My Tiny Wife

[Justhereforamoment1]

Hey everyone! I wanted to write something a little softer and more intimate this time, and that’s how My Tiny Wife was born. This is a cozy, erotic slice-of-life story following Theo, a goofy giant, and Lily, his playful, submissive tiny wife, as they navigate life together. Expect sweet domestic moments, teasing banter, and explicit size-difference sex—though not in every chapter.

They’re just a normal (if very mismatched) married couple, figuring things out together, from morning coffee to late-night cuddles. If you have any suggestions for where to take the story, feel free to drop a comment! Now, let’s get into it.

Chapter 1: Beginnings and Breakfast

Theo never forgot the day he met her.

It was two years ago at the farmers’ market, a mess of stalls where giants and tinies jostled under the bright spring sun. He was at a vegetable stand, towering over crates of carrots and potatoes, juggling three apples like an idiot. He knew it was a dumb idea even then—but the goofy grin on his face said he didn’t care. Until one slipped.

The apple hit the ground with a thud, rolling like a runaway missile toward a group of tiny women browsing fruit. He saw her first—six inches tall, blonde waves catching the light, her flowy skirt swaying with every step. She froze as the apple barreled closer, her friends scattering with shrieks of “Watch it, giant!”

Theo lunged, heart in his throat, and scooped it up just before it flattened her.

“Shit—sorry, little miss!” He dropped to a knee so fast it cracked against the dirt, messy brown hair flopping into his eyes. He shoved it back, flustered. She didn’t run. She just stared at him, hazel eyes wide—then giggled. A bright, breathless sound that stopped him cold.

“Call me Lily,” she said, brushing off her skirt. “Not ‘little miss,’ big guy.”

Her friends hovered, glaring up at him. “Giants are trouble, Lil,” one muttered, tugging at her arm.

Theo straightened—six-foot-something of awkward—and rubbed the back of his neck. He wanted to shrink himself down, prove he wasn’t that kind of giant. “I’m Theo,” he offered, softer now. “And I, uh, owe you an apple. A small one. For the scare.”

Lily tilted her head, studying him—his rumpled shirt, his sheepish grin. Her friends huffed, but she waved them off with a laugh. “Deal.”

He fumbled with coins too big for the tiny vendor’s tray, finally managing to buy her a miniature apple. When another giant’s careless step nearly bowled her over, he instinctively held out his hand as a shield. She didn’t hesitate—climbed right onto his palm, soft and warm, her weight a thrill he hadn’t expected. By the end of the day, she was perched on his shoulder, giggling at his dumb squash puns while her friends shook their heads.

He was hooked.

From Lily’s perch, Theo wasn’t like the giants her friends feared. He tripped over apologies, his big hands careful despite their size. She felt safe there, nestled against his warmth, and the warnings faded under the sun.

The wedding came a year later—a garden affair that bridged their worlds in the sweetest chaos.

Theo stood beneath a giant arbor, his suit slightly wrinkled, grin wide enough to split his face. Lily glowed on a tiny pedestal, white dress hugging her plush curves, blonde waves wild and loose. Her tiny family—mom, dad, three siblings—cheered from a flower-decked platform, their voices high and bright. Her dad shook Theo’s finger instead of his hand, grinning up at him. “Big fella, huh? Treat her right.”

Theo nodded, solemn for once. “Always.”

His giant family filled the back—his loud sister, Mara, laughing too hard, his parents beaming but clumsy. Mara knocked over a tiny chair with her hip, yelping an apology as Lily’s sister squeaked and darted clear. Everyone laughed, even the tinies, and his mom nearly squashed Lily’s mom in a hug before pulling back, red-faced. “Oh, heavens, you’re delicate!”

Lily’s mom just chuckled. “Sturdy enough for this crew.”

The kiss was the best part. Lily clung to Theo’s thumb as he leaned down, her soft lips brushing his, her giggle vibrating against him. At the reception, he fed her a crumb of giant cupcake bigger than her head, and she laughed so hard she nearly tumbled off his hand. Her family toasted with thimble-sized glasses; his passed around a massive cake. It was messy, imperfect, and theirs.

Two years later, Theo stood in their kitchen, humming so off-key it could’ve curdled milk.

Morning sun streamed through big windows, painting their home in gold—his sprawling couch with her little ramp, the counter with her tiny stool, the bedroom nook he’d built into the headboard just for her. Coffee grounds dusted his shirt like he’d lost a fight with the machine, and he cursed under his breath as the filter jammed again. Graphic design paid the bills, but it didn’t make him any less of a disaster in here.

