#giantcouple

The afternoon sun beat down on the driveway of their suburban home in Sheboygan as Dan’s wife, Sarah, stepped out onto the porch with a mischievous grin. “Babe, the SUV is filthy from that mud run last weekend. Think you could handle washing it before I head to my book club?”

Dan, lounging in the garage with a cold beer in hand, felt a familiar spark of excitement. He’d been tinkering with his latest invention—a sleek, handheld size changer he’d prototyped in secret. It looked like a fancy remote, but it could alter heights with pinpoint precision. His three buddies—Mike, Jake, and Tyler—were already over for what they thought was just a casual hangout and car wash. Perfect.

“On it, honey,” Dan called back, winking at Sarah as she blew him a kiss and disappeared inside. He turned to his friends, all average-sized guys in their thirties, lounging around with sponges and buckets. “Change of plans, boys. We’re making this interesting.”

Before they could protest, Dan raised the device. A soft hum filled the air.

First, he pointed it at himself. Energy pulsed through his body, bones lengthening, muscles expanding. He shot upward—six feet, seven, eight. His clothes stretched and tore slightly at the seams as he towered over the garage, now an imposing 8-foot giant with broad shoulders and powerful arms. The world looked smaller, toys in his grasp.

His buddies stared up in shock.

“What the—Dan?!” Mike yelped.

Dan grinned down at them, his voice deeper, more commanding. “Relax. My turn to have some fun. You three are helping with the wash… but smaller.”

He aimed the device again. One by one, the men shrank. Mike dwindled first, dropping from 5’10” to about 4’2”, his clothes sagging comically. Jake followed, shrinking to a compact 4’1”, looking like a surprised action figure. Tyler was last, ending up at 4’3”, staring at his now-massive hands in disbelief.

“Jesus, Dan! This isn’t funny!” Jake squeaked, his voice higher-pitched but still adult.

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” Dan rumbled, his laugh booming. “And hot. Sarah’s SUV won’t wash itself. Get to work, little men.”

The shrunken trio grumbled but couldn’t deny the strange thrill. Dan’s new height made him feel godlike—every movement deliberate and powerful. He grabbed the garden hose with one enormous hand, the spray nozzle looking like a toy. “Start with the soap. I’ll rinse.”

Sarah peeked out the window, her eyes widening at the sight, but instead of alarm, a flush crept up her cheeks. She knew about the device. She’d encouraged Dan’s “experiments.” Now, watching her giant husband direct his tiny buddies, she bit her lip and stayed hidden, enjoying the show.

The buddies climbed up the SUV like it was a small mountain. Mike scrambled onto the hood, his 4-foot frame barely reaching the windshield wipers. He lathered soap with a sponge the size of a pillow to him, his muscles straining as he worked the suds in circles. The soapy water made his shirt cling to his compact, athletic build, outlining every ridge.

Jake attacked the side panels, standing on his tiptoes and stretching, his smaller body brushing against the glossy paint. Tyler took the wheels, wedging himself between the massive tires, scrubbing vigorously. Their shrunken sizes made every task an erotic challenge—the way their bodies pressed and slid against the wet metal, suds dripping down their arms and chests, turning their clothes semi-transparent.

Dan loomed over them all, his 8-foot frame casting a long shadow. He hosed them down playfully, the warm spray soaking them thoroughly. Water cascaded over Mike’s back as he bent over the roof, his ass flexing under soaked shorts. “Harder, Mike. Get in those crevices.”

Mike shot him a glare that quickly turned heated as Dan’s massive hand reached down, casually adjusting one of the tiny men’s positions—his fingers wrapping around Jake’s waist like he weighed nothing, lifting him higher to reach the sunroof. The casual dominance sent a jolt through all of them. Jake’s breath hitched, feeling the heat of Dan’s palm through his wet clothes.

“Fuck, this is weird… but don’t stop,” Jake muttered, his voice husky now.

Tyler, down by the tires, found himself eye-level with the undercarriage, but his gaze kept drifting upward to Dan’s powerful legs—tree-trunk thighs straining his shorts. The giant’s bulge was impossible to ignore at this scale, heavy and prominent, shifting with every step.

Sarah finally stepped outside, pretending nonchalance at first, but her nipples were visibly hard under her thin tank top. “Looking good, boys,” she purred, leaning against the doorframe. “Dan, you’re such a tease.”

Dan chuckled, the sound vibrating through the air. He set the hose aside and scooped up all three tiny men in one armful, their bodies piling against his broad chest like living dolls. They squirmed, wet and soapy, their hands instinctively gripping his massive pecs for balance. The contact was electric—small fingers exploring the hard contours of his body, the contrast in size making everything feel intensely intimate.

“Time for the final rinse,” Dan announced, but his tone had dropped into something darker, more aroused. He carried them to the side of the SUV, pressing their slick bodies against the warm, soapy metal while he hosed them off personally. The water sluiced over them, over him, soaking everyone. Mike’s face ended up pressed against Dan’s abs, feeling the ridges through the wet fabric. Jake’s hands slid lower, brushing the waistband of Dan’s shorts by accident—or not.

Tyler groaned softly as Dan’s free hand cupped his ass, lifting him effortlessly to scrub a stubborn spot on the roof. “You’re enjoying this too much, big guy.”

“Guilty,” Dan growled, his own arousal growing obvious, the massive outline in his shorts tenting prominently. He lowered the trio back to the ground, but kept them close, his giant form surrounding them. The buddies, drenched and breathing hard, looked up at him with a mix of defiance and desire. Their own cocks strained against their shrunken shorts, the size difference amplifying every sensation.

Sarah sauntered over, running her hand up Dan’s thigh—her fingers barely spanning the muscle. “My hero. The car looks… almost done. But I think you boys need a proper cleanup now.”

Dan’s eyes met hers, then flicked down to his tiny friends. “Garage. Now. All of you.”

The group moved inside, the air thick with anticipation. The SUV sat gleaming under the sun, forgotten for the moment. Inside the garage, Dan shrank himself down just enough to fit comfortably—still towering at 7 feet—while keeping his buddies small. He stripped off his soaked shirt, revealing his chiseled, oversized physique. The three little men followed suit, their compact bodies glistening, cocks hard and eager.

What followed was a tangle of sizes and sensations. Dan lay back on a large workbench, pulling Sarah onto his lap first. She rode him slowly, moaning as his enhanced size filled her completely. Meanwhile, the shrunken buddies swarmed him—Mike and Jake licking and stroking wherever they could reach, their small tongues and hands teasing his nipples, his balls, the base of his shaft as Sarah bounced. Tyler climbed higher, kissing Dan’s neck, grinding his own small erection against the giant’s abs.

Hands roamed. Mouths explored. The contrasts—giant cock sliding into wife, tiny bodies worshiping every inch—pushed everyone over the edge. Orgasms ripped through them in waves: Sarah crying out first, clenching around Dan; the buddies spilling onto his skin; Dan roaring as he came deep inside her, his massive body shuddering.

Afterward, they collapsed in a sweaty, satisfied heap. Dan restored everyone to normal sizes with a lazy flick of the device, though the memories lingered.

Sarah kissed him deeply. “Best car wash ever. Next time… maybe the truck?”

Dan grinned, already plotting. “Deal.”

The buddies just laughed, flushed and hooked. “We’re in.”

The wind whipped through my hair as I straddled him, my thighs stretching across entire blocks. The pavement below us cracked and trembled beneath our weight, the city reduced to a toy set sprawled out beneath our bodies.

God, we were huge.

The tallest skyscraper? That one barely reached my waist now. I couldn’t help but giggle when I noticed it. I reached back, running a hand down my wide, round ass, feeling the curve of it dwarf the skyline itself.

I glanced down at him, sprawled out beneath me, his chest like a rising mountain, thick with muscle and pulsing heat.

“Still with me, babe?” I purred, grinding my hips forward slowly, letting my slick folds tease along his length.

He groaned, deep and primal, echoing across the city like thunder.

“I need you,” he growled up at me, his eyes locked on my massive breasts as they bounced with every slow, deliberate thrust of my hips. “God, you’re perfect.”

I smirked, planting my feet hard on either side of his hips—each heel leaving a crater the size of a city block—and began to ride him, harder, deeper. The ground quaked as I dropped down, slamming into him with a force that sent shockwaves through the surrounding buildings.

Grinning, I reached out—arms stretched far in front of me—and planted both palms atop the building’s peak, gripping the reinforced steel like it was a bedpost. The structure groaned beneath my touch, but it held. Just barely.

With my arms locked tight and my back arched low, I pushed backward hard, driving my hips down with savage force.

“Fuuuuck!” I screamed, voice shaking windows for miles.

The angle was perfect—he slammed so deep inside me I saw stars. My ass clapped down against his thighs with a boom that sent plumes of dust rising from the cracked ground below.

I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.

I rode him like I owned the world, the tower beneath my hands bending slightly as I used it for balance, for leverage, to slam my ass back harder and harder with each thrust.

He writhed beneath me, moaning, trembling, grabbing onto my hips again to try to slow me down—but he couldn’t. I was in control. This body, this size, this power—it was mine.

I leaned forward even more, pressing down on the skyscraper, its windows shattering under my fingers as I slammed down with every ounce of my strength.

And then… he broke.

He shouted, loud and helpless, his body tensing underneath me as he erupted, thick and hot and so much. I gasped as I felt the force of it, the sheer pressure of his release slamming into my core like a cannon blast—

SLAP!

The recoil rocked me—my entire ass jiggled violently, each cheek rippling like thunder crashing across the city. I let out a deep, breathless moan, the pleasure overwhelming, making my arms quake as they gripped the groaning tower beneath my palms.

I let my hips grind in slow, heavy circles, milking him as his chest rose and fell, still twitching beneath me.

I looked over my shoulder, hair cascading down my back like a river of silk, and smirked.

“Did I break you?” I teased, giving my hips one last teasing bounce that made my ass quake all over again. I looked over my shoulder at the tiny city skyline trembling behind me, then back down at him—still panting, still hard, eyes glazed with lust.

And him? He was still panting, totally ruined beneath me.

But I wasn’t done yet.

Not even close.

“…Ready for round two?” I whispered, grinning as I rose again, hips cocked.

He nodded, breathless.

And the city?

It was about to disappear beneath us.

CJ had just wrapped up a brutal leg and back session at the downtown gym. His 5’10”, 205-pound frame was soaked in sweat, muscles pumped and trembling from the heavy squats and deadlifts. He headed into the locker room, peeled off his drenched tank top, and was about to step out of his shorts when a sudden wave of dizziness slammed into him.

The world tilted violently. Lockers that had been at eye level suddenly loomed like skyscrapers. The tiled floor rushed upward as his body compressed smaller and smaller. In seconds he was standing barely an inch tall on the cold tile, his clothes now a crumpled mountain of fabric beside him. His heart hammered in his tiny chest.

“What the fuck…?” His voice was a high, reedy squeak.

Before he could process it, the locker room door banged open with a thunderous boom. In walked Mike.

Even at normal size Mike was a monster—6’5”, easily 280 pounds of thick, vascular muscle. But from an inch tall, he was a living colossus. His gray workout shorts clung to massive, tree-trunk thighs. A tight pinkish-red shirt stretched across his enormous chest, damp with sweat and riding up just enough to show a thick, dark happy trail disappearing into his waistband. Veins snaked down his arms. His sneakers alone looked like city buses.

CJ froze in pure terror and unwilling awe as Mike lumbered toward the bench right above him. The man’s presence filled the entire space—heat, musk, raw power radiating off him in waves.

Mike grunted, dropped his gym bag on the bench with a crash that shook the floor, and started stripping. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and peeled it up and over his head in one smooth motion. CJ stared up at the revealed torso in stunned silence. Thick slabs of hairy pecs, deep-cut abs glistening with sweat, and that heavy trail of dark hair leading down to the obvious, heavy bulge in his shorts. Mike’s scent hit CJ like a physical force—deep, masculine, post-workout musk that made his tiny cock twitch despite the fear.

