lifeless doll.

He gave her a wink before stuffing her into one of his pockets. He opened the door carefully, glancing around to make sure no one was watching before stepping out.

Isla was trapped in a tight, sweaty prison of fabric that smelled faintly of stale urine. The fleshy monster pressing against her was still leaking, making everything slick and sticky. She couldn’t move at all.

Each step the man took sent jolts through her body, grinding her against the massive cock trapped beside her. She was kneaded and crushed, every motion impossible to ignore.

She thrashed, fists pounding and legs kicking, desperate to break free. But the fabric barely gave way, and every desperate move only pressed her harder into the cock beside her, making it twitch and stiffen with pleasure.

Her frantic struggles were fueling it, making the monster even more alive against her skin.

It went on like that for what felt like hours.

Stu stood in line, his cock pulsing with every squirm and fight she gave. The feel of her soft, frantic body was driving him wild—he was this close to ducking into a bathroom and jerking off quickly with her. The tiny squirming in his pocket only added fuel to the fire.

Maybe if his damn boarding call hadn’t come.

Chloe sobbed silently, trapped in the giant’s pocket. Vegas had been fun, but she’d let herself forget the harsh truth.

Tinies didn’t get safety.

They were either careful or toys, and right now, she was nothing but a frightened plaything.

Stu stepped onto the plane and found his seat—lucky day for him. Not only had he scored two tiny souvenirs, but he also had a window seat with no one beside him.

The pressure around Isla tightened suddenly. She couldn’t do anything but take it as he settled in, shifting just enough to drag her body against the pulsing cock pressed against her. Every small movement pressed her harder against the thick, overwhelming flesh.

From the suffocating heat inside his shorts, Isla heard it—a low rumble that grew louder. The plane’s engines revving up. Then a sharp jolt shoved her tighter against the slick, pulsing cock.

Her stomach twisted. Had he really brought them on a plane like this? Horror settled deep inside her. She had no clue where they were headed or what he planned once they landed. All she felt was the relentless throb beneath her and the tight, oppressive fabric trapping her.

Meanwhile, Chloe clung to the inside of his pocket, the engine vibrations humming around her. A sudden lurch nearly sent her tumbling deeper. Her heart raced. Where were they going? Fear spun wildly in her mind—not just for herself, but for Isla. They were completely at the giant’s mercy.

His cock twitched again, Isla’s squirming growing desperate as he shifted her, pressing her harder against his shaft. Her soft curves conformed to every ridge, her frantic breaths fueling his heat.

His hand found her head through the fabric, forcing her face against his leaking slit, smearing precum over her skin. Her breaths turned into choked gasps, the slick liquid filling her mouth.

He kept this up for several minutes, pressing her face against his leaking slit, letting her up for air only briefly before forcing her back down again. Eventually, he stopped, clearly satisfied.

Isla gasped ragged breaths, her face slick and coated in slimy precum. There was so much of it that it dripped down, covering her body in the sticky mess.

After that, he didn’t touch her anymore. Despite the oppressive heat, the musky stench, and the relentless pulse of the monster beside her, Isla’s exhaustion finally took over. Slowly, she slipped into a fitful sleep, the hours dragging on in the suffocating dark.

Isla woke as light spilled over her. The fabric prison above her head pulled open, her face stuck fast to the stinking glans, dried precum acting like glue.

A huge hand reached in, gripping her and peeling her free.

Her naked body was slick with sweat and dried cum, sticky and cold in the sudden air.

As she blinked away the haze, she realized she was inside some kind of tent. Faint sounds of a large crowd echoed outside, a low murmur of voices carried through the fabric walls.

Before Isla could speak, the giant produced a flat board with metal clamps. He laid her on it, forcing her head down so her round, plush ass arched high. He secured clamps around her torso and thighs, locking her in place.

She thrashed wildly, eyes wild and desperate as panic swept over her. Her body twisted against the restraints, every movement pulling at the metal with frantic strength.

Stu watched her struggle, eyes fixed on the way her enormous, soft ass jiggled and shifted with each frantic wriggle, the trembling flesh catching the dim light. Her loud screams echoed through the tent.

"Good," he murmured. "That should draw some attention."

Isla’s screams tore through the air as she watched the giant move toward another table. She saw him scribble something on a label, then peel it off.

When he returned, she couldn’t see what he was doing behind her, but she felt a firm grip on the board holding her. Then, without warning, the label was slapped hard onto her left ass cheek.

The sting made her yelp sharply, her body jerking from the sudden pain.

Isla woke as light spilled over her. The fabric prison above her head pulled open, her face stuck fast to the stinking glans, dried precum acting like glue.

A huge hand reached in, gripping her and peeling her free.

Her naked body was slick with sweat and dried cum, sticky and cold in the sudden air.

She was lifted and carried toward a basin where cool water splashed over her, washing away the sticky mixture from her skin. The cold shocked her, making her nipples harden painfully against the sudden chill. The water ran over her curves and down her thighs, rinsing the grime away but doing nothing to soothe the ache building inside her.

As she blinked away the haze, she realized she was inside some kind of tent. Faint sounds of a large crowd echoed outside, a low murmur of voices carried through the fabric walls.

Before Isla could speak, the giant produced a flat board with metal clamps. He laid her on it, forcing her head down so her round, plush ass arched high. He secured clamps around her torso and thighs, locking her in place.

She thrashed wildly, eyes wild and desperate as panic swept over her. Her body twisted against the restraints, every movement pulling at the metal with frantic strength.

Stu watched her struggle, eyes fixed on the way her enormous, soft ass jiggled and shifted with each frantic wriggle, the trembling flesh catching the dim light. Her loud screams echoed through the tent.

"Good," he murmured. "That should draw some attention."

Isla’s screams tore through the air as she watched the giant move toward another table. She saw him scribble something on a label, then peel it off.

When he returned, she couldn’t see what he was doing behind her, but she felt a firm grip on the board holding her. Then, without warning, the label was slapped hard onto her left ass cheek.

The sting made her yelp sharply, her body jerking from the sudden pain.

Rick checked the setup carefully, turning the board this way and that. Satisfied, he grunted and walked out.