Lily perched on the counter, stark nude as always at home, wavy blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. She sipped tea from a tiny mug, legs swinging, pert breasts catching the light just enough to make Theo sneak a glance. Her plush ass—God, that masterpiece—pressed against the cool surface, and she didn’t care one bit.

“You’re gonna caffeinate the floor before yourself, huh?” she teased, voice bright with a giggle.

He smirked, brushing grounds off his chest. “Keeps the ants awake.”

She hopped toward him, and he offered his hand—big, warm, a little calloused from sketching logos late at night. She climbed on, her soft curves nestling into his palm, and he felt that familiar jolt. She loved this—the way his fingers curled gently around her, the thrill of being so small against him.

“Up you go, Petal.” He lifted her to his shoulder, and she settled there, plush backside brushing his neck. He grinned. “Best seat in the house.”

Lily leaned in, hair tickling his ear. “Your paws are bigger than my whole bed,” she mused, half-laughing. She loved how he made her feel—small, yes, but safe. Adored. His warmth was her favorite place.

He rummaged in the fridge, still humming, then straightened. “Park today? I need to sketch something that’s not a boring-ass client logo, and you can nab some flowers.”

“Yes!” she chirped, scampering to her wardrobe—a repurposed jewelry box by the counter. She pulled out a yellow sundress, bright as her smile, and held it up. “Help me, big Bear?”

He fumbled with the tiny fabric, thick fingers dwarfing the buttons. “These are a conspiracy,” he muttered.

She wiggled playfully, curves teasing him. “Maybe if you didn’t stare at my butt so much…”

“Can’t help it.” He finally got the dress on, gentle as ever. “National treasure.”

The park was a short walk, Theo’s goofy bounce making Lily grip his collar to stay steady. Her sundress fluttered in the breeze, golden hair cascading over his shoulder. He set her on a picnic table, sketchbook in hand, sprawling on the grass beside it.

“Your kingdom, Petal,” he said, tapping the table.

She giggled, gathering wildflowers, her small hands deft. Theo scratched at his paper, doodling a dragon that looked more like a lumpy dog.

A giant strolled by—tall, smug, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Nice pet you’ve got there.”

Theo’s pencil stilled. He glanced up, grin fading just enough to sharpen his eyes.

“Nah, man,” he said easily, flipping a page, “you couldn’t handle her.”

The guy huffed and walked off.

Lily beamed, warmth spreading through her chest. He was her shield, always. His love wasn’t just words—it was the way he stood between her and the world without ever making her feel less.

Back home, the sun dipped low. Lily shed her dress the second they stepped inside, scampering nude to Theo’s waiting palm. He sank onto the couch, her tiny body curling against his hand, wavy hair spilling over his fingers like silk. He grabbed their book—a silly fantasy with dragons—and read aloud, voice soft, stumbling over big words.

“The beast reared its mighty… uh, schnozz,” he tried, butchering it.

She giggled, half-dozing. “Nose, Theo. It’s a nose.”

“Same thing.” He kissed the top of her head, lips brushing her hair. “Love you, Petal.”

She mumbled sleepily, body warm against his fingers. “Love you, Bear.”

Theo kept reading, voice a low rumble. The world outside could wait. Right now, it was just them—big and small, messy and perfect.

[Justhereforamoment1]

Theo loved mornings like this.

The sun was barely up, a soft pink glow creeping over the horizon as he shuffled out the door. Lily perched on his shoulder, rocking a cream-colored sweater that hugged her pert breasts and black leggings clinging to her plush ass. Her wavy blonde hair spilled over the soft fabric, bouncing with each of his loping steps. He’d already spilled coffee on his shirt—twice—before they left, a dark stain blooming across his chest. She giggled, poking his arm. “You’re a walking hazard, Bear.”

He grinned down at her, messy brown hair flopping into his eyes. “Ready for your big day, Petal?”

She was an illustrator—her tiny-only studio a buzzing little spot where she sketched fairies with petal wings and flowers that danced on the page. Dropping her off each morning was his favorite ritual, a quiet slice of calm before the world woke up and he had to deal with his own chaos.

“Always,” she chirped, leaning into his neck. Her sweater brushed his skin, soft as hell. “You’re the one who needs luck. Don’t trip over your desk again—or spill coffee on Mia this time.”

Her giggle was a sweet melody, hitting him like a shot of sunlight, and he chuckled, remembering last week when he’d knocked over a chair and half his office shit trying to grab a pencil. Poor Mia, a tiny coworker, had ducked just in time.

They hit her studio—a squat little building scaled for tinies, glass doors buzzing with small figures darting in and out, satchels slung over their shoulders. Theo knelt, knees creaking, and set her gently on the sidewalk.

