Tiny Torments
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- Shrink Master
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Re: Tiny Torments
Parasocial Relationships, Slapstick Comedy, and the Afterparty are my favorite options.
If you are interested in my writing, reach out via PM.
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- Visitor
- Posts: 3
- Joined: Sun Aug 28, 2022 1:00 pm
Re: Tiny Torments
Road trip, Double date, and after party get my vote.
I know it’s not really the style of these stories given the main title but I’d love to see more giant/tiny couples in this world you’ve created through these stories. I know that probably won’t fit the tone you’ve set in these stories here so no stress but if you ever feel like writing a story following some giant/tiny couple in this world and there struggles with changing tiny laws and possible tiny-napping you’d have at least one reader!
Really enjoying all the stories and keep up the amazing work! cannot wait for the next instalment.
I know it’s not really the style of these stories given the main title but I’d love to see more giant/tiny couples in this world you’ve created through these stories. I know that probably won’t fit the tone you’ve set in these stories here so no stress but if you ever feel like writing a story following some giant/tiny couple in this world and there struggles with changing tiny laws and possible tiny-napping you’d have at least one reader!
Really enjoying all the stories and keep up the amazing work! cannot wait for the next instalment.
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- Shrink Adept
- Posts: 78
- Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2025 7:03 pm
Re: Tiny Torments
So I have actually considered that. I just know itd be much more narrative driven (with plenty of smut of course) which means a lot more remembering. I'd probably post it in the normal SW board. Is anyone else interested in reading something like that?Fanta wrote: ↑Sat Jul 05, 2025 3:24 pmRoad trip, Double date, and after party get my vote.
I know it’s not really the style of these stories given the main title but I’d love to see more giant/tiny couples in this world you’ve created through these stories. I know that probably won’t fit the tone you’ve set in these stories here so no stress but if you ever feel like writing a story following some giant/tiny couple in this world and there struggles with changing tiny laws and possible tiny-napping you’d have at least one reader!
Really enjoying all the stories and keep up the amazing work! cannot wait for the next instalment.
Also I have like 4 stories tied with 2 votes each. I need a tie breaker lol
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- Shrink Adept
- Posts: 78
- Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2025 7:03 pm
Chapter 28: Girl Next Door (M/f)
Well folks here's the new story. I'll look through the top contenders for next story and decide which to do next. Anyways, hope you enjoy!
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Daniel slouched on his bed, the glow of his Xbox casting sharp shadows across the room. The curtains were drawn tight, the only light a flickering, neon bleed from the screen. At eighteen, with high school finally in the rearview, he had the house—and the summer—to himself.
Graduation had been three days ago. The cheap gown was already stuffed in the back of his closet, the last of the yearbook signatures still barely dry. No more classes. No more bells. Just long, hot days filled with games, snacks, and whatever the hell else he felt like doing.
A sharp knock at the door broke his focus.
Before he could grunt a response, it swung open. His mom stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the hallway light.
“I’ve got good news,” she said without preamble.
Daniel tugged one ear of his headphones off. The game’s menu music hummed faintly, ignored.
“Yeah?”
“Kayla’s back from college.” She leaned against the frame, a smile tugging at her lips. “She’s house-sitting next door while her parents are away. You should go say hi—she’s probably missed you.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
Daniel’s eyes lingered on the screen, the idle loop blinking back at him. But his thoughts had already drifted.
Kayla.
Two years.
They’d grown up side by side—neighbors in the strangest sense. When Daniel’s family moved in ten years ago, he was eight—wide-eyed and unsure how to process the idea of tiny people. Their house sat between two normal ones, no taller than a dollhouse, complete with a miniature yard, a porch you could crush underfoot, and a mailbox the size of a matchbox.
His parents drilled it in early: never look down on the tinies—literally or otherwise.
“They’re people, same as us,” his mom would say, her tone brooking no argument.
Part of that lesson had been meeting Kayla, the neighbors’ ten-year-old daughter. At first, it was awkward as hell. She was a girl. And tiny enough to fit in the palm of his hand. He was a clumsy kid who didn’t know how to talk to either.
She’d eyed him with sharp hazel suspicion, like she was half-expecting to get squashed by accident.
But kids adapt.
Awkwardness gave way to playdates, then friendship.
He still remembered the summer they built a Lego castle together—him laying the bricks, her tiny hands guiding the spires into place. She’d climbed through it like a real princess, laughing up at him from the ramparts, her voice small but fierce.
Or the time they raced RC cars in the driveway, Kayla strapped into hers like a daredevil. She’d rigged up a controller to steer it, and he chased after her with his own, both of them laughing until their stomachs hurt and the sun dipped below the trees.
As they got older, their friendship only deepened. They were inseparable—best friends in the purest sense. When other kids made snide comments or tried to bully Kayla for her size, Daniel stepped in without hesitation. More than once he’d caught some smartass aiming a foot too close to her and made sure it didn’t happen twice.
And when Daniel struggled through math or froze before a presentation, Kayla was always there—perched on his desk, arms crossed, coaching him through it with that smug little smirk that somehow made him want to listen.
They went on family trips together—camping in the mountains, afternoons at the lake. She’d ride on his shoulder through hiking trails, then dive off into the water with barely a splash, showing off her swimmer’s form while he flailed after her.
Somewhere along the line, things shifted.
He never said anything. Never acted on it. But by the time he was sixteen, the crush was undeniable. Not just because she was beautiful—though she was—but because she got him. She could read his moods better than anyone. Tease him without it ever turning cruel. Trust him in a way no one else did.
And then… she left.
Off to college. Bigger things. Her tiny form waving from the seat of the shuttle bus, backpack slung over her shoulder like it weighed more than she did.
That was the last time he saw her in person.
A lot had changed since then.
He’d grown half a foot. His voice had dropped. Shoulders broadened. His face leaned out, the boyish roundness replaced by sharper lines and stubble he didn’t always bother to shave.
And her?
He could only guess.
Daniel slid on flip-flops, shoved his phone into his pocket, and stepped into the thick summer heat. The sun hung low, casting long golden shadows across the lawn—the kind of lazy warmth that clung to your skin like a second shirt.
He crossed the yard, heart thudding faster than it should’ve with each step, drawing closer to the tiny house next door.
It looked just like it always had. Dollhouse proportions, a perfect paint job, flower pots no taller than soda cans lining the miniature porch. He passed it every morning on the way to school, but now it felt different.
Now she was back inside.
He crouched down, one knee pressing into the grass, and leaned forward. His hand hovered for a moment, then gently rapped the front stoop with a fingertip—three light knocks that made the porch tremble with each impact.
For a few seconds, nothing.
Then a tiny figure appeared behind the glass-paneled door.
It swung open, and Kayla stepped into the light.
“Danny!” she squealed. Her voice was high, familiar, pure joy—slicing through the years like a blade. She bolted down the porch steps barefoot, her wavy brunette hair bouncing with glints of chestnut in the fading sun.
She reached his hand in seconds, throwing her arms around two of his fingers like they were her anchor.
Daniel froze.
Her body was soft and warm, barely as tall as his palm. He felt every quick breath, the rise and fall of her chest against his knuckles.
This wasn’t like when they were kids. Not anymore.
His hand had grown. He had grown.
Kayla tilted her head back, grinning up at him, hazel eyes sparkling with mischief.
“God, you got huge,” she laughed. “I used to barely fit in your hand. Now I could pitch a tent on it.”
He exhaled, half-laugh, half-nerves, and curled his fingers just enough to cradle her as he lifted her from the ground.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said—but it was a lie, and they both knew it.
College had sharpened her. She was still lean and athletic, but her body had filled out in all the ways that made it hard not to stare—fuller hips, a softer curve to her waist, breasts that pressed against the low-cut blouse she wore, the fabric hugging her like it wanted to be looked at.
It stopped short just above her navel, leaving a smooth stretch of sun-kissed skin gleaming in the light. Her jean shorts rode high, framing her thighs and cupping the gentle curve of her ass. Her hair, now shorter, framed her face in loose waves that brushed her shoulders.
“Liar,” she teased, poking his thumb. “I cut my hair, dummy.”
Daniel smirked, lifting her to eye level. “Right, because that’s what I’d notice, Shortstack.”
She stuck out her tongue, and for a second, it was like no time had passed—Kayla riding in his hoodie pocket, barking orders while he built her Lego castles.
But the moment flickered.
Her weight on his fingers, the soft press of her ass against his skin, the subtle bounce of her chest when she shifted—it was all different now.
He’d always thought she was beautiful, but now it was like someone had turned up the contrast. Her toned stomach, the way her thighs flexed when she adjusted her balance—his eyes noticed everything.
His fingers felt too warm. His pulse thumped against his wrist.
She wasn’t flirting—she was just being Kayla. Bright. Fearless.
But his body didn’t care.
Still, the more they talked, the more the awkward heat began to ease. Her voice was the same—teasing, full of energy, a stream of old jokes and familiar affection. She gave him hell for the scruff on his chin.
“You call that a beard?” she grinned, then started grilling him for gossip about their old classmates, tossing names and memories like they were still fifteen.
By the time he set her down and leaned back in the grass, resting against the side of her porch, it almost felt normal again.
Almost.
After a few more minutes of easy conversation, Kayla suddenly poked him in the ear with a playful grin.
"Congrats, Danny," she said, her voice light with the same teasing edge that had always made him smile. "Top of the class, huh? Guess I gotta start taking notes from the genius."
Daniel laughed, rubbing the side of his ear as if her poke had stung.
"Thanks, Kay. You’re not so bad yourself. How’s college life treating you?”
“Oh, you know, tons of late nights, a lot of caffeine, and I’m basically living in the library at this point.” She raised an eyebrow at him, her tone teasing. “I might be the only one who didn’t get into trouble, though.”
“Well, that’s you for sure. Always the responsible one.” Danny nudged her lightly with his finger, earning a playful glare from her.
There was a lull, then Kayla flicked her hand. "So, what do you wanna do? We should grab dinner or something—celebrate your newfound freedom.”
Daniel thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, sounds good. I know a place.”
They both stood, and he carefully cupped his hand around her small body, lifting her up to settle on his shoulder. It was the easiest way to carry her, like they’d done for years, but this time it felt different.His pulse was a little quicker as he felt the subtle weight of her body, the heat of her skin so close to his.
The walk to the restaurant was a slow one. Kayla chatted about her college experiences, and Daniel listened, his mind drifting a little. As they passed a small park, they both stopped to admire a tree.
“Check that out,” she said, pointing. “Wouldn’t it be cool to climb it?”
Daniel half-smiled, his eyes following the line of her finger toward the sturdy branches. “Yeah, if you were the size of a squirrel.”
She snorted. “Please. I could probably out-climb you even at my size.”
“I doubt that,” he teased, smirking.
Kayla bent over, hands on her knees to get a better look at the base of the tree, her shorts riding higher on her thighs with the movement. He looked over to say something and was greeted by her large, plump ass swaying just inches from his face.
It was an accidental, innocent gesture, but the sight of her full cheeks so close—too close—was enough to steal the air from his lungs. His throat tightened, heat surging low in his stomach as he shifted beneath her, a cough escaping his lips.
His face burned, and he turned away quickly, trying to collect himself. His pulse pounded in his ears, his heart racing for all the wrong reasons. He hadn’t meant to stare.
Kayla, oblivious, straightened up and shot him a grin. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He couldn’t. Instead, he cleared his throat, his fingers flexing where they held her in place on his shoulder.