Outside, an open market buzzed with a large crowd moving between stalls. Stu carried Isla to the front of his booth and set her down, positioning her so her rounded ass—and the label slapped on it—faced the crowd. Then he headed back to sit by his register.

Above him hung a worn sign: "Stu's Soft Souvenirs."

Passersby glanced curiously as they walked past. Many eyes roved over the small trinkets on display, some stopping to look at Isla, reading the label stuck to her ass cheek: "Pen Holder – $20."

Isla’s chest tightened with fear. She barely had room to move or look, but what she could see made her stomach drop. All around her, tiny women were on display like objects—sold as souvenirs.

On a nearby rack, large-breasted tinies were tied to ties, their chests pushed forward. Their terrified eyes darted wildly, searching for a way out. Others were labeled as key holders, metal rings piercing both nipples, hanging down as they writhed in pain.

Some were forced to hold bottles, lying on their backs against angled stands. Their breasts were squished by glass, their bodies pinned in place. Others were arranged in various positions, limbs clamped and holes penetrated with metal rods to keep them still. Some were forced to kiss or pose seductively. Isla even spotted a pair locked in a 69.

She scanned the crowd of trapped women but didn’t see Chloe. A desperate hope flared inside her—maybe Chloe had escaped. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t here.

But Chloe hadn’t escaped.

When Stu first arrived, he’d pulled her out and placed her inside a plastic container with small air holes. It was just big enough for her to stand, barely allowing any movement. She looked like a doll trapped inside.

Above the container was a blank label space. Stu stared at it for a moment, then smiled as an idea struck him.

Instead of selling her as a general fidget toy tiny, he realized she was almost the perfect size for one of his most popular items. Quickly, he scribbled “Rodent Stimulator” on the label and hung her with the others.

It hadn’t taken long before a curious customer named Janice noticed Chloe’s small, delicate form and bought her. That had been over an hour ago. Janice had quickly given Chloe to her pet rat, Maurice, who was now eagerly rutting the tiny woman.

Chloe desperately tried to crawl away as the rat thrust into her. At first, his cock had been almost too large for her tight pussy, but over the hour, she’d loosened up.

Each thrust forced her to gasp for breath, the full weight of the beast settling over her as it made itself comfortable. After a few more minutes, the rat’s hindquarters shivered, and he drained his balls deep inside her.

But it wasn’t over.

At first, Janice hadn’t paid much attention to the label’s name. She’d thought the tiny would be a fun toy for her pet that he'd get bored of after a bit, maybe even an impromptu dildo for herself. But “Rodent Stimulator” was an apt name.

This was the tenth time Maurice had cum inside the freckled woman, and he showed no sign of stopping. There was something about her holes that made her irresistible.

After a short rest laying on top of her writhing form, he got ready to mount her again, but this time the angle was different—his cock pressed deep into her ass.

Pushing forward without any care for how tight her sphincter was or how loud her shrieks grew, Maurice thrust again relentlessly. Janice shook her head, amused, and walked away to think about what she’d have for dinner, leaving her pet to his fun.

Back at the stall, Isla watched as different women were bought by customers. A man was handed one of the tiny women tied to a tie by his wife, and together they pressed her soft breasts, enjoying the sensation. Another, a keychain tiny, was sold to a man who immediately began sliding keys along her stretched nipples, making them stretch even more with each added key.

She saw countless scenes of tinies treated like objects, sold and used as commodities. It was horrifying.

Suddenly, Isla’s attention snapped back to her own body when she felt what felt like a giant finger press hard against her asshole. She clenched instinctively and began thrashing wildly in panic.

Ricardo—Ricky for short—wandered through the market, soaking in the lively atmosphere of his vacation. Being so far from his home state of Mississippi, now standing in Massachusetts, felt strange—especially with all the naked tinies scattered around.

Tiny rights were recognized in most states, but Massachusetts was behind the curve in that regard. Ricky didn’t mind; in fact, it was part of why he came here.

Back home in Mississippi, tinies had been granted full legal protections long before Ricky’s time. Still, loopholes allowed people to bring tinies from other states—so long as they had the right papers. Ricky planned to take full advantage of that.

As he moved through the stalls, one caught his eye—Stu’s Soft Souvenirs. It wasn’t the only place selling tinies, or even the only one that dealt exclusively in them, but it was the only stall he’d seen that displayed them like this.

Most shops treated tinies like exotic pets, keeping them in plastic terrariums where customers could pick them up and maybe play with their bodies a little. Some even had separate areas where you could pay a few bucks to "test them out," as long as you washed them afterward. Ricky had done that a few times—found the pleasure worth it.

But this place was different. It didn’t treat tinies as living beings. Instead, they were objects—fun, useful toys. He liked that.

Looking over the selection, his eye was drawn to one of the baubles near the front. It was her massive waving butt that caught his attention, and he couldn’t help but grin.

He read the label and chuckled quietly—he supposed he could see how that’d make sense. She’d definitely make a good pen holder.

He reached out and pressed a finger between the large cheeks, feeling how soft they were. The sensation, along with the sight of her starting to thrash in panic, was enough to make his cock harden in his pants.

She’d be useful for other things, too, he thought with a grin.

He waved the owner over—Stu, as his name tag and the stall sign showed—and pointed at the tiny woman with the large butt.

“Do you think you could do fifteen?” he asked. “I like it, but I’m not sure about the price.”

Stu hesitated for a moment. "This one I just got in. She’s still pretty fresh, so I could definitely get more for her. But you seem like a nice guy—how about eighteen?"

Ricky paused, then the sight of her waving ass and the sound of her panicked breaths sealed the deal.

“Alright, you’ve got a deal, my friend,” he said, shaking Stu’s hand.

Isla heard the whole exchange, even though she couldn’t lift her head to see.

Eighteen dollars? The thought shocked her despite the fear swirling inside. Was that really all she was worth to these giants?

It seemed so. Ricky quickly pulled out a twenty, took his change, and stuffed her into his bag. She was tossed and jostled for what felt like an hour before suddenly being dumped out.

She landed awkwardly beneath the board on her back, her body squished under the hard surface.