Then Mike hooked his thumbs into his waistband and shoved both shorts and underwear down in one motion. His cock flopped free—thick, heavy, and even soft it looked impossibly long and girthy, hanging over a pair of large, low-hanging balls. The smell intensified. CJ’s knees went weak.

Mike stepped out of his clothes, grabbed a towel, and headed for the showers. His heavy footsteps sent seismic tremors through the floor. The moment he disappeared around the corner, CJ sprinted for the open gym bag. The duffel was the size of a house. He scrambled up the rough fabric, heart pounding, and burrowed deep into the pile of clean clothes inside. He found a pair of gray shorts identical to the ones Mike had just taken off and hid right on top of them, pressing himself flat against the soft cotton.

Minutes later Mike returned, still damp from the shower, towel low on his hips. He let the towel drop, standing gloriously naked as he reached into the bag. Massive fingers the size of telephone poles rummaged through the clothes. CJ barely had time to react before the gray shorts he was hiding on were lifted out.

The world jerked upward violently. CJ scrambled and grabbed onto the thick white drawstring with both hands as Mike shook the shorts out.

“These’ll work,” Mike rumbled, his deep voice vibrating through CJ’s entire body.

Mike stepped into the shorts. CJ clung desperately to the drawstring as the fabric rushed up Mike’s powerful, hairy legs. In seconds the shorts were yanked up and snug around that massive ass and thick package. CJ found himself dangling right in front of the heavy bulge, swinging gently with every movement. The heat coming off Mike’s body was intense. The outline of that huge cock pressed against the thin fabric mere inches from CJ’s tiny face. Every step Mike took made the drawstring sway like a pendulum.

Mike finished dressing—pulling on socks, shoes, and a fresh tank top—then grabbed his bag and headed out. The ride home was a nightmare of motion and sound. CJ dangled the entire way, swinging wildly with every bump, the musky warmth of Mike’s crotch washing over him in waves. By the time they pulled into the driveway, CJ’s arms burned from holding on.

Mike carried the bag inside, then stepped out onto the back patio. It was a nice setup—wicker furniture, string lights, privacy fence. He dropped heavily into one of the wide wicker chairs, the frame creaking under his weight. He leaned back, exhaled, and casually lifted the hem of his tank top to cool off, exposing that same thick, hairy torso CJ had seen in the locker room. The drawstring CJ clung to hung down the front of the gray shorts, right in front of the heavy bulge.

CJ started climbing. Hand over hand, he hauled himself up the rough cord toward the waistband. The string swayed with Mike’s breathing. He was halfway up when the sliding glass door opened.

“Honey, I’m home,” came a bright, feminine voice.

Mike smiled. “Out here, babe.”

Lila stepped onto the patio and CJ’s tiny jaw dropped.

She was a blonde bombshell—5’7”, fit and curvy in all the right places. Long golden ponytail, tight white tank top stretched over perky breasts, black yoga pants hugging a round, toned ass and powerful legs. She had that fresh, post-gym glow and a mischievous glint in her eye.

She spotted her husband relaxing and grinned. “Tough lift?”

“Brutal,” Mike said, patting his thick thigh. “Come here.”

Lila sauntered over and sat right on his lap, her ass pressing down firmly. The sudden weight and pressure pinned CJ hard against the growing bulge in Mike’s shorts. The drawstring went taut. CJ was squished between the warm, firm curve of Lila’s ass and the rapidly hardening cock beneath the fabric. The heat was overwhelming. He could feel every throb as Mike’s dick swelled against him.

Lila leaned in and kissed her husband deeply, moaning softly into his mouth. Her hips rolled in slow, deliberate circles, grinding down. Each movement rubbed CJ along the thick length of Mike’s cock. The tiny man’s own cock was rock-hard and leaking, trapped against the hot, pulsing flesh separated only by thin cotton.

Mike’s hands slid down to cup Lila’s ass, squeezing and spreading her cheeks slightly through the yoga pants. The pressure on CJ increased. He could barely breathe, smothered in heat, musk, and the growing hardness of that monster cock.

Lila broke the kiss, breathing hard. “Someone’s happy to see me,” she teased, reaching between them. Her fingers found the drawstring right where CJ clung to it. She gave a playful tug and started pulling Mike’s shorts down.

The waistband slid lower. CJ lost his grip and tumbled through the air, the drop feeling like hundreds of feet. He hit the patio pavers with a jarring thud and rolled, dazed.

When he looked up, the world had become pure erotic spectacle.

Mike’s massive cock had sprung free—fully erect now, thick as a tree trunk to CJ’s perspective, veiny, the fat head already glistening with pre-cum. It towered above him. Lila had slid off Mike’s lap and was kneeling between his spread legs on the patio. She looked up at her husband with pure lust, blonde hair framing her beautiful face.

“God, you’re so fucking big,” she whispered, wrapping both hands around the thick base. Even with both hands there was still plenty of shaft left. She leaned forward and took the swollen head into her mouth.

CJ watched, transfixed and terrified, as her lips stretched wide around the girth. She bobbed slowly at first, tongue swirling, saliva already dripping down the shaft in thick, glistening strands that splattered onto the ground near CJ. Mike groaned, one big hand resting gently on the back of her head.

“That’s it, baby… fuck, your mouth feels so good.”

Lila took him deeper, gagging softly as the head pushed into her throat. Spit ran down her chin and dripped in heavy ropes. She pulled off for a moment, stroking the slick shaft with both hands while she caught her breath, then dove back down, sucking noisily. The wet, obscene sounds filled the patio—slurping, gagging, Mike’s low groans.

CJ’s tiny cock throbbed painfully. He was staring up at the underside of that huge dick, watching Lila’s throat bulge, watching strings of saliva and pre-cum fall like waterfalls around him.

After several minutes Mike gently pulled her off. “Need to fuck you.”

Lila stood on shaky legs, turned, and bent over the arm of the wicker chair, presenting her ass. She shoved her yoga pants and panties down to her thighs in one motion. Her pussy was smooth, swollen, and visibly dripping. Mike stepped up behind her, rubbing the fat head of his cock up and down her slit, coating himself in her arousal.

Then he pushed in.

From directly beneath them, CJ had a perfect, humiliating view. He watched Lila’s pussy lips stretch wide around the massive head, then slowly swallow inch after thick inch of Mike’s cock. She cried out in pleasure, pushing back to take more. Mike gripped her hips and started thrusting—long, powerful strokes that made her ass ripple and the chair creak.

Wet slapping sounds echoed across the patio. Lila’s moans grew louder and needier. “Yes—fuck, Mike—deeper—oh my god you’re so deep—”

Her juices dripped down in shiny strands, some of them landing near CJ like warm rain. Mike’s heavy balls swung back and forth with every thrust, sometimes coming within inches of the tiny man on the ground.

CJ stood frozen between Mike’s planted feet, staring straight up into the place where that huge cock was disappearing into Lila’s stretched pussy over and over. He could see the way her inner walls gripped the shaft, the creamy ring forming at the base, the way her clit throbbed above it all.

Mike’s pace grew harder, faster. His abs flexed, sweat dripping from his body. Lila was moaning nonstop now, pushing back to meet every thrust.

Finally Mike slammed deep and roared. His cock visibly pulsed. Lila cried out as he flooded her, pumping rope after thick rope of cum straight into her womb.

When he slowly pulled out, a torrent of thick white cum mixed with her creamy juices poured out of her stretched pussy. It gushed down her thighs in heavy rivulets—directly onto the ground where CJ stood.

The first thick glob hit him like a warm, sticky avalanche, covering his entire body from head to toe. More followed in heavy waves, plastering him flat to the pavers. He was completely submerged in their mixed essence—hot, thick, pungent, and overwhelming. It filled his mouth, coated his tiny cock, matted his hair, and glued him to the ground. He could only twitch helplessly beneath the flood.

Vision blurry, ears ringing, CJ watched as Lila stood on trembling legs and pulled her pants back up. Mike tucked his still-thick, cum-smeared cock back into his gray shorts and tugged them into place. They shared a slow, deep kiss.

“Love you,” Lila murmured against his lips.

“Love you too,” Mike rumbled. “Let’s go inside.”

They gathered their things and headed for the sliding door. It closed behind them with a final, echoing thud that left the patio in sudden silence.

CJ lay there alone, utterly spent, covered head to toe in their cooling cum, stuck fast to the patio floor. Every tiny breath came through a film of their juices. His own tiny cock was still rock-hard beneath the sticky layer, twitching with helpless arousal.

Above him the wicker chair stood empty. The string lights glowed softly. Somewhere inside the house, Mike and Lila were probably already heading to the bedroom for round two.

James had everything a guy could want in his third year of college. At 6’2” and carved from years of lifting with the Delta Sigma brothers, he was the picture of frat-boy perfection—broad shoulders, thick arms, a tight waist, and that easy, cocky smile that made girls melt. His girlfriend Bri was equally stunning: 5’8” of toned curves, long chestnut hair, full breasts that strained against her black tanks, and an ass that looked obscene in her gray cotton shorts. And then there was Brian—his best friend, roommate, and fellow Delta Sigma brother. At 6’0”, Brian was only a couple inches shorter but carried himself like he owned every room. They’d shared everything since freshman year: classes, parties, even the occasional drunken confession.

Until the shrinking virus hit.

It started with fatigue, then the measurements on the wall started dropping. By the time the doctors confirmed it, James was already shrinking fast. They kept him in the hospital for weeks, monitoring as he dwindled from 6’2” down to a permanent 2’0”. His muscles stayed perfectly proportioned, just scaled down. When they finally released him into Bri’s care, she showed up at the hospital looking like a goddess compared to him.

She knelt down so her face was level with his. “I’m not leaving you, James. You’re still my boyfriend. Still hot as hell to me. We’ll figure this out.” She scooped him up like he weighed nothing and pressed him to her chest. Her heartbeat was huge and steady against his tiny body.

Back at the apartment they all shared, reality crashed in hard.

James’s old life was gone. He couldn’t reach the counters, couldn’t open doors without help, couldn’t even fuck his girlfriend the way he used to. Bri set up a little platform bed for him on the nightstand and tried to act normal, but everything had changed.

Brian tried to be supportive at first—helping James down from high places, carrying him to the couch so he could watch TV with them. But the power trip was obvious and immediate.

One afternoon Brian stood over James in the living room, flexing one massive bicep. “Remember when you used to spot me on bench? Now look at you.” He held his arm out so James could compare. James’s entire torso was smaller than Brian’s bicep. “Flex for me, little man.”

James did it, cheeks burning. His tiny arm looked ridiculous next to Brian’s.

Bri watched from the kitchen doorway, biting her lip. She didn’t stop it. If anything, her eyes darkened.

It got worse when they drank.

A few weeks after James came home, the three of them were on the couch, halfway through a bottle of whiskey. Brian’s arm was slung around Bri’s shoulders like it belonged there. James sat on the coffee table between them, small enough that his feet didn’t touch the floor.

Brian grinned, eyes glassy. “You know what’s fucked up? I used to look up to you, bro. Now I can pick you up with one hand.” He reached down and wrapped his fingers around James’s waist, lifting him effortlessly into the air. “And look at these muscles. Still trying so hard.” He set James down right in front of his crotch. “Remember that time we compared dicks after that party freshman year? Let’s do it again. For old times’ sake.”

James’s face went hot. “Dude, come on—”

But Bri was already leaning forward, curious and flushed. “Yeah… show us, James.”

Humiliated, James pulled his tiny shorts down. His cock—still perfectly formed, just scaled—was maybe two inches hard. Brian unzipped and pulled his own out. Even soft it was thicker than James’s entire arm. When it started to swell, it looked monstrous in comparison.

“Fuck,” Bri whispered, eyes locked on Brian’s cock. “That’s… Jesus.”

Brian laughed and gave his dick a lazy stroke. “Told you. Real man dick.” He looked down at James. “Yours is cute though. Like a little toy.”

James wanted to disappear. His own tiny cock was rock hard and leaking against his will.