“No,” he said, forcing the words out. “Just... thinking.”
She laughed and brushed it off. “Whatever, dork. Let’s go get food.”
Daniel nodded quickly, clearing his throat again and stepping forward to open the restaurant door.
Dinner was nice. Casual. She asked about his summer plans, he told her about his excitement to be free, no school, no responsibilities. She laughed at a few of his jokes, her hazel eyes sparkling under the dim restaurant lights.
But there was still that tension, hanging just beneath the surface. Every word, every look, seemed to amplify the growing feeling that wasn’t so easy to ignore anymore.
By the time they finished eating, the night was settling in. Kayla insisted on paying for her share—something she always did—but Daniel had already pulled out his wallet. She raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing as he paid.
The walk back to her house was quick, the dim streetlights casting long shadows along the sidewalk.
“So,” Kayla said as they neared her porch, “thanks for dinner. It was fun, Danny. Like old times.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “It really was.”
They reached the porch, and he carefully lifted her, cradling her in his hand as he brought her to eye level.
Kayla gave him a bright smile and a wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? You should stop by and hang out, we can pick up where we left off.”
“Yeah, sure,” he agreed. He nodded, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “I’ll come by.”
Once the door clicked shut behind her, Daniel turned and walked back across the yard, his thoughts still tangled. The sun was finally setting, and the warm night air didn’t seem quite as comforting anymore.
Inside, he made his way straight to his room. He locked the door behind him, his chest tight with the things he didn’t want to admit. His head was spinning with thoughts of Kayla, the closeness between them, how she felt in his hand, how she looked when she bent over in front of him.
And as his mind wandered, the heat between his legs was unmistakable.
He sank down at his computer desk, his thoughts now spinning. The feeling that had been lurking beneath the surface all evening—a desire that had nothing to do with their old friendship—was becoming harder to ignore.
Booting up his PC, there was one more thing Daniel couldn't push from his mind.
Over the past couple of years, many states had repealed tiny rights, declaring that tinies needed to be registered under giant owners.
At first, he’d been terrified for Kayla, worried she might end up in one of those states. But when he realized she wasn’t—when she told him she was going to college in a state where tiny rights still held—he’d felt a sense of relief.
With the loss of tiny rights, however, came a surge in underground content—videos that were illegal in states where tiny rights still applied, but were easy enough to access with a VPN. A month after Kayla left, Daniel had been feeling more isolated than ever.
That loneliness led him to late-night browsing.
The post title caught his eye: "New Tiny Pet Filled with Cream." At first, he hesitated. A sickening feeling gnawed at him, but curiosity got the better of him, and he clicked.
What he saw made his stomach churn. A tiny girl, completely naked, her body being rubbed against a giant's cock.
He recoiled at first, disgusted by the image, but something in him couldn’t look away.
His eyes followed the tiny girl’s terrified expression as she was forced against the giant’s cock. The way she convulsed when he came, her head pressed against the slit, her body shuddering as it was filled with cum—Daniel couldn’t tear his gaze from the screen.
When it was over, he quickly shut the tabs, wiped the history, and sat frozen in his chair.
His chest heaved, his breath short, the room feeling too small. His mouth was dry, and his heart raced. His mind couldn’t make sense of what had just happened. He’d been taught that tinies were people too—that they deserved respect. He wasn’t supposed to be aroused by this.
But that image of the tiny girl’s terrified face, her body helpless against something far bigger than she was, kept invading his mind. And he hated it. But he couldn’t forget it.
Over the next two years, he found more videos. Some were taken down, but there were always new ones.
New faces.
New bodies.
New tinies.
And each time, his internal disgust battled against a darker, growing curiosity. He’d always told himself he was better than that—better than the people who saw tinies as objects. He couldn’t help himself. He’d sit in his room, eyes glued to the screen, and lose himself in the videos. His pulse quickened every time he watched, the fantasies growing darker.
It wasn’t until tonight, with the screen glowing in front of him, that his thoughts began to twist in a new direction.
He pulled up his favorite video, one he’d watched more than a few times. As the tiny brunette girl’s desperate cries filled the speakers, Daniel couldn't help but imagine Kayla in place of her.
He pictured her, the girl who had always been his best friend, now in that position—her small, soft body trembling as he stroked her up and down his cock. Her eyes, filled with terror, her voice caught in a scream he couldn’t even hear, but could somehow feel.
His breath grew heavier as he imagined it. The disgust, the shame, the guilt—it all melted away as he sank deeper into the fantasy. When he came, it was a hot, intense release, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to disappear.
He sat back in his chair, still reeling, his pulse still racing.
What the hell was he doing? The question echoed in his mind, but the answer never came.
The morning came slow.
Daniel lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. Light crept in through the slats of his blinds—thin stripes of gold stretching across his chest. The haze of sleep hadn’t fully left him. Everything felt muted, edges dulled by that soft, lingering fog. His heart wasn’t racing. His hands weren’t shaking.
He let out a long breath.
It didn’t feel normal, exactly. But the guilt from last night had quieted into something smaller. Manageable. Whatever that had been—whatever he had been—it was just a fantasy. A dark flicker in the heat of summer. Nothing more.
Eventually, he pulled himself upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The air was already warm, heavy with stillness. The kind of heat that settled deep into the walls and made everything feel slower.
He moved through the morning in a daze—toast, a shower, a halfhearted scroll through his phone. His parents had left early for work. The house was quiet. Too quiet. That silence pressed in from all sides, wrapping around him like insulation, thick and suffocating.
By mid-afternoon, the restlessness returned.
His gaze drifted toward the window. Before he could think better of it, he slipped on a pair of sneakers, raked a hand through his hair, and stepped outside.
The heat hit him like a blanket. The cicadas were in full chorus, the air shimmering above the pavement. He crossed the lawn with slow steps, hands in his pockets, not entirely sure what he’d say—only that he needed to see her again.
Kayla’s house sat in its usual place, tucked like a secret between two full-sized homes. Its white siding gleamed in the sun, miniature flower pots flanking the porch like tiny guardians. He was just about to crouch down and knock when something caught his eye.
His gaze lifted—past the rooftop of her dollhouse-sized home, toward the narrow backyard beyond.
And froze.
Kayla lay sprawled on a towel no bigger than a tissue, arms tucked lazily behind her head. Her long, wavy hair spilled over the edge in dark ribbons, chestnut strands glinting in the sunlight. Her skin had deepened to a golden bronze, slick with a sheen of sweat that made her look like some kind of lazy, sun-drunk goddess.
She wore a powder-blue bikini.
Or... half of it.
Her bottoms clung to her hips, snug and familiar—the same ones she used to wear on lake trips. But her chest was bare.
Topless.
Daniel forgot to breathe.
Her breasts rose and fell with each unhurried breath—soft, round, perfectly shaped. Her nipples were dusky and firm, reacting to the warm breeze that drifted through the yard. One shifted slightly as she reached up to adjust her glasses.
She had no idea anyone was watching.
Didn’t expect to be watched.
The backyard was private enough—no nearby windows, no real lines of sight. Her house was too small to offer much cover, but she'd grown up here. She felt safe. The only neighbors nearby were an old couple on vacation and Daniel’s family.
And Daniel… she trusted him not to look.
But he was looking.
She stretched slowly, back arching, breasts lifting with the motion. One arm slipped behind her head, the other dropped to rest across her stomach—fingers splayed over the soft plane of muscle leading down toward the curve of her bikini.
Daniel’s eyes lingered. On the gentle slope of her breasts. The smooth skin of her stomach. The subtle dip where her thigh bent at the knee. The light caught on the sweat along her skin, highlighting the curve of her waist, the delicate line of her collarbone.
He didn’t move. Couldn’t.
His mouth was dry, heart hammering—not like last night’s frantic pulse, but something slower. Thicker. His body felt heavy with it. Less panic, more pull.
He should look away. He knew that. He told himself again and again. But his gaze stayed rooted to her, drinking her in like he’d stumbled across something forbidden and beautiful and impossibly close.
And then, slowly, Daniel crouched.
The grass scratched at his knees as he leaned forward, just enough to see her fully. His eyes locked on her bare chest, her soft skin gleaming with summer heat.
She shifted again, adjusting the towel beneath her, breasts swaying gently with the motion. The girl who trusted him not to look.
But he was looking.
And the worst part—the part that scared him, thrilled him—was that he didn’t want to stop.
Daniel didn’t realize how long he’d been crouching. The sun had moved across the sky, casting new shadows across the grass. Time felt strange—suspended in heat and silence.
Kayla hadn’t moved.
Her chest rose and fell in a slow, lazy rhythm, the soft swell of her breasts catching the light with each breath. That was when it hit him—she wasn’t sunbathing anymore.
She was asleep.
Out cold. Glasses still perched crooked on her nose, mouth parted slightly in a slack, quiet doze. Completely unguarded.
He should’ve left. Meant to. It was the perfect moment to slip away, unseen, unnoticed.
But instead, Daniel shifted in the grass, inching forward on his knees until he hovered at the edge of the tiny towel. His breath caught as he leaned in, close enough now that the heat from her body drifted up to meet his skin.
She looked impossibly delicate.
Her legs were stretched out, one bent slightly at the knee. Her bikini bottoms hugged her hips in a perfect dip, the fabric clinging to the curve of her waist. A thin bead of sweat had gathered between her breasts, glinting as it slid slowly down her sternum.
He swallowed hard.
He knew what her body felt like in his hand—but not like this. Not bare. Not exposed.
After everything he’d seen online—after every sick, arousing video—he had to know. Just how soft she was. What her body felt like without the buffer of clothes.
His hand hovered over her, fingers trembling. The warmth of her skin reached him even now. He stared down at her for another long moment, heart pounding against his ribs.
Just a touch.
Not a grab. Not a grope. Just… a brush. A moment.
His index finger lowered slowly, the barest tremble in his knuckles, until the tip ghosted over the curve of her thigh.
Kayla shifted—just a sleepy twitch—and Daniel froze. But she didn’t wake.
He slid his finger upward. Over the smooth skin of her leg. Past the curve of her hip. He stopped just below her belly button, fingertip resting flat across the band of her bikini bottoms. Her skin was hot. Silk-soft. Still, she didn’t stir.
He could hear his own breathing now—shallow, ragged, like the heat was thickening in his lungs. His middle finger drifted across her side, tracing the faint outline of her ribs.
Her arm twitched.
Daniel flinched, pulling back slightly—but not all the way. She murmured something—soft, unintelligible—and shifted again. Her arm slid down from behind her head, coming to rest across her stomach.
His eyes followed the motion… then drifted back upward. To her chest.
The bead of sweat had finished its path, now pooling just beneath the swell of her breast. Before he could stop himself, his hand moved. His fingertip pressed lightly into her breast. Warm. Yielding. Soft in a way that made his breath catch.
Her nipple responded, hardening beneath the contact.
Daniel exhaled through clenched teeth, hand trembling now. His fingers twitched, aching to squeeze—to feel more.
He didn’t mean to grab her.
But when she rolled slightly—just a small, sleepy turn—her bare breast nudged into the pad of his finger. His grip reflexively closed.
And suddenly, she was in his hand.
A breath hitched in her throat. “…hello?”
Her voice was groggy. Confused. Barely awake.
Daniel didn’t speak. Couldn’t. She was so small in his hand—her naked torso pressed to his palm, her skin soft and hot, her breath brushing against his knuckles in shallow pulses. Her legs shifted in the towel, thighs flexing weakly.