Ricky glanced down and chuckled, shaking his head. “Careful there, wouldn’t want to get hurt,” he teased as he bent down to adjust her position with a grin.

He tore the label off with a sharp yank. Isla yelped as the sticky surface pulled at her skin, the sting radiating from her backside. A bit of sticky residue clung to her, and he wiped it away, still grinning.

Next, he started unclamping the metal restraints. As soon as her torso was free, she pushed herself up onto her knees, breathing heavily, eyes fixed on him as he unclasped her thighs.

The bulge in his pants and the cold gleam in his eyes told her everything—he wasn’t freeing her, just making her easier to handle. Her body trembled as his hand wrapped around her, lifting her up.

"Please," she begged, voice trembling. "I was on vacation with my friend when we got kidnapped! We're from Mississippi! Please, I need to find her."

He paused, and for a moment something besides lust flickered in his eyes. Isla felt a faint spark of hope—maybe he saw her as a person, not just a toy.

“Really? I’m from there too,” he said, his voice bright with excitement. “Man, my friends are gonna be jealous when I bring you home!”

Her heart sank. Then her whole body dropped, her face pressing hard against his bulging pants. He yanked them down, and for the second time in her life, Isla became acquainted with a giant’s cock.

Ricky began slowly, pressing the tip of his cock against the tiny, leaving slick trails of slimy precum across her skin.

He took particular pleasure in rubbing her face with his slit, watching as she gasped for air, her features becoming more and more coated with the sticky liquid.

From there, he pressed her against his length. Isla’s plush curves conformed to the burning heat of his shaft, her full breasts compressing against the pulsing surface. Each vein scraped across her nipples as he slid her up and down his length, every motion slow, controlled, and meant for his own pleasure.

Her dark curls stuck to her damp face, and her wide green eyes shimmered with panic—flickers of Chloe’s laughter on the Strip flashing behind them.

A muffled whimper vibrated against his skin as he pressed her lips into his leaking slit, the wet squelch echoing through the stale hotel air.

Her thick ass rippled with each slow grind, thighs shaking as her nails dragged uselessly across the ridges of his shaft. She writhed in his grip, warm and helpless, reduced to a struggling toy in his hands.

He groaned low, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. Her frantic squirming only fed the heat building in his gut. Nothing felt better than this.

Her scream shattered into a choked sob as he pressed her face harder against the tip. Her small mouth flooded instantly with precum.

The glow of a streetlamp spilled through the window, casting a sheen over her slick curves. He shifted her, dragging her soft breasts along the sensitive underside of his shaft. Each ruthless pull made them bounce, her ass trembling as he ground her into every pulsing vein.

Her hands clawed at his skin, trying to shove his fingers away, but it was useless. Her legs kicked in panic, only making his cock throb harder. The slick heat of her body clung tightly to his shaft.

The hum of the AC blended with her broken cries. Her sweat-slick thighs slid through the precum now coating both her and his length, her nipples rubbed raw from the constant friction. He groaned again, louder, his pace quickening as he ground her harder. Her body trembled in his grip.

The thick, musky scent of his arousal filled the room. Her gasps broke into gurgles as he pressed her deeper into the pulsing heat, savoring every helpless twitch and jolt.

He pumped her faster, hands working her up and down his shaft with growing urgency. Her breasts stretched and dragged along his length, her thick ass rippling with every thrust.

Ricky groaned, his cock twitching as another jet of precum smeared across her trembling body. The mess coated her face and chest, her small frame convulsing as it poured over her, drenching her in the thick scent of his arousal.

Her soft tits heaved with each frantic breath, slick with sweat and precum. Her wide, panicked eyes darted, searching for an escape as he ground her against his shaft—faster, harder.

Then, with a guttural groan, he pinned her tighter. A massive jet of cum exploded from him, slamming into Isla’s body. Her full breasts and thick ass were soaked instantly, a hot, sticky flood covering every inch.

But he wasn’t done.

He shoved her face into the torrent, pressing her small features directly into the blast. Her nose and mouth vanished under the weight of it, the pressure suffocating and total.

His cockhead pushed harder against her, still releasing. Thick cum pumped into her mouth and down her throat. The taste hit her hard, choking and inescapable. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. She could only take it.

Her green eyes stretched wide in terror. Her scream never made it out, lost in the flood pouring into her. Cum soaked her curls, spilled down her back, and coated every trembling inch of her. Her hands flailed weakly as the relentless surge drowned her face and filled her body, leaving her convulsing and limp in his grasp.

Her belly swelled, painfully tight as his cum filled her, stretching beyond what she thought possible.

Her slick skin shone, sticky fluid dripping from her swollen stomach. She trembled under the weight of the flood, a glistening, helpless wreck pressed against his still-throbbing shaft.

As she choked on the sticky deluge pouring down her throat, Isla could only writhe in helpless despair. It had all started so well—she and her best friend had been having the time of their lives. Now, she was nothing more than a sex doll to some giant.

When the flood finally slowed and stopped, she coughed violently, then gagged again before throwing up copious amounts of cum. Her bloated belly shrank slightly but didn’t return to normal when it was over.

The cum was everywhere—deep in her throat, smeared across her face, coating her body. It was as if she had become a cum-soaked vessel. She struggled to gather herself.

Ricky’s heavy breathing echoed in the close space. He was clearly pleased. Isla’s eyes darted around helplessly as he hummed while strapping her back into the pen-holder position, her limbs forced stiff, her chest rising and falling rapidly from the struggle to breathe through the sticky mess filling her.

Her heart pounded. She was completely at his mercy.

Just as he was about to set her down, a wicked idea crossed his mind. Isla watched as he grabbed a sharpie and some tissues. Her pulse quickened—what was he planning?

He wiped her off as best he could. Some areas remained unreachable, and he left her face untouched, liking the look of his cum coating it.

From there, he pulled the cap off the sharpie and bent down closer to his new toy, his eyes dark with intent.

Isla felt the cold tip of the sharpie press against her left ass cheek, and she instinctively wiggled. Ricky stuck his tongue out, concentrating hard. With his other hand, he grabbed her firmly to keep her still while he carefully wrote “wh” on the left cheek. Then he moved to the right cheek and added “re.”

