Incest Interests!

[Giant-dude]

HELLO! I am very happy to announce I’m starting this thing here kinda like tiny torments, I was heavily inspired by that section of VSW stories as well as the creator Justthereforamoment1. Their stories are always pretty incredible, and I figured I’d make one for myself seeing as how I’m into incest scenarios! Later today I’ll be posting my first story about a brother/sister scenario with a small unaware giant mom side plot involved! But it’ll mainly focus on the brother sister unwilling dynamic. After that I’ll be taking requests entirely for free as long as they are incest, and unwilling scenarios! Just comment down below what you want or DM me and I’ll be glad to fulfill the ideas of my fellow incest enjoyers! Hope you guys enjoy my stories and I can’t wait to write more!

[Giant-dude]

Should’ve let it be…
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This story contains M/F incest, unwilling, and violent themes. There are unaware aspects as well! Hope you enjoy the first story of my incest page, can’t wait to make more
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Autumn marched up the staircase with heavy, furious steps, heading straight for her brother’s bedroom on the second floor. Since their parents were out for the day, she didn’t bother keeping quiet. She burst through his door and spotted him leaning intently over his desk, completely absorbed in the weather that had been talking about a very bad storm all week. Typical, she thought with a surge of irritation. Before she could even get a word out, he spoke without looking up. “What?” She gave him a cold stare, then fired back, “You stole my leftovers from last night, didn’t you? I left half of my subway sandwich on the bottom shelf of the fridge this morning, and it’s vanished.” Cameron shrugged casually. “You probably just forgot where you put it.” “Forgot? Fuck you!” Autumn exploded. “Go find some actual work instead of mooching off everyone, you worthless-” She glanced around for anything to hurl at him, snatched up a pillow, and flung it hard. It flopped weakly against his shoulder.“Jerk!” She announced. “Appreciate it,” he replied once she quieted down. “I made sure it didn’t go to waste.” That pushed her over the edge. With an angry shout, Autumn whirled around and tried to yank the door shut behind her with all her strength. Instead of slamming, the door slipped from her fingers as a heavy wave of fabric crashed down on top of her. She let out a faint cry, and collapsed under the sudden weight, everything going dark and suffocating. Cameron noticed how abruptly quiet it had become. “Still out there?” he called, finally twisting around in his seat. His eyes landed on the heap of his sister’s clothes lying right in the doorway, looking like they’d just fallen off. He frowned in confusion. Her shout had seemed nearby, but maybe she’d already stormed down the hall. Shaking his head, he turned back to his models. “Pick up your stuff!” he yelled into the empty hallway. Inside the tangled mess, Autumn fought desperately to free herself. She was caught deep within her own bra, the once familiar garment now massively oversized and pinning her tightly between the cups and straps. No matter how she pushed or twisted, the soft material refused to let her go.
Cameron rose from his chair, crossed the room, and gathered the scattered clothes. He fished out the sweat ridden bra, inhaled deeply, causing a massive erection grew in his pants. He shoved the rest of the pile into the hallway with his foot, and clicked the lock on his door. Dropping his pants to his ankles, he stretched out on his bed and pressed the bra against himself, using it without hesitation. Trapped inside one of the enormous cups, Autumn endured the shifting, bouncing motions as the world around her moved in rhythm with his actions. The warmth and constant movement, along with the sweaty cock stench, made her stomach twist with disgust. She stayed perfectly still, terrified of drawing any attention while he finished. It didn’t take him long. With a satisfied sigh, Cameron tossed the bra aside. It flew across the room and landed in a rumpled pile on the floor among his other junk. Still dazed and enclosed in the fabric, Autumn barely had time to orient herself before giant fingers reached in and pulled her free. She found herself dangling upside down by one ankle, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “What the hell?” Cameron muttered, his voice low and stunned. Still half-undressed, he peered down at the tiny naked girl in his grip. “This can’t actually be happening-“
Autumn squirmed uncomfortably in the awkward position but stayed silent at first, unsure how he would respond. “Is that really you, Autumn?” he pressed, giving her a firm shake. “For real?”
“Yes!” she gasped, nodding her head rapidly. “Just put me down, please!” He gently lowered her into the center of his open palm, a wide, intrigued grin slowly forming on his face. “Looks like you’re completely stuck now~?” he said, his tone shifted to sudden eagerness. His thumb slid across her small chest, deliberately tracing over her breast. Autumn let out a sharp scream and slammed her fists against the massive finger with everything she had. “Keep your filthy hands off me, you sick creep!” she shouted, her cheeks flushing with shame and fury. Being touched like this by her own brother made her feel more exposed and degraded than she ever had before.
Cameron chuckled deeply. Autumn shot back angrily, “I figured, even though you’re a disgusting pervert, you might actually do the decent thing and help me, because we’re siblings!” “Big mistake trusting me like that, little sis,” he taunted, pressing his thumb firmly into her left breast until she cried out in pain, writhing helplessly under the crushing pressure. After a few agonizing seconds he let up, and she curled into a ball on his palm, clutching her aching side.
“Relax,” he said with a smirk. “I’ve got the perfect idea for you now.” His fingers trembled with anticipation as he kicked his pants aside and settled into his chair, still cradling his shrunken sister in his hand. Autumn gasped as Cameron’s fingers curled around her tiny body, lifting her toward his hardening cock. The heat radiating off his flesh made her shudder, she was so close she could see every throbbing vein, smell the musk of his arousal. His grip tightened as he positioned her against his shaft, her bare skin pressing into the sticky pre-cum already beading at the tip. “No, stop!” she shrieked, squirming, but her strength was nothing compared to his. His supporting hand dragged her up and down his length, smearing her with his slickness. Tears blurred her vision as she realized what was coming next, he was going to use her like a fucking toy, rubbing her against himself until he-the distant slam of the front door downstairs interrupted them both. Cameron froze. “Shit.” His grip loosened just enough for Autumn to twist free, plummeting onto the desk below. She hit hard, the impact knocking the wind from her lungs, but she didn’t stop. She rolled onto her stomach and bolted, darting behind a stack of books just as Cameron scrambled to pull his pants up. “Mom?” he called out, his voice unnaturally high. Autumn didn’t wait. She sprinted toward the edge of the desk, her tiny legs pumping as fast as they could. The drop was terrifying, but staying meant something far worse. She leapt. The fall felt endless. She landed on her recently discarded, cum covered bra, the fabric softening her crash, but she landed right in the wet stained spot that he caused earlier. Gasping, she wriggled free and bolted for the door, now a towering barrier. The gap beneath it was her only hope. She dove, rolling under just as footsteps thundered up the stairs. The hallway was a nightmare. Every footstep from her mother shook the floor like an earthquake. Autumn sprinted toward the staircase, but before she could even reach it, her mother’s shadow loomed over her. A slipper descended. Autumn screamed and threw herself sideways, barely avoiding being crushed into the carpet fibers. The gust of air from the near-miss sent her tumbling. Panting, she scrambled behind a baseboard, watching as her mother walked past, humming, completely unaware of the tiny, naked girl trembling inches from her toes. Hours passed. Autumn’s stomach growled, but hunger was the least of her concerns. She needed help. The kitchen was dangerous, but it was her best shot. She waited until her mother sat at the table, scrolling on her phone. Autumn began climbing up the giant leg of her mother, eventually at the level where she could make the jump to the countertop from her mothers knee. She crept along the edge of the counter, staying low. Then, the scent of strawberry jam hit her. Her mother lifted a piece of toast, Autumn’s salvation. She sprinted, leaping onto the plate just as it was raised. The sticky jam clung to her legs as she clawed her way toward the edge, screaming, “Mom! Mom, look down!” But her mother took a bite. Autumn barely rolled aside as teeth the size of tombstones snapped down millimeters from her. She clung to the crust, heart hammering, as the toast tilted, her mother was about to take another bite. With a desperate scream, Autumn hurled herself off, plummeting toward her mother’s lap. She slammed into her mom’s giant thigh, then rolled off the edge, falling again. This time, she landed between her mother’s legs. Her mother stood. Autumn had no time to react as she fell down, rolled off her mother’s sock, and onto the hard kitchen floor. A massive foot lifted, heading straight for her. She dove sideways, but her leg wasn’t fully out of the way. Pain exploded as the weight pressed down, grinding her into the fabric of her mother’s sock. Just as her leg threatened to snap, the pressure lifted. Gasping, she dragged herself free, crawling toward the living room, her body throbbing. Later, exhausted, Autumn hid beneath the sink as her mother undressed for a shower. Clothes dropped like collapsing buildings. A bra, a shirt. Then, “Oh god her panties” Autumn shouted as they billowed downward, the waistband yawning open like a monstrous mouth. Autumn tried to run, but the fabric swallowed her, trapping her in the damp, musky darkness. She clawed at the cotton, fighting as the elastic stretched, threatening to snap shut around her. At the last second, she wriggled free, tumbling out just as her mother stepped into them. The fabric sealed above her, leaving her trembling on the bathroom tiles. Night fell. Autumn, bruised and desperate, scaled the bedsheet like a mountaineer, her fingers raw from gripping the fabric. Her mother slept peacefully above, and unaware. Just as Autumn reached the pillow, a shadow moved. A hand snatched her up. Cameron’s fingers clamped around her like iron bars, wrenching her away from salvation. His breath was hot and uneven against her skin as he lifted her to his face, his grin wide, and manic in the dim light of the bedroom. "Found you," he whispered, his voice dripping with triumph. Autumn struggled, kicking wildly, but his grip only tightened. She could feel the ghost of his earlier intentions radiating off him, his pulse hammering against her tiny body like a drumbeat of sick anticipation. "You- you can’t do this," she gasped. "Mom’s right there!" Cameron glanced at their sleeping mother, her chest rising and falling gently under the covers. His grin didn’t waver, but he did take out his phone and snap a picture of their mom in just a bra, and panties as she slept. He wasn’t just a creep for his sister, but for his mom as well. "And what’s she gonna do? Hear you? See you?" He shook her slightly. "You’re nothing now, Autumn. Nothing but a toy." Panic clawed up her throat. He was right. Even if she screamed until her lungs burst, her mother would never hear her. He slowly walked out their mother’s bedroom, shutting the door quietly. Cameron’s thumb stroked her side, slow and deliberate, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Now, where were we?" Autumn’s stomach lurched. She knew exactly where they’d been, his fingers slick with pre-cum, her body smeared against his cock, moments from being used. Just then, the bedroom door creaked open. They both froze. Their mother stood in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. "Cameron? Why are you still up?" Autumn’s heart stopped. Cameron’s grip twitched, hide her, crush her, drop her? but their mother’s gaze