Kayla blinked up at him, dazed. Her hands rose, bracing against his thumb.
His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
He cradled her more securely, his other hand curling underneath to steady her as he sat back on his heels, lifting her to eye level. Kayla looked up at him, confusion giving way to something tighter.
Her eyes scanned his face. Nervousness stirred in the tiny flicker of her breath, in the flick of her gaze. Her nipples were still taut—whether from the breeze or from his touch, he couldn’t tell. He felt her heartbeat, fluttering beneath her ribs.
She was fully awake now.
And Daniel didn’t know what to say.
Kayla blinked against the light, squinting as her eyes adjusted. Everything felt… off. Too warm. Too soft. The sun was still out—but she wasn’t lying on her towel anymore.
Something firm cradled her back.
There was a pulse beneath her—steady, deep, familiar. She knew that rhythm.
Daniel.
Her eyes widened. She was in his hand.
“Wha… Danny?” Her voice cracked, still thick with sleep. “Why are you holding me?”
Then she looked down.
Her breasts were bare—still slick with sweat, nipples standing out against the open air.
She shrieked, arms flying up to cover herself. “Daniel, what the fuck!” she screamed.
Kayla’s scream hit him like a punch to the chest. Her arms flew up, snapping across her bare chest, legs kicking as she thrashed in his hand.
Daniel panicked.
“I—I… shit, I—” The words jammed in his throat. His thoughts blurred. The backyard suddenly felt too open. Too exposed. If someone saw—if someone heard—
She squirmed hard, twisting in his grip.
Acting on instinct, he shoved her down—into the front pocket of his shorts.
Kayla cried out in alarm, her sweat-slick body pressing against the fabric, limbs flailing as she struggled upright. Her voice vibrated against his thigh, muffled, furious, shouting through the cotton as he bolted across the yard and into the house.
Each step jarred her.
He could feel her squirming, fists pounding the inside of the pocket. But he didn’t stop. Didn’t say a word. Just took the stairs two at a time and slammed his bedroom door behind him.
Silence.
Chest heaving, he reached into the pocket and pulled her out.
She was burning with rage, still holding one arm tightly over her chest. But the movement had jostled her—her breasts were exposed again, small and perfect and glistening with sweat.
“If this is a joke,” she snapped, voice sharp with fury, “it’s not a very fucking funny one.”
Daniel swallowed hard, lips parted, words stuck behind his teeth.
“You don’t just grab me like that,” she spat. “You don’t stuff me in your pocket and run off like a goddamn psycho. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Daniel didn’t answer. He just stared—lips parted, chest rising and falling, his breathing slow but heavy. There was a tension in him now, thick and palpable, coiled low in his gut. His eyes flicked down to her bare chest, then to the door, the window, the hallway beyond.
The house was silent. Empty.
No one was coming.
When his gaze returned to Kayla, she was still trying to speak—but the words died the moment she caught his expression. Something had shifted. His eyes had darkened. There was a hunger in them that hadn’t been there before.
“…Danny?” she said, more cautiously this time.
He stepped forward.
Kayla backed up, bare feet slipping against the smooth wood of his desk. “Wait. Just—listen,” she stammered, hands half-lifted. “It’s fine, okay? It was weird, but it’s fine. We can forget it. Just take me back, alright? Let’s just go back—”
She moved too fast. Her heel caught the edge of his keyboard, and she yelped as she tumbled backward. She landed hard, square on the spacebar. The monitor flared to life.
She blinked—and froze.
The screen was filled with a paused video, blown up to full size. A tiny girl, naked and terrified, pinned against the length of a giant cock. Her mouth was open mid-scream, her limbs stiff with panic. The resemblance was unmistakable.
Same hair. Same glasses, crooked and slipping down her nose.
Kayla blinked, her whole body going cold. The silence dragged.
The girl on the screen looked like her.
The room held still. Kayla stared, color draining from her face. Her heart thudded in her chest, loud and hard. She slowly turned her eyes back toward Daniel.
“…Daniel?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stood there, looking down at her.
But what made her breath catch—what made her blood turn to ice—was the unmistakable bulge rising in his shorts.
Kayla’s whisper hung in the charged silence, barely audible above the soft hum of Daniel’s monitor.
Behind her, the screen glowed with frozen horror.
Her hazel eyes flicked between the video and Daniel. She was sitting on the spacebar, arms at her sides, supporting herself. Her chest was bare. Her breaths were shallow, each one coming in quick, uneven gasps. It wasn’t from the chill of the room—it was something deeper. Something raw. The betrayal cut through her, clean and brutal.
“Daniel,” she said again, her voice cracking. “What… what is this?”
He didn’t answer.
His eyes stayed locked on her—wide, dark, unreadable. His mouth hung open, lips parted as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. And he didn’t need to. The bulge in his shorts said everything.
Kayla shakily stood and took a step back. Her bare foot slipped slightly on the wood, and she caught herself, pushing her glasses up with a trembling hand. She looked small. Exposed. But she didn’t run.
“I didn’t mean to—” Daniel started, his voice low and rough, gravel scraping his throat. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, shoulders hunched. His hands flexed, fingers curling and uncurling like he didn’t trust them.
“It’s not what you think, Kay. I swear,” he said.
“Not what I think?” Her voice sharpened, like broken glass. “You grabbed me. You watched me—touched me—while I was asleep. And now this?” She stabbed a finger toward the screen, her arm shaking. “That girl looks like me, Daniel.”
Her eyes dropped to his lap. She flinched at what she saw, and then looked back up at him, her face twisted in disbelief.
“You were hard while watching this?” Her voice cracked. “While holding me?”
Daniel’s jaw tensed. He jerked forward, his shadow stretching across the desk, swallowing her in its dark shape.
Kayla flinched but didn’t retreat. Her body trembled, her arms crossed tightly over her chest once more, covering her breasts. Her breath came in ragged bursts, but her eyes never left his.
“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he said quietly. “I just… I saw you, out there. You were lying there, and I—” He swallowed, his eyes dragging slowly across her body. “You were so… open. I didn’t think. I couldn’t stop looking.”
Kayla stared at him, stunned. But then her expression shifted—pain breaking through the fear.
“So you touched me?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. It hit Daniel like a fist to the gut.
“You were my friend, Danny. I trusted you,” she said.
The word hung between them like a blade.
Daniel winced, his face twisting in shame—but it didn’t last. Something darker surfaced in his eyes—guilt giving way to something heavier. Something hungrier.
“I still am,” he said, though it sounded hollow. “I didn’t plan this. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. After you left, I found stuff. Online. At first it felt wrong, but it stuck in my head.”
Kayla’s face paled.
“Stuff?” Her voice lifted, shrill with disbelief. “You mean this shit?” She jabbed a finger at the screen. “You get off to this? Watching tiny girls used like that? And now you’re looking at me like I’m—like I’m one of them?”
“No!” he snapped. His voice cracked, too loud, too raw. He dropped into the chair at his desk, one hand dragging through his hair, eyes squeezed shut.
“You’re not like them. You’re Kayla,” he said.
But even as he spoke, his eyes betrayed him—sliding over her body, her trembling legs, her exposed chest.
She saw it.
Her heart slammed in her chest. Her pulse thudded, a drumbeat of rage and fear. She took another step back, her leg knocking into the mouse.
“Then prove it,” she said, her voice steady now, low and firm. “Take me home. Put me down. Now.”
Daniel’s hand twitched on the desk. His breathing was uneven—his chest rising and falling with something more than guilt. The room was still, silent, save for the soft whir of the fan and Kayla’s quick, shallow breaths.
For a moment, she saw it—something shift in him. The boy she’d grown up with. The one who once built Lego castles at her command, who used to catch her when she jumped from the windowsill—he was still in there. Still reachable.
And then his hand moved.
Kayla yelped as his fingers closed around her, gentle but unyielding, lifting her from the desk. Her arms flailed, trying to cover herself, but he pinned them to her sides, her soft breasts pressing against his palm. She kicked, her bare feet brushing his knuckles, her bikini bottoms slipping slightly with the motion.
“Daniel, stop!” she shouted, her voice sharp but small, swallowed by the vastness of his room.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. This was insane. What he was doing was wrong, disgusting even, but it was so hard to stop. The way her body felt against his hand—the softness of her skin, the delicate weight of her—it was all too much. Too real. His mind screamed at him to let go, but the feeling of her shifting in his palm only deepened the heat pooling low in his gut.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered, his voice almost a broken murmur. “I just... I need this... you don’t understand.”
“No—no, Danny, don’t do this!” Her voice cracked, panic flooding her as he lowered her, his hand firm but almost tender as it moved her closer to his crotch. “You can’t—please, just talk to me!”
"I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated, almost mechanically, as though the words had lost their meaning. His gaze was locked on her bare body, unwilling to look away.
He started to pull down his shorts, his fingers trembling slightly as they hooked into his boxers. The slow, deliberate motion felt almost unnatural, and yet he couldn't stop.
Kayla’s voice mixed rage with desperation. “You’re going to use me like some—some toy? After everything? We were friends!”
Daniel flinched, momentarily broken from his trance, but the internal battle didn’t last. His eyes flicked from her heaving breasts, down her exposed skin, then back to her face—flush with panic, eyes wide and desperate. She wasn’t the friend he remembered anymore; she was something he needed.
“Nothing has to change,” he muttered, voice strained, like he was trying to convince himself. “Just... you’re helping me out. I swear, once I'm done, you can go.”
With that, Daniel yanked his shorts down.
His cock sprang free—thick, flushed, and fully hard. It whipped up as it cleared the waistband and smacked directly into Kayla’s face with a wet, startling thud.
He gasped, nearly coming from the contact alone. Her bare skin, the heat of her body, the tiny jolt as his tip struck her—he gripped her tighter, chest heaving. Guilt flared as she recoiled, stunned by the blow. That had to hurt.
Kayla’s head rang from the impact, the fleshy trunk leaving a wet smear across her cheek as it bounced back. She froze, her entire body locking in place as she stared at the monster in front of her.
It was massive. Easily her height. Thicker than her waist. Already glistening with precum, thick and glossy, it drooled slow, deliberate beads down the shaft. The sheer heat of it radiated toward her.
Her throat clenched. Her mouth moved, but no sound came.
This wasn’t real.
It couldn’t be.
Her back pressed against his fingers, her arms still pinned, the hot swell of his dick looming in her vision like some nightmare monument. And then it hit her—not just the scale of it, but the reality.
She knew the laws. The loopholes. Which states had repealed protection statutes, which counties had stopped prosecuting possession altogether. She’d read the headlines. She’d seen the footage—tiny girls used like toys, erased without a trace. She’d pitied them. Raged for them. Sworn that would never be her.
She checked the ordinances religiously. Made sure she was always safe.
But that wasn’t supposed to happen here.
Not in her own backyard.
Not in Daniel’s hand.
The horror broke her silence.
Kayla screamed.
She thrashed against his grip, her hands slamming into the thick pads of his fingers. She kicked furiously, her heels thudding against his palm. Her nails raked red lines down his thumb, and she twisted her head, sinking her teeth hard into his skin. Her sweat-slick breasts jostled wildly with every frantic motion, her whole body fighting like hell to get free.
Daniel winced. The bite stung, and her nails burned across his skin—but he didn’t let go.
If anything, he held her tighter.
He deserved it. That was the truth. What he was doing was wrong. He knew it.