Isla hoped the writing was over, but it wasn’t. Ricky pulled the sharpie away, capped it, and flashed a satisfied grin.
Perfect.

Without warning, he shoved the sharpie into her hole as far as it would go. Isla’s scream gurgled harshly around the sticky flood filling her throat, but he kept going, driving the plastic firmly inside her trembling body.

He twisted the sharpie back and forth, pushing it deeper, until he was sure it was secure—deep enough that her hole could hold the weight without letting it slip out. He didn’t want it falling.

Isla heaved shallow, ragged breaths as tears streamed down her face. The giant finally stopped pushing the sharpie deeper. She felt the massive plastic lodged painfully inside her, making every breath, every thought, a struggle.

Ricky lifted his new pen holder, and Isla cried out as the sudden movement jostled the sharpie inside her. He set her down on a hotel nightstand before collapsing onto the bed, already imagining taking her home. Maybe next time, he’d try a marker?

Gradually, his breathing slowed. Soon, the only sounds in the room were the hum of the AC and Isla’s labored breaths.

Was this her life now?

[Justhereforamoment1]

Well originally I wanted to do a short chapter after the last one, but this was too interesting to not give it the full treatment.

It does have tiny male/giantess in it, so if you don't enjoy that the later half of every part is the tiny women stuff. If you like both then I guess this is your lucky day. Hope you enjoy!

---

The TV flickered on with a soft click, casting a glow in the dim room. A woman lounged on her couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her stomach, eyes sparkling with anticipation. She tossed a kernel into the air and caught it between her lips.

"Oh, this one's gonna be spicy," she murmured, voice low and eager.

The screen exploded in vivid colors. Pulsing beats thumped through the speakers. A boom mic dipped briefly into frame, catching the edge of the vibrant logo before retreating. Bold text filled the screen:

WIFE SWAP – Giant Glam vs Tiny Tranquility

Narrator VO: [Tonight on Wife Swap, a glamorous giantess from a Miami penthouse trades places with a shy tiny homemaker in an Orlando cottage. Two worlds collide on wildly different scales—expect drama, desire, and transformation.]

She leaned in, smirking.

PART ONE – INTRODUCTIONS

The Miami skyline shimmered like a sea of glass and gold. The Sullivan penthouse towered above it all, a place of marble counters, crystal chandeliers, and thick jasmine scent. A camera panned smoothly across the opulent space, its lens glinting in the chandelier’s light.

Vanessa "Vee" Caldwell owned this space.

At 5'7", her auburn hair flowed in waves around striking blue eyes and full lips. A low-cut dress clung to her curves. Her heels clicked with practiced confidence.

"Life's a runway," she said, adjusting a sculpture as a clip-on mic adjusted on her dress caught the faintest rustle of fabric. "I design homes—and our vibe: bold, sexy, unforgettable."

Marcus "Marc" Sullivan, her husband, leaned against the counter. 6'5" and muscular, his sun-kissed blond hair was tousled, his green eyes full of mischief.

"Vee's the boss," he said, loosening his tie. "I'm just here for the show."

Meanwhile, in Orlando, the Bennett cottage nestled quietly in a dual-size community. Tiny rooms tucked inside human-scale walls. Hand-stitched curtains framed stamp-sized windows. The soft scent of chamomile lingered. A tiny camera, mounted on a miniature tripod, swiveled to follow the scene.

Lila Chen, just 4.5 inches tall, dusted a thimble-sized shelf. Her black braid swayed as she moved. Hazel eyes darted across each surface, focused and careful. A modest sundress hugged her petite form—perky breasts, slender waist, and soft curves hidden in modesty. Her proportions were delicate, balanced, and undeniably feminine.

"Simple's best," she whispered. "A clean home, a warm dinner—that's happiness."

Her husband, Oliver "Ollie" Bennett, stood five inches tall in his tiny suit. Behind glasses, his warm brown eyes watched her with devotion.

"Lila's my everything," he said. "We don't need big to feel big."

Confessionals:

Vanessa’s confessional: [Smiling confidently, adjusting her hair] “This swap’s my chance to shake things up. Marc and I live loud, and I’m ready to bring that energy to wherever I’m going. Let’s see if they can keep up with me.”

Marc’s confessional: [Leaning back, smirking] “Vee’s got her world, and I love it, but a new wife? Could be fun. I’m open to anything—let’s see what this tiny lady brings to the table.”

Lila’s confessional: [Shyly, fidgeting with her braid] "Sometimes I wonder what’s out there... but here feels safe. This swap scares me, but maybe it’ll show me something new."

Ollie’s confessional: [Adjusting his glasses, earnest] “Lila keeps our home perfect. I’m nervous about someone new coming in, but I trust her. I just hope I can handle whoever they send.”

Narrator VO: [Two women, two worlds. The swap begins.]

---

The woman on the couch popped another kernel into her mouth, her eyes glued to the screen. Vanessa’s sultry confidence and Marc’s cocky grin sent a warm tingle down her spine, but it was Lila’s shy vulnerability that made her pulse quicken.

She shifted, thighs pressing together, already hooked on the clash of glamour and fragility.

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” she whispered, fingers itching to slide lower.

---

PART TWO – THE SWAP

Narrator VO: [The wives step into unfamiliar lives, testing boundaries and shaking foundations.]

Vanessa stepped from a sleek sedan. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk outside a rented dual-size home in Orlando. A drone camera buzzed overhead, capturing her towering figure against the tiny cottage below.

The cottage sat tiny next to the full-sized furniture. She crouched down, her dress slipping low to reveal a deep, inviting cleavage. A slow smile spread across her lips.

“No velvet?” she teased, her voice low and smooth. “This place is begging for my touch.”

Inside, the air smelled of lavender and melted wax. Ollie stood frozen, heart pounding, eyes wide with surprise. Vanessa’s huge face filled the window, her smile warm and bright.

She tapped the glass with a manicured nail, a soft chime ringing out. Ollie’s cheeks flushed under her steady, inviting gaze, a tiny lapel mic on his suit picking up his quickened breaths.

"Relax, cutie," she said, her breath fogging the window. "I'm here to spice things up."