hadn’t dropped low enough to spot the tiny figure in his palm yet. “Just... getting water," he lied smoothly, subtly curling his fingers tighter around Autumn, pressing her into his skin so hard she couldn’t breathe. Their mother sighed. "Well, go to bed. School tomorrow." She turned away, shuffling back into her room. The second the door clicked shut, Cameron exhaled sharply, his grip loosening just enough for Autumn to suck in a desperate breath. “That was close,” he muttered, more to himself than her. Then his eyes refocused, darkening. "But now, no more interruptions." Autumn’s blood turned to ice. He wasn’t letting her go, and no one was coming to save her. Autumn's tiny limbs trembled as Cameron carried her back toward his room, his fingers curled possessively around her like a cage. The dim glow of his monitor cast eerie shadows across his face, highlighting the lustful glint in his eyes. “You know," he mused, dragging a fingertip down her bare, slightly chubby stomach, "I always wondered what it'd be like to have you helpless." She recoiled, but his grip tightened, pressing her flat against his palm. His other hand dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, and Autumn's breath hitched. “Please—" she begged, her voice breaking. Cameron ignored her, withdrawing his cock, already stiffening again, and aligning her tiny body against its flushed length. “Wait—!" He dragged her up, and down, smearing her against his shaft. The heat was suffocating, the musk overpowering. His precum slicked her skin as he groaned, his hips bucking slightly, fucking the air with her trapped between his fingers and his cock. Nobody knew she was about to be her brother’s sex toy, nobody was coming to save her. Autumn's world narrowed to the searing heat of her brother's skin, the oppressive musk of his arousal clogging her lungs as he worked her tiny body up, and down his cock with slow, deliberate strokes. Tears streaked her cheeks, mixing with the sticky sheen of his pre-cum coating her chest and thighs. “You- you're sick," she choked out, writhing in his grip. Cameron chuckled, rolling his thumb over her ass, pressing her harder against his pulsing shaft. "And you're mine." His breath hitched as he adjusted his grip, his fingers dipping between her legs, too tight, too invasive, forcing her thighs apart. Autumn's scream tore from her throat as his cockhead nudged against her exposed slit, the sheer size of him threatening to split her in half. "No!” She kicked wildly, her heel connecting with the underside of his cock head, just enough to make him jerk back. The momentary slack in his grip was all she needed. Twisting free, Autumn plummeted toward the desk, barely catching the edge of a notebook before crashing onto its pages. She didn't stop. Scrambling to her feet, she sprinted across the open expanse, heart hammering, as Cameron roared behind her. His palm slammed down inches from her, fingers splaying wide to block her path. She veered left, but his other hand shot out, swiping her into the air again with a triumphant yell. "Enough.” His voice cold. This time, he didn't hesitate. Flipping her onto her back, Cameron pinned her spread, legs against his cockhead, his thumb pressing down on her sternum as he lined her up. Autumn's vision blurred, she couldn't breathe, couldn’t scream. The blunt pressure against her entrance was unbearable, then. A crack, the room plunged into darkness. The power outage hit like divine intervention. Cameron froze, his grip loosening just enough for Autumn to wrench herself sideways, tumbling off his cock, and onto the desk with a cry. Outside, thunder rumbled, the storm had finally arrived. "Fuck!” Cameron fumbled blindly, his hands sweeping across the desk, knocking over paint bottles and brushes. Autumn didn't wait, she leapt. The fall was endless, the landing brutal, but she rolled, gasping, and bolted into the blackness. Somewhere in the house, their mother called out, her voice muffled by the storm. Autumn didn't stop, she couldn't. Not until she found a way back, or a way out. But for now, the darkness was her ally, and Cameron? He was still searching. Autumn's bare feet slapped against the cold hardwood floor as she sprinted through the blackness of the night, her lungs burning. The storm outside rattled the windows, masking her frantic breathing. Somewhere behind her, Cameron's hands slapped against surfaces, knocking over his figures, sending dice skittering across the floor, as he cursed under his breath. She didn't dare slow down. The kitchen, this was her only chance. Autumn veered left, her tiny arms pumping as she ducked beneath the towering kitchen island. The fridge hummed ominously above her, its vibrations shaking the floor. She pressed her back against the cabinet, chest heaving. A thud. Cameron's footsteps grew closer. Autumn swallowed hard, her eyes darting around the dark kitchen for anything, she could use. Then she saw it: the gap beneath the refrigerator door, the seal was loose. If she could squeeze inside. She didn't have time to second guess. As Cameron's shadow loomed in the doorway, Autumn bolted. She dove for the fridge door, her fingers scrabbling at the rubber seal, prying it open just enough to slip inside. The cold air hit her like a wall as she tumbled onto a shelf, landing between a carton of eggs, and a half-eaten block of cheese. Darkness. Silence. Autumn exhaled shakily, her breath fogging in the chilled air. She was safe, for now. Outside, Cameron's muffled voice carried through the fridge door: “Where the *fuck* did you go, you little bitch?" Autumn didn't answer. She curled into a ball behind the eggs, shivering as the fridge's motor kicked on, humming ominously around her. She just had to wait him out. Morning would come. Her mom would wake up, and then she'd find a way to make her see that she shrunk, she had to. Because if she didn't, Cameron would find her, and next time- Next time, he might not let her escape. The thought sent a fresh wave of terror through her. Autumn closed her eyes, and prayed for dawn. The refrigerator's relentless hum became Autumn's lullaby as she curled tighter against the carton of eggs, her breath crystallizing in the frigid air. She counted the vibrations, each mechanical pulse marking another second she'd evaded him. But when the fridge door suddenly swung open, flooding the compartment with blinding light, her pulse spiked. A giant hand reached in, not Cameron's. Her mother's fingers closed around the milk carton, oblivious to the shivering girl clinging to its handle. Autumn's numb limbs faltered, one frozen hand slipped, and she fell. Straight into the mouth of her mother's coffee mug. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs as burning liquid swallowed her whole. She surfaced gasping, clawing at the porcelain walls as the mug tilted toward her mother's lips. "Mom!" Autumn screamed, paddling desperately, but it was too late. The world shifted as the mug lifted. Autumn slid toward the dark opening of her mother's mouth, catching a final glimpse of Cameron lurking in the doorway. Darkness, heat, and a tongue like a wet landslide beneath her. Then, a spit. Autumn tumbled onto the kitchen counter in a soggy heap, coughing up coffee. Her mother frowned at the speck in her palm. "Ugh. Must've been a fly." Before Autumn could scream again, a tissue descended, Cameron's hand intercepted it. “Let me." His fingers closed around her dripping body, pretending to be nice, and dispose of her for mom, but in reality he knew it was her, and mom just delivered Autumn right to him without knowing. Cameron's grip tightened around Autumn's damp, shivering form as he carried her away from the kitchen counter, his fingers pressing into her bruised flesh just enough to remind her, she couldn't scream. Their mother wouldn’t notice anyways, and if she did notice? What then? A speck? a bug? Something to be flicked away without a second thought. His breath hit her ear, hot and uneven. "You really thought you'd get away?" He chuckled, low, and dark, as he climbed the stairs two at a time. Autumn thrashed, but his thumb stroked down her spine like a mockery of comfort. "Shh mom will never hear your pathetic cries." The bedroom door clicked shut behind them. Cameron dropped her onto his desk with deliberate cruelty. Autumn skidded across the wood, her raw skin stinging, and collided with her bra from yesterday, he kept it on his desk to admire like a sick fuck until he had the real thing again. She barely had time to scramble upright before his palm slammed down in front of her, caging her against the desk.
His other hand fumbled with his waistband. “Now you aren’t leaving this time~" he murmured. Autumn's vision swam. Her legs trembled, but she bared her teeth. "Go fuck yourself." Cameron's grin turned feral. He seized her by the hips, and pressed her, back-first against the head of his cock. The heat was unbearable, the stench.
Autumn's scream tore through the room as he forced her tiny body halfway down his shaft, slowly, sending chills through him, her legs kicking wildly against the veined flesh. Cameron groaned, his hips jerking upward, forcing her deeper. Autumn’s world dissolved into white, hot, agony as Cameron’s cock stretched her impossibly wide, her tiny limbs splayed against his throbbing shaft. She could feel every vein, every pulse of blood beneath his skin as he dragged her back up, then shoved her down again with a grunt. Tears streamed down her face, her voice raw from screaming, but no sound escaped beyond the walls of his bedroom. “Fuck,” Cameron hissed, his fingers digging into her hips as he worked her up and down his length, her body slick with sweat and pre-cum. "You’re so fucking tight!” Autumn gagged, her stomach roiling as the scent of his arousal clogged her nose. She clawed at his shaft, her nails leaving red trails in the flushed skin, but it was futile. He was too big, too strong, and he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts grew rougher, his breath ragged as he fucked into his tiny sister’s body like she was nothing more than a living fleshlight. The desk creaked beneath them, the sound drowned out by Cameron’s guttural moans. Then came a knock at the door. They both froze. "Cameron?” Their mother’s voice, muffled through the wood. "Are you okay in there?" Autumn’s heart stopped. Cameron’s grip on her hips tightened, crushing, as he swallowed hard. "Y-yeah, Mom," he called back, his voice strained. "Just uh, stretching. For gym." A long pause followed, then: "Okay. Keep it down." Her footsteps retreated. The moment the hallway fell silent again, Cameron exhaled shakily, his grip loosening just enough for Autumn to gasp in a desperate breath. His cock twitched beneath her, still buried inside her battered body. "Close one," he murmured, grinning down at her. Then his expression darkened. "Now, where was I?" Autumn barely had time to whimper before he yanked her back down, hilting her with a brutal thrust. This time, she didn’t scream, she couldn’t. Her voice was gone, as well as her strength. All she could do was take it, her brother’s cock pistoning into her tiny form, his hips slamming against the desk with each merciless stroke. Cameron’s breath hitched, his movements grew erratic. Autumn squeezed her eyes shut, because she knew what was coming, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. One final, brutal thrust. Then, white, searing heat flooding her insides as Cameron came with a groan, his cum surging into her tiny body with enough force to bulge her stomach. Autumn gagged, her limbs twitching as he held her there, impaled on his cock, until every last drop was spent. Finally, he pulled her off, while a long white strand connected her womanhood to his softening member. He swapped hands, and dangled her by one ankle over his palm. “Look at you," he murmured, tilting her to watch his cum drip from her used, gaping hole. "Ruined." Autumn didn’t respond, she couldn’t. Her vision blurred at the edges, and her limbs felt heavy. Her mind, darkness swallowed it, along with pain. The last thing she heard was Cameron’s chuckle. "Sleep tight, sis." He said as he pulled his underwear back up, leaving her inside of a jar, hidden in his underwear drawer. Nobody knew, nobody would ever see her again. Friends, family, everyone moved on, assumed she was in a better place. They never knew she was so close, yet so far, trapped in her brother’s underwear drawer, as his toy.
The end…