This wasn’t something he could explain away or fix later with apologies. It wasn’t panic or confusion anymore.
It was a choice. His.
And she had every right to fight.
But that didn’t change the fact that he needed this. That something in him had already crossed a line.
Slowly—gently—he pressed her against the length of his cock.
Her cries were instantly muffled, her body forced against the slick, throbbing skin. Her face pressed into the glossy surface near the tip, smearing precum across her cheek. Her legs kicked out into the air, helpless.
The heat of him slid under her skin, slick and pulsing, the steady throb beating like a drum against her skull.
Daniel exhaled—shaky, tense.
The sensation of her struggles coursed through him, sharp and electric. He drew in a ragged breath, trying to steady himself.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though the words felt hollow in the midst of it all.
Her response was drowned out as he began to move her slowly up and down, stroking her along the length of his cock.
She pushed back, tiny hands pressing against his fingers, against his throbbing shaft, but her resistance only seemed to fuel him. Each futile struggle made him harder, his cock pulsing in time with the beat of his heart.
He tightened his hold, pressing her tighter against his shaft.
Her curves fit against him perfectly, her soft breasts squishing against his length, nipples stiff and slick from fear and precum. Her bikini bottoms still clung to her hips, now damp and starting to ride up from the friction. Her ass rippled as he moved her, her warm skin gliding along the slick coating that soaked his cock.
Her whimpers vibrated against him, sending sharp jolts through his gut.
It was everything he’d imagined—and more.
Her soft, delicate body fitting against him, every inch of her warmth pressed up against his cock. Her face twisted in a mix of fear and discomfort, her wide eyes glistening with tears as she realized how powerless she was, how little she could do to stop this.
Soon, it became unbearable. He couldn’t hold back anymore. With a guttural groan, he pulled her off his cock, cradling her with one hand while the other guided his length, stroking with desperate intensity.
When he came, it was explosive. Every pent-up desire he’d ever had for her, every twisted urge, released in a single, violent burst.
The first jet of cum shot out, thick and scalding, splattering across her tiny body. She choked, the sticky fluid coating her face, drenching her small frame in the force of his release.
Another pulse followed—then a third, heavier than the last—each spurt painting her tits, her stomach, and her thighs in relentless streams. Her hands flailed weakly, trying to wipe the mess away, but her movements were futile. Her gasps turned into choking gurgles as his cum continued to flood over her, her curves glistening with his release.
Desperate, she tried to squirm out of his hand, but he pressed his thumb firmly into her stomach, forcing the air from her lungs and pinning her in place. She was helpless, trapped beneath the torrent of his desire, unable to escape the sticky mess that coated every inch of her.
By the time it ended, she was drenched—not a single inch was left untouched by cum. Her face was covered, her breasts slick with the mess. Her chest heaved, sticky fluid dripping from her nipples, sliding down her stomach in slow rivulets.
She shuddered, wiping at her eyes so she could see again, the thick, white fluid dripping down her chin.
"Please..." Her voice was hoarse, her words weak and strained. "You said you’d let me go when you finished... please, let me go home..."
But Daniel didn’t put her down.
His cock was still hard—throbbing, insistent, slick with both need and leftover cum. The sensations, the power, the sight of her glistening body struggling in his hand—it clouded everything else. Thought dissolved into want. Reason buckled beneath the weight of pure, animal desire.
He needed more.
Needed to feel her body molded around his cock again.
This time, there was no hesitation. No gentleness. No lingering affection for his best friend, his childhood crush. Only lust.
Kayla screamed when he brought her back to the swollen head of his cock. The slit was still oozing cum, thick and lazy, pulsing with his heartbeat. With a firm press of his finger, he guided her face directly into it.
Her screams cut off in an instant.
A fat glob of cum engulfed her head, the slick fluid stretching around her face, clinging to her hair, her skin, her mouth. She thrashed, limbs flailing wildly as she tried to pull back—but his hand was a wall, his finger at the back of her skull holding her there, steady.
Daniel groaned.
The sensation of her fighting, the warmth of her breath vanishing into the thick wetness, her tiny body squirming in his grip—it all sent a fresh wave of heat crawling up his spine. The last dregs of guilt dissolved into the throb of want.
Kayla couldn’t breathe.
Every frantic gasp only drew in more cum, thick and suffocating, filling her nose, her throat. It coated her eyes, glued her lips together. She couldn’t scream. Couldn’t speak. The hand gripping her torso, the finger pressing against the back of her head, the scorching heat of his cock in front of her—she couldn’t escape.
Her thoughts blurred, slipping between panic and disbelief.
As she slowly drowned in the cum surrounding her, all she could think about was this—this was Daniel.
Danny.
The boy who used to give her shoulder rides. Who passed her notes in school and waited for her after class. The one who used to carry her in his pocket, who once shielded her with cupped hands during a rainstorm so she wouldn’t get wet.
She’d had a crush on him.
And now he was using her as a cum rag.
As a toy.
Her lungs screamed for air. Her arms pushed uselessly against the head of his cock, fingers slipping on the cum-slick skin. Her legs kicked in shallow bursts, growing weaker with every second. Her chest burned.
And then, finally, he let her go.
He eased the pressure off the back of her head and pulled her back—just a few inches. She gasped, a ragged, choking breath bursting from her lungs, cum pouring from her mouth in thick strands as she coughed and sputtered.
Daniel didn’t give her a moment longer.
He shifted his grip, wrapped her tighter, and began to stroke her up and down his cock again.
Kayla’s body slid easily along his shaft now, slick with his release, every pass leaving a glistening trail of warmth along his length. His grip on her was firmer, more confident—like something inside him had snapped, or settled. He no longer hesitated. No more apologies.
Only want.
Her body—so small, so perfect—molded to him like it was made for this. Every stroke pressed her soft curves into his skin, her tits dragging across the sensitive underside, her face brushing the ridge of his head. Her arms dangled weakly now, her thighs trembling as he rubbed her up and down, using her like a living cloth for his arousal.
She whimpered, her voice muffled, too tired to fight. Her breath came in shallow, wet gasps, little bubbles forming at her lips as precum smeared across her cheeks, her chin, her chest. Her mouth hung slightly open, glazed eyes fluttering every time the fat tip of his cock bumped against it.
He didn’t slow down though, too caught up in his lust. Her petite frame, barely six inches of warm, yielding flesh, whipped up and down in a rhythm as brutal as it was unrelenting. Each jarring impact made her tits flatten and smear across the thick shaft, her body grinding messily through the slick sheen of precum that now covered both of them.
Her face struck the swollen tip again and again—each bounce making her head crash against it, leaving her dizzy and disoriented.
She sobbed, helplessly riding the motion.
Then, between strokes, she found enough breath to choke out a plea.
“Please,” she whimpered, voice rasping, “please, Danny… just stop… I can’t—I can’t take anymore…”
Her voice broke at the end, her lips trembling as more of his release smeared across her mouth. Her chest hitched with each breath, small shoulders shaking.
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Something almost like guilt.
But it didn’t last.
He could feel it building again—that overwhelming, addictive pressure. The coil in his gut snapped taut, his cock pulsing with frantic need.
She whimpered in his grip, barely able to lift her head, slick with sweat and seed, her breath coming in weak, wet gasps.
He didn’t hesitate.
Her face pressed flush to the swollen head of his cock, and this time—there was no resistance.
With a grunt, Daniel came.
The first spurt hit her like a punch—thick, boiling-hot cum slamming straight down her throat. She jerked violently, her back arching, tiny fingers clawing at his thumb as she tried to scream. But there was no air. Only heat. Only pressure.
His cock pulsed again. And again.
The second shot blasted past her lips, bloating her belly instantly. Her torso puffed out in his hand, her soft middle swelling grotesquely beneath his grip. The third jet followed with even more force, spewing from her nose and the corners of her stretched mouth, cum gushing down her chin and soaking her tits in glistening white.
She convulsed—limbs twitching, body shaking, face slick and painted with his cum.
Still, he didn’t stop.
He held her there, pinned to the tip, grinding her face against the twitching head as pulse after pulse erupted from him. Her cheeks ballooned with every fresh burst. Her throat bulged, trying to swallow it all, but she couldn’t keep up. It flooded over her, thick streams spilling down her stomach, across her ass, matting her hair.
Her belly stretched tight, rounded and heavy, every inch of her visibly overfilled.
She gagged. Then choked.
A high, gurgled cry slipped from her stuffed mouth—raw and wet and pitiful—just before a fresh spurt forced it back down. Cum burst from her lips, trailing strings that dripped from her chest to the base of his shaft. Her eyes rolled back. Her legs kicked weakly.
Finally, as the last thick pulse dribbled from him, Daniel exhaled—deep and ragged, his body shuddering in release.
He pulled her back.
She was limp in his hand, body slick and glistening with his release. Her stomach was swollen, visibly distended from the load he’d forced down her throat. Her mouth hung open slightly, cum still pooling on her tongue, drooling in thick, slow drips down her chin.
Her eyes fluttered, unfocused.
Daniel just stared.
His cock was softening now, but still flushed, still twitching faintly with the echoes of pleasure. A single string of cum connected them—thick and glistening, stretched between the glossy head of his cock and the entire front of her face. It clung to her skin in a wet, web-like mask, coating her forehead, cheeks, nose, mouth.
It swayed slightly as he moved her, trembling under its own weight before finally snapping, splattering across her chest.
He couldn’t look away.
Without thinking, he brought her trembling body back toward his length, gently dragging her skin along the underside, using her like a cloth to wipe away what was left. Her tiny form slid across the shaft in slow, helpless arcs, smearing his mess across her limbs, her belly, her breasts.
She twitched faintly at the contact, a faint whimper rising in her throat.
It sounded more like a breath than a sound.
And then came the guilt.
It crawled over him the moment the haze lifted—sharp and cold.
“Fuck…” he muttered, voice cracking as he looked down at her. “What did I—?”
He trailed off, throat closing tight.
There was no undoing it. No pretending anymore.
Her chest was heaving, sticky strands of cum webbing between her breasts. Her legs curled in slightly, arms drawn tight around her bloated stomach like she didn’t want him to see what he’d done. But he couldn’t stop looking. He’d made her like this.
He’d used her—his best friend—as nothing more than a fuck toy. A receptacle.
And now she was spent, wrecked, painted in his cum and barely conscious in his hand. The tattered remains of her bikini bottoms hung shredded and tangled around one of her ankles, having been torn from the friction of his cock. It was just a scrap of ruined fabric now.
Daniel moved on instinct, grabbing a handful of wipes from the box on his nightstand. His hands shook as he pressed one to her face, gently brushing it across her cheeks, her eyelids, her slack lips.
“Kayla…” he whispered. “I didn’t mean—fuck, I didn’t mean to go that far.”
She didn’t answer.
Her lips parted slightly as another bit of cum slid from the corner of her mouth.
He wiped down her arms, her thighs, careful not to press too hard against the curve of her bloated belly. Cum clung to every dip and slope of her body. Her skin was warm—too warm—and the guilt swelled tighter in his chest, sharp and suffocating.
“I thought I could stop,” he said softly. “I thought I would. Just once. But then you… the way you looked… I lost it. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
More cum leaked from her mouth as he spoke, a thick glob sliding sliding down her chin.
He set her down on the desk, hands trembling. Her body slumped where he left her, too exhausted to sit up, one arm half-wrapped across her belly. Her head rolled to the side, cum-webbed hair sticking to the surface beneath her. Her lips parted slightly, a thin stream dribbling out onto the wood.