Narrator VO: [Vanessa’s glamour invades Ollie’s quiet world, but can he handle her larger-than-life charm?]

Vanessa nudged the cottage door open with a fingertip. The wood creaked softly. Ollie stepped out, and her finger brushed against his chest—warm and light. A shiver ran through him.

“Wow...” he whispered, eyes wide with awe. “You’re really big.” Her jasmine scent wrapped around him like a soft blanket.

She giggled, then scooped him up into her palm. Her skin was smooth and warm. She held him gently, her thumb tracing slow, soothing circles along his back.

“And you’re adorable,” she said with a wink.

She lifted him to her lips. Her breath was warm and sweet. She pressed a kiss to him—her lips larger than his entire head. He froze for a moment, but the camera caught the spark of excitement in his eyes.

She settled him between her cleavage.

He sank into the soft, scented hollow between her breasts. Her neckline curved around him, auburn hair brushing his skin as she rocked her hips slowly. The camera stayed on his awe-filled face, wrapped in her warmth and scent like a private world, a hidden mic in her dress amplifying the faint rustle of fabric against his tiny form.

In Miami, Lila stepped off the shuttle and into the vast Sullivan penthouse. Furniture loomed overhead. A glass coffee table stretched up like a skyscraper. A smart speaker crackled to life with a booming welcome, its built-in mic catching Lila’s sharp gasp.

She flinched at the noise, clutching her braid tightly.

“It’s… huge,” she whispered.

Marc lounged on a leather couch, relaxed and confident. His green eyes roamed over her small frame. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips. Desire flickered in his gaze.

A producer’s voice buzzed in his earpiece: “She’s yours, Marc. No limits. Do whatever you want.”

Marc’s smirk widened. “Hey, little one,” he said, voice low and commanding. “Let’s have some fun.”

Narrator VO: [Unaware of the freedom Marc’s been given, Lila faces his desires alone. In his penthouse, he holds all the power. How will she respond?]

That night, Lila trembled on a folded towel spread across the glass coffee table. One of the producers had placed her there minutes before, and confusion mixed with fear churned inside her.

The camera focused tightly on her anxious face, a tiny mic clipped to the towel capturing her shaky breaths, as Marc approached, shirtless and towering.

"W-what are you doing?" she stammered, voice shaky.

He didn’t answer. Instead, his fingers closed tightly around her waist. She screamed, kicking and striking at his grip, but it held firm.

“Please let me go,” she begged, her voice trembling as his warm breath swept over her.

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” he said, ignoring her plea. His other hand grabbed the hem of her sundress and yanked sharply.

The fabric tore away, exposing her bare breasts. Her nipples stiffened in the cool air. The camera zoomed in, capturing their trembling before shifting to her wide, terrified hazel eyes. Her braid whipped wildly as she fought.

“No—stop!” she shrieked, her nails scraping his skin. But it was useless; she was simply too small.

Marc smirked. His thumb pressed against one breast, rolling the soft flesh beneath his fingertip. She whimpered, squirming and repeating “no” over and over. The camera zoomed in on the erotic scene, a directional mic overhead picking up her frantic pleas with chilling clarity.

After a few moments, he eased up and lifted her to his lips.

His tongue flicked out—gentle at first—dragging slowly across her chest. He licked one sensitive mound, then the other, circling the hardened nipples with deliberate strokes.

Then he bit down hard. She screamed in pain as he left marks on her breasts, thighs, and sides. He paused, then took one breast fully into his mouth and began to suck.

She squirmed, pushing at his nose, trying to escape, but it only made him suck harder. His tongue flicked against the nipple inside his mouth, making her arch her back.

Her breath came in sharp gasps. Finally, he pulled back, leaving a thin line of saliva connecting his mouth to her tit.

He lifted her higher, his mouth descending to her bare crotch.

His tongue traced slow, deliberate strokes between her thighs, exploring her wet, trembling slit. Her soft sobs mixed with gasps as her legs jerked instinctively. He gripped her hips firmly, pulling her legs wide apart.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips, the stretch painful but electric.

His tongue pushed deeper, teasing the tightness within. Then he released her legs, leaving her breathless and trembling.

Marc held her waist again and lowered his mouth to her feet, licking each one with slow, sensual care before taking them into his mouth, savoring every inch as he eased her down.

His mouth closed around her, warm and wet, pulling her in slowly.

Held between his lips, his tongue moved with steady, deliberate strokes along her tight folds. The camera zoomed in on her face, revealing a mix of pleasure and fear. She squirmed, helpless beneath his touch, while Marc watched with hungry eyes.

Her resistance shattered. A soft, raw moan slipped out as an intense orgasm took her. He pulled her free, her body trembling with every breath. He paused, eyes tracing the slick skin and the way she quivered in his grasp—caught between fear and pleasure.

Narrator VO: [But Marc wasn’t finished yet. He still needed his own release.]

He lowered her to his crotch, the camera capturing the terror in her wide eyes. Then he pressed her face into the fabric of his pants. Her muffled screams filled the room, caught by a nearby boom mic, as he ground his bulge against her through the cloth.

He pulled her close, then slid his pants down, freeing his thick cock—blurred on screen but visibly throbbing, glistening with precum.

Her desperate pleas turned to muffled whimpers as he pressed her trembling body firmly against his burning length.

Her bare skin pressed hard against him. He rubbed her slowly, his hands moving her breasts through the slick, wet heat. She sobbed softly, her legs thrashing in panic.

Marc finished quickly, a low grunt escaping him. A thick stream of cum spilled from his cock, splashing onto her.

Her braid and breasts were drenched. When it hit her face, she choked and gagged. The camera held on her trembling, soaked body—her face slick and sticky with the hot mess, a hidden mic amplifying her choked gasps.

Before she could catch her breath, Marc slid her into his boxers, pressing her tightly against his cock. "Not bad," he muttered, stretching out on the couch.

The camera caught her small shape pressed against the fabric, her body trembling as she struggled to move, a faint mic picking up the rustle of her movements against the cloth.

Morning came. The moment Marc left her alone, Lila bolted, her feet pounding the floor. Cum still clung to her braid as she fled.

