GITJ Post 338: A Saturday at Melissa's, p13 (10:20pm: Dr. J)

I shudder to think back on it now, but I had my face buried in Melissa’s hair as we left the assembled crowd of my employees. They buzzed all around us in the great room of her house and I could hear them talking about me. But if this was embarrassing, being brought away from the evening party like a little kid, then the silken sea of her shampoo’d mane was a soft, scented sanctuary. She smelled of lilacs. I didn’t, at this point in the day, have the strength of will to look at anyone, but after only a few impossibly long strides of Melissa’s we were away from the crowd. I was carried the whole way, held against her side like an overgrown toddler. She took me from the great room up the stairs towards her bedroom. Each doorway we approached caused her to duck, unintentionally bouncing me as she squeezed my bottom even tighter. She was so tall in these platform heels that our heads rose more than seven feet above the ground. When she did duck under a door she would look me in the eyes, warmly, watching me appreciate her great height.  Finally, though, we were in her room.

“Would you like me to put you down?” she whispered in my ear, her warm breath causing my skin and bones to shiver, her voice deep and rich and shaking me deeper still.

“Y-you don’t have to,” I answered, surprising myself. Yes, I was feeling beyond humiliated but it was nice to feel the strength and size of her, her big left breast smushed warmly into my side through her thick knit sweater. She smelled great, and I felt safe and protected. I didn’t want to be away from her body.

She was happy, it seemed, to just hold me, hold me and carry me about her room, taking me on a little tour. She jostled me, at times, playfully, as she stepped about, showing me this thing and that, swaying me back and forth like a child. Her mother had moved just within the past couple of years into this home, and Melissa had never really lived here herself. But there were trinkets, photos, some nostalgic pieces from her childhood that had been collected. Photos from several different schools, a cheerleading trophy that read “Regional Runner-Ups”, a time-worn teddy bear sitting on a dresser, all things that called to mind a past that Melissa, really, had never told me much about. I knew she moved a lot as a kid, with her mom. Past that I was vague on the details.

Alongside all the memories, though, I couldn’t help but notice one area, a section of shelving on the wall outside her closet that had a messy little pile of stuff. I spotted  a picture of me in a frame, a casual shot she’d snapped at the office a while back. Also in the pile were some movie ticket stubs, a receipt, maybe from one of our dates, and also a piece of my clothing. An old tee-shirt I’d been missing, now covered in what looked like lipstick surrounded by a toothbrush, also mine, a pair of white briefs and  several old, used tissues.

“What’s all that?” I asked, as she carried me by it.

“Oh, haha,” she laughed, “that’s my Jay shelf. Or, shelves. Stuff that makes me think of you.” She sounded a bit embarrassed but figuring…well, I don’t know what she was figuring. She carried me in for a closer look. “Isn’t that picture of you so adorable? I’ve got another couple I want to put up. And, can I keep your socks from yesterday?”

Huh, I thought, noticing the twin taper candles she’d stood in holders on the middle shelf, this is odd. But part of me warmed, seeing what this beautiful woman had done. “I’m…flattered,” I told her. She must really like me! “And, uh, sure on the socks.”

She giggled, thanking me. “Maybe someday I’ll just put you up there,” she beamed, “so I can take you down and play with you anytime I want!”

Melissa was funny. I sometimes didn’t quite know when she was joking, like this was just some “crazy girlfriend” shtick and I’d play along because she was just so fucking sexy. Honestly, if anything these games were either pretty sweet or smokin’ hot but sometimes she sounded just plain crazy. In the end, though, even that was all easy to ignore in a girlfriend when she’s as gorgeous as Melissa. With my girlfriend carrying me around her bedroom with her massive left boob squashed into my middle, who was I to complain? “Haha th-that’d be-”

“Or maybe I’ll put you up on my dresser next to Ted,” she interrupted, as we were stepping away already. “He’s my first boyfriend. I keep him right…over…here.”

“Ted is…?” I began, having been turned to face a stuffed bear which sat, slouched softly, against the wall atop Melissa’s high dresser, “This guy?”

“Haha yes!” she giggled, reaching out with her free right hand to the teddy bear, a classic brown plushie. It looked old, worn, like it had seen a life full of cuddles. A childhood friend, perhaps. “Ted and I started dating before my mom let me have real boys,” she spoke in all earnesty, now holding the bear right up to her face, looking straight into his black, beaded eyes, “Isn’t that right, Ted?”