She stretched, the sweater riding up to flash a sliver of her curvy waist, then twirled. Her leggings clung to her every move, showcasing her figure with a subtle grace. “See you later, big Bear!” She blew him a kiss and scampered inside.

He watched her go, her plush ass swaying just enough to widen his grin. God, he loved her—heart first, always—but that view was a damn close second.

From Lily’s spot—first on his shoulder, then the ground—the drop-off was a rush. His massive hand a safe cradle, his goofy smile her anchor. She trusted him to get her here, to her little world of ink and paper. That trust made her feel bigger than her six inches ever could.

Theo’s office was a whole different beast.

A mixed space—giants and tinies side by side—it thrummed with keyboard clacks, paper rustles, and the occasional squeak of a tiny voice cutting through. He slouched into his chair, broad frame dwarfing the desk where he doodled logos and ads for clients who paid him to mess around with dragons all day.

His screen glowed with a half-finished project—a dragon that still looked like a lumpy-ass dog. He scratched his head, muttering, “Eh, close enough.”

Tiny coworkers zipped along walkways bolted to the walls, voices high and quick, hauling sketches or scrolling on mini tablets. He kept an eye out—always did. Last week, he’d slid a chair aside just before a giant intern plopped down on Mia’s drafting table, earning a quick “You’re a lifesaver, Theo!” Today, he nudged a coffee mug—still warm from his third spill—out of the way as tiny Sam scurried past, sketchpad clutched tight.

“Careful, big guy,” Sam called, dodging the mug’s shadow.

Theo smirked. “Just saving your masterpiece, pal.”

He liked this gig—being the bridge, making sure the tinies didn’t get overlooked or squashed. It came naturally, probably because of Lily. She’d taught him to see the world from six inches down, and he’d never unsee it. He leaned back, doodling absently, his mind drifting to her—probably elbow-deep in ink by now, giggling at some fairy with too many wings.

The day dragged—each clock tick a slow tease until pickup time.

Theo practically bounced out of the office, big steps eating up the distance to Lily’s studio. She waited outside, sweater rumpled, tiny satchel slung over her shoulder with sketches tucked inside. Her leggings were smudged with charcoal, and she grinned up at him, waving like he’d been gone a damn month instead of hours.

He scooped her up, her soft weight settling into his palm, and lifted her to his face. “How’s my Petal?”

“Better now,” she said, kicking her legs playfully. She pointed to his shirt pocket—empty except for a crumpled receipt. “Can I?”

He grinned—her favorite ride—and tucked her inside, her curvy frame nestling against the fabric. She poked her head out, her hair spilling over the edge, and wrinkled her nose. “Smells like coffee and chaos in here.”

“That’s my signature scent,” he quipped, starting the walk home.

She chattered about her day—drew a fairy with petal wings, spilled ink on her desk, laughed with her tiny friend Ella about it. He listened, steps steady so she wouldn’t bounce too much. Her voice—small but bright—filled his chest with warmth.

Lily loved this—the pocket’s cozy sway, his heartbeat thumping through the cloth, the way it was him, all around her. She couldn’t get enough.

At home, she shed her sweater and leggings the second they crossed the threshold, tossing them into her jewelry-box wardrobe with a giggle. Nude again, she scampered across the counter while Theo kicked off his shoes—nearly tripping over them in his haste.

“Dinner?” he asked, rummaging through cabinets for pots. His big hands knocked a spoon to the floor with a clatter.

She climbed her stool—a tiny perch he’d built her—grinning wide. “Pasta. You chop, I boss.”

He laughed, grabbing a knife. “Yes, ma’am.”

She directed him like a pint-sized chef, pointing at garlic and tomatoes with all the authority her six inches could muster—giggling when he fumbled a clove bigger than her head. “Bear, you’re hopeless,” she said, but her hazel eyes sparkled.

He diced—slow, clumsy—while she stirred a tiny pot of sauce on her mini burner, basil scent wafting up. “More garlic,” she ordered, waving a spoon like a scepter. He obeyed, grinning, and soon the kitchen smelled of love and herbs.

They ate on the couch—his plate piled high, hers a thimble-sized portion. She curled in his lap, stealing bites from his fork with sneaky little grabs.

“Thief,” he teased, poking her side.

She squealed, laughing, and he pulled her closer, savoring her warmth.

Night fell—the air soft and still.

Theo sprawled on the couch, Lily nestled in his palm, bare skin warm against his fingers. Her wavy hair spilled over his thumb, and he traced it absently—marveling at how small she was, how perfect.