[Saxanas]

Loved the read, great first impression hehe! Would you ever include butt stuff and/or farting? Was really hoping someone would pick up the torch for the Tiny Torments series they were sooo good.

[Giant-dude]

Loved the read, great first impression hehe! Would you ever include butt stuff and/or farting? Was really hoping someone would pick up the torch for the Tiny Torments series they were sooo good.

Thanks I appreciate the support, also they aren't my favorite themes I’d totally do them for people.

[Saxanas]

It'd be so cool if you did! Kind of like the story I did with Justthereforamoment1 Dirty Work. But you can pace and tone it how you'd like and include the themes you're comfortable with. I just think butt stuff blends so well with unwilling stuffs hehe

[Giant-dude]

It'd be so cool if you did! Kind of like the story I did with Justthereforamoment1 Dirty Work. But you can pace and tone it how you'd like and include the themes you're comfortable with. I just think butt stuff blends so well with unwilling stuffs hehe

Yea I really loved that story, one of my favorites especially with how much unwilling tiny woman being used like a cum rag stuff there is. I’d totally enjoy doing a story for you, just gotta give me some ideas as to what the relationship should be, setting, along with some details about the girl and guy, then I’d totally be able to whip you up something!

[TheMacroMan]

Really good read. I love SW stuff where the ladies get used like living cocksleeves.

Would really love to see a Brother/Sister story where the sister is just big enough to suck a dick.

[Giant-dude]

Really good read. I love SW stuff where the ladies get used like living cocksleeves.

Would really love to see a Brother/Sister story where the sister is just big enough to suck a dick.

Oooh not a bad idea! If you have additional information that could help build the world of the story I’d be happy to hear it so I can make this!