She moaned again, softer.
Daniel swallowed hard.
The silence was unbearable. The sound of the wipes crinkling in his hand, her faint breaths, the wet drip of cum on the hardwood—none of it made sense in the stillness.
So he spoke. Just to hear something else.
“We’re… we’re still friends, right?” he said, voice raw and uneven. “I mean, I didn’t—this doesn’t have to change anything. Not really. We’re still us.”
Her head rolled weakly to the side.
He nodded to himself. Slowly. Like if he believed it hard enough, it would become true.
“We’re still us,” he whispered again.
Her only answer was a quiet, strangled sound as more cum slipped from her lips.
---
Daniel slouched on his bed, the glow of his Xbox casting sharp shadows across the room. The curtains were drawn tight, the only light a flickering, neon bleed from the screen. At eighteen, with high school finally in the rearview, he had the house—and the summer—to himself.
Graduation had been three days ago. The cheap gown was already stuffed in the back of his closet, the last of the yearbook signatures still barely dry. No more classes. No more bells. Just long, hot days filled with games, snacks, and whatever the hell else he felt like doing.
A sharp knock at the door broke his focus.
Before he could grunt a response, it swung open. His mom stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the hallway light.
“I’ve got good news,” she said without preamble.
Daniel tugged one ear of his headphones off. The game’s menu music hummed faintly, ignored.
“Yeah?”
“Kayla’s back from college.” She leaned against the frame, a smile tugging at her lips. “She’s house-sitting next door while her parents are away. You should go say hi—she’s probably missed you.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
Daniel’s eyes lingered on the screen, the idle loop blinking back at him. But his thoughts had already drifted.
Kayla.
Two years.
They’d grown up side by side—neighbors in the strangest sense. When Daniel’s family moved in ten years ago, he was eight—wide-eyed and unsure how to process the idea of tiny people. Their house sat between two normal ones, no taller than a dollhouse, complete with a miniature yard, a porch you could crush underfoot, and a mailbox the size of a matchbox.
His parents drilled it in early: never look down on the tinies—literally or otherwise.
“They’re people, same as us,” his mom would say, her tone brooking no argument.
Part of that lesson had been meeting Kayla, the neighbors’ ten-year-old daughter. At first, it was awkward as hell. She was a girl. And tiny enough to fit in the palm of his hand. He was a clumsy kid who didn’t know how to talk to either.
She’d eyed him with sharp hazel suspicion, like she was half-expecting to get squashed by accident.
But kids adapt.
Awkwardness gave way to playdates, then friendship.
He still remembered the summer they built a Lego castle together—him laying the bricks, her tiny hands guiding the spires into place. She’d climbed through it like a real princess, laughing up at him from the ramparts, her voice small but fierce.
Or the time they raced RC cars in the driveway, Kayla strapped into hers like a daredevil. She’d rigged up a controller to steer it, and he chased after her with his own, both of them laughing until their stomachs hurt and the sun dipped below the trees.
As they got older, their friendship only deepened. They were inseparable—best friends in the purest sense. When other kids made snide comments or tried to bully Kayla for her size, Daniel stepped in without hesitation. More than once he’d caught some smartass aiming a foot too close to her and made sure it didn’t happen twice.
And when Daniel struggled through math or froze before a presentation, Kayla was always there—perched on his desk, arms crossed, coaching him through it with that smug little smirk that somehow made him want to listen.
They went on family trips together—camping in the mountains, afternoons at the lake. She’d ride on his shoulder through hiking trails, then dive off into the water with barely a splash, showing off her swimmer’s form while he flailed after her.
Somewhere along the line, things shifted.
He never said anything. Never acted on it. But by the time he was sixteen, the crush was undeniable. Not just because she was beautiful—though she was—but because she got him. She could read his moods better than anyone. Tease him without it ever turning cruel. Trust him in a way no one else did.
And then… she left.
Off to college. Bigger things. Her tiny form waving from the seat of the shuttle bus, backpack slung over her shoulder like it weighed more than she did.
That was the last time he saw her in person.
A lot had changed since then.
He’d grown half a foot. His voice had dropped. Shoulders broadened. His face leaned out, the boyish roundness replaced by sharper lines and stubble he didn’t always bother to shave.
And her?
He could only guess.
Daniel slid on flip-flops, shoved his phone into his pocket, and stepped into the thick summer heat. The sun hung low, casting long golden shadows across the lawn—the kind of lazy warmth that clung to your skin like a second shirt.
He crossed the yard, heart thudding faster than it should’ve with each step, drawing closer to the tiny house next door.
It looked just like it always had. Dollhouse proportions, a perfect paint job, flower pots no taller than soda cans lining the miniature porch. He passed it every morning on the way to school, but now it felt different.
Now she was back inside.
He crouched down, one knee pressing into the grass, and leaned forward. His hand hovered for a moment, then gently rapped the front stoop with a fingertip—three light knocks that made the porch tremble with each impact.
For a few seconds, nothing.
Then a tiny figure appeared behind the glass-paneled door.
It swung open, and Kayla stepped into the light.
“Danny!” she squealed. Her voice was high, familiar, pure joy—slicing through the years like a blade. She bolted down the porch steps barefoot, her wavy brunette hair bouncing with glints of chestnut in the fading sun.
She reached his hand in seconds, throwing her arms around two of his fingers like they were her anchor.
Daniel froze.
Her body was soft and warm, barely as tall as his palm. He felt every quick breath, the rise and fall of her chest against his knuckles.
This wasn’t like when they were kids. Not anymore.
His hand had grown. He had grown.
Kayla tilted her head back, grinning up at him, hazel eyes sparkling with mischief.
“God, you got huge,” she laughed. “I used to barely fit in your hand. Now I could pitch a tent on it.”
He exhaled, half-laugh, half-nerves, and curled his fingers just enough to cradle her as he lifted her from the ground.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said—but it was a lie, and they both knew it.
College had sharpened her. She was still lean and athletic, but her body had filled out in all the ways that made it hard not to stare—fuller hips, a softer curve to her waist, breasts that pressed against the low-cut blouse she wore, the fabric hugging her like it wanted to be looked at.
It stopped short just above her navel, leaving a smooth stretch of sun-kissed skin gleaming in the light. Her jean shorts rode high, framing her thighs and cupping the gentle curve of her ass. Her hair, now shorter, framed her face in loose waves that brushed her shoulders.
“Liar,” she teased, poking his thumb. “I cut my hair, dummy.”
Daniel smirked, lifting her to eye level. “Right, because that’s what I’d notice, Shortstack.”
She stuck out her tongue, and for a second, it was like no time had passed—Kayla riding in his hoodie pocket, barking orders while he built her Lego castles.
But the moment flickered.
Her weight on his fingers, the soft press of her ass against his skin, the subtle bounce of her chest when she shifted—it was all different now.
He’d always thought she was beautiful, but now it was like someone had turned up the contrast. Her toned stomach, the way her thighs flexed when she adjusted her balance—his eyes noticed everything.
His fingers felt too warm. His pulse thumped against his wrist.
She wasn’t flirting—she was just being Kayla. Bright. Fearless.
But his body didn’t care.
Still, the more they talked, the more the awkward heat began to ease. Her voice was the same—teasing, full of energy, a stream of old jokes and familiar affection. She gave him hell for the scruff on his chin.
“You call that a beard?” she grinned, then started grilling him for gossip about their old classmates, tossing names and memories like they were still fifteen.
By the time he set her down and leaned back in the grass, resting against the side of her porch, it almost felt normal again.
Almost.
After a few more minutes of easy conversation, Kayla suddenly poked him in the ear with a playful grin.
"Congrats, Danny," she said, her voice light with the same teasing edge that had always made him smile. "Top of the class, huh? Guess I gotta start taking notes from the genius."
Daniel laughed, rubbing the side of his ear as if her poke had stung.
"Thanks, Kay. You’re not so bad yourself. How’s college life treating you?”
“Oh, you know, tons of late nights, a lot of caffeine, and I’m basically living in the library at this point.” She raised an eyebrow at him, her tone teasing. “I might be the only one who didn’t get into trouble, though.”
“Well, that’s you for sure. Always the responsible one.” Danny nudged her lightly with his finger, earning a playful glare from her.
There was a lull, then Kayla flicked her hand. "So, what do you wanna do? We should grab dinner or something—celebrate your newfound freedom.”
Daniel thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, sounds good. I know a place.”
They both stood, and he carefully cupped his hand around her small body, lifting her up to settle on his shoulder. It was the easiest way to carry her, like they’d done for years, but this time it felt different.His pulse was a little quicker as he felt the subtle weight of her body, the heat of her skin so close to his.
The walk to the restaurant was a slow one. Kayla chatted about her college experiences, and Daniel listened, his mind drifting a little. As they passed a small park, they both stopped to admire a tree.
“Check that out,” she said, pointing. “Wouldn’t it be cool to climb it?”
Daniel half-smiled, his eyes following the line of her finger toward the sturdy branches. “Yeah, if you were the size of a squirrel.”
She snorted. “Please. I could probably out-climb you even at my size.”
“I doubt that,” he teased, smirking.
Kayla bent over, hands on her knees to get a better look at the base of the tree, her shorts riding higher on her thighs with the movement. He looked over to say something and was greeted by her large, plump ass swaying just inches from his face.
It was an accidental, innocent gesture, but the sight of her full cheeks so close—too close—was enough to steal the air from his lungs. His throat tightened, heat surging low in his stomach as he shifted beneath her, a cough escaping his lips.
His face burned, and he turned away quickly, trying to collect himself. His pulse pounded in his ears, his heart racing for all the wrong reasons. He hadn’t meant to stare.
Kayla, oblivious, straightened up and shot him a grin. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He couldn’t. Instead, he cleared his throat, his fingers flexing where they held her in place on his shoulder.
“No,” he said, forcing the words out. “Just... thinking.”
She laughed and brushed it off. “Whatever, dork. Let’s go get food.”
Daniel nodded quickly, clearing his throat again and stepping forward to open the restaurant door.
Dinner was nice. Casual. She asked about his summer plans, he told her about his excitement to be free, no school, no responsibilities. She laughed at a few of his jokes, her hazel eyes sparkling under the dim restaurant lights.
But there was still that tension, hanging just beneath the surface. Every word, every look, seemed to amplify the growing feeling that wasn’t so easy to ignore anymore.
By the time they finished eating, the night was settling in. Kayla insisted on paying for her share—something she always did—but Daniel had already pulled out his wallet. She raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing as he paid.
The walk back to her house was quick, the dim streetlights casting long shadows along the sidewalk.
“So,” Kayla said as they neared her porch, “thanks for dinner. It was fun, Danny. Like old times.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “It really was.”
They reached the porch, and he carefully lifted her, cradling her in his hand as he brought her to eye level.
Kayla gave him a bright smile and a wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? You should stop by and hang out, we can pick up where we left off.”
“Yeah, sure,” he agreed. He nodded, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “I’ll come by.”
Once the door clicked shut behind her, Daniel turned and walked back across the yard, his thoughts still tangled. The sun was finally setting, and the warm night air didn’t seem quite as comforting anymore.
Inside, he made his way straight to his room. He locked the door behind him, his chest tight with the things he didn’t want to admit. His head was spinning with thoughts of Kayla, the closeness between them, how she felt in his hand, how she looked when she bent over in front of him.