This, for example, was one of those times where Melissa sounded crazy. But, I thought, taking the moment to glance down at her big boobs, crazy girls are sexy, right?

“And before that, when I was little, I always used to pretend he was my baby,” she continued, still focused on her stuffed bear. She brought it closer, affectionately rubbed noses with h-…I mean, it. “I used to feed him, snuggle him, keep him warm,” she listed, “I was a good mommy, wasn’t I Ted?”

At that she giggled, and bit her lower lip. “Yeah, we didn’t have much money. My mom didn’t get me a lot of toys,” she mused, her voice a bit faraway, “but I always had Ted to play with. And he was my first boyfriend.”

The fact that we were there, the two of us - this teddy bear and me - each held in our own way in opposite arms by this big beautiful girl, was not lost on me. She, in fact, turned him…it…to face me, to look in its beady, slightly off-center eyes.

“You two should be introduced,” she continued, jostling me up at her side, resettling me, “Ted, this is Jay. My new boyfriend. Don’t be jealous, but he and I are in love.” She paused, as if listening to the thing’s response. “And, Jay…this is Ted. The first boy I kissed. The first boy who…haha got to sit on my bed and watch me change. The first boy who ever got to do…this.”

At that, Melissa took the teddy bear, still in hand, and lowered him a bit. Though she was cradling me in her left arm she was able to use her left hand to pull out the lower hem of her sweater and I watched as she maneuvered ‘Ted’ up under it, sliding him up under her heavy knit top. She released the hem, and pulled out her right hand, leaving him in there.

“There you go,” she playfully spoke down to the thing, through her sweater, which she smoothed out over her big bosom with her hand, “right in there with my boobies.“

I swallowed, dryly, imagining the thing’s situation right now, shoved up in there, beneath, between and under Melissa’s breasts. I could barely see the extra lump under there, that’s how large her chest was. “H-he was the first boy who ever got to do that?” I found myself asking, my interest entirely too prurient, "Ha..ha…maybe I should be jealous…"

That made Melissa coo and squeal. “No, you don’t have to be jealous haha…he was the first and only,” she laughed, now turning to fix me with those big, glittering eyes of gold and green and brown, “unless you want to try?”

My heart- my heart was beating so quickly now, and I’m sure she felt me shudder up against her. Good god! I was struck speechless.

Melissa continued, blithely. “But, I know being buried up in my cleavage like that, under my sweater, can get tooo hot. Isn’t that right, Ted? Are you hot in there?” she said, looking back down again at her chest, considering. “So, maybe someday I have a little chain made, and this clasp we can snap around you,” she continued, talking to me, musing on the possibility like it could be an actual thing, “I’ll wear it around my neck, and it’ll keep you from sinking too deep.”

Nnnghh. “i-i-into your cleavage?” I stammered, dumbly.

“Yeah,” she answered.

You don’t want to have me as a toy, a companion, like that bear, I thought, already hardened into steel against her left hip, you want to wear me like a necklace.

“And,” Melissa continued, “I promised Ted that when we grew up and I married him, that he wouldn’t have to get a real job. That I’d take care of him.” Melissa bit her lower lip, watched my face. “He liked the idea,” she said, “but, how would you feel about that?”

“h-how would I feel if…?”

“I asked you this before, in the hot tub. Would you like that? If I kept you here as a stay-at-home husband?”

Was she joking? Or was she serious?

“I’m serious, I’d do that for you,” she said plainly, causing me to flinch at the timing “I’ve been so happy with you, with how relaxed you are away from work, with us, with the girls. I like how good you’re being, and I’m so proud of you.”

Oh my god, what..? Why did that make me feel so good??

“I love how you’re letting me take care of you, and I want to reward you,” she said, as the crazy fantasy of being a house-husband, waiting for my big, beautiful, head-of-the-household and successful, breadwinner wife to get home coalesced in my brain. Haha there’s no w- “in fact, that reminds me! I have presents!”

“P-presents?” I asked, ripped from my reverie by another change of topic. I was starting to realize that Melissa, here, was really getting worked up, more manic.

“Yes! I’m so excited. Shanette and I, we were shopping earlier, and I bought you more cute things. I want to show you!”