Narrator VO: [But no one escapes the Wife Swap spotlight.]

She didn’t get far.

A silver SUV screeched to a stop beside her on the sidewalk. She hadn’t even passed the yard. Two producers jumped out, their earpieces crackling, one holding a handheld camera to capture her frantic escape.

Lila screamed, kicked, and thrashed as they grabbed her. Her braid swung wildly. Tiny fists pounded at their hands.

“Let me go!” she cried, voice raw, her screams sharp in the producer’s shotgun mic.

“You signed a contract,” one producer said. “That means you’re his for the entire Wife Swap.”

She struggled, tiny fists pounding, but their fingers were like iron. She couldn’t break free. One producer handed her over to Marc. He grabbed her easily, fingers playing with her breasts as the penthouse doors began to close.

The camera lingered on her tear-streaked face, framed by his large hands, before the doors shut behind them, a wall-mounted mic catching the faint echo of her sobs.

Confessionals:

Vanessa’s confessional: [Beaming, tossing her hair] “This cottage is so quaint, but it needs my flair. Ollie’s adorable—nervous, but I can tell he’s curious. I’m gonna show him how to live a little bigger.”

Marc’s confessional: [Grinning, leaning forward] “Lila’s tiny, but damn, she’s got spirit. Producers said no limits, so I’m taking what I want. This is gonna be a week to remember.”

Lila’s confessional: [Trembling, voice breaking] “I thought this would be fun, but Marc… he’s terrifying. I just want to go home. I don’t know how to stop this.”

Ollie’s confessional: [Blushing, adjusting his glasses] “Vanessa’s… wow. She’s so confident, so warm. I’m out of my depth, but I like it. I hope Lila’s okay, though.”

---

The woman’s breath quickened, her eyes locked on Lila’s cum-drenched form. Vanessa’s teasing was hot, but Marc’s ruthless dominance made her core throb.

She slipped her hand inside her pants, fingers finding her slick folds as she moaned, “Oh, fuck, he’s gonna break her.”

---

PART THREE – LIVING UNDER NEW RULES

Vanessa’s presence filled the tiny cottage with warmth, her glamour radiating soft, confident charm. She bent low, peering inside with a smile—bright, curious. Ollie stood frozen near the living room set, his eyes wide.

She reached in and gently nudged a tiny table aside to make space, then smiled at him.

“You looked like you needed a lift,” she said, scooping him into her palm.

His five-inch frame sank into the warmth of her hand. Her skin was soft, perfumed, and alive with subtle motion. Her thumb stroked along his chest, making him shiver. Her blue eyes sparkled as she raised him to her lips and grazed his neck with the tip of her tongue. A warm trace remained, a tiny camera on the cottage floor swiveling to capture the intimacy.

“You’re so cute, I could just eat you up,” she teased, her nail lightly running down her arm. His breath hitched.

Narrator VO: [Vanessa’s mission: transform Ollie’s quiet life with her bold, playful energy.]

She carried him into the kitchen, her hips swaying beneath her soft dress. “Let’s explore,” she said, plucking a blueberry and holding it to his mouth. Her fingertip brushed his lips.

“Bite,” she whispered.

He leaned in, teeth sinking into the fruit. Juice dribbled slightly—some of it landing just above the swell of her cleavage. She laughed, glancing down.

“Oops—made a mess,” she said. “Think you can help clean that up?”

She held him a little closer. Her chest rose gently beneath him, her scent sweet and intimate. He leaned in, blushing, and the camera caught the moment as he hesitated, then pressed his lips to her breast, a mic in her dress picking up the faint sound of his nervous exhale.

She set him on her wrist and, with one hand, reached for the mixing bowl. As she stirred, her other hip jutted out slightly, letting her dress ride up just enough to show the curve of her butt. He leaned back against her arm for balance, mesmerized by the sway.

The camera zoomed in: his captivated face framed by the soft horizon of her cleavage. She set him near the batter; streaks covering her hands.

“It’s like a boutique in here,” he murmured.

She giggled, tossed her hair over one shoulder, then turned to grab a spatula. “Wait till you see dessert,” she said, her hips shifting once more and Ollie’s eyes tracking every movement.

Meanwhile in Miami, Lila struggled beneath the towering scale of the penthouse. Every step was a climb; every sound a jolt. Marc’s “hospitality” was always close, never far.

Narrator VO: [In Marc’s domain, pleasure rules—and Lila’s fear is just part of the show.]

Marc spotted her hiding near the couch, tipped off by the producers. She wore a fragile, tiny dress that did little to hide her trembling body. The camera zoomed in on her cum-streaked face as she backed away, fear written in every shiver, a hidden mic catching her ragged breaths.

“I take you out of my boxers for one minute to take a shower, and you run off?” Marc shook his head, voice low and teasing. “Not making a very good wife, are you?”

She’d been trapped pressed against his cock for hours, the camera capturing every desperate squirm. When he’d stripped, she’d slipped away to her tiny living area, hoping for a moment’s peace.

Marc reached down, fingers closing around her waist. “And what’s this? Putting on a dress?” His grip tightened. “You know you don’t need that.”

He gripped the thin fabric and yanked it off. The dress tore away, falling in tatters at her feet.

“Well, since I’ve got you here, might as well have some fun,” he said, pulling down his boxers. His hard cock sprang free, thick and slick.

Lila’s eyes went wide as she struggled, panic making her beat at his fingers. But his grip only tightened, pulling her closer. The swollen head gleamed with precum, the slit glistening right before her.

Marc pressed his thumb firmly against the back of her head, guiding her without hesitation. With his other hand, he grabbed his rock-hard cock and aimed it directly at her face. The cold, slick tip hovered just inches from her lips, a thick drop of precum forming at the edge.

Before she could breathe, he nudged her mouth toward the drop. A strangled sound escaped her throat as the sticky, pungent liquid coated her lips and chin. His cockhead pressed against her face while her arms and legs flailed wildly.

The camera pulled back, showing Marc settling into the couch, a look of bliss spreading across his face as he enjoyed the sensations she gave him, a boom mic overhead capturing his low groans.