And as his mind wandered, the heat between his legs was unmistakable.
He sank down at his computer desk, his thoughts now spinning. The feeling that had been lurking beneath the surface all evening—a desire that had nothing to do with their old friendship—was becoming harder to ignore.
Booting up his PC, there was one more thing Daniel couldn't push from his mind.
Over the past couple of years, many states had repealed tiny rights, declaring that tinies needed to be registered under giant owners.
At first, he’d been terrified for Kayla, worried she might end up in one of those states. But when he realized she wasn’t—when she told him she was going to college in a state where tiny rights still held—he’d felt a sense of relief.
With the loss of tiny rights, however, came a surge in underground content—videos that were illegal in states where tiny rights still applied, but were easy enough to access with a VPN. A month after Kayla left, Daniel had been feeling more isolated than ever.
That loneliness led him to late-night browsing.
The post title caught his eye: "New Tiny Pet Filled with Cream." At first, he hesitated. A sickening feeling gnawed at him, but curiosity got the better of him, and he clicked.
What he saw made his stomach churn. A tiny girl, completely naked, her body being rubbed against a giant's cock.
He recoiled at first, disgusted by the image, but something in him couldn’t look away.
His eyes followed the tiny girl’s terrified expression as she was forced against the giant’s cock. The way she convulsed when he came, her head pressed against the slit, her body shuddering as it was filled with cum—Daniel couldn’t tear his gaze from the screen.
When it was over, he quickly shut the tabs, wiped the history, and sat frozen in his chair.
His chest heaved, his breath short, the room feeling too small. His mouth was dry, and his heart raced. His mind couldn’t make sense of what had just happened. He’d been taught that tinies were people too—that they deserved respect. He wasn’t supposed to be aroused by this.
But that image of the tiny girl’s terrified face, her body helpless against something far bigger than she was, kept invading his mind. And he hated it. But he couldn’t forget it.
Over the next two years, he found more videos. Some were taken down, but there were always new ones.
New faces.
New bodies.
New tinies.
And each time, his internal disgust battled against a darker, growing curiosity. He’d always told himself he was better than that—better than the people who saw tinies as objects. He couldn’t help himself. He’d sit in his room, eyes glued to the screen, and lose himself in the videos. His pulse quickened every time he watched, the fantasies growing darker.
It wasn’t until tonight, with the screen glowing in front of him, that his thoughts began to twist in a new direction.
He pulled up his favorite video, one he’d watched more than a few times. As the tiny brunette girl’s desperate cries filled the speakers, Daniel couldn't help but imagine Kayla in place of her.
He pictured her, the girl who had always been his best friend, now in that position—her small, soft body trembling as he stroked her up and down his cock. Her eyes, filled with terror, her voice caught in a scream he couldn’t even hear, but could somehow feel.
His breath grew heavier as he imagined it. The disgust, the shame, the guilt—it all melted away as he sank deeper into the fantasy. When he came, it was a hot, intense release, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to disappear.
He sat back in his chair, still reeling, his pulse still racing.
What the hell was he doing? The question echoed in his mind, but the answer never came.
The morning came slow.
Daniel lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. Light crept in through the slats of his blinds—thin stripes of gold stretching across his chest. The haze of sleep hadn’t fully left him. Everything felt muted, edges dulled by that soft, lingering fog. His heart wasn’t racing. His hands weren’t shaking.
He let out a long breath.
It didn’t feel normal, exactly. But the guilt from last night had quieted into something smaller. Manageable. Whatever that had been—whatever he had been—it was just a fantasy. A dark flicker in the heat of summer. Nothing more.
Eventually, he pulled himself upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The air was already warm, heavy with stillness. The kind of heat that settled deep into the walls and made everything feel slower.
He moved through the morning in a daze—toast, a shower, a halfhearted scroll through his phone. His parents had left early for work. The house was quiet. Too quiet. That silence pressed in from all sides, wrapping around him like insulation, thick and suffocating.
By mid-afternoon, the restlessness returned.
His gaze drifted toward the window. Before he could think better of it, he slipped on a pair of sneakers, raked a hand through his hair, and stepped outside.
The heat hit him like a blanket. The cicadas were in full chorus, the air shimmering above the pavement. He crossed the lawn with slow steps, hands in his pockets, not entirely sure what he’d say—only that he needed to see her again.
Kayla’s house sat in its usual place, tucked like a secret between two full-sized homes. Its white siding gleamed in the sun, miniature flower pots flanking the porch like tiny guardians. He was just about to crouch down and knock when something caught his eye.
His gaze lifted—past the rooftop of her dollhouse-sized home, toward the narrow backyard beyond.
And froze.
Kayla lay sprawled on a towel no bigger than a tissue, arms tucked lazily behind her head. Her long, wavy hair spilled over the edge in dark ribbons, chestnut strands glinting in the sunlight. Her skin had deepened to a golden bronze, slick with a sheen of sweat that made her look like some kind of lazy, sun-drunk goddess.
She wore a powder-blue bikini.
Or... half of it.
Her bottoms clung to her hips, snug and familiar—the same ones she used to wear on lake trips. But her chest was bare.
Topless.
Daniel forgot to breathe.
Her breasts rose and fell with each unhurried breath—soft, round, perfectly shaped. Her nipples were dusky and firm, reacting to the warm breeze that drifted through the yard. One shifted slightly as she reached up to adjust her glasses.
She had no idea anyone was watching.
Didn’t expect to be watched.
The backyard was private enough—no nearby windows, no real lines of sight. Her house was too small to offer much cover, but she'd grown up here. She felt safe. The only neighbors nearby were an old couple on vacation and Daniel’s family.
And Daniel… she trusted him not to look.
But he was looking.
She stretched slowly, back arching, breasts lifting with the motion. One arm slipped behind her head, the other dropped to rest across her stomach—fingers splayed over the soft plane of muscle leading down toward the curve of her bikini.
Daniel’s eyes lingered. On the gentle slope of her breasts. The smooth skin of her stomach. The subtle dip where her thigh bent at the knee. The light caught on the sweat along her skin, highlighting the curve of her waist, the delicate line of her collarbone.
He didn’t move. Couldn’t.
His mouth was dry, heart hammering—not like last night’s frantic pulse, but something slower. Thicker. His body felt heavy with it. Less panic, more pull.
He should look away. He knew that. He told himself again and again. But his gaze stayed rooted to her, drinking her in like he’d stumbled across something forbidden and beautiful and impossibly close.
And then, slowly, Daniel crouched.
The grass scratched at his knees as he leaned forward, just enough to see her fully. His eyes locked on her bare chest, her soft skin gleaming with summer heat.
She shifted again, adjusting the towel beneath her, breasts swaying gently with the motion. The girl who trusted him not to look.
But he was looking.
And the worst part—the part that scared him, thrilled him—was that he didn’t want to stop.
Daniel didn’t realize how long he’d been crouching. The sun had moved across the sky, casting new shadows across the grass. Time felt strange—suspended in heat and silence.
Kayla hadn’t moved.
Her chest rose and fell in a slow, lazy rhythm, the soft swell of her breasts catching the light with each breath. That was when it hit him—she wasn’t sunbathing anymore.
She was asleep.
Out cold. Glasses still perched crooked on her nose, mouth parted slightly in a slack, quiet doze. Completely unguarded.
He should’ve left. Meant to. It was the perfect moment to slip away, unseen, unnoticed.
But instead, Daniel shifted in the grass, inching forward on his knees until he hovered at the edge of the tiny towel. His breath caught as he leaned in, close enough now that the heat from her body drifted up to meet his skin.
She looked impossibly delicate.
Her legs were stretched out, one bent slightly at the knee. Her bikini bottoms hugged her hips in a perfect dip, the fabric clinging to the curve of her waist. A thin bead of sweat had gathered between her breasts, glinting as it slid slowly down her sternum.
He swallowed hard.
He knew what her body felt like in his hand—but not like this. Not bare. Not exposed.
After everything he’d seen online—after every sick, arousing video—he had to know. Just how soft she was. What her body felt like without the buffer of clothes.
His hand hovered over her, fingers trembling. The warmth of her skin reached him even now. He stared down at her for another long moment, heart pounding against his ribs.
Just a touch.
Not a grab. Not a grope. Just… a brush. A moment.
His index finger lowered slowly, the barest tremble in his knuckles, until the tip ghosted over the curve of her thigh.
Kayla shifted—just a sleepy twitch—and Daniel froze. But she didn’t wake.
He slid his finger upward. Over the smooth skin of her leg. Past the curve of her hip. He stopped just below her belly button, fingertip resting flat across the band of her bikini bottoms. Her skin was hot. Silk-soft. Still, she didn’t stir.
He could hear his own breathing now—shallow, ragged, like the heat was thickening in his lungs. His middle finger drifted across her side, tracing the faint outline of her ribs.
Her arm twitched.
Daniel flinched, pulling back slightly—but not all the way. She murmured something—soft, unintelligible—and shifted again. Her arm slid down from behind her head, coming to rest across her stomach.
His eyes followed the motion… then drifted back upward. To her chest.
The bead of sweat had finished its path, now pooling just beneath the swell of her breast. Before he could stop himself, his hand moved. His fingertip pressed lightly into her breast. Warm. Yielding. Soft in a way that made his breath catch.
Her nipple responded, hardening beneath the contact.
Daniel exhaled through clenched teeth, hand trembling now. His fingers twitched, aching to squeeze—to feel more.
He didn’t mean to grab her.
But when she rolled slightly—just a small, sleepy turn—her bare breast nudged into the pad of his finger. His grip reflexively closed.
And suddenly, she was in his hand.
A breath hitched in her throat. “…hello?”
Her voice was groggy. Confused. Barely awake.
Daniel didn’t speak. Couldn’t. She was so small in his hand—her naked torso pressed to his palm, her skin soft and hot, her breath brushing against his knuckles in shallow pulses. Her legs shifted in the towel, thighs flexing weakly.
Kayla blinked up at him, dazed. Her hands rose, bracing against his thumb.
His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
He cradled her more securely, his other hand curling underneath to steady her as he sat back on his heels, lifting her to eye level. Kayla looked up at him, confusion giving way to something tighter.
Her eyes scanned his face. Nervousness stirred in the tiny flicker of her breath, in the flick of her gaze. Her nipples were still taut—whether from the breeze or from his touch, he couldn’t tell. He felt her heartbeat, fluttering beneath her ribs.
She was fully awake now.
And Daniel didn’t know what to say.
Kayla blinked against the light, squinting as her eyes adjusted. Everything felt… off. Too warm. Too soft. The sun was still out—but she wasn’t lying on her towel anymore.
Something firm cradled her back.
There was a pulse beneath her—steady, deep, familiar. She knew that rhythm.
Daniel.
Her eyes widened. She was in his hand.
“Wha… Danny?” Her voice cracked, still thick with sleep. “Why are you holding me?”
Then she looked down.
Her breasts were bare—still slick with sweat, nipples standing out against the open air.
She shrieked, arms flying up to cover herself. “Daniel, what the fuck!” she screamed.
Kayla’s scream hit him like a punch to the chest. Her arms flew up, snapping across her bare chest, legs kicking as she thrashed in his hand.
Daniel panicked.
“I—I… shit, I—” The words jammed in his throat. His thoughts blurred. The backyard suddenly felt too open. Too exposed. If someone saw—if someone heard—
She squirmed hard, twisting in his grip.
Acting on instinct, he shoved her down—into the front pocket of his shorts.