[Giant-dude]

The family reunion
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Story requested by: Saxanas
Contains shrunken woman, unwilling, kidnapping, cousin, and some anal stuff
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The Friday evening air was thick with the smell of grilled meat and laughter as the backyard barbecue wound down. Plastic cups littered the picnic table, half-filled with melted ice. Jason wiped his hands on his jeans, leaning back in his chair while his cousin, Sarah, flicked a crumpled napkin at her younger brother across the table. "You missed," the brother teased, grinning as it bounced off his shoulder, before heading inside as well. Their parents were inside now, clattering dishes in the sink while arguing over who forgot to buy more charcoal. The younger kids had migrated to the living room, sprawled in front of the TV with controllers in hand. Only Jason and Sarah remained outside, the last stragglers of the gathering. "You gonna help clean up or just sit there?" Sarah asked, nudging his foot with hers. Jason smirked. "Nah. You’re the one who promised Aunt Linda you’d handle it." Sarah groaned but pushed herself up, grabbing a stack of plates. "You’re the worst." He watched her walk toward the house, her ass bouncing a little as she stepped up into the doorway, followed by the screen door slapping shut behind her. The night was quiet now, just the distant murmur of the TV. Jason stretched, debating whether to head inside or relax outside a little longer, until a sharp thud from the kitchen made him pause. Then silence. Shocked from the sudden noise, he stood. "Sarah?" No answer. The screen door creaked as he stepped inside. The kitchen was empty, the sink still running. A single plate lay shattered on the tile. “Sarah?" Jason called again, louder this time. A tiny, shaky voice answered. "Jason?" He turned—and froze. There, on the counter beside the fruit bowl, stood Sarah. But not Sarah as he knew her. She was tiny, no taller than his thumb, her clothes hanging loose like doll fabric. Her face was pale with terror, her arms outstretched as if to prove she wasn’t hallucinating. “What the fuck," Jason breathed. Sarah’s lips moved, but her voice was too small to hear. Jason stepped closer, heart hammering, and crouched to eye level. "How?" She shook her head wildly. "I don’t know! One second I was putting the plates down, and then- this!" Jason’s first instinct was to shout for the others. But something stopped him. Sarah, tiny Sarah, was right there. Within reach. His fingers twitched. "Jason," she said, her voice trembling. "You have to get help. Now,” He hesitated. Then, slowly, he reached out to scoop her up, lifting her off the counter. Sarah gasped. "Jason!" "Shh," he murmured, glancing toward the living room. The TV blared, masking any sound. His pulse roared in his ears as he slipped her into his jeans pocket, her protests muffled by fabric. “Let me out!" she demanded, her tiny fists pounding against his thigh. Jason exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip on his keys. He had no idea what had just happened. But he knew he wasn’t letting this opportunity go to waste. The drive back to his apartment was a blur of panic and adrenaline. Every bump in the road sent Sarah tumbling in his pocket, her muffled protests growing weaker as exhaustion set in. Jason gripped the steering wheel tighter, his mind racing. But every time he glanced down at the small lump shifting in his pocket, something dark coiled tighter in his gut. He parked haphazardly in his complex’s lot, barely remembering to lock the car before rushing inside. The second his apartment door shut behind him, he fished Sarah out, her tiny frame limp in his palm. "You asshole,” she wheezed, pushing herself upright. Her clothes were wrinkled from the ride, her hair a mess. Jason didn’t answer. He carried her to the coffee table, gently setting her down. Then he stepped back, arms crossed, staring like she was some alien artifact. "What is this?" Sarah demanded, her voice cracking. "Why did you- why would you take me?" Jason swallowed hard. He had no good answer. The silence stretched. Sarah hugged herself, shivering despite the warm apartment. "Jason… please. Just- just call someone. My parents—" "No." The word came out harsh and emotionless. Jason forced himself to breathe. "Never." "Why?” He knew he wasn’t letting her go, wasn’t going to waste an opportunity to finally have his cousin the way he always saw her. Sarah's tiny fists clenched as she backed up against a stray coffee mug, her breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts. The glass tower loomed behind her like a wall. Jason crouched low, elbows resting on his knees, watching her with a fascination that curdled the air between them. His pulse hammered in his throat. "You're scared," he murmured, more to himself than to her. “No shit.”He reached out, slow, deliberate, not to grab her, but to test. A single fingertip grazed her shoulder, and she recoiled like she'd been burned. Jason exhaled sharply through his nose. She was real, warm, alive, his. Sarah’s voice cracked. "You have to take me back." His thumb stroked absentmindedly along the edge of the table. "Do I?" Her breath hitched. Jason leaned closer, blocking the lamplight. "What if I don't?" Sarah’s hands flew to her mouth, whether to silence a scream or a sob, he couldn’t tell. The apartment buzzed with silence. Downstairs, a neighbor’s TV blared some late-night comedy show. Laughter filtered through the floorboards, distant and oblivious. Jason’s fingers twitched. Sarah saw it, the flicker of hunger in his eyes, and scrambled backward. Her foot catching on a pen, sending her sprawling backwards. Jason moved before he could stop himself. His hand shot out, palm upturned, catching her before she could tumble off the edge. Sarah froze. His fingers curled ever so slightly around her, not tight enough to hurt, just enough to feel. Her heartbeat fluttered against his skin like a trapped bird. Jason swallowed hard. He could turn back now, apologize, and drive her home, pretend none of this happened. But Sarah’s wide, terrified eyes locked onto his, and something shifted. As he reached for his zipper. Sarah's scream was barely louder than the rustle of fabric as Jason's free hand tugged at his belt. The leather slithered loose with a slow, deliberate hiss. "No- Jason, stop!" Her voice cracked as she twisted in his grip, fingernails scraping uselessly against his palm. "What the hell are you—" His thumb stroked once down her spine, silencing her. "Shh." The whisper vibrated through her tiny body. "We wouldn't want the neighbors hearing, would we?" Sarah choked back another cry as his fingers tightened, just enough to make breathing difficult. The coffee table, the apartment, the world tilted around her as he lifted her higher, his other hand now working his zipper down. Hot, humid air rushed from the opening of his jeans as he parted the fabric. Sarah gagged at the musky heat radiating from the darkness below. "You're sick," she sobbed, kicking wildly. Jason's smile didn't reach his eyes. His fingers uncurled. Sarah plummeted into the stifling darkness, landing with a soft thud against the damp cotton of his briefs. The scent of salt and sweat overwhelmed her as the fabric swallowed her whole. Above, the denim gap closed like a mouth sealing shut. Outside, the neighbor's laugh track swelled again, bright, oblivious. Inside, Sarah screamed until her voice gave out. Jason exhaled, slow and satisfied, as he stood. His fingers drummed once, twice, against the denim bulge where she squirmed. Then he grabbed his keys. Time to see how long she could last. Sarah's world narrowed to the oppressive heat, the rhythmic thud of Jason's footsteps vibrating through her prison of fabric and flesh. Every shift of his hips sent her tumbling against the damp cotton, her skin slick with sweat, his sweat, until she couldn't tell where her trembling ended and his body began. The car door slammed. The engine roared to life. “Comfy?" Jason's voice rumbled above her. His hand pressed down briefly, fingers splayed, smothering her beneath his palm through the denim. Sarah gasped for air, her nails tearing at the seam of his briefs. "Let me out—" His laugh cut her off as the car lurched forward. "Not a chance." A sharp turn sent her rolling, her face suddenly pressed against the hot, thick length of him straining beneath the cotton. Her stomach heaved. Jason groaned, low and satisfied. "Fuck, you feel that?" His fingers dug into the steering wheel. "That's all you, Sarah." She sobbed, her voice raw. "I'll die in here…” “Better hurry up and get used to it, then." The car accelerated. "Because I'm just getting started." Headlights flashed through the windshield, painting the dashboard in brief, stuttering light. Somewhere beyond the glass, the world kept spinning. Somewhere inside his jeans, Sarah's whimpers dissolved into silence. Jason grinned and turned up the radio. Sarah's consciousness flickered in and out like a dying lightbulb. The oppressive heat, the rhythmic pulse of Jason's body against hers, the suffocating musk, it all blurred into a nightmarish haze. She wasn't sure how long she'd been trapped, minutes? Hours? Time stretched and warped inside his jeans, each second an eternity of damp, claustrophobic torment. Then, movement. Jason shifted in the driver's seat, his thighs tensing as the car rolled to a stop. The engine cut off, plunging her world into eerie silence, the only thing audible was the distant hum of a parking lot light. Sarah stirred weakly, her throat raw from screaming. "Jason?!" she croaked, barely audible. No response. The denim above her shifted as he unbuckled his seatbelt. A jingle of keys, then the creak of the car door opening. Cool air rushed in as he stood, and for one delirious moment, Sarah thought, hoped, that he might finally let her out. Instead, his hand pressed down against the bulge in his jeans, fingers kneading possessively. "Still alive in there?" His voice deep with amusement. Sarah's fists clenched. She had no strength left to answer. Jason chuckled and gave himself a rough adjustment, the motion sending her tumbling against the hot, sticky fabric once more. "Good." The walk to his apartment door was a mirage of jarring steps, each one jostling her mercilessly. By the time he fumbled with the lock, Sarah's vision swam with black spots. The door clicked open. Jason stepped inside and kicked it shut behind him. His hands went straight to his belt, loosening it with a practiced tug. "Alright, cutie," he murmured, almost fondly. "Let's see what kind of mess you've made." Sarah barely had time to brace herself before the denim gap widened above her. Blinding light flooded in as Jason peeled back his waistband, revealing her crumpled, sweat-slick form nestled against his briefs. She gasped at the sudden rush of cooler air, her chest heaving. Jason's breath hitched. "Fuck," he hissed, staring down at her with something between awe and lust. Sarah followed his gaze, and froze. The cotton beneath her was drenched, darkened with a mixture of sweat and something thicker, something unmistakable. Her stomach twisted. The bedroom door swung shut behind them. Somewhere outside, a siren wailed, distant, and irrelevant. Inside, Sarah's whimpers dissolved into silence once more. Jason hummed and reached for the bedside drawer. Sarah awoke, her vision swam, her body aching from dehydration and exhaustion. Then she saw it, glass, surrounding her. She was now trapped inside a giant glass jar, Jason staring at her from the outside. He only had his briefs on, and the giant monster being concealed by them wasn’t exactly trying to hide. Sarah's fingers scrambled against the smooth glass walls as she struggled to sit up. Her breath fogged the interior, her reflection warped and distorted against the curve of the jar. Jason loomed over her, his bare torso blocking the ceiling light, casting her in shadow. "Sleeping beauty wakes up," he murmured, tapping the glass with one fingertip. The vibration rattled through her bones. Sarah flinched. "Let me out,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from screaming. Jason smirked and reached down to adjust himself through his briefs, his fingers dragging lazily over the bulge straining against the fabric. Sarah's stomach turned as she realized how close she was to it, the glass jar perched on the nightstand mere inches from his crotch. “You're staying right there," he said, voice low. "Where I can see you." Sarah's nails scraped uselessly against the glass. "Why?” Jason didn't answer. Instead, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and peeled them down in one slow, deliberate motion. Sarah's breath hitched as his cock sprang free, thick and already half-hard, the tip glistening in the dim light. The jar shook as he set it on the bed beside him, his free hand wrapping around his length with a rough, slow stroke. Sarah recoiled as the glass vibrated with each movement, the sound of his skin sliding over flesh muffled but unmissable. "You're gonna watch," he growled, his breath fogging the glass where her tiny hands pressed. "You're gonna watch, and you're gonna remember who owns you now." Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, but the sound was inescapable. The wet, rhythmic slick of his fist, the groan that rumbled through his chest, the creak of the bed as he shifted closer, his heat radiating through the glass. Then, impact. The jar jolted as something hot and thick splattered against the front, sliding down in viscous streaks. Sarah's eyes flew open just in time to see the second burst hit, painting the glass in sticky white. Sarah watched, trembling, as Jason wiped himself clean with her tiny clothes that he ripped off while she was out, before tossing them aside. His fingers curled around the jar, tilting it slightly to admire her caged form through the streaks of his release. "Better get used to the view," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the clean area of glass, right where her face was. The heat of his breath fogged her prison. He set the jar back on the nightstand, so close to the edge she could see the drop to the floor below. The bed creaked as he flopped onto it, stretching with a satisfied groan. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, his chest rising and falling in sleep. Sarah waited. The clock on the wall ticked. The apartment settled into silence. She pushed against the lid, but no give. Her tiny fists beat against the glass, but the sound was swallowed by the hum of the AC. Desperate, she threw her full weight against the side of the jar. Once, twice, and on the third try, the jar wobbled, teetered, and then toppled. Sarah screamed as she plummeted, the jar shattering against the hardwood with a crash that made her ears ring. Glass shards rained around her, one grazing her arm. She scrambled to her feet, heart hammering, and darted under the bed before Jason could stir. From the darkness, she watched his bare feet hit the floor. "Sarah?” His voice was thick with sleep, then sharpening as he took in the wreckage. "Shit." She held her breath as he crouched, sweeping aside glass. His fingers grazed the edge of the bedskirt. Then, a phone rang. Jason cursed, standing. "Yeah?" he barked into the phone, pacing away. "No, it's fine. What?" Sarah didn't wait. She bolted. The apartment was a maze of shadows. The kitchen loomed ahead, the fridge humming like an animal. She skidded under the stove, her lungs burning, just as his footsteps returned. "Sarah!” Jason's voice echoed, furious. A cabinet slammed. "Where the fuck—" She waited until his footsteps faded toward the living room before making a break for the front door. The gap beneath it was slim, but maybe. Then light flooded the hallway. Sarah froze mid-step, her shadow stretching long across the floor. Slowly, she turned. Jason stood in the bathroom doorway, his silhouette enormous against the backlight. His smile was slow, terrifying. "There you are." Sarah ran. His hand closed around her before she'd taken three steps, fingers encircling her waist like a vice. "No!" she shrieked, kicking wildly as he lifted her to eye level. Jason's grin was all teeth. "Guess we're doing this the hard way." His grip tightened as he carried her back to the bedroom, past the broken glass, past the bed, straight to the dresser. The top drawer slid open with a rumble. Sarah's blood turned to ice. Inside, nestled among socks, was a small metal cage. Jason dangled her over it. "Try escaping this, bug.” The latch clicked shut behind her. Somewhere outside, a siren wailed, distant, but irrelevant. Inside, Sarah's whimpers dissolved into silence once more. Jason exhaled, satisfied, and climbed into bed. The cage swung gently from the dresser knob as he drifted off, the “tick-tick-tick” of the clock counting down the hours until morning. Sarah curled into herself, her fingers wrapping around the cold bars. Dawn felt very far away. Sarah's fingers trembled as she wrapped them around the cold metal bars of the cage. The gaps