After that night the flirting between Bri and Brian stopped being subtle. Brian would “accidentally” grab Bri’s ass when he walked past. Bri would press back into him, giggling. James would yell from the floor or the table, but they just picked him up and kissed his forehead like he was a pet.

“You’re still cute,” Bri would say, but her eyes were on Brian.

One Friday night they were all drunk again—James on his third tiny shot, the other two on the big bottle. Brian had Bri pulled against his side on the couch, one big hand resting high on her thigh.

“Listen,” Brian said, voice low and rough. “I’ve been thinking. James can’t really… do what he used to. But we’re all here. We all care about each other.” He looked at James. “What if we just… share? Threesome. I fuck Bri, you get to be part of it. You can suck her tits or whatever you can reach. Everybody wins.”

Bri turned to James, cheeks flushed, pupils blown. “I want to. God, I really want to. But only if you’re okay with it, baby.”

James’s stomach dropped. He looked between them—his tiny body, their towering ones, the way Brian’s fingers were already creeping higher on Bri’s thigh. If he said no, they were going to fuck anyway. He could see it in their eyes. And if they started fucking without him, he might lose Bri completely.

He swallowed hard. “Fine. Okay. Just… don’t leave me out.”

Brian’s grin was slow and predatory. “Good boy.”

They moved to the bedroom.

Bri stripped slowly, letting James watch from the bed. Her breasts were massive from his new perspective—full, heavy, nipples already tight. She climbed onto the mattress and lay back, spreading her legs. Brian stripped too, his cock already hard and curving up toward his abs.

James felt like a doll as Brian picked him up and set him on Bri’s chest, right between her tits.

“Start there, little man,” Brian ordered. “Suck those pretty nipples while I take care of her pussy.”

James’s hands sank into the soft, warm flesh of Bri’s left breast. He had to use both arms to even lift it. Her nipple was thick and puffy, bigger than his mouth. He latched on and sucked hard, tongue swirling. Bri moaned above him, the sound vibrating through her whole body.

Then Brian climbed between her thighs. James felt the mattress dip under his weight. He heard the wet sound of Brian rubbing his cock along Bri’s slit, teasing her. Then the thick, stretching sound of Brian pushing inside.

“Oh my God,” Bri gasped, back arching. Her tit jostled in James’s arms. “Fuck, Brian—so fucking big—”

James kept sucking, desperate and humiliated, as Brian started thrusting. Every powerful stroke made Bri’s whole body shake. James had to cling to her breast like it was a life raft while Brian fucked her deep and steady. The wet slap of skin on skin was loud. Bri’s moans turned into cries.

Brian looked down at the tiny man desperately nursing at his girlfriend’s tit. “That’s it, James. Be a good little cuck. Suck her tits while I ruin this pussy. You feel how hard she’s shaking? That’s me. Not you.”

James’s tiny cock was throbbing painfully against Bri’s soft stomach. He couldn’t help it—he started grinding against her skin, small and frantic.

Bri came first, thighs clamping around Brian’s hips, crying out his name. Brian followed soon after, burying himself to the hilt and groaning as he pumped her full. James felt every pulse of it through her body.

When Brian finally pulled out, a thick trickle of cum leaked from Bri’s swollen pussy. He scooped James up and held him right above it.

“Clean her up, tiny. Use that little tongue.”

James hesitated only a second before leaning in and licking. The taste of Brian’s cum mixed with Bri’s arousal was overwhelming. Bri moaned softly as his tiny tongue worked over her sensitive folds.

That was the first night.

It happened again a few days later. And again.

Then came the night James woke up alone.

He’d fallen asleep on his little platform on the nightstand after another exhausting “threesome” where he’d mostly been used as a living sex toy—licking Bri’s clit while Brian fucked her, then being made to suck Brian’s cock clean afterward. He woke to the sound of skin slapping and low, filthy moans.

Across the room, on the big bed, Bri was riding Brian in reverse cowgirl. Her back was arched, hair wild, ass bouncing as she took every inch of Brian’s thick cock. Brian’s big hands gripped her hips, guiding her up and down. The wet sounds were obscene.

James sat up, heart pounding. “Bri? What the fuck—”

Neither of them stopped. Bri just looked over her shoulder at him, eyes glassy with pleasure.

“Couldn’t wait, baby,” she panted. “You were sleeping so cute… and Brian was hard again…”

Brian smirked, not even slowing down. “Come join if you want, little man. Or just watch. Your choice.”

James tried to climb down from the nightstand. It took forever. By the time he made it to the floor and started the long walk across the room, Bri was already cumming again, shaking and moaning Brian’s name while Brian held her down and fucked up into her.

James stood at the edge of the bed, tiny fists clenched, yelling until his voice cracked. They ignored him until Brian finally came inside her with a deep groan. Only then did Bri look down at him, flushed and satisfied.

“James…” she started.

The next morning they sat him on the coffee table like they were having a serious talk.

Brian leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “We like how this is going. All three of us together. You can stay in the throuple with us… or you can be alone. Your call.”

Bri’s voice was softer but no less firm. “I still love you, James. But I need this. I need him. And I want you with us. But it has to be all the way.”

James looked between them—his girlfriend, who used to look up at him, now towering over him like a goddess, and his best friend, who had taken everything. He thought about trying to survive alone at two feet tall. About never touching Bri again. About watching them from the outside forever.

“…Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll share. I want to stay with you.”

Brian’s smile was slow and satisfied. “Good. But sharing means you take care of both of us now. Start with me.”

James’s stomach dropped. “What?”

Bri reached down and stroked his tiny back with one finger. “It’s part of being with us, baby. You suck Brian’s cock when he wants it. You worship both of us. You’re our little toy now.”

James wanted to argue. Wanted to say he wasn’t gay, that this was too far. But the alternative was losing everything. And deep down, in the part of him that got hard every time they humiliated him, he was already getting aroused.

Brian stood up and pushed his shorts down. His cock swung heavy and half-hard, inches from James’s face. Even soft it looked enormous.

“On your knees, little man. Or what passes for knees at your size.”

James’s face burned as he stepped forward. He had to use both hands to lift Brian’s cock. It was hot and heavy, the head bigger than his own face. He leaned in and licked the underside, tasting salt and skin. Brian groaned above him.

“That’s it. Use your whole body if you have to.”

James wrapped both arms around the thick shaft and stroked while he sucked the head into his mouth. He could barely get the tip past his lips. Brian’s cock twitched and started to harden fully, growing even bigger in his arms. James had to stretch his jaw wide, drooling around the thick head while his tiny hands worked the shaft.

Bri sat on the couch watching, one hand down her shorts, biting her lip. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Look at him trying so hard.”

Brian’s big hand came down and gently held the back of James’s head, guiding him. “Deeper, toy. Show me how much you want to stay.”

James gagged softly but kept going, licking and sucking, using his whole upper body to stroke what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. When Brian finally came, it was with a low growl. Thick ropes of cum splattered across James’s chest and face, some of it shooting into his open mouth. He swallowed what he could, the rest dripping down his tiny body.

Bri moaned and came on her own fingers watching.

After that, James’s new role was clear.

He became their live-in sex toy.

Some nights Brian would sit on the edge of the bed with his legs spread and make James service him for twenty minutes straight—licking up the shaft, sucking the head, pressing his tiny face into Brian’s heavy balls while Bri watched and touched herself. Other nights Bri would ride Brian while James was placed between them, forced to lick wherever they told him—her clit, Brian’s balls, the base of his cock as it stretched her open.

They started using him in other ways too.

Brian would hold James against Bri’s pussy and make him lick her while she sat on his face (carefully, so he could breathe). Or they’d have James lie on his back on the bed while Bri lowered her huge, soft ass onto him, smothering him in warm flesh while she sucked Brian’s cock above him. Sometimes Brian would fuck Bri from behind while James was trapped underneath, licking whatever he could reach—her clit, Brian’s shaft as it slid in and out, even lapping at Brian’s balls when they swung near his face.

The comparisons never stopped.

Brian loved making James stand next to his leg and flex. Or making him compare his tiny cock to Brian’s finger. Or to Bri’s clit when she was spread open and dripping.

“Look how small you are now,” Brian would say, voice thick with arousal. “Can’t even reach her pussy without help. Can’t fuck her. All you can do is lick and suck like a good little toy.”

And James would get hard every time. His tiny cock would throb and leak while he serviced them, while he watched Brian claim his girlfriend over and over, while he swallowed Brian’s cum or cleaned Bri’s pussy after she’d been thoroughly fucked.

One night, after Brian had filled Bri and James had dutifully cleaned her up with his tongue, Bri picked him up and held him against her chest. She kissed the top of his head.

“You’re still mine,” she whispered. “Just… different now. Ours.”

James pressed his face into her soft breast, tiny body trembling with exhaustion and leftover arousal. Brian’s big hand came down and rested possessively on his back.

“Yeah,” Brian said quietly. “Ours.”

James closed his eyes.

He had agreed to share Bri.

He just hadn’t realized he’d be sharing everything—including himself.

The afternoon sun baked the secluded pool deck, turning the turquoise water into a glittering mirror. Sarah lounged on the thick black-and-white striped towel, one arm propped under her, the other lazily holding her phone. Her blonde hair was twisted into a messy high bun, loose strands clinging to the light sheen of sweat on her neck. Dark sunglasses hid her eyes, but her full lips were pursed in quiet frustration. The colorful floral bikini hugged her body perfectly—vibrant pinks, reds, and greens against tanned skin, the halter top barely containing the heavy swell of her breasts.

At the edge of the towel, barely two inches tall, stood her older brother Adam.

Three weeks ago he had been 5’10”, cocky, athletic, the kind of guy who filled a doorway. Now he was a fragile little thing she had to carry everywhere, feed from bottle caps, and constantly rescue from ants, breezes, or his own stubborn pride. Their parents were still away on their long trip. Sarah, home from college for the summer, had become his full-time caretaker.

At first she had tried to be patient. She really had. But today the reality of it was wearing on her.

“Sarah,” his tiny voice piped up from the towel. “It’s too bright here. Can you move me into the shade again?”

She exhaled through her nose, not bothering to hide the irritation this time. She reached down, her fingers easily pinching his torso. The sensation of that warm, living little body between her fingertips still felt surreal. She relocated him six inches to the left, into the shadow of her thigh.

“Better?”

“For now,” he called up.

She tried to go back to her phone. Thirty seconds later:

“Sarah, I’m thirsty.”

She closed her eyes behind the sunglasses. “You just drank twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m small now. I get dehydrated faster.”

With a heavy sigh she stood, walked barefoot across the hot concrete to the kitchen, filled a tiny bottle-cap “cup,” and brought it back. She had to kneel, hold it steady while he drank, then wait while he finished. By the time she sat back down, her relaxation was completely gone.

Then came the complaints about a bug crawling too close, the towel being “lumpy,” the sun reflecting off the pool hurting his eyes. Each time she had to stop, focus, intervene.

She was annoyed. Genuinely, deeply annoyed.

She loved her brother. But this constant, tiny, high-maintenance version of him was turning her into a full-time babysitter with zero breaks. She couldn’t even enjoy one afternoon by the pool without him needing something every few minutes.

Sarah sat up, pulled off her sunglasses, and looked down at him. From Adam’s perspective she was colossal—long legs, toned stomach, breasts that blocked out the sky when she leaned over. Her voice, when she spoke, vibrated through the air around him.

“Adam, this isn’t working anymore.”

He looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with one tiny hand. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re becoming a chore. A constant, exhausting chore. I can’t relax for five seconds without you needing something. I can’t even take a nap without worrying you’ll get stepped on or blown into the pool filter.”

She picked him up again, bringing him close to her face. Her lips were glossy, parted slightly as she studied him. The faint scent of coconut sunscreen and her natural warmth washed over him.

“I’ve been trying to be nice about it,” she continued, “but maybe I need to stop treating you like a person who gets to wander around and start treating you like what you actually are right now—a two-inch responsibility I have to manage every second of the day.”