Kayla cried out in alarm, her sweat-slick body pressing against the fabric, limbs flailing as she struggled upright. Her voice vibrated against his thigh, muffled, furious, shouting through the cotton as he bolted across the yard and into the house.
Each step jarred her.
He could feel her squirming, fists pounding the inside of the pocket. But he didn’t stop. Didn’t say a word. Just took the stairs two at a time and slammed his bedroom door behind him.
Silence.
Chest heaving, he reached into the pocket and pulled her out.
She was burning with rage, still holding one arm tightly over her chest. But the movement had jostled her—her breasts were exposed again, small and perfect and glistening with sweat.
“If this is a joke,” she snapped, voice sharp with fury, “it’s not a very fucking funny one.”
Daniel swallowed hard, lips parted, words stuck behind his teeth.
“You don’t just grab me like that,” she spat. “You don’t stuff me in your pocket and run off like a goddamn psycho. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Daniel didn’t answer. He just stared—lips parted, chest rising and falling, his breathing slow but heavy. There was a tension in him now, thick and palpable, coiled low in his gut. His eyes flicked down to her bare chest, then to the door, the window, the hallway beyond.
The house was silent. Empty.
No one was coming.
When his gaze returned to Kayla, she was still trying to speak—but the words died the moment she caught his expression. Something had shifted. His eyes had darkened. There was a hunger in them that hadn’t been there before.
“…Danny?” she said, more cautiously this time.
He stepped forward.
Kayla backed up, bare feet slipping against the smooth wood of his desk. “Wait. Just—listen,” she stammered, hands half-lifted. “It’s fine, okay? It was weird, but it’s fine. We can forget it. Just take me back, alright? Let’s just go back—”
She moved too fast. Her heel caught the edge of his keyboard, and she yelped as she tumbled backward. She landed hard, square on the spacebar. The monitor flared to life.
She blinked—and froze.
The screen was filled with a paused video, blown up to full size. A tiny girl, naked and terrified, pinned against the length of a giant cock. Her mouth was open mid-scream, her limbs stiff with panic. The resemblance was unmistakable.
Same hair. Same glasses, crooked and slipping down her nose.
Kayla blinked, her whole body going cold. The silence dragged.
The girl on the screen looked like her.
The room held still. Kayla stared, color draining from her face. Her heart thudded in her chest, loud and hard. She slowly turned her eyes back toward Daniel.
“…Daniel?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stood there, looking down at her.
But what made her breath catch—what made her blood turn to ice—was the unmistakable bulge rising in his shorts.
Kayla’s whisper hung in the charged silence, barely audible above the soft hum of Daniel’s monitor.
Behind her, the screen glowed with frozen horror.
Her hazel eyes flicked between the video and Daniel. She was sitting on the spacebar, arms at her sides, supporting herself. Her chest was bare. Her breaths were shallow, each one coming in quick, uneven gasps. It wasn’t from the chill of the room—it was something deeper. Something raw. The betrayal cut through her, clean and brutal.
“Daniel,” she said again, her voice cracking. “What… what is this?”
He didn’t answer.
His eyes stayed locked on her—wide, dark, unreadable. His mouth hung open, lips parted as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. And he didn’t need to. The bulge in his shorts said everything.
Kayla shakily stood and took a step back. Her bare foot slipped slightly on the wood, and she caught herself, pushing her glasses up with a trembling hand. She looked small. Exposed. But she didn’t run.
“I didn’t mean to—” Daniel started, his voice low and rough, gravel scraping his throat. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, shoulders hunched. His hands flexed, fingers curling and uncurling like he didn’t trust them.
“It’s not what you think, Kay. I swear,” he said.
“Not what I think?” Her voice sharpened, like broken glass. “You grabbed me. You watched me—touched me—while I was asleep. And now this?” She stabbed a finger toward the screen, her arm shaking. “That girl looks like me, Daniel.”
Her eyes dropped to his lap. She flinched at what she saw, and then looked back up at him, her face twisted in disbelief.
“You were hard while watching this?” Her voice cracked. “While holding me?”
Daniel’s jaw tensed. He jerked forward, his shadow stretching across the desk, swallowing her in its dark shape.
Kayla flinched but didn’t retreat. Her body trembled, her arms crossed tightly over her chest once more, covering her breasts. Her breath came in ragged bursts, but her eyes never left his.
“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he said quietly. “I just… I saw you, out there. You were lying there, and I—” He swallowed, his eyes dragging slowly across her body. “You were so… open. I didn’t think. I couldn’t stop looking.”
Kayla stared at him, stunned. But then her expression shifted—pain breaking through the fear.
“So you touched me?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. It hit Daniel like a fist to the gut.
“You were my friend, Danny. I trusted you,” she said.
The word hung between them like a blade.
Daniel winced, his face twisting in shame—but it didn’t last. Something darker surfaced in his eyes—guilt giving way to something heavier. Something hungrier.
“I still am,” he said, though it sounded hollow. “I didn’t plan this. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. After you left, I found stuff. Online. At first it felt wrong, but it stuck in my head.”
Kayla’s face paled.
“Stuff?” Her voice lifted, shrill with disbelief. “You mean this shit?” She jabbed a finger at the screen. “You get off to this? Watching tiny girls used like that? And now you’re looking at me like I’m—like I’m one of them?”
“No!” he snapped. His voice cracked, too loud, too raw. He dropped into the chair at his desk, one hand dragging through his hair, eyes squeezed shut.
“You’re not like them. You’re Kayla,” he said.
But even as he spoke, his eyes betrayed him—sliding over her body, her trembling legs, her exposed chest.
She saw it.
Her heart slammed in her chest. Her pulse thudded, a drumbeat of rage and fear. She took another step back, her leg knocking into the mouse.
“Then prove it,” she said, her voice steady now, low and firm. “Take me home. Put me down. Now.”
Daniel’s hand twitched on the desk. His breathing was uneven—his chest rising and falling with something more than guilt. The room was still, silent, save for the soft whir of the fan and Kayla’s quick, shallow breaths.
For a moment, she saw it—something shift in him. The boy she’d grown up with. The one who once built Lego castles at her command, who used to catch her when she jumped from the windowsill—he was still in there. Still reachable.
And then his hand moved.
Kayla yelped as his fingers closed around her, gentle but unyielding, lifting her from the desk. Her arms flailed, trying to cover herself, but he pinned them to her sides, her soft breasts pressing against his palm. She kicked, her bare feet brushing his knuckles, her bikini bottoms slipping slightly with the motion.
“Daniel, stop!” she shouted, her voice sharp but small, swallowed by the vastness of his room.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. This was insane. What he was doing was wrong, disgusting even, but it was so hard to stop. The way her body felt against his hand—the softness of her skin, the delicate weight of her—it was all too much. Too real. His mind screamed at him to let go, but the feeling of her shifting in his palm only deepened the heat pooling low in his gut.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered, his voice almost a broken murmur. “I just... I need this... you don’t understand.”
“No—no, Danny, don’t do this!” Her voice cracked, panic flooding her as he lowered her, his hand firm but almost tender as it moved her closer to his crotch. “You can’t—please, just talk to me!”
"I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated, almost mechanically, as though the words had lost their meaning. His gaze was locked on her bare body, unwilling to look away.
He started to pull down his shorts, his fingers trembling slightly as they hooked into his boxers. The slow, deliberate motion felt almost unnatural, and yet he couldn't stop.
Kayla’s voice mixed rage with desperation. “You’re going to use me like some—some toy? After everything? We were friends!”
Daniel flinched, momentarily broken from his trance, but the internal battle didn’t last. His eyes flicked from her heaving breasts, down her exposed skin, then back to her face—flush with panic, eyes wide and desperate. She wasn’t the friend he remembered anymore; she was something he needed.
“Nothing has to change,” he muttered, voice strained, like he was trying to convince himself. “Just... you’re helping me out. I swear, once I'm done, you can go.”
With that, Daniel yanked his shorts down.
His cock sprang free—thick, flushed, and fully hard. It whipped up as it cleared the waistband and smacked directly into Kayla’s face with a wet, startling thud.
He gasped, nearly coming from the contact alone. Her bare skin, the heat of her body, the tiny jolt as his tip struck her—he gripped her tighter, chest heaving. Guilt flared as she recoiled, stunned by the blow. That had to hurt.
Kayla’s head rang from the impact, the fleshy trunk leaving a wet smear across her cheek as it bounced back. She froze, her entire body locking in place as she stared at the monster in front of her.
It was massive. Easily her height. Thicker than her waist. Already glistening with precum, thick and glossy, it drooled slow, deliberate beads down the shaft. The sheer heat of it radiated toward her.
Her throat clenched. Her mouth moved, but no sound came.
This wasn’t real.
It couldn’t be.
Her back pressed against his fingers, her arms still pinned, the hot swell of his dick looming in her vision like some nightmare monument. And then it hit her—not just the scale of it, but the reality.
She knew the laws. The loopholes. Which states had repealed protection statutes, which counties had stopped prosecuting possession altogether. She’d read the headlines. She’d seen the footage—tiny girls used like toys, erased without a trace. She’d pitied them. Raged for them. Sworn that would never be her.
She checked the ordinances religiously. Made sure she was always safe.
But that wasn’t supposed to happen here.
Not in her own backyard.
Not in Daniel’s hand.
The horror broke her silence.
Kayla screamed.
She thrashed against his grip, her hands slamming into the thick pads of his fingers. She kicked furiously, her heels thudding against his palm. Her nails raked red lines down his thumb, and she twisted her head, sinking her teeth hard into his skin. Her sweat-slick breasts jostled wildly with every frantic motion, her whole body fighting like hell to get free.
Daniel winced. The bite stung, and her nails burned across his skin—but he didn’t let go.
If anything, he held her tighter.
He deserved it. That was the truth. What he was doing was wrong. He knew it.
This wasn’t something he could explain away or fix later with apologies. It wasn’t panic or confusion anymore.
It was a choice. His.
And she had every right to fight.
But that didn’t change the fact that he needed this. That something in him had already crossed a line.
Slowly—gently—he pressed her against the length of his cock.
Her cries were instantly muffled, her body forced against the slick, throbbing skin. Her face pressed into the glossy surface near the tip, smearing precum across her cheek. Her legs kicked out into the air, helpless.
The heat of him slid under her skin, slick and pulsing, the steady throb beating like a drum against her skull.
Daniel exhaled—shaky, tense.
The sensation of her struggles coursed through him, sharp and electric. He drew in a ragged breath, trying to steady himself.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though the words felt hollow in the midst of it all.
Her response was drowned out as he began to move her slowly up and down, stroking her along the length of his cock.
She pushed back, tiny hands pressing against his fingers, against his throbbing shaft, but her resistance only seemed to fuel him. Each futile struggle made him harder, his cock pulsing in time with the beat of his heart.
He tightened his hold, pressing her tighter against his shaft.
Her curves fit against him perfectly, her soft breasts squishing against his length, nipples stiff and slick from fear and precum. Her bikini bottoms still clung to her hips, now damp and starting to ride up from the friction. Her ass rippled as he moved her, her warm skin gliding along the slick coating that soaked his cock.
Her whimpers vibrated against him, sending sharp jolts through his gut.
It was everything he’d imagined—and more.
Her soft, delicate body fitting against him, every inch of her warmth pressed up against his cock. Her face twisted in a mix of fear and discomfort, her wide eyes glistening with tears as she realized how powerless she was, how little she could do to stop this.