Lila’s struggles grew more frantic. Though the image blurred slightly, it was clear she was choking on the thick liquid, her movements desperate and panicked.

Once Lila’s tiny face was pressed fully against his massive cockhead, Marc slowly slid the slick length up and down over her face. Whenever she gasped desperately for air or swallowed the slick fluid, he paused briefly to let her breathe—only to push her face back into his cock slit again.

Meanwhile, he took his time, carefully wrapping her small arms and legs around his shaft. Finally, he pressed her fragile body against the hard underside of his cock, squeezing her tight.

The camera zoomed in on her tiny body pressed tightly against his cock. Her thighs trembled, and her voice cracked with desperation.

Slowly, he slid her frame through the slick precum, her breasts brushing over every vein as she kicked and pounded her fists against him—only making his cock twitch with pleasure.

He shifted her position, grinding her along his shaft in slow, deliberate strokes. Her nails scraped against him, but it was useless. Her sobs trembled against his skin.

Marc’s grip tightened, holding Lila’s trembling body firmly against his cock. Her soft ass quivered beneath his hand as he rubbed her faster. Her faint wails trembled against his length, tiny hands clawing at his skin, her curves slick with his precum.

“Fuck, this is how you become a good wife,” he panted, pumping harder, grinding her faster. Her perky breasts stretched against him, and her plush ass rippled with each thrust.

Finally, he forced her face back to his slit. With a grunt, he came—sending a thick jet of cum flooding her throat, swelling her stomach, soaking her braid and breasts. She gurgled and choked as it poured down her body.

He held her choking for a moment, then dragged her face-down along his shaft. Her ass rippled with each movement. He rubbed her through the slick mess, smearing it over every curve before pulling her back to the slit.

Another orgasm hit. Another flood poured out.

Her soaked body convulsed as he emptied his balls deep into her tiny throat. Her stomach swelled, fully bloated with her cum. The camera zoomed in, capturing every detail of her ruined form, a directional mic amplifying her gurgled cries.

He rode out the orgasm, making sure she swallowed every drop before sighing and pulling her away. She coughed weakly, then gurgled before vomiting a large amount of cum.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Man, this was the best idea I've had in a while."

She could only moan softly in response.

He sighed contentedly as he tugged his boxers back up. "Welp, back you go." She wriggled faintly as he tucked her beside his half-hard, still leaking cock.

“That was nice,” he said, flipping on the TV.

Confessionals:

Vanessa’s confessional: [Laughing softly, eyes sparkling] “Ollie’s like a nervous puppy, but he’s got potential. I’m having fun showing him how to loosen up. This cottage’s getting a glow-up, and so is he.”

Marc’s confessional: [Smirking, arms crossed] “Lila’s fighting hard, but that just makes it better. She’s learning her place fast. This swap’s the best thing I’ve done in years.”

Lila’s confessional: [A broken whisper, barely audible] “I can’t… I just want out. He won’t stop. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Ollie’s confessional: [Grinning shyly, cheeks red] “Vanessa’s amazing. I’ve never felt so… seen. I’m learning a lot, but I miss Lila. I hope she’s having as much fun.”

---

The woman’s hips buckled against her hand, fingers buried deep inside her pants as she watched Lila’s bloated, cum-soaked body convulse. Vanessa’s charm was a tease, but Marc’s savage control had her panting, thighs trembling.

“He’s ruining her,” she groaned, grinding harder, chasing the edge.

---

PART FOUR – RULE CHANGE DAY

Narrator VO: [The wives take charge, rewriting the rules of their temporary homes.]

Vanessa took over the cottage with effortless charm, turning Ollie’s quiet world into something dazzling. A tiny mirror appeared on a shelf. She crouched beside it, auburn hair falling forward, and laughed softly, her clip-on mic catching the warmth in her voice.

“Strut, baby. Own it,” she said, placing him on a silk scarf laid out like a runway.

Her dress shifted as she leaned closer, revealing the swell of her breasts. Ollie blushed furiously and stumbled forward. She gently nudged his back with a fingertip, guiding him step by step.

“Chin up, cutie,” she purred, her voice sending a shiver through him.

The camera lingered on his flustered smile, glasses slightly askew, her curves dominating the frame behind him as he walked with stiff determination, a tiny lapel mic on Ollie amplifying his nervous footsteps.

Narrator VO: [Vanessa’s lessons are reshaping him—but can Ollie keep up with her pace?]

Later, she lit a wide candle. Warm light flickered across her skin and caught in her hair as she reached down and scooped him up. She nestled him between her large, soft breasts—his tiny body sinking into the warm valley as she held her close.

“Date night,” she declared with a smile.

She placed him on a table beside a rose petal. “My VIP guest,” she said, leaning close so her breath brushed his face.

She offered a drop of wine on the tip of her finger. He sipped shyly as she giggled, watching his reaction. “Look at you, all fancy,” she teased, tracing his arm with her nail. He shifted, clearly flustered, but didn’t look away.

Then she lifted him to her shoulder. He clung to a few strands of her hair, steadying himself as her graceful movements rocked him gently. From his perch, he could see straight down into her deep cleavage, the soft curves shifting with every motion. Her skin was warm beneath his hands.

“What do you think of my world, hmm?” she asked, turning her head slightly toward him. The camera zoomed in: Ollie’s wide-eyed wonder, her glowing smile. She hummed softly, the vibration pulsing through him, a hidden mic in her dress catching the soft hum.

“You’re stealing my heart, Ollie,” she said, tapping his nose.

He grinned, blushing deeper.

In Miami, Lila tried to keep the evenings quiet, insisting this was her week to set the rules. She wanted clothes, she didn’t want to touch him, she wanted peace—anything but this.

But Marc ignored her wishes.

Narrator VO: [Marc’s rules serve one purpose: his own pleasure, no matter the cost.]

He pushed past her protests, forcing her to stay pressed against his cock inside his boxers.

The camera zoomed in on her tear-streaked face, capturing her panic and helplessness just before he tucked her completely inside, trapping her there, a mic hidden in the fabric amplifying her muffled cries.

Her cum-soaked body was pressed tightly against his throbbing length, muffled cries vibrating as he moved through the penthouse, making himself a sandwich.