were narrow, too narrow for her whole body, but not impossible. Not if she was willing to pay the price. She glanced at Jason’s sleeping form, his chest rising and falling steadily in the dim light. The cage swung slightly from the dresser knob, the rhythmic creak masking the sound of her shifting position. It was now or never. Sarah sucked in a breath and wedged her shoulder through first. The metal bit into her skin immediately, the pressure sharp enough to make her gasp. She clenched her jaw and pushed harder, her ribs protesting as they compressed against the tight bars. A sickening pop echoed in her ears as her collarbone shifted unnaturally. Pure, hot pain invaded her chest, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Her torso was halfway through now, her hips the next obstacle. Sarah twisted, grinding her pelvis against the gap, the metal scraping her bare skin raw. A whimper escaped her lips, too loud. Jason stirred. Sarah froze, her heart hammering against her bruised ribs. His breathing evened out again, and she resumed, forcing her hips through with a muffled cry. Her legs came easier, though not without cost. She collapsed onto the dresser top, her body throbbing, her skin streaked with angry red welts. But she was out. The floor was a dizzying drop below. Sarah didn’t hesitate, she rolled off the edge, tumbling onto a pile of his clothes, with a thud that knocked the air from her lungs. Jason muttered in his sleep, one arm flinging out across the empty space beside him. Sarah didn’t wait. She crawled toward the bedroom door, every movement agony, her breaths shallow and ragged. The hallway stretched before her, impossibly long, the front door a distant beacon. She was halfway there when the floorboards creaked behind her. She needed to hide! Sarah's pulse roared in her ears as she darted sideways, into the narrow gap beneath a wall, and table. Dust coated her tongue as she pressed herself flat against the leg of the table, her body screaming from the strain. Footsteps thudded closer. Jason's shadow stretched long across the hardwood, pausing mere inches from her hiding spot. “Sarah?" His voice was a low growl, half-amused, half-furious. "Little bug thinks she's clever." A floorboard groaned as he crouched. Sarah held her breath as his fingers grazed the edge of the table skirt, lifting it slightly. A sliver of light pierced her hiding place. Then shattered glass crunched somewhere in the kitchen. Jason's head snapped toward the sound. "What the?!” Sarah didn't wait. The second his attention shifted, she bolted, scrambling on hands and knees toward the living room. The coffee table loomed ahead, its solid base offering better cover. She'd almost reached it when a hand closed around her ankle. "Got you.” Jason's grip was impossibly strong, yanking her backward until her face scraped against the hardwood. Sarah screamed, clawing at the floor. A key turned in the front door lock. Both froze. The door swung open to reveal Jason's roommate, Kyle, balancing a pizza box and a six-pack. "Dude, why's there glass all over the—" His gaze dropped to Jason's grip on Sarah's tiny, thrashing form. "What the actual fuck." Sarah sobbed in relief. "Help me!" Jason faked a calm smile. "She's a doll." His thumb stroked possessively up her calf. "My doll." Kyle's face drained of color. The pizza box hit the floor with a wet slap. Sarah lunged for freedom, but Jason's fingers tightened. "Mine." Kyle took one step forward. Then another. His hand closed around the nearest heavy object, a ceramic vase from the entry table. Sarah had just enough time to see Jason's eyes widen before the vase connected with his temple with a sickening crack. Jason crumpled. Kyle's hands shook as he pried Sarah free, cradling her gently in his palms. "Holy shit holy shit— are you okay? What happened?" Sarah couldn't speak. Her body trembled violently, her vision swimming with tears and exhaustion. Kyle's thumb brushed gently over her hair, the first kind touch she'd felt in hours. Somewhere outside, a siren wailed, closer this time. Kyle exhaled sharply. "We're calling the cops. Now!" Sarah nodded weakly, clinging to his fingers as he reached for his phone. Jason groaned on the floor. Kyle kicked him in the ribs, hard, before stepping over his body, Sarah held securely in his grasp. The last thing Sarah saw before passing out was the flashing red and blue lights painting the walls through the open door, and Jason's unconscious form, sprawled like a broken toy. But then, Sarah woke up, back on the clothes she fell on after escaping the cage. She has been knocked out, it was all a dream of what could’ve happened, but Jason lived alone, and had no friend by the name of Kyle. It was all a illusion of hope conjured up by her when she fell, and when she peered up at the clock that read “seven forty three” she knew that it wouldn’t be long before he woke up, and found her free. She needed to run and find a way out now. Sarah's breath hitched as she scrambled to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her. The hallway stretched endlessly before her, the front door impossibly far, the bathroom door slightly ajar just feet away. Maybe she could hide there, buy herself time. She took one step. A floorboard creaked behind her. Sarah froze. "Going somewhere?" Jason's voice was rough with sleep, thick with something darker. She didn't turn. She couldn't. Her pulse roared in her ears as his footsteps thudded closer, the vibration rattling through the hardwood beneath her bare feet. Then, a hand closed around her waist. Sarah shrieked as Jason lifted her effortlessly, his fingers encircling her like a vice. "No! Let me go” Jason chuckled, his breath hot against her skin as he brought her to eye level. His pupils were blown wide with sleep, and something else. Something hungry. "You really thought you could run?" Sarah thrashed, her nails scratching uselessly against his thumb. "Fuck you!" Jason's grin widened. "Oh, my little toy." He adjusted his grip, turning her toward the bulge straining against his briefs. "That's the idea." Her stomach dropped. Jason carried her back to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. The click of the lock sealed her fate. Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets. Jason sat on the edge of the bed, his free hand already tugging his briefs down. His cock sprang free, thick and pulsing, the tip glistening in the dawn light. Sarah's breath caught. "Jason, please—“ He ignored her, positioning her tiny body above his length. "Hold still.” Sarah screamed as he lowered her onto him, her back pressed flush against the hot, throbbing flesh. Her legs dangled helplessly as his fingers wrapped around her waist, pinning her in place. “You're gonna help me out, Sarah," he murmured, his voice dripping with lust. His grip tightened as he dragged her up, her skin catching against the slick head. "Just like this.” Then down. Sarah sobbed as her body was forced along his length, the friction burning even as the precome eased the slide. Jason groaned, his hips lifting to meet her, his fingers digging into her ribs. "Fuck, you're perfect." Up, down, up. Sarah's vision blurred with tears as Jason set a brutal pace, using her like a living toy. Her whimpers dissolved into broken gasps, her voice gone from screaming. Jason didn't care. His free hand gripped the sheets, his jaw clenched with pleasure. "So- fucking good, you feel perfect squirming against my cock-“ he gritted out, thrusting up against her squirming body. Sarah's world narrowed to the searing heat, the smack of skin on skin, the musk of sweat and sex clogging her lungs. Then, pressure. Jason's grip turned bruising as he forced her down one final time, his cock pulsing beneath her. Hot, thick spurts painted Sarah's back, her legs, the bed below. Jason shuddered, his breath ragged, his fingers trembling where they held her. For a moment, there was only silence. Then Jason exhaled, satisfied, and lifted her to inspect his handiwork. Sarah hung limply in his grasp, her body streaked white, her eyes glazed like a doughnut. “Good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her sticky forehead. Sarah didn't respond. Jason smirked and reached for the nightstand drawer. The click of a lock echoed in the stillness. Somewhere outside, a bird sang, bright, and oblivious. Inside, Sarah's whimpers dissolved into silence once more. The cage door swung gently shut. Sarah came to in darkness, her body aching in ways she couldn't articulate. The air smelled of metal, and cum, her bare skin pressed against cold bars. The cage swung slightly when she moved, hung from something now, not resting on a surface. Jason's voice rumbled through the blackness: "Morning, bug." A click. Harsh light flooded her prison. Sarah blinked up at him through the bars, only to realize with dawning horror that the cage wasn't hung from the ceiling or dresser. It dangled from a leather cord around his neck, resting just above the waistband of his jeans. His erection strained against the denim mere inches below her feet. Jason's fingers traced the cage's outline, making it sway. "Got you something special." He tapped a small metal fixture on the cage's floor she hadn't noticed, a tiny hinged door, barely large enough for her to fall through. She held onto the rim for dear life, trying not to fall onto his bulge contained by the briefs. Jason's smile was all teeth as he popped his button. "Time for your upgrade." The zipper's rasp sounded like a death knell. Outside, traffic hummed. Jason's fingers curled around her ankles. Sarah's scream lodged in her throat as Jason dragged her out of the tiny hatch. Her fingers scrambled for purchase on the bars, nails splintering against the metal. Just wide enough to force her through, her hips scraping painfully against the edges. Jason exhaled sharply through his nose. "Relax," he murmured, thumb pressing into the arch of her foot. "You'll fit." She didn't. Sarah gasped as her ribs compressed unnaturally, her shoulder popping as he twisted her sideways. The heat radiating from below made her eyes water, musky, thick, the tip of him already glistening inches beneath the hatch. “Almost—" Jason grunted, applying steady pressure. Her knee bent at a sickening angle to accommodate the space. A wet pop echoed as her hip dislocated. Sarah's vision whited out. When she came to, she was inside, wedged in the humid space between his briefs and straining flesh, her cheek pressed to the throbbing vein along his length. The world swayed as Jason stood, his satisfied groan vibrating through her. “There we go." His fingers traced the lump in his underwear where she strained against the fabric. "Perfect." Sarah's whimpers were smothered as he adjusted himself, the cotton shifting to mold her tighter against him. Every breath she took was him, salt, sweat, and the coppery tang of her own blood from split lips. The scent of the morning clung to the air as Jason stepped onto the porch of his aunt’s house, the same one where Sarah had vanished five summers ago. The screen door whined on its hinges, a sound he’d memorized. Inside his waistband, Sarah stirred weakly, her tiny limbs trembling against the damp fabric of his briefs. “Jason?" Aunt Linda’s voice wavered from the kitchen. She appeared in the doorway, her once, bright eyes dull with grief, her hands clutching a dish towel like a lifeline. "I didn’t know you were coming today." Jason smiled, the picture of concerned family. "Thought I’d check in." His fingers brushed absently over his belt buckle, pressing just enough to make Sarah whimper soundlessly. "You holding up okay?" Linda’s lips trembled. "It’s her birthday next week." Sarah went rigid against his skin. Jason’s thumb traced the lump in his waistband, soothing. "I know." He stepped forward, pulling Linda into a one-armed hug. Her body felt brittle, like old paper. Over her shoulder, he glimpsed the framed photos on the wall, Sarah’s graduation portrait, her smile frozen in time. Inside his pants, Sarah’s nails dug into his flesh. Linda pulled back, dabbing her eyes. "You’re sweet to visit. Everyone else… they’ve moved on." Jason’s hand settled on the small of her back, guiding her toward the living room. "She’s not forgotten." Beneath his clothes, Sarah shuddered. Moonlight seeped through the barred windows of Jason’s basement, painting stripes across the steel table where Sarah’s new enclosure sat. It wasn’t a cage anymore, not really. He’d welded it himself, a cylindrical tube of surgical steel, just wide enough to accommodate her tiny frame, with breathing holes drilled in precise intervals. The interior was smooth, polished to prevent injury. “Comfortable,” he’d told her. “Safe.” The hinges at one end squeaked as he unscrewed the cap, the sound making Sarah flinch even before the cold air hit her bare skin. She was curled fetal inside, her knees bruised from earlier struggles, her hair matted with sweat and another fluid. Jason’s shadow loomed over the opening. "Had enough time to think, bug?" Sarah didn’t answer. Her voice had given out hours ago, after the fifth time he’d fucked the tube with her inside it, her body forced to ride the length of him like a bull. He tapped the metal. "You know the rules. Beg to come out." Her lips moved soundlessly. Jason sighed and reached for the lube. Winter came. Sarah stopped counting the days. The basement grew colder, but Jason kept her warm, his body heat, his breath, the relentless press of him inside her. He’d long since stopped pretending she had a choice. The tube was her world now, her limbs atrophied from disuse, her skin permanently marked by the grooves of its interior. Sometimes, when he was feeling generous, he’d take her out. Let her feel the air on her skin before leaving her back inside the tube. Sarah stopped screaming eventually. Spring thaw brought another visit to Linda’s house. This time, Jason arrived with a casserole, his mother’s recipe. Linda’s hands shook as she took the dish. "You’re too good to me." Jason smiled, his fingers discreetly adjusting his waistband where Sarah sagged against him, her body slack with resignation. "Family’s all we’ve got." Over coffee, Linda cried. Jason held her hand, his thumb stroking her behind his zipper, Sarah didn’t stir. One day, Jason discovered anal play by accident. Sarah had been curled in her tube, dozing fitfully, when he’d pressed it between his cheeks absentmindedly while watching TV. The vibration of her startled scream had sent him rocketing to the edge in seconds. Now, it was routine. “Breathe deep," he murmured, twisting the tube deeper into his cleft. Sarah’s cries buzzed against his skin, muffled by flesh and metal. His free hand stroked himself lazily. "That’s it, sing for me.” The tube grew slick with sweat and lube, Sarah’s body jostling violently inside with every thrust. When he came, it was with her name on his lips, the same name her mother had sobbed into empty bedrooms for years. Afterward, he unscrewed the cap just enough to let her gasp for air. Her face was streaked with cum, her voice reduced to a wheeze. Jason kissed the opening of the tube. "Good girl." Years blurred. Sarah’s cage changed, sometimes metal, sometimes glass, most of the time nothing, as he kept her inside of his ass when he went out to parties, her muffled cries vibrating through him. Jason grew older. His aunt died. The search parties faded. Sarah remained. On bad nights, when the memories of her old life clawed at her sanity, Jason would press her between his cheeks and hum, the vibrations rattling her bones. “You’re mine," he’d remind her, his voice thick with pleasure. Sarah no longer argued. Somewhere beyond the basement walls, the world kept. Sarah learned quickly that defiance had consequences. When she refused to eat, Jason would press her between his cheeks and hold her there, letting the heat and musk overwhelm her until she gagged. When she tried to scream during family visits, he’d slip a hand into his pocket and pinch her thighs until she bled, and when she begged for death, Jason would laugh and roll onto her, smothering her in darkness with his ass, until her struggles ceased. “You’ll never die," he’d whisper afterward, licking the salt from her skin. "Not until I let you." The graveyard was quiet save for the rustle of leaves. Jason knelt before the fresh headstone, “Linda Carter, Beloved Mother,” and placed a single lily at its base. Behind his belt, Sarah stirred weakly. “Shh," Jason murmured, adjusting his stance to press her deeper against his groin. "Pay your respects." Sarah’s heartbeat fluttered against his skin, fast, frantic. This caused him to cum right then and there, all over her struggling body inside his tight pants. Jason smiled and stood, dusting off his knees. "Don’t worry, toy." His fingers traced the soaked lump in his pants. "You’ve got years left." The wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain. Somewhere beyond the gates, traffic hummed, distant, indifferent. Jason turned and walked away, Sarah’s whimpers lost beneath the crunch of gravel. The world kept turning, and deep in the dark, Sarah did not….