Adam’s stomach dropped. “Sarah…”

She tilted her head, considering. A slow, thoughtful smirk curved her mouth.

“Maybe I should just keep you on me. All the time. That way I always know where you are and I don’t have to play lifeguard every five minutes.”

She glanced down at her own body, then back at him.

“I could tuck you into my bra. Right between my tits. Warm, safe, contained. Or…” Her voice dropped a little lower, teasing. “Maybe in my panties. That way you’re even closer. I’d feel every little movement you make.”

Adam’s face flushed hot. “You can’t be serious.”

“Or I could hang you from my necklace,” she went on, ignoring his protest, lifting the thin gold chain that already rested in her cleavage. “Dangling right here between my breasts while I swim and sunbathe. Easy access. Pretty view for you. No more chores for me.”

She let the idea hang in the air for a moment, watching him squirm between her fingers.

Then she made her decision.

“Necklace it is. For now. While we’re out here.”

Sarah stood, walked to the edge of the pool, and sat on the wide concrete ledge with her feet in the water. She unclasped her necklace, letting the thin gold chain dangle. Carefully, she brought Adam to her chest.

The world tilted wildly for him as she lowered him between her breasts. The air was instantly warmer, thicker with the scent of sunscreen, faint sweat, and something sweeter—her. The soft, heavy flesh on either side of him was smooth and warm from the sun. She pressed the sides of her breasts together with two fingers, nestling him deeper into the warm valley until only his head and shoulders peeked out. Then she let the gold chain fall naturally across the top of his tiny body, the pendant resting just above him like a golden bar keeping him in place.

“There,” she murmured, satisfied. “Now you’re not going anywhere.”

Adam was surrounded. The gentle rise and fall of her breathing moved the flesh against him in a slow, constant rhythm. Every time she shifted her shoulders the walls of soft skin pressed and released. The gold chain was warm from her body heat, lying across his chest like a restraint. He could feel the faint thump of her heartbeat through the skin beneath him.

Sarah leaned back on her hands, letting the sun hit her face, and let out a long, relieved sigh.

“God, this is already better. I can actually relax now.”

She glanced down. From his position he could see the underside of her chin, the curve of her throat, the way her sunglasses caught the light. She looked like a goddess from this angle—massive, beautiful, and completely in control.

“You know,” she said after a minute, voice casual but with an edge, “you’re actually kind of cute like this. My big brother, reduced to a little toy nestled between his little sister’s tits.”

Adam tried to push against the soft flesh on either side of him. The movement made her breasts jiggle slightly around him.

Sarah felt it. Her smirk widened.

“Careful. Keep squirming like that and I might decide the necklace isn’t enough. I might slide you lower… right into my bikini bottoms. Let you spend the rest of the afternoon pressed against something a lot more sensitive.”

She shifted her hips, just enough to make her breasts move around him again. The chain clinked softly.

“Actually,” she mused, almost to herself, “maybe that’s not a bad idea for later. When we go inside. For now, though…” She reached up and gave her breasts a slow, deliberate squeeze, trapping him tighter for a few seconds. “This works. You stay right there. Be good, and maybe I won’t get annoyed enough to punish you.”

Adam lay still, heart pounding, tiny cock already hardening against the warm, living skin beneath him. The scent of her, the heat, the gentle but constant pressure—it was overwhelming. Humiliating. And impossibly arousing.

Sarah closed her eyes behind her sunglasses, a small, satisfied smile on her lips as she soaked in the sun.

For the first time all afternoon, she wasn’t annoyed.

She was in control.

And she was already wondering how long she could keep her tiny big brother exactly where he was—tucked safely, helplessly, intimately against her body—before she decided to move him somewhere even more demanding.

Somewhere darker. Wetter. Closer.

Her smile deepened.

Later that afternoon, the sun had shifted and the pool water had lost some of its sparkle. Sarah stretched, feeling the tiny weight of Adam still nestled securely between her breasts, the thin gold chain lying warm across his miniature body. Every breath she took, every small shift of her shoulders, made the soft flesh press and release around him. She could feel the faint, rhythmic press of his tiny hands against her skin as he tried to steady himself.

She smiled to herself behind the sunglasses.

This was already so much better than the constant babysitting.

She stood slowly, deliberately, letting her breasts sway with the motion. Adam’s world tilted and rolled as the warm, living walls squeezed him gently from both sides. The chain shifted, pinning him a little tighter for a moment.

“Time to go inside,” she said, voice low and casual, as if talking to herself. “I need a shower. And you’re coming with me.”

She walked across the deck and into the cool, quiet house, her bare feet padding on the hardwood. With every step the gentle bounce of her breasts rubbed Adam’s tiny form against her skin. He could smell the faint coconut sunscreen, the salt of dried sweat, and underneath it all the warm, personal scent of her body. The chain across his chest felt like both a restraint and a reminder: he wasn’t going anywhere unless she decided he could.

In the bathroom she closed the door behind her and turned on the shower. Steam began to rise. She stood in front of the mirror for a moment, looking at herself in the colorful bikini, the gold chain disappearing into her deep cleavage where her tiny older brother was hidden.

She reached up and carefully unclasped the necklace. Her fingers fished gently into the warm valley between her breasts and lifted him out. Adam blinked up at her, soaked in her sweat and the residual water from the pool, his tiny body glistening. Even at two inches he looked flushed, his little cock half-hard against his stomach from the constant intimate contact.

Sarah held him in her palm, studying him with a mix of lingering annoyance and growing satisfaction.

“You were getting to be such a pain out there,” she murmured, thumb brushing lightly over his chest. “Always needing something. Always making me stop what I was doing. But like this…” She closed her fingers loosely around him, just enough to feel his warmth. “You’re not a chore anymore. You’re right where I can keep an eye on you. Where I can feel you.”

She stepped into the shower.

The water hit her first — hot, strong, cascading over her shoulders and breasts. She kept Adam in her cupped hand, shielding him from the direct blast at first, then slowly tilting her palm so a controlled stream rinsed over him. To him it felt like standing under a warm waterfall. The force of it pushed at his tiny body; he had to cling to her fingers to keep from being swept away. Soap suds slid past him in great foamy rivers.

Sarah watched him with dark, amused eyes as she lathered her own body. She ran soapy hands over her breasts, down her stomach, between her legs, all while holding him in one palm. The steam thickened around them. Her skin glistened, droplets racing down the curves he knew so well from his new, humiliating vantage point.

“Open your mouth,” she said suddenly, voice echoing slightly in the tiled space.

Adam obeyed. She let a single droplet of water mixed with a trace of her body wash fall from her fingertip onto his tongue. It tasted like her — clean, faintly sweet, unmistakably feminine.

“Good boy,” she praised, the words sending a shiver through him despite the heat. “See? This is easier for both of us. No more running around after you. No more complaints about bugs or shade or being thirsty. You just stay with me.”

She rinsed them both thoroughly, then turned the water off. The sudden silence was broken only by the drip of water and their breathing. She stepped out, wrapped a thick towel around herself, and carried him with her into her bedroom.

The room was dim and cool, blinds drawn against the afternoon light. Her bed was unmade from that morning — soft sheets, a few pillows, the faint scent of her lotion and sleep still lingering. Sarah dropped the towel. Naked, skin still warm and slightly damp from the shower, she climbed onto the bed and lay back against the pillows.

For a long moment she just relaxed, one hand resting lightly on her stomach, the other still loosely holding Adam. She could feel the tiny thump of his heartbeat against her palm. Her body was relaxed in a way it hadn’t been all day — no constant vigilance, no irritation at interruptions. Just quiet, heavy satisfaction.

She looked down at him.

“I think the necklace was good for the pool,” she said thoughtfully. “But now that we’re inside… maybe it’s time for something even better.”

She reached for the clean pair of panties she’d left on the bed earlier — simple, soft black cotton with a little lace trim. She slipped them on, then lifted the front waistband with two fingers, creating a warm, dark space between the fabric and her freshly showered skin.

“Come here.”

She lowered him carefully inside.

The world went instantly warmer, softer, more intimate. Adam found himself pressed gently against the smooth, warm skin of her lower belly, just above the neat patch of trimmed hair. The cotton fabric settled over him like a gentle, enclosing tent, holding him in place against her. The scent here was stronger — clean from the shower but already beginning to carry the faint, natural musk of her body as it warmed. Her skin was still slightly damp in places, and the heat of her radiated through him.

Sarah let the waistband snap gently back into place, trapping him inside her panties.

She sighed, long and content, and let her hand rest over the fabric, right over where he was. The pressure was light but unmistakable — her palm pressing him more firmly against the soft mound of her pussy.

“There,” she murmured, eyes half-lidded as she stared at the ceiling. “Now you’re not going anywhere. And I don’t have to think about you every five seconds. You’re exactly where you belong — tucked away, safe, and useful.”

She shifted her hips slightly, settling deeper into the mattress. The movement rubbed Adam against her in a slow, deliberate way. He could feel the subtle give of her outer lips through the thin cotton, the warmth, the faint pulse of her heartbeat. His own tiny cock was rock-hard now, pressed against her skin.

Sarah felt it. A small, wicked smile curved her lips.

“Oh? Is my little big brother getting excited down there?” She pressed her fingers more firmly over the fabric, mashing him gently against her. “After all that complaining about being a chore… now you’re hard against your little sister’s pussy. That’s cute.”

She relaxed her hand but didn’t remove it, just let it rest there possessively. With her other hand she picked up her phone from the nightstand and started scrolling lazily, as if this were the most normal thing in the world — lying in bed after a shower, tiny brother trapped in her panties, her body slowly warming around him.

But she wasn’t just relaxing.

Every so often she would give a little roll of her hips, or press her fingers down again, grinding him slowly against the sensitive skin beneath the cotton. She could feel the tiny outline of him, the faint squirm when she moved just right. It sent little sparks of pleasure through her — not overwhelming, but steady, warm, and deeply satisfying.

Inside the panties, Adam was surrounded by her. The air grew thicker, warmer, tinged with the growing scent of her arousal as her body responded to the constant, intimate pressure. The cotton above him was soft but unyielding. Below him, her skin was smooth and alive, shifting with every breath she took. When she moved her hips he was rubbed along the length of her slit, the fabric sometimes catching and dragging across his tiny erection in a way that made his head spin.

He could hear her voice above him, muffled but clear.

“You know what the best part is?” she said conversationally, still scrolling. “I don’t have to feed you separately. I don’t have to make sure you don’t wander off or get hurt. I just… keep you here. And every time I feel you move, or get hard, or try to kiss me through the fabric…” She gave another slow, deliberate roll of her hips, pressing him firmly against her clit for a heartbeat. “…I remember that you’re mine to take care of. My responsibility. My toy.”

She set the phone down and slid her hand inside the waistband, fingers finding him easily in the warm space. She didn’t pull him out. Instead she used one fingertip to press him more directly against the soft, now-slick folds of her pussy, right where her clit was beginning to swell.

“Kiss,” she ordered softly. “Use that tiny mouth. Show me you’re grateful I’m not annoyed with you anymore.”

Adam obeyed, pressing his face and hands against the warm, increasingly wet skin. He kissed, licked, nuzzled as best he could in the confined, humid space. The taste of her — clean from the shower but growing richer, saltier, more intimate — flooded his senses. Her outer lips parted slightly around him as she relaxed her thighs, letting him sink a little deeper into the warm, yielding flesh.

Sarah let out a slow, pleased breath, eyes closing.

“That’s it… good. Just like that. You’re so much better like this than when you were running me ragged out by the pool.”

She kept him there for a long time — not rushing, not forcing an orgasm, just enjoying the steady, low thrum of arousal that came from having her tiny brother pressed exactly where she wanted him. Every few minutes she would give a lazy grind of her hips, or press her fingers down to rub him in slow circles against her clit, using his entire body like a living toy. The wetter she got, the more he slipped and slid against her, coated in her growing slickness.

At one point she pulled the waistband out just enough to look down at him, flushed and glistening between her legs.