Hours later, he pulled her out, pressing her along the tip of his shaft. Her stomach and breasts slid through slick precum as she thrashed, screams piercing the air, caught by a wall-mounted mic in the kitchen.

Her perky breasts dragged through slick precum, thighs trembling as she kicked. Her screams broke into sobs. He ground her slowly, almost absentmindedly, her face pressed into his leaking slit while the TV played.

Precum flooded her mouth, making her gag as panic spread through her. With a lazy grunt, Marc came—a thick jet soaking her, coating her braid and breasts. Her sobs turned into gurgles.

When he needed the bathroom, he paused the TV and set the remote down on her small body.

Lila clawed and tried to crawl out from under it but barely got anywhere before he returned.

Without looking, he pulled her back by one leg, rubbing her along his cock again. Her ass rippled with each motion as he came once more, drenching her trembling form. The camera blurred his cock but caught every shudder and every pleading look in her hazel eyes, a directional mic capturing her broken whimpers.

Near the end of the episode, he leaned back, still stroking himself with Lila.

Her braid had come undone, strands of hair matted and streaked with cum clinging to her delicate face. Her naked body trembled—her chest rising and falling faintly with each slow stroke, her ass twitching as he dragged her along his shaft.

He paused, shifting her in his hand and peeling her off his cock for a brief moment.

She pushed weakly against his fingers, but he didn’t stop. The camera zoomed in as he spread her legs, holding her thighs between his fingers and pulling them down, pinning her to the tip. Her tiny pussy aligned perfectly with the leaking slit.

Her struggle turned frantic, terror filling her face as she realized what was about to happen.

With a relaxed groan, he came one last time—overflooding her womb with a heavy jet of cum. The pressure bloated her abdomen as she convulsed, her belly swelling painfully while the sticky heat poured deep inside, soaking her thighs and ass.

The camera panned over her swollen belly, trembling thighs, and tear-streaked face, all soaked in the sticky mess, a hidden mic amplifying her faint, gurgling sobs.

Marc yawned.

“Not bad,” he said, wiping her down before tucking her back into his boxers. Her slick, quivering form pressed against his cock as he scrolled through his phone.

The microphones picked up her quiet whimpers—a broken toy.

Confessionals:

Vanessa’s confessional: [Winking, leaning forward] “Ollie’s opening up, and I love it. He’s got this spark now, and I’m just getting started. This place is starting to feel like mine.”

Marc’s confessional: [Chuckling, smug] “Lila’s rules? Cute, but I’m in charge. She’s perfect—small, squirmy, mine. I could get used to this.”

Lila’s confessional: [Faint, muffled sobbing sounds picked up by a mic, no visuals, just distant, broken whimpers coming from within Marc’s boxers.]

Ollie’s confessional: [Smiling, a bit dazed] “Vanessa’s world is so big, so exciting. I’m trying new things, and it feels good. I hope Lila’s finding something good, too.”

---

The woman’s body shuddered as she came, fingers slick and frantic inside her pants, triggered by Lila’s swollen, cum-flooded form. Vanessa’s flirty date night faded behind Marc’s cruel indifference, pushing her over the edge.

"Fuck, she’s just a cum toy now,” she gasped, hips jerking as waves of pleasure crashed through her.

---

PART FIVE – RETURN AND REFLECTION

Narrator VO: [The swap ends, but its impact lingers.]

Vanessa scooped Ollie into a hug, her large cleavage wrapping around his tiny frame as she laughed softly. “I’ll miss my favorite guy,” she said, pressing a kiss to his head, her clip-on mic catching the warmth in her voice.

Ollie blushed, smiling shyly. “You’re a lot, Vee, but I learned something.”

A shuttle pulled up nearby, the door sliding open to reveal Lila. Her ragged dress clung to her skin, eyes hollow and tired. A handheld camera followed her, capturing her unsteady steps.

Marc smacked her ass with a smirk, making her stumble forward. “You did great!” he said.

Ollie didn’t notice the state Lila was in—still too entranced by Vanessa. He gave his wife a small, distracted hug when she approached.

At the reflection roundtable, Vanessa beamed, praising Ollie’s newfound swagger. “He’s got a spark now,” she said, her smile radiant, a table mic amplifying her confident tone. Ollie nodded, his voice steadier. “I feel much more confident.”

Lila sat in silence, her braid frayed, her posture slumped, eyes dull.

Marc leaned back, arms crossed, a smug grin on his face. “It was a good week.”

Confessionals:

Vanessa’s confessional: [Smiling warmly, eyes soft] “Ollie’s a gem. I gave him a taste of my world, and he shone. I’m proud of him. Marc better have treated his wife right.”

Marc’s confessional: [Grinning, relaxed] “Lila was a blast. Took everything I gave her and then some. Swap’s over, but I’m already thinking about next time.”

Lila’s confessional: [A near-mute whisper] “I just want to forget it. All of it. I don’t know how to go back to normal.”

Ollie’s confessional: [Beaming, adjusting his glasses] “Vanessa changed me. I feel bolder, ready to try more. Lila seems quiet, but I bet she learned something, too.”

Narrator VO: [Two worlds, forever changed.]

---

The woman on the couch gasped, her breath catching as the last waves of pleasure rippled through her. Her fingers trembled, still moving in slow, deliberate circles over her swollen clit, savoring the fading intensity as her body relaxed.

The credits rolled. A quick montage flashed: Lila naked and soaked in cum, dragged slowly along Marc’s cock, her limp body glistening as he tucked her back into his boxers. A steadicam swooped in for the final shot, lingering on her trembling form.

“That was perfect,” she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. “They have to do this again.”

---

Viewer Ratings – “Giant Glam vs Tiny Tranquility”

8.2/10

Top Comments:

“Vanessa’s vibe was FIRE, but Ollie was sweating bullets lmao.” – GlamQueenX

“Lila’s story was rough. Producers gotta answer for that twist.” – TinyAdvocate

“Marc’s a dog, but Vanessa’s candle scene was straight-up iconic.” – SwapLover99

“Obsessed with this episode. More size swaps, please!” – BigWorldFan