[Giant-dude]

Nothing like a mothers love
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Contains: Incest, unwilling, teens, mother, son, cock, kidnapping, slave, toy, cruel.
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The humid fabric clung to her tiny body as she struggled against the oppressive warmth, her nostrils flooding with the musk of her own pussy. Every desperate twist only tangled her further in the cotton prison, her thighs slick with panicked sweat as the bedroom door creaked open. Heavy footsteps vibrated through the floorboards, too close, too familiar, and her breath hitched when her son's shadow fell across the discarded laundry pile. “Oh- jackpot” A lustful voice came from him as he sifted through the clothes. Fingers she'd bandaged after playground falls now rummaged through her still, damp panties with a reverence that made her stomach drop. The fabric tented obscenely around his grip as he lifted her scent to his face, his low groan sending terrified shivers through her shrunken form. She bit back a whimper when his thumb brushed directly over the fabric that hid her curled up body, the heat of his skin searing through thin cotton as he muttered, "Fuck, mom's smell is..." His sentence trailed into something dark, and hungry that she'd never heard in his voice before. The realization punched through her like lightning, the way his pupils dilated, how his tongue darted out to taste the fabric near her trapped legs, where he pussy once strained against. This wasn't her sweet boy. This was a stranger who'd been hiding behind his childhood photos, and honor roll certificates, breathing heavily as he palmed himself through his jeans with her underwear still clutched in his other hand. She had to move now. With a convulsive jerk, she wriggled toward the waistband's edge just as his grip shifted, the sudden motion sending her tumbling into open air. For one dizzying second she saw the full expanse of his flushed face looming above, then the impact knocked the wind from her lungs as she landed sprawled across his thigh. His breath stopped. Her pulse spiked. The denim beneath her vibrated with his throbbing member straining below, as his fingers descended like falling buildings. "Well," he murmured, thumb pressing her flat against his fever-hot skin, "this explains why your panties felt so... alive." His nail scraped deliberately up her trembling spine, savoring each hitched breath. "I don’t care how you shrunk, I just guess we are done pretending, right mom?"Her tiny lungs burned as she tried to scream, but only a pathetic squeak escaped as his fingertip pressed harder, pinning her flush against the denim seam now straining with his obvious arousal. The coarse fabric scraped her bare legs as he dragged her upward, her world tilting sickeningly until she dangled inches from his parted lips. His exhale washed over her, hot, and humid with the sour tang of energy drinks. "Always lecturing me about jerking off," he chuckled, the vibration thrumming through her fragile body as he brought her closer to his tongue. "But look at you now." His free hand yanked down his zipper with a metallic rasp, the sudden waft of musk making her gag. "Bet you never imagined your little room checks would end with you stuffed in my—" The doorbell rang. His grip faltered. She twisted desperately, her knees scraping against his calloused palm as distant voices floated up from the front porch, neighbors asking about a missing package. For one suspended heartbeat, his predatory grin wavered. She threw herself sideways with every ounce of strength, tumbling off his hand onto the tangled bedsheet below. “Fuck!" His whisper was a hiss as he lunged after her, but she was already scrambling beneath the crumpled laundry, her pulse hammering in her throat as his fingers tore through fabric overhead. The mattress dipped under his shifting weight, his ragged breathing syncopated with the distant doorbell's chime. "Just a minute!" he demanded toward the hallway, his attention torn. This was her chance, she burrowed deeper into the sweat-damp folds of a discarded t-shirt, her entire body trembling as his shadow loomed over the pile. His fingertip grazed the hem right above her, then withdrew with a frustrated sigh as the doorbell rang again. “Coming, goddamn it!" The bedroom door slammed. The hardwood floor yawned like a canyon below, but better shattered bones than whatever awaited her in his grip. She leapt, and then slammed into his waiting palm. "Nice try." His face filled her vision, pupils blown black with victory as he peeled her off his sticky palm. "You really thought I'd choose some fucking Amazon delivery over this?" His tongue swiped across his lower lip as he lowered her toward the tented fabric of his boxers. "Time for mommy's real lesson on privacy." Her stomach lurched as his fingers curled around her, the calloused ridges of his fingerprints pressing into her bare skin like prison bars. The elastic waistband of his boxers stretched obscenely as he positioned her above it, her tiny legs kicking uselessly against the humid musk rising from the shadowed crevice below. “P-please—" The word cracked in her throat, her own voice foreign to her ears, desperate, pleading in a way she'd never imagined. His grin widened. "Please what, mom?" The deliberate pause hung between them, his thumb stroking along her shivering belly. "Please stop? Or..." His voice dropped to a whisper, hot and cloying against her trapped body. "Please keep going?” The mattress groaned as he shifted, his free hand slipping beneath the waistband with a slow, deliberate rustle of fabric. Her breath hitched as his knuckles brushed against her dangling legs, then the world tilted violently as he tipped her forward. Her shriek died against the suffocating heat of his bare skin, her palms slapping against the throbbing, salt-damp flesh that pulsed beneath her. His shuddering groan vibrated through her bones as his fingers finally retreated, leaving her sprawled across the swollen pole of his arousal, her cheek pressed to the vein that jumped treacherously beneath the skin. “God, you're perfect down there," he rasped, his hips arching subtly to grind her tighter against him. The motion smeared her against the slick precum beading at his tip, the thick, heady scent of it flooding her nostrils. "Always wanted to see you this close." His fingers brushed over her back, pressing her flush against the fevering skin as he groaned through his teeth. "Fuck- imagine if you'd stayed in your panties when I used them~” Twisting violently, she sank her teeth into the meat of his thumb. His screech of pain shook the room as she launched herself off his throbbing length, her bare feet slipping on the slick sheen of his balls before she tumbled over the edge of the bed. The fall knocked the wind from her lungs, but adrenaline propelled her forward, scrambling on hands and knees toward the narrow gap beneath the dresser. Behind her, the bedframe shrieked as he vaulted after her, his fingers grazing her ankle before she wrenched free, plunging into the dust-choked darkness. The dark swallowed her whole, a tight, gritty prison of cobwebs, and a pair of panties she’d thought she’d just lost years ago, laying there crusty. She gagged as her son's ragged breathing filled the room above, his fingers suddenly wrenching the dresser aside with a scrape against the floor. Daylight stabbed through the new gap like a searchlight, illuminating her trembling form curled beneath the crusty panties. "Found you," he whispered, voice dripping with something between excitement and lust. His palm slammed down inches from her head, the impact sending dust motes swirling around her like a toxic snowglobe. She scrambled backward, only for his pinky finger to hook around her waist, dragging her through the grime toward his flushed face. His tongue, pink and glistening, slid between his teeth as he examined her filth-streaked body. "Look at you," he murmured, thumb brushing a streak of dust from her thigh. "All dirty from running." His grip shifted, tilting her cruelly toward the throbbing member hidden by the briefs below. "Guess mom needs..." His free hand yanked the waistband down, the musky heat of his arousal wafting over her. "...a bath." Her scream lodged in her throat as he lowered her toward the dripping tip, spazzing out as her flailing legs grazed the sensitive flesh. "Shhh," he cooed, blowing hot breath across her shivering form, "just gonna..." His pupils eclipsed his irises when her heel accidentally pressed against his slit. "Fuck! Yes let’s go~” he said walking to the bathroom, and turning on the hottest setting as she clung to his throbbing cock for dear life. The scalding water hit them both at once, her scream drowned by the shower's rush as his grip tightened, pressing her writhing body flush against his pulsing cock. Steam curled around them, thickening the air with the cloying scent of body wash, and something erotic. His fingers traced her spine like she was some delicacy, even as his hips jerked subtly against her trapped form. "Cold?" he mocked, watching goosebumps erupt across her skin. His thumb swiped through the water beading on her chest, coming away slick. "Don't worry..." He tilted the showerhead until the spray hit her directly, the force causing her to curl around his length. "...I'll warm you up." She gasped as his free hand wrapped around them both, her world narrowing to the obscene slide of his foreskin dragging her tiny body back and forth. The soap made everything slippery, her kicks barely registered as he groaned, his rhythm growing erratic. "God, you're perfect," he panted, his grip shifting to pin her against his under shaft, the sensitive skin throbbing against her chest. "Gonna cum- with my tiny mother!!!” The porcelain tiles shuddered beneath them as his knees buckled, his free hand braced against the shower wall while the other crushed her against his twitching flesh. Steam condensed on her skin like morning dew as his hips stuttered, then his cock pulsed violently beneath her, the first thick strand of cum hitting her square in the chest with enough force to knock her backward. She gagged as the second shot plastered her hair to her forehead, the viscous heat of it sealing her left eye shut. His moans echoed off the tiles as he milked himself through the aftershocks, using her limp body to smear the mess across his still hard length. "Fuck," he slurred, thumbs spreading the sticky residue over her breasts, and belly, "look at you..." For weeks, she lived in the suffocating dark of his briefs, trapped against his sweat-slick skin during school, curled painfully beneath the constricting waistband at family dinners, gagging on the musky heat whenever he shoved a hand down to adjust himself. His heartbeat thundered above her, his whispered taunts dripping through fabric, “Feel how hard you make me, mom?" Then, during a crowded mall trip, his careless tug at his waistband sent her tumbling throw the denim jeans. She hit the tile with a sickening crack, his sneakers already vanishing into the sea of shoppers. Before she could stagger up, a Converse slammed down inches from her face. “Whoa." The voice cracked mid-puberty. A freckled face loomed, acne-reddened cheeks puffing with excited breaths. "You're like, real.” His backpack thumped to the floor as he crouched, fingers closing around her waist with clear ill intent . "My brother collects these hyper-realistic dolls but holy shit-“ His thumb brushed her bare breast, his breath hitching. "You're warm." She screamed. The sound vanished beneath the mall's echoing voices as he stuffed her into his hoodie pocket, the fabric reeking of Axe body spray and adolescent sweat. His heartbeat hammered against her back as he sprinted for the bathrooms, locking himself in a stall with shaking hands. “Okay, okay," he chanted, peeling her from the damp pocket. His jeans tight as he seated her on his trembling thigh. "You're gonna- fuck- you're gonna let me try stuff, right?" His zipper yawned open without waiting for an answer. "Don't worry," he panted, lowering her toward the flushed tip of his inexperienced erection, "I watched tons of videos.” The first thrust crushed her against his pelvis. He came while whimpering in forty-three seconds. She barely had time to react before his sticky fingers were probing her legs apart, marveling at her tiny body with the reverence of a kid who'd just discovered his first fleshlight. By week's end, she'd been shared with two classmates via Snapchat trades, each new pair of hands younger, rougher, hungrier. The current owner, a braces-clad thirteen year old, kept her taped inside his sweat-stained baseball cap, for easy access. His fingers trembled against the velcro strap of the baseball cap, peeling it back just enough to reveal her curled-up form nestled in the sweat-darkened fabric. The scent of musk and stale body spray clung to every thread. "Psst. You awake?" His whisper was equal parts excitement and nervousness, his braces glinting under the dim glow of his phone screen. She didn't respond, didn't even twitch, but his fingers prodded her anyway, rolling her onto her back with a clumsy touch. His bedroom walls were plastered with posters of anime girls in suggestive poses, their exaggerated curves and blushing faces looming over her like distorted guardians. The boy, just a kid, she reminded herself bitterly. He licked his lips, and adjusted the waistband of his pajama pants. "Okay, so... I was thinking," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Like, maybe we could try..." His fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt, hiking it up to expose his smooth, hairless stomach. He pressed her against his skin, her tiny limbs splayed across the flushed warmth. "There's this thing in this one video where the girl, like, climbs-“ She didn't move. His grin faltered for a fraction of a second before he nudged her with a fingertip. "C'mon. Do something." Still, she remained limp. A frustrated whine escaped him, and he flipped her over, inspecting her like a malfunctioning toy. "Dude, seriously?" His thumb brushed her cheek, sticky with leftover traces of past encounters. "You were way cooler in Jason's pics." The accusation hung in the air, pathetic, and persistent. She closed her eyes. Something inside him snapped. "F-fine!" His voice cracked as he jammed her into the waistband of his pajama pants, the elastic squeezing her ribs painfully. "You wanna be boring?! Then just- just sit there!" His hips jerked forward, grinding her against his hardening flesh with rough, inexperienced thrusts. It didn't take long. A stifled moan, a full-body shudder, and then, wetness. Hot and thick, seeping through the fabric around her. He panted, cheeks flushed, before yanking her out with trembling fingers. Sticky strands stretched between her legs, and his waistband as he examined her with sudden, horrific clarity. "Ew." The disgust in his voice was almost comical. With a flick of his wrist, she was airborne, tumbling through the air before landing with a thump inside a box by his nightstand. The last thing she saw before the darkness swallowed her was his nose wrinkling as he muttered, "So not worth the trade." The next day she was traded for again. The days turned into weeks of her being passed around a middle school by teenage boys that’s were all full of hormones, and would do anything for a real life tiny woman. Her ribs ached from the latest owner's rough handling, a fourteen year old with greasy hair and trembling hands who'd kept her stuffed in his gym sock overnight. The sour stench of sweat still clung to her skin when he peeled her out that morning, his acne-flushed face twitching with nervous excitement. "Okay, okay," he chanted under his breath, fumbling with the waistband of his boxers. "Just like the videos-" She waited until his grip loosened, until his other hand reached for his phone to record. Then she bit, sinking her teeth into the fleshy pad of his thumb with every ounce of strength left in her ruined body. His shriek shattered the morning quiet. She launched herself from his palm as he recoiled, hitting the hardwood floor with a jolt that sent a hot pain up her legs. Didn't matter. Run. "Fucking- shit!” The boy staggered after her, knocking over a half-empty energy drink as she scrambled beneath his bed. Dust bunnies clung to her damp skin as she wove through discarded candy wrappers and crumpled homework, his fingers scraping the floor behind her. "Get back here, you little-“ She didn't wait for the rest. A sliver of light beckoned from the gap beneath his bedroom door, just wide enough. She dove forward, her shoulders squeezing through the opening as sneakers pounded behind her. The hallway was as vast as a canyon, but she flung herself toward the staircase. Tumble. Roll. Crack. Pain exploded in her side as she ricocheted down the steps, each impact sending fresh agony through her battered body. Above her, the boy's cursing echoed as he skidded onto the bottom step, just as the front door swung open. "Jake?" A woman's voice spoke in confusion. "What's all this?" She didn't stay to hear the rest. While the boy stammered excuses, she dragged herself across the dirty tiles, her vision swimming with each movement. The kitchen. The back door. The gap beneath the porch where the family's ancient terrier slept. She collapsed into the damp earth as the screen door slammed behind her, her lungs burning with the scent of wet grass, and freedom. Somewhere inside the house, a teenager lied through his teeth about biting spiders. Under the porch, curled between two moldy tennis balls, a shrunken woman finally let herself cry. The terrier’s wet nose nudged her, its breath hot and rancid with half-digested kibble. She froze, but the dog merely sniffed her with disinterest before trotting off to dig up a bush. By mid-morning, she’d limped to the edge of the property, her body wracked with tremors from last night’s rain. The suburban street stretched endlessly in both directions. Before she could decide where to go, a shadow fell over her entire world, when she looked up she saw him, her son. Again. His sneakers loomed like skyscrapers, still flecked with mud from yesterday's frantic search. She didn't even have time to scream before his fingers closed around her, not with the bruising grip of before, but something worse, something careful. Like she was a wounded bird he'd found mid-flight. "Mom." The word slithered out of him, slick with relief. His thumb stroked her matted hair, peeling a strand of dried cum from her cheek. "You ran." The hurt in his voice would've been laughable if his other hand wasn't already undoing his belt. He dropped her into his tight briefs where she could already see the erection forming. She screamed, but it was quickly snuffed out to him as he continued on his way home where he would finally have his mother again all to himself. The cotton prison of his briefs clung to her like a second skin, the humid darkness throbbing with each step he took. She gagged on the musky heat, her fingers slipping against sweat-slick fabric as his erection swelled beneath her. Outside, the rhythmic slap of his sneakers against pavement synced with his quiet humming, some pop song she'd heard him play through bedroom walls a thousand times before. His fingers suddenly dipped into the waistband, pressing her flush against the straining bulge. "Shhh," he coaxed, voice dripping with false comfort as his thumb circled her trembling form from the outside. "Almost home." The words vibrated through her bones, his pulsing cock vein hammering against her cheek. She suddenly heard a door shut, and click feeling him ascend the stairs as his thighs shifted up, and down. They scrunched her against the giant throbbing cock until finally he was walking normally again on a flat surface. She heard another door shut, and click, it was then she knew they had made it to his room. He snagged her out of his pants, and allowed them to drop onto the floor. He climbed onto the bed with her, and his erection in hand. Before she could react he began vigorously jerking off with her for what felt like hours until finally, his grip tightened convulsively, her world blurring violently as he arched off the bed with a guttural cry, holding her way too tightly against him. Hot ropes of cum splattered across her chest, the first thick pulse knocking her backward onto his sweat-slicked stomach. She gasped as the second shot painted her face white, her vision blurred as sticky strands sealed her lashes together. "Fuck," he panted, thumb smearing the mess between her breasts with satisfaction. "Look at you." His fingers traced the outline of her trembling body through the steaming fluid, circling her hips like she was a trophy on display. "All marked up." The mattress groaned as he shifted, reaching for something on the nightstand. The glint of metal flashed, a phone camera lens focusing hungrily on her ruined form. The phone's flash burned her retinas as he captured every angle, her cum-streaked hair plastered to her forehead, her thighs trembling with exhaustion, the way his sticky release pooled in the hollow of her throat. She could barely lift her arms anymore, her muscles reduced to jelly from hours of being smeared across his feverish skin like some living toy. "Gotta get this one before it dries," he murmured, zooming in on the pearly strands connecting her knees to his still-twitching cock. His fingertip pressed into the small of her back, arching her spine obscenely for the camera. "Say cheese, mom~" The shutter clicked. Again. Again. Each flash immortalized her degradation, his thumb prying her legs apart to photograph his mess dripping from her, the cruel close-up of her tear-streaked face pressed against his flared tip, even the way his cum clung to her eyelashes when she blinked. By the time his erection finally softened, the bedsheet beneath them was stiff with drying fluids. He rolled onto his back with a contented sigh, idly stroking her limp body with two fingers like she was some well-used stress toy. "Think I'll call this album 'Mom's Big Sleepover'," he mused, scrolling through the gallery of her shame. His thumb paused on a particularly lurid shot, her tiny form pinned beneath his swollen head, when he was playing with her, rubbing her, and his remains all over the still swollen cock. "This one's going straight to the group chat." Her whimper went ignored as he tapped out a caption with pride. The phone vibrated instantly with responses, his friends, crude emojis lighting up the screen while his fingers absently trailed through the mess on her stomach. "Mm. Maybe tomorrow we'll try the other hole." His casual tone sent ice through her veins as he lifted her by one ankle, examining her dangling body, and pussy with a sick intent. "Bet it would fit perfect." The threat hung in the air as he finally, mercifully, set her down, only to reach for the empty mason jar on his nightstand. The glass chilled her overheated skin when he dropped her inside, her limbs too weak to resist as he screwed the lid shut with finality. “Night, mom," he whispered, tapping the glass with a grin. His erection stirred against his thigh as he admired her through the condensation already forming. "Don't worry, I'll let you out first thing tomorrow." His tongue swiped across his lower lip. "After my morning wood needs tending to." The lamp clicked off. In the sudden darkness, she watched his silhouette palm himself lazily, already planning all the ways he'd use her come dawn. The jar vibrated with his quiet chuckles as she curled into herself, a specimen preserved in teenage lust, his little cum jar mom forever.