“You’re not a chore anymore, Adam,” she said, voice husky. “You’re my favorite little secret. And from now on… this is how I take care of you. Close. Contained. Right against me.”

She let the fabric snap back into place, sealing him in again.

Then she rolled onto her side, one thigh drawn up, and simply relaxed — breathing slow and deep, the tiny, warm, squirming weight of her brother trapped intimately against her pussy while she drifted in that perfect, lazy, post-shower haze.

For the first time all day, Sarah wasn’t annoyed.

She was content.

And she was already thinking about how she might keep him there through dinner… or maybe move him even deeper once the house was quiet and dark.

Her fingers rested lightly over the fabric again, possessive and satisfied.

This was so much better than babysitting.

Sarah stood in front of her full-length mirror, freshly showered and lotioned, the scent of vanilla and jasmine still clinging to her skin. She was wearing a simple black lace bra and matching thong, the kind that made her feel sexy and powerful. Her blonde hair was styled in loose waves, makeup subtle but sultry — smoky eyes, glossy lips. Tonight was her third date with Chad, and she wanted to look irresistible.

On the bed behind her, tiny Adam sat on a folded washcloth, watching her get ready. At two inches tall he was still getting used to the new normal of being his little sister’s secret accessory, but tonight she had made it very clear he was coming along.

“Bra or panties?” she had asked him earlier with that little smirk that made his stomach flip.

He had chosen the bra. It felt safer than being trapped against her pussy all night while she was out with another guy.

Sarah turned, picked him up gently between two fingers, and brought him to her chest. She pulled the left cup of her bra away from her breast and carefully tucked him inside, nestling him into the warm, soft valley right against the underside of her full, heavy tit. The lace pressed against his back. Her skin was warm from the shower, still slightly damp in the crease. She let the cup settle, then gave her breast a little squeeze from the outside, trapping him more firmly.

“There,” she murmured, voice low so only he could hear. “Stay hidden. Be good. And enjoy the ride.”

She slipped into a tight, low-cut red dress that hugged her curves and showed just enough cleavage to tease. The fabric pressed Adam even tighter against her breast. Every movement she made — bending to grab her heels, walking to the door, the sway of her hips — sent little ripples of pressure and warmth through the confined space. He could hear her heartbeat, strong and steady, and smell the faint mix of her perfume and natural scent.

Chad picked her up right on time. Tall, broad-shouldered, cocky grin, muscles clearly defined under his fitted button-down. He looked her up and down with obvious appreciation.

“Damn, Sarah. You look incredible.”

She smiled, that secret little thrill running through her knowing Adam was pressed right against her tit while Chad complimented her. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Dinner was at a nice steakhouse. Candlelight, good wine, Chad being his usual charming, slightly arrogant self — talking about his latest PR at the gym, the game last weekend, how he could bench more than most guys on the team. Sarah listened, laughed at the right moments, crossed her legs under the table. Every time she leaned forward to take a sip of wine or reach for bread, her breasts shifted and Adam felt the soft flesh mold around him, the lace rubbing against his tiny body. He was hyper-aware of every breath she took, every laugh that made her chest bounce.

Halfway through the meal she subtly pressed her arm against the side of her breast, squishing him a little harder. A silent reminder. He was there. Her secret. Her toy.

By the time they got back to her place it was late. They kicked off their shoes, opened another bottle of wine, and put on a movie — some action flick neither of them was really watching. The lights were low. They started on the couch, talking, flirting. Chad’s hand found her thigh, then her waist, then higher.

Sarah let him pull her closer. His mouth found hers, hot and confident. The kiss deepened quickly. Chad was a good kisser — aggressive in a way she liked. His hand slid up her side and cupped her breast through the dress, squeezing firmly. Adam felt the pressure increase suddenly, Chad’s palm mashing the soft flesh around him. He squirmed instinctively.

Sarah broke the kiss with a soft gasp, but not from Chad’s touch alone.

Chad grinned against her lips. “Sensitive tonight?”

“You could say that,” she breathed.

His hand kept roaming, squeezing, thumb brushing over her nipple through the fabric. Every movement ground Adam tighter against her skin. The tiny man was getting jostled, pressed, rolled between her breast and Chad’s groping hand. It was overwhelming — the heat, the pressure, the muffled sounds of their kissing above him.

Then Chad’s hand slid lower, under the hem of her dress, fingers tracing the edge of her thong. Sarah shifted, arching slightly, and Adam felt the world tilt. The bra cup loosened just enough in the movement for him to slip. He tumbled downward, sliding along the warm curve of her breast, over the soft skin of her stomach, and into the waistband of her thong. The elastic caught him, trapping him right against the smooth, warm skin just above her pussy.

Chad’s fingers were right there, brushing the front of her panties, unknowingly inches from where Adam now lay pinned.

Sarah’s breath hitched. She could feel Adam’s tiny body against her mound, warm and squirming slightly. The sensation sent a jolt straight through her.

Chad kissed down her neck, sucking lightly at her pulse point. His hand slipped fully into her panties now, fingers gliding over her smooth skin — and over the tiny, trapped form of her brother.

Sarah bit her lip hard to keep from moaning for two completely different reasons.

She reached down between them, pretending to guide Chad’s hand, but her real goal was lower. Her fingers found Adam easily in the tight space. She didn’t pull him out. Instead, while Chad was busy kissing her and rubbing slow circles over her clit, she used two fingers to push Adam lower… deeper… until the tiny man slipped between her already-slick folds and into the hot, wet entrance of her pussy.

Adam’s world went from warm lace and skin to sudden, slick, muscular heat. Sarah’s inner walls gripped him immediately, rippling around his tiny body as she clenched involuntarily. He was inside her — actually inside his little sister — while Chad’s fingers were still working her from the outside.

Sarah let out a shaky breath that Chad took as pure arousal.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he growled against her throat.

She didn’t answer with words. She just pulled him down on top of her on the couch, legs spreading. Chad shoved his jeans down just enough, freed his thick, hard cock, and pushed her thong aside. He didn’t notice the tiny resistance as the head of his cock pressed against her entrance — didn’t feel the way Adam was already there, a living, squirming presence deep inside her.

Chad thrust in.

The sudden, massive intrusion drove Adam deeper, the thick shaft pushing against him through the thin barrier of Sarah’s inner walls. Adam was pinned between Chad’s cock and Sarah’s cervix, the rhythmic pounding immediately starting as Chad began to fuck her in earnest. Every thrust shoved Adam’s tiny body along the slick, clenching tunnel, the head of Chad’s cock battering against the walls right where he was trapped. The pressure was intense, almost crushing, then releasing, then crushing again. Sarah’s juices flooded around him, hot and thick, coating his entire body. He could taste her on his tongue, smell nothing but her aroused scent, feel every ridge and vein of Chad’s cock through the living flesh that surrounded him.

Above, Sarah moaned loudly — louder than usual — because the sensation was insane. Chad’s cock was stretching her perfectly, but the added, secret stimulation of Adam’s tiny, wriggling body being shoved around inside her with every thrust was sending sparks of pleasure she’d never felt before. Every time Chad bottomed out, Adam was pressed hard against her deepest spots. Every withdrawal dragged the tiny man along her sensitive walls like a living, desperate little toy.

She wrapped her legs around Chad’s waist and pulled him deeper, deliberately clenching her inner muscles around both the thick cock and the tiny man trapped inside her.

“Harder,” she gasped. “Fuck me harder, Chad.”

Chad obliged, pounding into her with cocky, athletic confidence. The couch creaked. Sarah’s dress was bunched around her waist, bra askew, one breast spilling out. She reached down between them again, not to touch herself, but to press her fingers against her lower belly — right over where she could feel the faint, rhythmic movement of Adam being fucked deeper inside her with every thrust.

Her orgasm hit hard and sudden, her whole body locking up as she came around Chad’s cock and around her tiny brother. The contractions squeezed Adam relentlessly, milking him, dragging him along her spasming walls while Chad kept fucking her straight through it. She could feel Adam’s tiny cock, hard and desperate, rubbing against her inner flesh as he was tossed and turned inside her.

Chad groaned, buried himself to the hilt, and came deep inside her — thick pulses of cum flooding the same space where Adam was trapped. Sarah felt the heat of it, felt it coat Adam completely, mixing with her own wetness. The sensation of being filled by both her date and her tiny brother at the same time made her shudder through an aftershock.

Chad collapsed on top of her, breathing hard, kissing her neck sloppily. “Fuck, that was good. You felt… different tonight. Tighter or something. So fucking good.”

Sarah just smiled, eyes half-lidded, one hand still resting possessively over her lower belly.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Must’ve been the wine.”

Chad eventually pulled out, cleaned up a little, and they cuddled for a while before he checked the time and said he should probably head out — early gym session tomorrow. Sarah walked him to the door, kissed him goodnight, and locked it behind him.

The second he was gone, she leaned back against the door and let out a long, shaky breath.

Her hand slipped into her panties. She was a mess — soaked, cum leaking out of her, and deep inside… Adam.

She carried herself to the bathroom, sat on the edge of the tub, and carefully worked two fingers inside herself. It took a moment, but she found him — tiny, slick, trembling, coated in a mix of her cream and Chad’s cum. She gently coaxed him out, cradling his minuscule, exhausted body in her palm.

Adam looked up at her, dazed, breathing hard, his tiny cock still rock-hard and twitching.

Sarah brought him up to her face, studying him with dark, satisfied eyes.

“You were amazing in there,” she whispered, voice husky. “I could feel you the whole time. Every time he thrust… you were right there with him. Pushing against all the right spots.”

She licked her lips, then very deliberately licked a streak of cum and her own wetness from his tiny chest.

“I think,” she said slowly, “this is going to be our new thing. You come on all my dates. You stay right where I put you. And when things get hot…” Her smile was wicked, loving, and utterly in control. “You go inside. Just like tonight.”

She carried him back to her bedroom, set him carefully on the nightstand on a soft cloth, and began to undress fully.

“Get some rest, little brother,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder as she slipped into a fresh pair of panties. “Because next time Chad comes over… or the time after that… I might not let you out until morning.”

She turned off the light, climbed into bed, and lay there in the dark with a small, secret smile on her lips — already imagining the next time she’d have her tiny older brother trapped deep inside her while another man fucked her senseless.

Adam lay on the nightstand, heart still racing, body still trembling from the most intense, humiliating, and arousing experience of his life.

Peter had always been the biggest man in any room. At 6’8” and built like a god—broad shoulders, chiseled abs, thighs like tree trunks—he turned heads everywhere he went. Melina, his girlfriend of three years, was no slouch herself at 6’1”. With her long blonde hair cascading down her back, full breasts, and an hourglass figure that looked sinful in anything tight, she matched his energy perfectly. They lived together in a sleek downtown apartment, fucking like rabbits every night, her long legs wrapped around his waist while he pinned her against the wall and drove into her deep. She loved how he dwarfed her. “My giant,” she’d moan, nails raking down his massive back. “Nobody makes me feel small like you do.”

Then the shrinking virus hit.

It was rare—something scientists still didn’t fully understand—but Peter caught it after a business trip. At first it was just fatigue. Then the clothes started to loosen. Over the next eight weeks, he shrank slowly, inch by agonizing inch, his body staying perfectly proportioned but getting smaller and smaller. Melina tried to be supportive. She held him at night when he hit 6’0”, kissing his forehead and whispering that size didn’t matter. When he dropped to 5’6”, she still let him fuck her, though she had to get on top now and his thrusts felt… different. Shallower. Less commanding.

By the time he reached 4’10”, something in her eyes had changed.

She still loved him. Or at least she said she did. But the hunger wasn’t there anymore. The way she used to bite her lip and stare up at him like he could break her in half was gone. Now she looked down at him—literally—and the spark had faded. Peter noticed the way her gaze lingered on his shrinking frame, the subtle disappointment when his head no longer cleared her shoulder. She started working out more, coming home sweaty and flushed, talking about “needing to feel strong.” Their sex became infrequent, mechanical. She’d straddle his smaller body and ride him, but her moans sounded polite. Forced.