Okay, the pajamas were new, she’d had me wearing those. They were a nice gesture, if a little humiliating, but she’d bought me more? Yes, I guess so, and she was obviously set on showing them off to me. She put me down onto my feet, first making sure I didn’t fall on my wobbly legs. Then she casually took the bear out from under her sweater and carelessly tossed him aside back onto the dresser. Next she retrieved several shopping bags full of clothes from the bed as she sat in a soft corner chair of white fabric, facing me. Melissa seemed super giddy, energized, maybe because everything was going so well. Was it because I was being a ‘good boy’?

Eagerly, she waved me closer to her. But before I stepped forward, I took in a deep breath. Her enormous aura was filling the room, and I felt it swallowing my weak self. Seated there, smiling broadly with her statuesque and uncompromising posture, her firm bustline jutted straight out in her striped sweater, emphasizing enormous, unapologetic curves that no male eye could ignore…certainly not mine. Her figure made me docile, I realized it even then but didn’t mind; I counted myself lucky just to be able to be in the same room as that massively buxom body. Sitting up straight like this also had the unintentional effect of exposing her midriff, complete with its tiny waistline and gentle six-pack abs. Her shoulders, strongly squared, radiated quiet power, as did the twin pillars of her legs. She was not only mind-blowingly gorgeous and miraculously built, but as I stood humbly in front of her she just seemed so…superior.

Again she waved me towards her, now a bit impatient. She began to show off the clothes she’d bought for me - pants, shirts, socks, a belt. Understanding that she wanted me to try them on, I began unbuttoning my pajama top.

“No,” she directed, one large hand coming up to my chest to stop me. “Step towards me. I want to undress you.”

Without a word I complied, and let her start. As she unbuttoned me she noticed something on one side of my neck. She cocked her head with a wry little smile. “Who did this, hm?” she asked.

“Did what?” I asked, not knowing what she was talking about.

Melissa reached for a handheld mirror on the bureau alongside where she was sitting, She showed me a hickey on the right side of my neck.

“Huh,” I muttered with a shrug. I don’t remember how that got there. “One of the girls?”

“Obviously,” she chuckled, “come here.” With that, an arm from behind me drew me closer, so she could inspect my injury. “Is it sore?” she asked.

“Uh…a little,” I answered. It actually was a little tender, now that I knew about it.

“Aww, poor thing, you have a boo-boo,” she cooed, “Here, let mama kiss and make it better.” Holding me steady with her right hand on my hip, Melissa then raised her free left hand to her lips. She kissed her own palm gently, with a luxurious <<smack>>, and then placed it to my neck, covering the angry bruise. I felt an unusual coolness under the touch of her hand, and my eyes shuddered from a new kind of sensation.

“There we go,” she said matter-of-factly, once again picking up the mirror and showing me the reflection of my neck again, “all better.”  The hickey was gone.

I should have been confused. I should have been bewildered, taken aback, and frankly terrified as I rubbed the side of my neck with my hand as I looked for any sign of the injury in the mirror. What I’d just witnessed was medically and physiologically impossible. But nothing about this woman surprised me anymore. She’d just healed me, like a saint, like some laying-on-of-hands.

With those same miraculous hands Melissa put down the mirror and took back to the task of unbuttoning my pajama top. Soon she had me peeled out of it and turned her attention to my bottoms. Adroitly, she undid the button on my pajama pants and, without a word, they fell into a puddle at my feet.

For a long moment I glanced down at them, looking at the ground. I saw how big her giant feet, in those aggressively enormous stilettos, looked next to my bare ones. I felt naked. Well, I was naked, and my erection stood between us, a near-constant presence whenever she was in the room, or in my thoughts. It humbled me, a bit, and I kept my eyes on the floor between us. I could sense that it mildly annoyed her. She’d prefer if I’d been looking at her chest or focused on her face. And so, I looked back up at her.

She rewarded me with a smile.

“Do you like the clothes I bought you?” she asked, her hand reaching out to casually caress my hip, possessively. I could sense her resisting the urge to grab me by the cock.

“Yes I… thanks…” I responded. I felt so shy, like I didn't even know how to make a conversation, or where to even start. But I knew Melissa didn't mind taking care of that. She liked it when a man allowed a woman to be the one talking.

“Shanette and I liked picking them all out, shopping for you,” she continued, her gaze drifting from my face to my eager cock and back again as she gauged my response. “Will you need my help putting them on?”

I know what you want me to say. “I, uh…maybe, yes please…” I replied.

That got her even more excited, I felt it. It was like I didn't know how to dress myself and I was so shy when I spoke…she loved it. I was showing signs of my insecurity, and she was drinking it all in with pleasure.