She stretched—her delicate curves shifting as she pressed closer into his hand—and he felt that familiar stir. Not urgent, not yet—just a quiet ache to be closer.

“Bear?” She rolled onto her back, looking up at him. Hazel eyes caught the lamplight—big, trusting. “Hold me closer?”

His grin softened. “Always, Petal.”

He lifted her to his chest, cradling her against his shirt—her tiny body molding to the rise and fall of his breath. She sighed, nuzzling in, hands splaying across the fabric. “You’re so big,” she whispered, a giggle in her voice. “I love it.”

Theo’s heart thudded—she’d feel it, pressed so close. He brushed a finger down her spine—gentle as a breeze. “And you’re so small,” he said, voice low. “Perfect little masterpiece.”

She squirmed—soft warmth under his touch—and tilted her head back. He leaned down, lips brushing her face—a kiss that swallowed her giggle. She tasted like tea and sunshine, and he lingered, careful not to overwhelm her.

Lily’s world shrank to this—his warmth, his scent, the vast plane of his chest. She tugged at his shirt, and he chuckled—peeling it off with a quick yank. Bare skin met hers, and she gasped—pressing herself tighter.

“God, Bear, you’re huge,” she said—half-laughing, half-awed. His heartbeat pounded under her—a rhythm she adored—and she traced his collarbone, marveling at how it dwarfed her.

He cupped her against him—one hand shielding her, the other stroking her hair. “All yours, Petal,” he murmured.

She giggled—kissing the skin beneath her, lips a feather-light tease. His breath hitched, and he froze—caught by how those tiny pecks lit him up. Each one a spark, soft and sure, like she was mapping him out. “Your heart’s going crazy,” she teased, pressing her palm flat to feel it thump.

“Cause of you,” he said, voice rougher now, though he kept it gentle—letting her lead. She kissed again—little brushes along his chest, fingers brushing his ribs—and he marveled at it, how something so small could undo him like this.

She loved his size—the way he could hold her whole world in his hands. He loved her trust—the way she melted into him, fearless.

They stayed like that—her exploring with tiny touches, him cradling her like she was glass. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t wild—just them, skin to skin, hearts close. She yawned—curling tighter—and he smiled. “Sleepy already?”

“A little,” she mumbled, nestling into the crook of his arm. “You’re too comfy.”

“Bath time first,” Theo declared—standing with her still in his hand.

She squeaked—laughing as he carried her to the bathroom, bare body swaying in his gentle grip. He set her on the counter—her golden hair spilling over her shoulders—and turned on the tap, filling the tub with warm water. Steam curled up, fogging the mirror, and he grinned at her. “Your turn, Petal.”

He grabbed a teacup—her tub—and filled it with a splash from the faucet, testing it with his finger. “Perfect,” he said—lowering her in. She giggled—kicking her legs as he set the cup on the tub’s edge—then stripped down himself, broad frame sinking into the water with a slosh.

Bubbles foamed around him, and he leaned back—arms resting on the sides—watching her.

Lily swam in circles—her hair fanning out like a golden halo in the teacup. “Look, Bear, I’m a mermaid!” she called—splashing with tiny hands. Water lapped over the rim, and he laughed—flicking a drop at her from the tub.

She squealed—splashing back—giggles echoing off the tiles.

“Cutest mermaid ever,” he said—resting his chin on his hand, water lapping at his chest.

She dove under—popping up with a grin—then floated on her back, her body bobbing in the tiny pool. He reached over—trailing a wet finger down her side—and she shivered, laughing. “Ticklish, huh?”

“Stop it, Bear!” She swatted at his finger—no real force—and he chuckled—letting her swim. His big frame a steady anchor beside her little world. The tub’s warmth seeped into his bones, and he sighed—content. Her giggles, her trust, her tiny self making his massive heart feel fuller than ever.

She paddled to the cup’s edge—peering over at him, hair dripping. “You’re too big for this tub,” she teased—eyeing how his knees poked out of the water.

“And you’re too small for it,” he shot back—grinning. “We balance out.”

She stuck out her tongue—he flicked another drop—and it sparked a splash war that left them both laughing. Her soaked in her cup, him with bubbles in his hair.

Eventually, she yawned—tiny arms stretching—and he scooped her out, drying her with a corner of his towel. She nestled into his palm—drowsy and warm—soft curves against his skin.

“Love you, Petal,” he murmured—kissing her head, voice a low rumble.

“Love you, Bear,” she whispered—curling tighter, eyes fluttering shut.

He leaned back in the tub—cradling her close—water still lapping around him. Work could wait, the world could wait—this was his everything.