Peter was 3’8” the night everything shattered.

He barely came up to her hips now. His once-massive cock was still proportionally impressive on his tiny frame, but it looked laughably small against her long, toned legs. Melina had dressed up that evening in a tight gray ribbed dress that hugged every curve—thin straps over her shoulders, the fabric stretched across her full breasts and wide hips, the hem skimming just above her knees. She looked like a goddess. Peter stood in the living room in nothing but boxer briefs that now pooled around his ankles if he wasn’t careful, staring up at her.

“Melina… you look incredible,” he said, voice smaller than it used to be.

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks, baby. I’m going out with some friends tonight. Don’t wait up.”

She kissed the top of his head like he was a child and left.

She wasn’t going out with friends.

Chad was 6’5” of pure, sculpted muscle—blond hair faded on the sides, sharp jaw, chest and abs that looked carved from marble. They’d met at the gym three weeks earlier. Melina had been spotting herself in the mirror when he walked up, towering over her in the best way, and offered to load more weight on her bar. The chemistry was instant. He made her feel tiny again. Protected. Desired. After their first secret coffee date, she’d sucked his cock in his truck like a woman starved. Tonight, after weeks of sneaking around, she was done hiding.

She brought him home.

The front door clicked open at 11:17 p.m. Peter, who had fallen asleep on the couch in his oversized T-shirt, woke to the sound of her laughter—light, flirty, the kind she used to save for him. Then a deeper voice. Heavy footsteps.

Melina stepped into the living room first, cheeks flushed, dress slightly askew. Behind her loomed Chad—shirtless already, black gym shorts riding low on his hips, every ridge of his abs and the deep V of his pelvis on full display. He was massive. Peter’s stomach dropped.

“Peter,” Melina said softly, almost sweetly, as she kicked off her heels. Even barefoot she towered over him now. “This is Chad. I’ve told him all about… your condition.”

Chad’s eyes flicked down to the tiny man on the couch. A slow, arrogant smirk spread across his face. “Holy shit. You weren’t kidding, babe. He really is pocket-sized.”

Peter’s face burned. “Melina, what the fuck—”

“Shhh.” She pressed a finger to her lips, then turned and pulled Chad down into a deep, hungry kiss right there in front of him. Her hands roamed over his massive chest, squeezing the hard muscle, moaning into his mouth as his big palms gripped her ass and lifted her effortlessly. Peter could only watch, frozen, as Chad’s fingers bunched up the tight gray dress until it rode up around her waist, exposing the lacy black thong underneath.

“God, you’re so fucking big,” Melina breathed against Chad’s lips. She glanced down at Peter, eyes dark with something between pity and excitement. “You used to be able to pick me up like that, remember? Now look at you.”

Chad chuckled, low and deep. He set her down, then hooked his thumbs in his shorts and pushed them to the floor. His cock sprang free—thick, long, veined, easily twice the size of Peter’s even at full hardness. Melina dropped to her knees without hesitation, wrapping both hands around it and stroking as she looked up at him like he was everything Peter no longer was.

Peter’s heart hammered. His own little cock twitched traitorously in his boxers.

Melina took Chad into her mouth, sucking greedily, gagging herself on his length while her eyes watered with lust. Chad groaned, one hand tangled in her long blonde hair, guiding her deeper. “That’s it, baby. Suck it like you’ve been dreaming about all week.” He looked down at Peter. “Your girl’s got a hungry little throat. Bet you miss this view from up here, huh?”

Melina pulled off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting her lips to his glistening cock. She stood, peeled the gray dress over her head, and let it drop. Her body was perfect—full, heavy breasts with hard pink nipples, narrow waist flaring into wide hips, smooth shaved pussy already glistening. She turned to Peter, voice husky.

“Watch, baby. Watch what a real man does to me.”

She pushed Chad back onto the oversized sectional couch—the same one Peter had been sleeping on—and climbed on top. Chad’s huge hands gripped her waist as she sank down onto his cock, inch by thick inch, stretching her open with a long, throaty moan that echoed through the apartment. “Fuuuuck yes… so deep… God, I forgot what this feels like.”

Peter stood there, barely three feet tall, staring up as Melina rode Chad hard. Her tits bounced with every slam of her hips. Chad thrust up into her, powerful and relentless, slapping skin-on-skin while she cried out in pleasure. She looked down at Peter between gasps, eyes glassy.

“You could never fuck me like this anymore, could you? Look how tiny you are now. My little Peter… just standing there with your cute little dick hard while a real man ruins my pussy.”

Chad laughed, reached down, and lifted Melina like she weighed nothing, flipping her onto her back. He spread her long legs wide and drove back in, pounding her into the cushions. The couch creaked under his power. Melina’s back arched, heels digging into his back as she came hard around him, screaming his name.

Peter couldn’t look away. His own hand had slipped into his boxers without thinking, stroking his shrunken cock furiously.

Chad noticed. “Aw, look at that. The little guy’s jerking off to his girlfriend getting stretched.” He pulled out suddenly, cock shiny with Melina’s cum, and stroked himself fast. “Where do you want it, baby?”

“On my tits,” Melina panted, pushing them together. “Mark me while he watches.”

Chad roared as he came, thick ropes of cum painting her breasts and collarbone. Melina moaned, rubbing it into her skin, then looked straight at Peter with a wicked, satisfied smile.

“Clean it up, tiny. With your tongue. Show Chad how good you are at being my little helper now.”

Peter hesitated, trembling with shame and unbearable arousal.

Melina’s voice dropped to a dangerous purr. “Now, Peter. Or I’ll make you watch every single night from now on.”

He stepped forward on shaky legs, climbed up onto the couch between her spread thighs, and lowered his face to her cum-covered breasts. As his tongue touched the warm, salty mess, Melina stroked his hair almost tenderly.

“Good boy,” she whispered. “This is how it’s going to be from now on. You stay small and cute… and Chad stays big. Just the way I like it.”

Chad leaned back against the cushions, still half-hard and smirking, one massive arm slung around Melina’s shoulders.

“Welcome to the new normal, shortstack,” he said.

Peter licked slowly, humiliated, hard, and completely owned.

Two weeks after that humiliating night on the couch, Chad moved in.

Melina made the announcement over breakfast. Peter sat on a stack of cushions at the kitchen table so he could reach his plate, still only 3’8” and feeling smaller every day. His tiny fork looked ridiculous in his hand. Melina, fresh from a shower and wearing nothing but one of Chad’s oversized tank tops that still barely covered her ass, smiled down at him with that new mix of affection and superiority.

“Baby, Chad’s lease is up at the end of the month,” she said casually, sipping her coffee. “It just makes sense. He’s here almost every night anyway, and… well, you’re not exactly filling the bed anymore.”

Peter’s stomach twisted. “Melina, this is our apartment. We picked it out together.”

Chad walked in from the bedroom at that moment, shirtless and towering at 6’5”, his muscular frame still glistening slightly from his own shower. He ruffled Peter’s hair like he was petting a child as he passed.

“Relax, little man. I’ll pay half the rent. You won’t even notice I’m here… except when I’m balls-deep in your girlfriend every night.” He grinned, slapping Melina’s ass hard enough to make her yelp and giggle.

She bit her lip, eyes sparkling as she looked up at Chad. “See? He’s so reasonable. And honestly, Peter… I need to feel safe. Protected. You used to make me feel that way. Now…” Her gaze dropped to his small body. “Now I need someone who can actually reach the top shelf without a step stool.”

The move happened fast. Chad’s things started appearing everywhere—his massive weight bench in the living room, his protein shakes crowding the fridge, his enormous sneakers lined up by the door like boats next to Peter’s child-sized shoes. The king bed that once fit Peter and Melina perfectly now felt dominated by Chad. Peter was relegated to a small cot in the corner of the bedroom, low to the ground, where he had a perfect view of the action.

The first night Chad officially lived there, they didn’t even wait until Peter was “asleep.”

Melina came out of the bathroom in the tight gray ribbed dress she’d worn the night she first brought Chad home—the one that clung to every curve, the hem riding high on her long thighs. She’d started wearing it more often because she knew how it affected both of them. Peter in different ways.

Chad was already on the bed, naked, stroking his thick cock lazily as he watched her. “Fuck, babe. You wear that for me?”

“For us,” she corrected with a wicked smile, glancing at Peter on his cot. “Come here, tiny. Help me out of this.”

Peter climbed off the cot, heart pounding, and stood in front of her. Even with her in heels, the top of his head barely reached the underside of her breasts. She turned around, presenting the zipper. His small hands trembled as he pulled it down slowly, revealing the smooth expanse of her back. When the dress pooled at her feet, she stepped out of it and turned, completely naked except for the strappy heels.

Chad whistled low. “Goddamn. Look at that body. And it’s all mine now.”

Melina climbed onto the bed on all fours, arching her back and presenting her ass and dripping pussy to Chad like an offering. She looked over her shoulder at Peter. “You can watch from the end of the bed tonight. Close enough to see everything… but not close enough to touch.”

Chad didn’t waste time. He knelt behind her, gripped her hips with his big hands, and slammed into her in one powerful thrust. Melina cried out, fingers twisting in the sheets. “Yes! Fuck, Chad—harder. Show him how a real man fucks.”

The bed shook with every brutal stroke. Chad’s heavy balls slapped against her clit as he pounded her, his muscular torso flexing, sweat already beading on his chest. Melina’s moans grew louder, filthier. “You hear that, Peter? That’s what I sound like when I’m actually getting stretched. When I feel full.”

Peter stood at the foot of the bed, forced to watch every detail—Chad’s thick cock disappearing into Melina’s tight pussy, the way her juices coated him, the way her ass rippled with every impact. His own tiny erection throbbed painfully in his shorts.

Chad reached forward, grabbed a fistful of Melina’s long blonde hair, and yanked her head back. “Tell him, baby. Tell your little boyfriend what you told me last night.”

Melina gasped, eyes half-lidded in ecstasy. “I… I told him I’m not attracted to small men anymore. That watching you shrink killed something in me. I need size. I need strength.” She moaned loudly as Chad hit a particularly deep spot. “And Chad gives me both. Every. Single. Day.”

Chad laughed darkly and flipped her onto her back, throwing her long legs over his shoulders so he could drive even deeper. The new angle made Melina scream, her tits bouncing wildly. She reached down and rubbed her clit furiously.

“Cum for me,” Chad growled. “Cum while your tiny ex watches.”

She did—hard. Her whole body convulsed, pussy clenching around Chad’s cock as she squirted messily onto the sheets. Chad followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt and flooding her with thick ropes of cum. When he finally pulled out, a creamy white river leaked from her stretched hole.

Melina lay there panting, glowing with satisfaction. She crooked a finger at Peter.

“Come clean me up, little cuck. Every drop. Chad’s cum belongs inside me now… and your tongue belongs on cleanup duty.”

Peter crawled onto the big bed between her spread thighs. The smell of sex was overwhelming—musky, salty, feminine. He lowered his face and began licking, tasting Chad’s thick load mixed with Melina’s sweetness. While he worked, Melina stroked his hair almost gently.

“Good boy,” she cooed. “This is your new role. Chad’s the man of the house now. You’re the little helper. The pet. The one who watches and cleans.”

Chad lounged beside them, one arm behind his head, his spent cock still impressive even soft. He smirked down at Peter.

“Better get used to the taste, shorty. I’m not pulling out anymore. And once she’s pregnant with my kid… you’ll be changing diapers too.”

Melina moaned softly at the words, already getting turned on again. She spread her legs wider, pushing Peter’s small face deeper into her cum-filled pussy.

“Welcome home, Chad,” she whispered, eyes locked on the much larger man beside her. “This apartment finally feels the right size.”

Peter could only lick obediently, trapped between the woman he loved and the giant who had replaced him, his own tiny cock leaking helplessly onto the sheets.

Life with Chad in the house had only just begun.

The weeks after Chad moved in settled into a new, humiliating rhythm.