Soon, it became unbearable. He couldn’t hold back anymore. With a guttural groan, he pulled her off his cock, cradling her with one hand while the other guided his length, stroking with desperate intensity.
When he came, it was explosive. Every pent-up desire he’d ever had for her, every twisted urge, released in a single, violent burst.
The first jet of cum shot out, thick and scalding, splattering across her tiny body. She choked, the sticky fluid coating her face, drenching her small frame in the force of his release.
Another pulse followed—then a third, heavier than the last—each spurt painting her tits, her stomach, and her thighs in relentless streams. Her hands flailed weakly, trying to wipe the mess away, but her movements were futile. Her gasps turned into choking gurgles as his cum continued to flood over her, her curves glistening with his release.
Desperate, she tried to squirm out of his hand, but he pressed his thumb firmly into her stomach, forcing the air from her lungs and pinning her in place. She was helpless, trapped beneath the torrent of his desire, unable to escape the sticky mess that coated every inch of her.
By the time it ended, she was drenched—not a single inch was left untouched by cum. Her face was covered, her breasts slick with the mess. Her chest heaved, sticky fluid dripping from her nipples, sliding down her stomach in slow rivulets.
She shuddered, wiping at her eyes so she could see again, the thick, white fluid dripping down her chin.
"Please..." Her voice was hoarse, her words weak and strained. "You said you’d let me go when you finished... please, let me go home..."
But Daniel didn’t put her down.
His cock was still hard—throbbing, insistent, slick with both need and leftover cum. The sensations, the power, the sight of her glistening body struggling in his hand—it clouded everything else. Thought dissolved into want. Reason buckled beneath the weight of pure, animal desire.
He needed more.
Needed to feel her body molded around his cock again.
This time, there was no hesitation. No gentleness. No lingering affection for his best friend, his childhood crush. Only lust.
Kayla screamed when he brought her back to the swollen head of his cock. The slit was still oozing cum, thick and lazy, pulsing with his heartbeat. With a firm press of his finger, he guided her face directly into it.
Her screams cut off in an instant.
A fat glob of cum engulfed her head, the slick fluid stretching around her face, clinging to her hair, her skin, her mouth. She thrashed, limbs flailing wildly as she tried to pull back—but his hand was a wall, his finger at the back of her skull holding her there, steady.
Daniel groaned.
The sensation of her fighting, the warmth of her breath vanishing into the thick wetness, her tiny body squirming in his grip—it all sent a fresh wave of heat crawling up his spine. The last dregs of guilt dissolved into the throb of want.
Kayla couldn’t breathe.
Every frantic gasp only drew in more cum, thick and suffocating, filling her nose, her throat. It coated her eyes, glued her lips together. She couldn’t scream. Couldn’t speak. The hand gripping her torso, the finger pressing against the back of her head, the scorching heat of his cock in front of her—she couldn’t escape.
Her thoughts blurred, slipping between panic and disbelief.
As she slowly drowned in the cum surrounding her, all she could think about was this—this was Daniel.
Danny.
The boy who used to give her shoulder rides. Who passed her notes in school and waited for her after class. The one who used to carry her in his pocket, who once shielded her with cupped hands during a rainstorm so she wouldn’t get wet.
She’d had a crush on him.
And now he was using her as a cum rag.
As a toy.
Her lungs screamed for air. Her arms pushed uselessly against the head of his cock, fingers slipping on the cum-slick skin. Her legs kicked in shallow bursts, growing weaker with every second. Her chest burned.
And then, finally, he let her go.
He eased the pressure off the back of her head and pulled her back—just a few inches. She gasped, a ragged, choking breath bursting from her lungs, cum pouring from her mouth in thick strands as she coughed and sputtered.
Daniel didn’t give her a moment longer.
He shifted his grip, wrapped her tighter, and began to stroke her up and down his cock again.
Kayla’s body slid easily along his shaft now, slick with his release, every pass leaving a glistening trail of warmth along his length. His grip on her was firmer, more confident—like something inside him had snapped, or settled. He no longer hesitated. No more apologies.
Only want.
Her body—so small, so perfect—molded to him like it was made for this. Every stroke pressed her soft curves into his skin, her tits dragging across the sensitive underside, her face brushing the ridge of his head. Her arms dangled weakly now, her thighs trembling as he rubbed her up and down, using her like a living cloth for his arousal.
She whimpered, her voice muffled, too tired to fight. Her breath came in shallow, wet gasps, little bubbles forming at her lips as precum smeared across her cheeks, her chin, her chest. Her mouth hung slightly open, glazed eyes fluttering every time the fat tip of his cock bumped against it.
He didn’t slow down though, too caught up in his lust. Her petite frame, barely six inches of warm, yielding flesh, whipped up and down in a rhythm as brutal as it was unrelenting. Each jarring impact made her tits flatten and smear across the thick shaft, her body grinding messily through the slick sheen of precum that now covered both of them.
Her face struck the swollen tip again and again—each bounce making her head crash against it, leaving her dizzy and disoriented.
She sobbed, helplessly riding the motion.
Then, between strokes, she found enough breath to choke out a plea.
“Please,” she whimpered, voice rasping, “please, Danny… just stop… I can’t—I can’t take anymore…”
Her voice broke at the end, her lips trembling as more of his release smeared across her mouth. Her chest hitched with each breath, small shoulders shaking.
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Something almost like guilt.
But it didn’t last.
He could feel it building again—that overwhelming, addictive pressure. The coil in his gut snapped taut, his cock pulsing with frantic need.
She whimpered in his grip, barely able to lift her head, slick with sweat and seed, her breath coming in weak, wet gasps.
He didn’t hesitate.
Her face pressed flush to the swollen head of his cock, and this time—there was no resistance.
With a grunt, Daniel came.
The first spurt hit her like a punch—thick, boiling-hot cum slamming straight down her throat. She jerked violently, her back arching, tiny fingers clawing at his thumb as she tried to scream. But there was no air. Only heat. Only pressure.
His cock pulsed again. And again.
The second shot blasted past her lips, bloating her belly instantly. Her torso puffed out in his hand, her soft middle swelling grotesquely beneath his grip. The third jet followed with even more force, spewing from her nose and the corners of her stretched mouth, cum gushing down her chin and soaking her tits in glistening white.
She convulsed—limbs twitching, body shaking, face slick and painted with his cum.
Still, he didn’t stop.
He held her there, pinned to the tip, grinding her face against the twitching head as pulse after pulse erupted from him. Her cheeks ballooned with every fresh burst. Her throat bulged, trying to swallow it all, but she couldn’t keep up. It flooded over her, thick streams spilling down her stomach, across her ass, matting her hair.
Her belly stretched tight, rounded and heavy, every inch of her visibly overfilled.
She gagged. Then choked.
A high, gurgled cry slipped from her stuffed mouth—raw and wet and pitiful—just before a fresh spurt forced it back down. Cum burst from her lips, trailing strings that dripped from her chest to the base of his shaft. Her eyes rolled back. Her legs kicked weakly.
Finally, as the last thick pulse dribbled from him, Daniel exhaled—deep and ragged, his body shuddering in release.
He pulled her back.
She was limp in his hand, body slick and glistening with his release. Her stomach was swollen, visibly distended from the load he’d forced down her throat. Her mouth hung open slightly, cum still pooling on her tongue, drooling in thick, slow drips down her chin.
Her eyes fluttered, unfocused.
Daniel just stared.
His cock was softening now, but still flushed, still twitching faintly with the echoes of pleasure. A single string of cum connected them—thick and glistening, stretched between the glossy head of his cock and the entire front of her face. It clung to her skin in a wet, web-like mask, coating her forehead, cheeks, nose, mouth.
It swayed slightly as he moved her, trembling under its own weight before finally snapping, splattering across her chest.
He couldn’t look away.
Without thinking, he brought her trembling body back toward his length, gently dragging her skin along the underside, using her like a cloth to wipe away what was left. Her tiny form slid across the shaft in slow, helpless arcs, smearing his mess across her limbs, her belly, her breasts.
She twitched faintly at the contact, a faint whimper rising in her throat.
It sounded more like a breath than a sound.
And then came the guilt.
It crawled over him the moment the haze lifted—sharp and cold.
“Fuck…” he muttered, voice cracking as he looked down at her. “What did I—?”
He trailed off, throat closing tight.
There was no undoing it. No pretending anymore.
Her chest was heaving, sticky strands of cum webbing between her breasts. Her legs curled in slightly, arms drawn tight around her bloated stomach like she didn’t want him to see what he’d done. But he couldn’t stop looking. He’d made her like this.
He’d used her—his best friend—as nothing more than a fuck toy. A receptacle.
And now she was spent, wrecked, painted in his cum and barely conscious in his hand. The tattered remains of her bikini bottoms hung shredded and tangled around one of her ankles, having been torn from the friction of his cock. It was just a scrap of ruined fabric now.
Daniel moved on instinct, grabbing a handful of wipes from the box on his nightstand. His hands shook as he pressed one to her face, gently brushing it across her cheeks, her eyelids, her slack lips.
“Kayla…” he whispered. “I didn’t mean—fuck, I didn’t mean to go that far.”
She didn’t answer.
Her lips parted slightly as another bit of cum slid from the corner of her mouth.
He wiped down her arms, her thighs, careful not to press too hard against the curve of her bloated belly. Cum clung to every dip and slope of her body. Her skin was warm—too warm—and the guilt swelled tighter in his chest, sharp and suffocating.
“I thought I could stop,” he said softly. “I thought I would. Just once. But then you… the way you looked… I lost it. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
More cum leaked from her mouth as he spoke, a thick glob sliding sliding down her chin.
He set her down on the desk, hands trembling. Her body slumped where he left her, too exhausted to sit up, one arm half-wrapped across her belly. Her head rolled to the side, cum-webbed hair sticking to the surface beneath her. Her lips parted slightly, a thin stream dribbling out onto the wood.
She moaned again, softer.
Daniel swallowed hard.
The silence was unbearable. The sound of the wipes crinkling in his hand, her faint breaths, the wet drip of cum on the hardwood—none of it made sense in the stillness.
So he spoke. Just to hear something else.
“We’re… we’re still friends, right?” he said, voice raw and uneven. “I mean, I didn’t—this doesn’t have to change anything. Not really. We’re still us.”
Her head rolled weakly to the side.
He nodded to himself. Slowly. Like if he believed it hard enough, it would become true.
“We’re still us,” he whispered again.
Her only answer was a quiet, strangled sound as more cum slipped from her lips.
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Re: Tiny Torments
Sometimes your inhibitions just don't exist anymore. Hope she's ok though, this one is def good enough to warrant a sequel!
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Re: Tiny Torments
I'd LOVE to see a full story of “Tiny Torments: Backdoor tiny never sees daylight again!” that you teased in a previous story. I think it could be a wonderfully fleshed out narration!!
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Re: Tiny Torments
Hey everyone! Didn't want to leave you hanging so here's an update. Haven't felt super motivated writing wise and I didn't want to burn myself out, so it might be a while before I release the next chapter. Currently I was working on the step siblings one but didn't get much done outside a bit of the intro. Anyways, thats all, so hopefully what I've got written already can tide you over. Bye!
Last edited by Justhereforamoment1 on Thu Sep 04, 2025 11:53 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Tiny Torments
I just read the story "What are friends for?" and I thought it was pretty dope. Looking forward to checking out the others. 