[Tinkerbell’s Bf]

I’d love to see some dad shrinking his daughter stories

[Giant-dude]

I’d love to see some dad shrinking his daughter stories

If you have an idea for one you could send me a message, and that’ll be my next project! If not I can try to make one from scratch it’ll just take longer.

[Giant-dude]

Daddy’s little girl
Story for Tinkerbell’s Bf
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Contains: unwilling, slave, cruel, crush, death, shrunken girl used as fleshlight, cum, shower, dad, daughter, brother, incest
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The world tilted violently as Emily collapsed onto the hardwood floor, her vision swimming. One moment she’d been reaching for her favorite mug in the kitchen cabinet, the next, everything had stretched around her, the ceiling became like a cathedral. She gasped, clutching her stomach as the disorientation passed, only to freeze at the sight of everything around her now giant. For hours, she wandered the giant cave of what had once been her home. The legs of chairs towered like redwoods, the gaps between floorboards became like potholes, and the distant hum of the refrigerator vibrated through her entire body. Night fell. Footsteps shook the floor, familiar, heavy. "Emily? Em, sweetheart?" Her father's voice boomed. She screamed his name, leaping onto a discarded shoe to wave wildly. His face descended, blocking out the ceiling light, eyes widening in shock before softening with something strange. A tremor in his breath. "Oh my God. Oh my God, babygirl." His enormous fingers closed around her with gentleness. Emily's voice cracked as she tried to explain, how she'd reached for the mug, how the world had warped, how she had collapsed. Her father listened, his grip careful but shaking, his expression flickering between awe and something else. "Okay," he said finally, exhaling hard. "Okay. We'll figure this out." That night, he fashioned a nest for her in a shoebox lined with tissue, soft, careful, fussing like he hadn't since she was a child. He even left a bottle cap of water by her side, chuckling when she struggled to lift it. "Atta girl," he murmured, watching her drink. At first, he was just Dad, worried, protective. But then came the glances. The way his fingers lingered when he lifted her, brushing her bare legs. The way his breath hitched when she stretched, tiny and vulnerable in his palm. "Em," he whispered one night, his thumb tracing her spine. "You're so- perfect like this." Emily froze. The hunger in his voice was unmistakable, and suddenly, the walls of the shoebox felt less like shelter, and more like a cage. Emily dreamed of drowning in a thick, white, substance that reeked. She dreamed of her insides cracking, and popping, the white liquid bursting into her in thick hot ropes. She woke gasping to find her father's fingers curled around her waist, his thumb pressing into the dip of her side. The shoebox lid was propped open, revealing his face hovering inches above, his pupils dilated in the dim light. "You were whimpering," he murmured, stroking her side with a fingertip. His nail scraped lightly over her ribs. She scrambled back, heart hammering. "I—I'm okay." His exhale was warm enough to ripple the tissue paper beneath her. "You're shaking." “Because of you,” she thought. He lifted her anyway, cradling her against his chest, where his pulse thudded under thin skin. "Let's get you breakfast." Emily tried to rationalize it, Dad was just being attentive. Protective. That’s all. But then breakfast became a slow, ordeal. He perched her on the edge of the kitchen counter, her bare feet dangling over a drop that would’ve been lethal, and fed her crumbs of toast from his fingertip. His other hand rested heavy on the small of her back, thumb idly rubbing circles into her skin, where her bra strap held beneath her shirt. "Open up," he coaxed, voice low. She obeyed, chewing mechanically, her stomach twisting when his fingertip lingered against her chin. His breathing had gone uneven. The shower came next. "Gotta keep you clean, cutie," he murmured, trying to strip her but Emily managed to resist, and explain she could do it herself. Her doll-sized clothes peeled away. She stood shivering on the porcelain sink, arms crossed over her chest, while he soaked a Q-tip in warm water, and dragged it down her spine. His free hand cupped her from below, fingers splayed possessively across her thighs. "You’re so tiny," he breathed, almost reverent. The Q-tip swirled lower. Emily’s breath hitched. "Dad—" "Shhh." His thumb pressed against her lips, silencing her. "Just taking care of you." She didn’t understand until the bathroom mirror caught his reflection, the way his free hand was moving, slow and deliberate, beneath the towel wrapped around his waist. The realization hit like a bucket of ice water. “Oh God.” He wasn’t just protecting her. He was enjoying this, and suddenly, the terror wasn’t just about being small. It was about being his. The Q-tip paused at the base of her spine. Emily’s breath came in shallow, panicked bursts, her entire body trembled under his touch, her skin prickling with something between realization and raw fear. His fingers tightened imperceptibly around her thighs, pressing just enough to leave faint indents in her flesh. “Dad," she whispered again, voice cracking. "Shhh," he repeated, softer this time, thumb reaching around her to press into her lips. His pupils were blown wide, dark enough to swallow her whole. "You’re so perfect like this. So mine." A sound escaped her, a whimper, small, and broken. His breath hitched in response, fingers twitching against her skin. Then the towel around his waist shifted. Emily didn’t look. She couldn’t. But the reflection in the mirror didn’t lie, the way his shoulders tensed, the slow, deliberate movement of his arm. The damp heat of his exhale ghosted over her bare back as he leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Don’t be scared," he murmured, voice rough. "Daddy’s got you." Her stomach lurched. She knew what was about to happen as soon as she saw the towel dip down, revealing a large flesh pole aimed directly at her back, out of the corner of her eye in the mirror. Emily's scream lodged in her throat as the first hot spatter struck her shoulder blades, thick, viscous, reeking of salt. She staggered forward, falling flat onto her face. The second pulse hit her lower back, dripping down the curve of her spine in slow, glistening trails. "Good girl," he groaned, cock rubbing over her bare back, and ass. "Taking it so well." She gagged, trembling as the warmth seeped into her skin. His thumb stroked her cheeks as he flipped her over, smearing a stray droplet across her lips. The taste was bitter, metallic. Her stomach heaved. When he finally let off of her, her limbs were shaking. He watched her for a long moment before plucking her up again, cradling her against his still-heaving chest. "Let's get you cleaned up," he murmured, as if nothing had happened. The Q-tip returned, dragging through the mess on her back with a terrifying pace. His breath was ragged against her back. Emily stared blankly at the counter she sat in, her mind screaming one frantic, looping thought. “I have to get out.” Emily lay stiffly on her father's bare stomach, the heat of his skin seeping through her thin clothes. His heartbeat thudded beneath her, steady, relentless, while his fingers traced idle patterns along her back. She stared at the ceiling, unblinking, her body still humming with the ghost sensation of his release painting her back. "You're quiet," he murmured, thumb brushing the nape of her neck. She swallowed. "Tired." A chuckle vibrated through his chest. His hand drifted lower, fingertips skimming the hem of her shirt. "Not too tired for a little fun, though, right?" Emily tensed. His fingers hooked under his underwear, lifting it slowly. "Come on, babygirl. Show Daddy what you've got." Her breath hitched. The memory of his cum splattering her back flashed behind her eyelids, thick, sticky, hot. She squeezed them shut. His grip tightened. "Emily." A command. She forced her eyes open, pushing herself up on trembling arms. His stomach rose and fell beneath her, his skin flushed, and glistening in the dim light, and there, jolting obscenely between his thighs, was his cock, already half-hard, twitching with interest as she shifted. "Atta girl," he complimented, spreading his legs wider. Emily's stomach lurched. She slowly walked down his stomach to the rising cock, until she was at its base. It stood taller than her, and she was swaying unsteadily. His other hand guided hers to his erection, pressing her palm against the heated flesh. "Go on," he urged, voice rough. "Dance for me." Her fingers trembled against him. The sheer size of him made her dizzy, thick enough to dwarf her torso, the veins pumping in anticipation beneath her touch. She could feel him pulse under her hands, hot and eager. “Emily." She flinched at the warning in his tone. Swallowing hard, she forced her legs to move, swaying her hips in a pathetic imitation of a dance. His breath quickened, fingers digging into her sides as she shuffled awkwardly along his length. "Good girl," he groaned. "Now take it off." He demanded. Her hands shook as she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head with jerky movements. The air was cool against her skin, but his gaze burned hotter, raking over her exposed torso. “More," he commanded. Her bra went next, plump tits, suprisingly big for a sixteen year old, falling down, bouncing due to the impact. Then her pants, and finally, her panties. Each garment peeled away with trembling fingers. His cock jumped beside her, precum beading at the tip as she stood there, naked and shivering. "Fuck," he hissed, thumb swiping over her breasts. "Look at you." Emily squeezed her eyes shut again, but he gripped her waist tightened, forcing her to face him. "Open your eyes," he ordered. She obeyed, blinking up at him through a haze of unshed tears. His expression was ravenous. "Now," he murmured, dragging her up his length until she was straddling him, her thighs bracketing his shaft. "Ride it." Her stomach twisted. "Dad—" "Now.” Tears spilled over as she rocked forward, her tiny body making his girth jump, and jolt. His hips jerked beneath her, thrusting upward until the head of his cock pressed insistently against her chin, smearing precum onto her face, and tits. "Fuck, just like that," he panted, hands guiding her movements. "Such a good girl for Daddy." Emily moved mechanically, her mind recoiling even as her body obeyed. Each grind sent a fresh wave of nausea crashing through her, his groans vibrating through her bones. Then his grip turned bruising. "I'm close," he warned, voice strained. She braced herself. His release hit her like a tidal wave, hot, thick ropes splattering across her chest, her face, her hair. She gagged, shuddering as it dripped down her skin in slow hot globs. When it was over, he collapsed back against the pillows, breathing heavily. His hands smoothed over her sticky thighs, possessive even in the aftermath. "Perfect," he sighed. "My perfect little doll." Emily stared blankly at the wall, her body trembling with silent sobs. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a plan began to form. Emily waited until the house was silent, until her father's snores rumbled through the floorboards like earthquakes. She slipped from the shoebox, her bare feet sticking to the dried trails of his cum still crusted on her thighs. The climb down the dresser was treacherous, her tiny fingers trembling as she repelled down a phone charger cord. She hit the carpet with a soft thud, heart hammering. The hallway stretched before her like a desert, endless, impossible. She ran anyway, lungs burning, until she reached the vent near the baseboard. The screws were loose. She'd watched him undo them last week, complaining about the airflow. Freedom tasted metallic as she squeezed through the grate. The duct was claustrophobic, dust clogging her nose, but she crawled forward blindly. Until after a few hours of climbing through the houses vent system a cover gave way with a muffled clatter, spilling her into a bedroom. Not hers. The scent hit her first, teenage boy, sharp with sweat, and something muskier. The nightlight cast long shadows over discarded boxers, a crusty bra that went missing from her drawer a week ago, and a laptop paused on a very illuminating video of a tiny woman being rubbed up, and down a cock while crying, smeared in cum. The worst part being that the poor little lady resembled her exactly. Then he turned around. Emily's breath froze in her lungs as Jake's eyes locked onto her, those same hazel eyes that had stared at her with puppyish adoration for years, now dilated with something far different than just admiration. The laptop screen flickered, casting sickly blue light across his slack-jawed face. “Emily?" His voice cracked mid-word. Then, horrifyingly, his lips curled into a slow, hungry grin. "Holy shit. Holy shit." She scrambled backward, her bare feet slipping on a discarded sock. The door was too far to run for. Jake lunged off the bed, his boxers doing little to hide the bulge caused by his video she interrupted. His fingers closed around her waist before she could scream, lifting her to eye level. His breath smelled like stale Doritos, and arousal. "You're real," he whispered, thumb skating over her breasts. "Like- like my fantasy~." Emily thrashed, but his grip tightened. The laptop screen taunted her, that sobbing, cum-smeared doppelgänger. "J-Jake, please—" “Shush." He pressed her against his bare chest, the heat of his skin searing her back. Her stomach dropped. Jake laughed as he carried her to the bed, pinning her beneath his thumb while his other hand fumbled with his waistband. The fabric snapped free, releasing his erection, smaller than their father's, but thick, the head glistening with precum. "Gotta clean you up first," he said while rinsing her off in a half empty water bottle on his