Chad dominated the apartment—and Melina—completely. Mornings started with him fucking her in the shower while Peter waited on the tiled floor, holding their towels like a servant. Evenings ended with Peter on his knees at the foot of the king bed, licking Chad’s cum from Melina’s well-used pussy while the two taller lovers kissed and laughed above him. Peter’s tiny 3’8” body made him the perfect accessory: easy to lift, easy to ignore, easy to command.

Melina’s appetite for Chad only grew. She stopped pretending she still wanted Peter sexually. The few times he tried to initiate, she’d pat his head and say, “Not tonight, tiny. Chad wore me out. Maybe you can hump my leg later if you’re good.” Instead, she craved being bred. She started tracking her cycle obsessively, whispering filthy things to Chad while Peter cleaned up after them.

“I want you to knock me up,” she’d moan as Chad pounded her from behind on the living room couch, her massive breasts swinging. “Fill me until I’m carrying your big, strong baby. Peter can raise it… but we both know whose it really is.”

Chad would just growl and thrust harder, his heavy balls slapping against her. “Gonna put a real man’s kid in you, babe. Stretch that belly nice and round while your little cuck watches it grow.”

It happened on a humid Friday night, almost exactly two months after Chad moved in.

Melina had been extra horny all day, texting Chad at work about how fertile she felt. When he got home, she was already waiting in the bedroom wearing nothing but a sheer white babydoll that barely covered her ass and a pair of sky-high heels that made her 6’1” frame even more imposing. Peter was ordered to sit in the small armchair in the corner—his “cuck chair”—naked, hands on his knees, tiny cock already leaking in anticipation.

Chad stripped quickly, his 6’5” muscular body rippling as he climbed onto the bed. Melina pushed him onto his back and straddled him reverse-cowgirl style, facing Peter so he had the perfect view. She reached between her legs, guided Chad’s thick, veined cock to her dripping entrance, and sank down slowly with a long, satisfied groan.

“Fuck… so deep already,” she breathed, rolling her hips. “This is the cock that’s going to get me pregnant tonight.”

She rode him hard, tits bouncing, long blonde hair whipping around her shoulders. Chad’s big hands gripped her waist, guiding her up and down his full length. The wet sounds of her pussy swallowing him filled the room, mixed with her increasingly desperate moans.

“Look at him, baby,” Chad said, smirking at Peter. “Your little boyfriend is so small he could probably fit inside you with me if we tried. But instead he just gets to watch me breed you.”

Melina laughed breathlessly and locked eyes with Peter. “You hear that? Chad’s going to cum so deep inside me that there’s no way I don’t get pregnant. And you… you’re going to stay right there and jerk your tiny dick while it happens.”

Peter’s small hand moved obediently to his shrunken cock, stroking furiously as he watched Melina’s body undulate. Her pussy lips stretched obscenely around Chad’s girth, creamy arousal coating his shaft every time she lifted up.

Chad suddenly sat up, wrapped one powerful arm around Melina’s waist, and flipped their positions without pulling out. He pinned her long legs back against her shoulders in a deep mating press, folding her in half. The new angle let him slam even deeper, his heavy balls tightening as he rutted into her like an animal.

“Gonna fill you up,” he growled against her ear. “Gonna pump you so full of my seed you’ll be leaking for days. Tell your little cuck what’s about to happen.”

Melina’s voice cracked with pleasure. “I’m ovulating… right now. Cum in me, Chad. Breed me. Make me yours completely. Peter can be the nanny… but this baby is going to be tall and strong like its real daddy.”

That pushed Chad over the edge. With a deep, guttural roar he buried himself to the hilt and came hard—pulse after pulse of thick, potent cum flooding Melina’s womb. Melina screamed through her own orgasm, her pussy milking him greedily, her toes curling in the air as her body convulsed.

Peter came too, pathetically spurting onto his own small belly while watching the man who had replaced him impregnate his girlfriend.

Chad stayed inside her for a long time afterward, plugging her full. When he finally pulled out, a thick glob of white cum immediately began to leak from her swollen, well-fucked pussy. Melina didn’t let it go to waste.

“Clean-up time, tiny,” she panted, spreading her legs wider and pointing between them. “Every drop. You’re going to swallow as much of Chad’s baby-making cum as you can… and then you’re going to eat me out until I cum again. Maybe it’ll help the sperm reach my egg.”

Peter crawled between her thighs, his face inches from her creampied pussy. The scent was overwhelming—musky, salty, fertile. He pressed his small mouth to her folds and began licking, sucking Chad’s thick load straight from her body while Melina moaned and stroked his hair.

“Good boy,” she cooed, voice dreamy and satisfied. “This is your purpose now. Helping Mommy get bred… and then cleaning up after Daddy.”

Chad lay beside them, one hand lazily playing with Melina’s nipple as he watched Peter work. “Better get used to the taste, shortstack. Once she’s pregnant, I’m still going to fuck her every day. Pregnant pussy is even hornier, I hear.”

Melina smiled wickedly, already grinding her hips against Peter’s face. “Mmm… and when my belly starts growing, you’re going to worship it every night. Kiss it. Talk to the baby. Tell it how its real father is so much bigger and stronger than you.”

Two weeks later, the pregnancy test came back positive.

Melina stood in the bathroom, glowing, holding the stick up for both men to see. Chad wrapped his massive arms around her from behind, hands already sliding down to rest possessively over her still-flat stomach.

Peter stood on a stool so he could see, looking up at the happy couple—his tall, beautiful girlfriend now carrying another man’s child, and the towering stud who had completely taken over his life.

Melina looked down at him with soft, condescending affection. “Congratulations, little daddy. You’re going to be raising Chad’s baby. And don’t worry… we’ll make sure you have a front-row seat for every single month of it.”

She pulled Chad down into a deep kiss while Peter watched, already feeling his tiny cock twitch at the thought of what was coming next: Melina’s body changing, her breasts swelling, her belly rounding out… all while Chad kept claiming her every night.

The shrinking virus had taken Peter’s size.

Chad had taken everything else.

And now, a new life was growing inside the woman Peter once towered over—proof that in their home, only the biggest man got to breed.

First Trimester (Weeks 1–12)

Melina’s morning sickness was brutal, but Chad (Daddy) took care of the heavy lifting—literally carrying her when she felt faint. Peter’s job was simpler but constant: fetching water, rubbing her feet, and, as her breasts grew tender and swollen, gently suckling her nipples to relieve the building pressure.

One quiet morning in week 10, Melina lay on the couch in just a loose tank top, her breasts already noticeably fuller and heavier. She winced, cupping them. “They’re so sore, baby… come here.”

Peter climbed up beside her on the cushions. At 3’8”, he had to kneel carefully. Melina lifted her shirt, exposing one swollen, sensitive breast with its darkening nipple.

“Suckle for Mommy, little one,” she cooed softly, guiding his small mouth to her nipple. “It helps with the tenderness.”

Peter latched on obediently, sucking gently. Warmth flooded his mouth—not milk yet, but the act itself soothed her. Melina sighed in relief, stroking his hair while Chad watched from the kitchen, smirking.

“That’s it, shortstack,” Daddy said. “Help Mommy get ready for when our real baby arrives. Practice makes perfect.”

Later that night, after Daddy had fucked Mommy senseless in their bed, Peter cleaned her cum-filled pussy as usual, then moved up to her chest. Mommy’s breasts were extra sensitive post-orgasm. She pulled him close, pressing his face into her cleavage.

“Keep suckling, sweetie. Mommy likes how your little mouth feels.”

Second Trimester (Weeks 13–26)

Melina’s belly rounded out beautifully on her tall 6’1” frame, but her breasts changed even more dramatically—growing heavy, full, and veined. By week 18, her milk started to come in early, a common occurrence with her heightened hormones. The first time a few drops leaked during sex, Mommy gasped in delight.

“Oh fuck… I’m already making milk for our boy,” she moaned while riding Daddy reverse-cowgirl, her rounded belly bouncing. “Peter—come here. Taste Mommy’s milk.”

Peter knelt at the edge of the bed, eyes wide. Mommy leaned forward slightly, offering one leaking nipple. He latched on and sucked. Sweet, thin colostrum filled his mouth. Mommy shuddered with pleasure, her pussy clenching around Daddy’s thick cock.

“Mmm, yes… good boy. Drink from Mommy while Daddy breeds me deeper.”

Daddy laughed darkly, gripping her hips and thrusting harder. “Look at that. Our little cuck is breastfeeding already. When the real baby comes, you’ll be sharing those tits with him—except you’ll be the one who cleans up after Daddy fills Mommy every night.”

From then on, helping Mommy with her breasts became a daily ritual. Peter would spend long minutes latched onto her swollen nipples in the mornings, swallowing her warm milk while she sighed and rubbed her growing belly. Sometimes Daddy would fuck her slowly from behind while Peter nursed on the other side, the three of them connected in the most degrading, intimate way possible.

One lazy afternoon in week 22, Mommy lay naked on the couch, her pregnant belly prominent, breasts massive and leaking. She patted her lap. “Come here, little one. Mommy needs relief.”

Peter climbed up and latched onto her right breast, sucking steadily. Warm milk flowed freely now—sweet and creamy. While he drank, Mommy stroked his hair and moaned softly. Daddy walked in, already hard, and slid into Mommy’s wet pussy without a word. The gentle rocking of Daddy’s thrusts made Mommy’s breast jiggle in Peter’s mouth, milk dribbling down his chin.

“Such a good helper,” Mommy whispered, voice thick with lust. “Drinking Mommy’s milk like a perfect little boy while Daddy fucks a baby into me. You’re going to be the best big brother-nanny.”

Peter could only whimper around her nipple, his tiny cock leaking onto her thigh as he nursed and listened to the wet sounds of Daddy claiming Mommy again.

Third Trimester (Weeks 27–40)

By the final stretch, Mommy was a vision of fertile dominance. Her belly was huge and heavy, skin stretched tight with faint marks. Her breasts were enormous—full, veined, and constantly producing milk. They leaked at the slightest touch, soaking through shirts and leaving wet spots. She needed Peter’s mouth multiple times a day just to stay comfortable.

Near week 34, her sex drive spiked again. One hot evening, Mommy was insatiable. She had Daddy lie on his back and lowered her pregnant body onto his thick cock, facing outward so Peter had the perfect view of her massive belly and swinging breasts. The bump rested heavily on Daddy’s abs as she rocked, moaning loudly.

“Suckle, little one,” she commanded breathlessly. “Mommy’s tits are so full… drink while Daddy fills me.”

Peter knelt between their legs, latched onto her left nipple, and sucked hard. Rich, sweet milk flooded his mouth in steady streams. Mommy cried out in ecstasy, one hand on her belly, the other pressing Peter’s head closer. Daddy thrust up powerfully, careful but deep, his hands gripping her wide hips.

“Fuck, your milk tastes so good when you’re getting railed,” Daddy growled. “Keep drinking, shorty. Help Mommy make even more for our son.”

Mommy came hard, her huge belly tightening, milk spraying slightly from her other nipple as her body convulsed around Daddy’s cock. Daddy followed, pumping another thick load deep into her pregnant pussy.

When he pulled out, cum leaked down her thighs as usual. Peter didn’t hesitate. Still with milk on his lips, he moved down and began cleaning Mommy’s well-fucked pussy, lapping up Daddy’s seed while she caught her breath and rubbed her belly.

“Good boy,” Mommy sighed contentedly, voice dreamy. “You drink from Mommy’s tits, clean Daddy’s cum from her pussy… you’re going to be the perfect little helper when our big, strong baby boy arrives.”

Peter looked up from between her thighs, milk and cum on his small face, and whispered obediently, “Yes, Mommy… Thank you, Daddy.”

The baby was due any day. Mommy’s breasts were now constantly full and leaking, ready for their son—and for Peter’s daily nursing sessions. Every time he latched on and drank her warm milk, feeling her swollen belly against his tiny body, the reality sank deeper: he was no longer the man of the house. He was Mommy’s little milk-drinker, Daddy’s cleanup boy, and soon the nanny to a child who would grow up towering over him—just like his real father.