desk. Emily's scream died as he resumed, dragging her back down towards his aching cock. Ready to make his greatest fantasy come to life. Emily's scream lodged in her throat as Jake dragged her along his length, her bare skin scraping against the pulsing veins, her tiny limbs flailing uselessly. His breath came in ragged gasps, fingers clamping around her waist like a vise grip as he pistoned her up and down his shaft. "Fuck- fuck- you feel amazing," he groaned, hips bucked further with each desperate thrust. She gagged as the musky scent of his precum flooded her nose, the heat of him burning at her thighs. Her back arched when the swollen head of his cock bumped against her spine as he turned her around to feel her ass against it, smearing sticky wetness between her shoulder blades. "Jake, stop-“ He didn't. His grip tightened, forcing her to grind harder against him as he flipped her back around, her chest flattening against his girth with every movement. The friction burned, her skin chafing raw beneath his relentless pace. “Almost- there-“ His voice cracked, thighs trembling. Emily squeezed her eyes shut. His release hit like a geyser, boiling hot ropes splattering across her legs, her breasts, and her thighs. She choked as a particularly viscous strand shot into her parted lips, the taste bitter, and cloying as she choked on it. Jake shuddered above her, his fingers cutting more than just bruises into her hips as he emptied himself onto her trembling body. When it was over, he collapsed back onto the mattress, dragging her with him. His chest heaved beneath her, his heartbeat thundering against her cheek. "Fuck," he panted, thumb swiping through the mess on her belly. "So much better than any fantasy." Emily lay frozen, her skin slick with his cum, her mind screaming. Jake's fingers fumbled through her hair, matted with his release. "Gonna keep you as my little secret." Her stomach tightened as he dropped her into an already cum filled mason jar beside his bed. She gaged as she fell into the disgusting cold sludge, next to one of those realistic silicone dolls that was missing all of its clothes. Emily's cum covered hands pounded against the cool glass as Jake screwed the lid shut, his grin widening when her tiny fists thumped uselessly against the barrier. The jar reeked of old sweat, and aged cum. She gagged as he set it back by nightstand, the sudden motion sending her tumbling over, and then under the sticky glob pool like a bog. "Night, Em," he murmured, flicking the lid with his fingernail. The ping reverberated through her skull. She barely slept. The jar grew humid with her panicked breaths, condensation beading on the glass. At dawn, Jake yawned awake, and immediately reached for her. "Morning wood," he explained cheerfully, unscrewing the lid. His free hand was already down his boxers, stroking himself lazily. "Gotta fix that." Emily screamed when he plucked her out, her voice shrill as a bird's. His fingers curled around her torso, squeezing just enough to make her ribs ache. "Shut up," he demanded, thumb brushing her lower lip. Jake positioned her over his erection, his grip unyielding as he lowered her onto his shaft. The head bumped against her stomach, hot, and leaking. She squirmed, but his fingers tightened, forcing her to grind against him. "Good girl," he groaned, hips jerking upward. His free hand cupped her ass, kneading the flesh as he fucked the front of her body. Emily clenched her jaw as his pace quickened, the friction burning her inner thighs. His breath came in ragged bursts, his pupils blown wide with lust. She knew what was coming, had learned the signs too well, but knowing didn't make it easier when his release hit her belly in thick, white spurts. After about the fifth time being used by Jake, she knew she needed to find an escape to get the hell out of the house, and find a normal person to help. The jar rattled violently as Jake collapsed back onto his bed, panting. Emily slid off his softening cock, landing in the mess splattered across his stomach with a squelch. His fingers lazily traced circles in the cum smeared over her back. "You're so good at this," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. Emily didn't respond. Her mind raced, scanning the room, the half-open window, the pile of laundry near the door, the chipped paint along the baseboard where the drywall had split. Jake's breathing evened out. Within minutes, he was snoring, his grip slackening around her waist. She waited, ten breaths, twenty, before carefully prying his fingers away. His hand flopped onto the mattress, sticky palm-up. She moved fast. She pushed forward, sprinting toward the edge of the bed. The drop to the floor was dizzying. She leapt anyway, rolling as she hit carpet. Pain shot through her shoulder, but she bit back a whimper. Keep moving. Emily's bare feet slapped against the hardwood as she sprinted for the gap beneath Jake's bedroom door. The crack was narrow, barely wider than her shoulders, but she squeezed through, the splintered wood scraping her back raw. The hallway was vast before her, the air thick with the scent of lemon cleaner and something sour underneath, which could’ve just been her that smelled bad. She ran. Past the bathroom where Dad had- No. Don't think. Just run. The stairs were an abyss. She hesitated at the edge, toes curling. The living room below looked impossibly far. Emily jumped. Each fall between steps lasted forever. She hit the rug knees-first, the impact shuddering through her bones. Something popped in her ankle. She choked back a scream, limping forward on three limbs. The front door loomed ahead, twenty feet, ten, five- a foot slammed down in front of her. It was her father’s, he had found her. Emily barely had time to register the sudden thud before her father's bare foot slammed down inches from her face, blocking her path. The impact sent a tremor through the floorboards, rattling her already throbbing ankle. She skidded to a stop, momentum nearly toppling her forward, until his fingers closed around her waist, lifting her effortlessly into the air. "Naughty girl," he murmured, breath hot against her skin. His pupils were dilated in the dim hallway light, his grip tightening just enough to make her ribs ache. "Running away from Daddy?” Emily thrashed, her pulse hammering against his thumb where it pressed into her stomach. "Let me go-" “Shhh, time for a bath. You're filthy.” Her stomach turned as he carried her toward the bathroom, her bare legs kicking uselessly. The overhead light flickered on, almost clinical. The shower was already running, steam curling against the mirror, fogging the glass where her terrified reflection should've been. Dad set her on the edge of the sink, his hands roaming her body with possessive familiarity. "Gotta get you clean," he murmured, as she stood shivering and exposed. His thumbs traced the drying streaks of Jake's cum still crusted on her thighs. "My poor baby. All sticky." Emily recoiled, but there was nowhere to go. The sink was a porcelain prison, his body a wall of heat at her back. The shower spray hissed behind her, closer now, hot droplets spattering her shoulders, running in rivulets down her spine. Dad lifted her again, cradling her against his chest as he stepped into the shower. The scalding water hit her first, a punishing spray that forced Emily’s eyes shut as it spread over her face, her shoulders, the tender bruises Jake’s fingers had left on her hips. Her father’s grip shifted, turning her in his palm until her back pressed against his chest, her bare skin searing where it met his. "Gotta scrub," he murmured, voice thick with something cruel. His free hand reached for the soap, lathering it all over her plump, sexy little body. Emily gasped as his palm dragged down her front, the rough pads of his fingers catching on her nipples, her ribs, the soft swell of her belly. The soap burned where it seeped into the raw patches Jake had chafed between her thighs. "Dad- stop-“ He didn’t. His grip tightened, pivoting her again until she faced him, her legs splayed over his forearm. The soapy hand slid lower, cupping her, kneading the flesh as the shower spray beat down on her back. "You’re my little loofah now," he chuckled, the vibration rumbling through her chest. His thumb pressed between her cheeks, probing just enough to make her spine stiffen. "Gotta get everywhere clean so you can make me clean." Emily choked as he dragged her up his torso, her tiny body scraping over the coarse hair of his stomach, his chest. The soap stung her chafed skin, the lather turning pink where it mixed with the microscopic tears Jake had left behind. He dragged her under his arms, inside his belly button, up his legs, and even his arms. Until hands guided her lower again, this time, down his front, over the swell of his half-hard cock. The heat of him burned even through the soap, the thick vein along his length catching on her thighs as he pistoned her up and down. "My sexy girl," he groaned, hips shaking with each stroke. The shower spray slicked her movements, turning her into a living, lubricated doll in his grip. "Scrub your Daddy good." Emily squeezed her eyes shut as his pace quickened, the friction of her body against his erection scraping her. The soap long since washed away, leaving only the salt of his sweat, the musk of his arousal, the— His release hit without warning, again thick, hot spurts painted her stomach quickly, her chest, her face, even over her back, and ass due to him flipping her over as he shuddered above her. The water rinsed most of it away, but the scent lingered, clinging to her skin even as he finally stilled. Dad exhaled heavily, thumbs swiping through the mess still left on her. "Good job, babygirl." Emily stared blankly at the tiles, her body limp in his grip. The water ran clear. He didn’t let go. The water shut off with a groan of pipes. Steam thick in the air as Dad lifted Emily from the shower, her tiny body limp in his palm. He toweled her off with a rough touch, patting every bruise, and welt Jake had left behind. The cloth snagged on the drying streaks of cum still clinging to her inner thighs. "I'm done with you," he murmured, voice oddly tender as he carried her down the hallway. The words should've been a relief. They weren't. His bedroom door clicked shut behind them. The bedside lamp cast long shadows across the rumpled sheets, still warm from where he'd slept alone. Emily barely had time to register the bulge growing again before Dad laid her on the mattress, his thumb stroking her breasts. "One last time," he promised, kneeling over her. The bedsprings creaked under his weight. "My perfect little doll." Emily's breath hitched as his fingers spread her legs, his rough fingertips tracing the raw, swollen folds between her thighs. Jake had been rough, but this, this was something else. Dad's cock loomed over her, thick and glistening in the lamplight, the head dripping precum onto her stomach. "No-“ she whimpered, hands braced against his shaft. It was like pushing against a tree trunk. "Please-" "Yes." He responded as his palm engulfed her torso, pinning her flat. "Daddy's got you." The initial breach was agony. Emily's spine arched off the mattress as he forced himself inside her in one slow, hard thrust. Her tiny body stretched obscenely around him, her insides fluttering in protest as he bottomed out. He groaned above her, his hips grinding against her splayed legs. "Fuck," he breathed, thumb brushing her clit. "You're made for this." Emily couldn't scream. There was no air left in her lungs, just the relentless press of him, the burn of her ribs bowing under his weight. His thrusts started slow, almost gentle, but quickly grew erratic. The bedframe slammed against the wall in time with each snap of his hips, the headboard cracking the drywall behind it. "Gonna- fuck-“ his voice cracked, his fingers digging into her thighs hard enough to rip skin. "Gonna fill you up, babygirl. Make you mine, I was always glad you stayed a virgin. Now you get to lose your virginity to a real man as you die." She felt, and heard her insides crushing, cracking, and crunching as he fucker her. She felt it when he came, a hot, pulsing flood that swelled inside her, stretching her belly taut. Her dad shuddered above her, his release spurting deep in rhythmic bursts, each one forcing another wet gasp from her lips. Her vision blurred at the edges, the pressure in her chest building until something gave way inside her. He collapsed forward with a satisfied sigh, his weight crushing her into the mattress. Emily's breath came in shallow, wet gasps, each one weaker than the last. The pain faded first, then the cold, then the sticky warmth between her legs. The last thing she saw was Dad's face hovering above hers, his lips moving in words she couldn't hear. The lamp flickered.
Then nothing.

[Justhereforamoment1]

Hey these are some great stories! Still taking a little break from writing but I wanted to say I like the names. If youre open to critique I would work on paragraph chucking. The way I do it is finding natural break points in writing and adding them there. A good mix of short and punchy as well as longer descriptive paragraphs is great

[Giant-dude]

Hey these are some great stories! Still taking a little break from writing but I wanted to say I like the names. If youre open to critique I would work on paragraph chucking. The way I do it is finding natural break points in writing and adding them there. A good mix of short and punchy as well as longer descriptive paragraphs is great

Thank you I think the names being creative just adds to the humiliation for the women, and the overall vibe. Also yea I do agree when looking, it looks intimidating without the paragraph spacing between in my opinion, it makes it look so long and crowded, I appreciate the thought I’ll have to take it into account with my next story! Always great to meet the inspiration for this page as well!

[Justhereforamoment1]

Yeah I think clever names add a lot to a story. And glad I could inspire others