The moving trucks had barely pulled away when the neighborhood realized everything had changed. Rob and Monica weren’t just new neighbors — they were the first alpha couple, and their sheer scale made that title feel inevitable.

Rob stood 15 feet tall, a sculpted wall of muscle and easy charm. At 28, his body looked carved for power: broad shoulders, thick arms roped with veins, a tight eight-pack, and thighs that could have supported a small car. His head was shaved smooth, his smile warm and disarming. When he stood among normal men, most of them only reached mid-thigh on him. Their faces hovered right around the heavy, swinging bulge in whatever shorts or sweats he wore. He was friendly, quick to laugh, quick to help carry furniture that weighed more than most people’s cars. The guys liked him immediately. The women… well, they stared.

Monica was even more overwhelming.

At 26 she was 18 feet of pure, exaggerated feminine power. Long brown hair, full lips, and a body that looked like it had been designed in a wet dream: massive, heavy breasts that strained every top she owned, a narrow waist, wide hips, and an ass so round and firm it made grown men forget how to speak. When she slipped into her custom platform heels she towered even higher, Rob’s head nestling comfortably beneath the soft underside of her breasts. Most people barely reached her lower thighs; their heads hovered around her knees. She moved with the confident sway of someone who knew exactly what her body did to everyone around her.

They were happily, openly in love — and shameless about it.

Their first week in the neighborhood was a parade of dropped jaws and awkward boners. Rob would wave from the yard, his green shorts doing nothing to hide the thick outline of his cock. Monica would bend to check the mail and half the block would freeze, watching those colossal cheeks flex and part slightly under the fabric. Wives started dragging their husbands inside earlier than usual. The men kept finding excuses to linger.

The official welcome came on a warm Friday evening — a backyard BBQ hosted by the alpha couple themselves.

Rob stood in the center of the lawn in those same green athletic shorts, barefoot, a cold beer dwarfed in his huge hand. Three neighbors clustered at his feet like kids at a parade: Ryan in a blue t-shirt and cap, Liam in olive green, and Noah in a gray tank. All three were fit, good-looking guys in their late twenties, but next to Rob they looked miniature. Their heads barely cleared the middle of his thighs. When they looked up they saw abs, then the heavy sway of his cock and balls outlined obscenely in the thin fabric, then the underside of his pecs, then his smiling face high above.

“Appreciate you guys coming,” Rob rumbled, voice deep enough to vibrate in their chests. “Monica’s inside finishing up some sides. She’s excited to meet everyone properly.”

Ryan couldn’t stop staring at the bulge. It hung heavy and low, the head clearly thicker than his own fist even soft. He felt his own cock twitch and tried to angle his beer bottle in front of it.

Rob noticed. His smile widened, not mocking — almost proud. “It’s alright, man. Happens all the time.”

Before Ryan could answer, the sliding door opened.

Monica stepped out.

The three smaller men went silent.

She wore a tight gray sports bra that looked painted onto her enormous breasts and black compression shorts that clung to every curve of her ass and thighs. The platform heels made her tower like a goddess. She crossed the lawn in a few long strides, each footfall sending a tiny tremor through the grass. When she reached Rob she slid one arm around his shoulders, pulling him gently against her side. His head fit perfectly beneath her left breast; he turned and pressed a slow kiss to the warm underside of it, right through the fabric.

“Hey, boys,” she purred, looking down at them from what felt like another world. “Having fun with my husband?”

All three of them nodded like idiots. Ryan’s cock was now fully hard, straining against his shorts. Monica’s gaze dropped straight to it. Her lips curved.

“Very fun, apparently.”

Rob chuckled and slid a hand around to squeeze one of her massive ass cheeks. The sound of his palm on that firm flesh was loud. “They’ve been good company. Ryan here especially seems to appreciate the view.”

Monica’s eyes sparkled. She reached down — her hand was the size of Ryan’s entire torso — and gently brushed a knuckle along the outline of his erection. He gasped.

“Don’t be shy,” she said softly. “We like being appreciated. Don’t we, baby?”

Rob’s cock visibly thickened in his shorts. “Fuck yes.”

The other neighbors had already started drifting away — wives giving pointed looks, some of the men looking guilty but unable to tear their eyes off Monica’s body. By the time the sun dipped low, only Ryan, Liam, and Noah remained with the alpha couple.

Monica kicked off her heels with a relieved sigh and lowered herself onto a reinforced bench. Even seated she was immense. She stretched her long legs out, bare feet flexing on the grass. Each foot was longer than Ryan’s forearm, the toes thick and perfectly pedicured.

“These things kill me after a while,” she murmured, wiggling her toes. Then her gaze found Ryan again. “Ryan… would you be a sweetheart and rub my feet? It’s so hard for me to reach everything myself, and your hands look like just the right size.”

Ryan’s mouth went dry. He stepped forward on shaky legs and knelt between her colossal feet. Up close the scent hit him — warm skin, faint lotion, and something deeper, muskier, unmistakably her. He placed both hands on her right foot and started rubbing. The sole was soft but firm, the arch high and powerful. His fingers sank in. He had to use his whole body weight to really dig in.

Monica let out a low, throaty moan that made all three men’s cocks jump.

“Mmm… harder, little guy. Right there.”

Ryan obeyed. He worked the ball of her foot, then the heel, then up to her massive calf. The muscle there was thick and warm under his palms. He had to stand to reach higher. His face was now level with her knee. When he glanced up he could see the black shorts stretched tight over her pussy, a damp patch already forming.

Monica caught him looking. She smiled, slow and wicked, and spread her thighs a little wider.

“You’re getting awfully close to something dangerous,” she teased. “Keep going.”

Ryan’s hands trembled as they slid higher, stroking the inside of her calf, then the lower part of her thigh. The heat pouring off her was intense. He could smell her arousal now — rich, sweet, dizzying.

Behind him, Rob had pulled his own cock out.

It was monstrous. Even half-hard it was easily two feet long and thick as Ryan’s thigh, the head broad and glistening. Rob stroked it lazily while he watched his wife toy with their new neighbor.

“Fuck, babe,” Rob growled. “Look at him. He’s leaking through his shorts just from touching you.”

Monica reached down and lifted Ryan effortlessly with one hand, bringing him up until he was eye-level with her face. Her fingers wrapped around his torso like a seatbelt. She studied his flushed expression, then glanced down at the obvious wet spot on his shorts.

“Poor thing,” she cooed. “All worked up and nowhere to put it.” She lowered him slowly until his face was pressed against the warm, soft underside of her left breast. Even through the sports bra he could feel the massive nipple, thick and hard. “Go on. Kiss it.”

Ryan didn’t hesitate. He pressed his mouth to the fabric, then sucked gently. Monica’s breath hitched. She held him there a moment longer, then lowered him back down — this time guiding him directly between her spread thighs.

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and peeled them down.

Her pussy was a revelation. Smooth, puffy lips glistening with arousal, her clit swollen and prominent — easily the size of Ryan’s thumb, maybe bigger. The scent was overwhelming, pure sex and heat. She reached down and spread herself with two fingers, showing him everything.

“Worship,” she ordered, voice husky. “Use that eager little mouth.”

Ryan leaned in and dragged his tongue up her slit. The taste exploded across his tongue — sweet, tangy, addictive. He latched onto her clit and sucked. Monica’s thighs trembled on either side of him. One of her huge hands came down and pressed gently on his back, pinning him in place as she began to grind.

“That’s it… fuck, your tongue feels so good on my clit. Don’t stop.”

Above him, Rob stepped closer. His massive cock swung heavily, the head now fully exposed and leaking a steady stream of pre-cum. He rested the thick shaft along Ryan’s back, the weight of it alone almost buckling the smaller man’s knees. The heat was incredible. Rob’s balls, each one bigger than Ryan’s head, brushed against his ass.

Monica’s grinding grew faster. Her juices soaked Ryan’s face, his chest, his arms. He licked and sucked desperately, feeling her clit throb against his tongue. Her thighs squeezed lightly — controlled, but the power in them was terrifying and thrilling.

“I’m gonna cum,” she gasped. “Keep going, little Ryan— fuck—”

Her orgasm hit hard. Her pussy clenched, flooding his face with fresh wetness. Her thighs tightened around him for a moment, the pressure immense but never crushing. She rode it out with low, rolling moans, using his entire upper body to rub her clit through the aftershocks.

When she finally relaxed, she lifted him again — this time higher, until his dripping face was level with Rob’s enormous cock.

“Clean him up,” she said, almost sweetly. “He’s been so patient.”

Ryan didn’t even think. He leaned forward and dragged his tongue along the fat head of Rob’s cock. The taste was different — musky, salty, pure concentrated male. He licked around the broad crown, then down the thick shaft as far as he could reach. Rob groaned, one huge hand settling on the back of Ryan’s head, not pushing, just holding him there.

“Good boy,” Rob rumbled. “Monica, baby, you picked a good one.”

Monica watched with dark, hungry eyes, one hand lazily circling her still-twitching clit. “He’s perfect. Look how small he is against you.”

She lowered Ryan again, but this time she turned him so he was facing Rob’s cock while she reached between her own legs. She guided the smaller man’s hands to Rob’s heavy balls.

“Feel how full they are?” she whispered in his ear. “That’s what an alpha load feels like. One day soon I’m going to let him empty them all over you while I watch.”

Ryan’s own cock was aching, untouched, leaking steadily. He squeezed Rob’s balls gently, marveling at their weight and heat. Rob’s cock jerked, another thick bead of pre-cum sliding down the shaft.

Monica’s voice dropped lower, more commanding.

“Both of you — Liam, Noah — get over here. Now.”

The other two men approached on shaky legs, cocks out and rock-hard. Monica looked them over like a queen surveying her court.

“You can watch. You can stroke. But only Ryan gets to touch tonight. Understood?”

They nodded frantically.

Monica pulled Rob down into a deep, filthy kiss, their tongues visibly wrestling at that scale. While they kissed she reached down and wrapped her fingers around Ryan again, pressing his entire body against her soaked pussy. She started grinding once more, slower this time, using him like a living toy.

Rob broke the kiss and looked down at the scene, stroking his cock faster.

“Fuck, I’m close already,” he growled.

Monica smiled against his mouth. “Then cum for me, baby. Paint our little admirer while I use him.”

Rob’s orgasm was a thing of power. His cock swelled, the head flaring, and he came in thick, heavy ropes. The first spurt alone was enough to drench Ryan’s back and shoulders. Hot, thick cum splattered across his skin in heavy pulses. Monica kept grinding him through it, smearing Rob’s load between her pussy and Ryan’s body.

Ryan came untouched.

His cock jerked and he spilled into his shorts with a broken moan, the orgasm ripping through him so hard his vision whited out. Monica held him through it, cooing praise while Rob’s cum continued to drip down onto them both.

When it was over, Monica lifted Ryan one last time and licked a stripe of Rob’s cum off his cheek with her massive tongue. Then she kissed him — a slow, deep kiss that tasted like all three of them.

She set him gently on the grass between her feet.

“That,” she said, voice warm and satisfied, “was just the welcome party.”

Rob tucked his still-twitching cock back into his shorts with some difficulty and grinned down at the three dazed men.

“We’re going to have a lot more of these,” he said. “Monica gets… needy when she has an audience. And I like watching her play.”

Monica stretched, her body glistening with sweat and cum in the fading light. She looked down at Ryan with something almost tender.

“You’re ours now, little one. Whenever we want you. Whenever we need a warm, eager tongue or a set of small, worshipful hands.” Her smile turned wicked. “And trust me — we’re going to need you often.”

Ryan, still shaking, still covered in their combined releases, could only nod.

The other two men were already stroking themselves again, eyes glazed.

Monica stood, towering over all of them once more. She slipped her heels back on, the added height making her truly colossal. Rob slid an arm around her waist, his hand resting possessively on her ass.

“Same time next week?” she asked sweetly.

None of the three smaller men could form words.

But their cocks — and the hungry, desperate looks in their eyes — answered for them.

The alpha couple had arrived.