“This is it, this is the man I’ve taken home,” she said softly, as if to herself. Her hand still drifted lazily up my side, bringing quivers and shivers to the skin and bone of my meager body. She was thinking, ruminating on the day and on this moment. “Honey, I don’t know if I can take it much longer,” she said, exhaling a deep breath, “tell me again how you like the clothes.”

“I..I love them,” I said, again knowing exactly what she wanted to hear from me. That this…whatever this was…had become some sort of foreplay for us? It was weird, but it was so fucking hot. “Thank you for buying them for me.”

“Could you have afforded them yourself?” she asked, her deep voice quietly fighting to bridle her energy.

Images of my bills, my bank statements and debts flashed through my head as I felt a pang of embarrassment slither through me. “N-no probably not,” I replied, “b-but…I can…I can pay you back?”

“No,” she said, plainly, decisively refusing my offer, “I’m going to buy your clothes from now on. And your groceries, and whatever else you need. I understand your financial situation, with the divorce. It’s a tough time for you.”

‘Tough time’? I was actually broke. “B-but…”

“But nothing. I’ve saved up over the years. I have my modeling money, and I make a lot now,” she explained, making me feel dwarfed not only by the impressive size of her body seated in front of me, but also now by the size of her bank account. “I’m happy to provide for you, I want to do it. In fact…”

I watched, in my humiliation, as she reached into a pocket of her girlish skirt to pull out a plastic card.

“It’s a debit card,” she said, holding it out for me. It was red, with the symbol of that new bank that had opened a branch down the road. I knew it only took women as customers. “It’s got two thousand dollars on it. I want you to have it.”

“M-Melissa…” I began, blood rushing to my face and, to my chagrin, to my erection.

“Shush, take it,” she said, shaking the card at me, “I  know you’ve been low on cash, and I don’t want you to suffer. This will help.”

“I can’t take your money…” I continued, eyeing the card and feeling myself shrink in importance yet again in this increasingly strange, increasingly female-dominated world. The truth was clear. It would help, a couple thousand dollars. “I really can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” she urged, her voice filled with new confidence and growing power as she heard my capitulation starting to surface. She realized, though, how fragile I was, and meant to reassure me. “Jay. I promise…no strings attached. If you stop wanting to hang out with me I won’t ever bring this up, or even hint at it. I just don’t want your worrying about money to be a reason you can’t spend time with me.”

“I…” I began, not knowing what to say. Despite what she said, I knew what this - and her insistence to buy my clothes, my groceries - meant. She wanted all my time, if she could have it, and didn’t mind if some of it was bought. You want to have me as a kept man. Despite the indignity, naked and trembling, I took the card from her.

Inside, I could hear her squeal. She was thrilled, and she didn’t let up. “And, when you finish with that one, just tell me,” she said, watching as I warily inspected the card, “there can be so much more where that came from.”

I blinked, and though I felt her gaze on me I didn’t have the strength of will to meet  it. “o-okay, thank you…” I mumbled.

“Yes, you just ask mommy for more,” she said, unable to resist the temptation to tease a little and giggling when I - now - looked at her. She was tickled, it seemed, by my consternation. “Or, we can do a little every week, if you like that better?”

Like an allowance? Is that what you mean? “n-no you don’t have t-“

“I insist,” she said, giggling, seemingly satisfied as my financial caregiver now. “I love having you dependent on me,” she beamed, “In fact, I can’t wait for the day when I can give you a much bigger card, so you can totally stop working and just focus on me.”

That did it. I groaned, and nearly sobbed. The waves of humiliation and seas of inferiority had crested their banks, overwhelmed my shores. “M-Melissa,” I began, “I don’t want to feel…u-u-useless..!”

'Oh honey! You’re not useless!” she exclaimed, hand coming up behind my head, guiding me to look back at her face, “I didn't know this would bother you so much! But I understand…” She looked at me, watched me, read the emotions coming over my face. She understood the folly of male pride, she saw it writhing and wilting inside me. She knew she needed to tend to it. “What if we were able to, I dunno, find a way for you to pay me back, return the favor?” she offered, “Would that make you feel better? If you felt like you could repay me…just not with money?"

“wh-what do you mean?” I sniveled.

“Oh, we could find ways,” she said, giggling, her free hand now coming to brush the inside of my right thigh. “I’m so busy these days, and you always help me relax. It’s sometimes hard being the one in charge…you remember that, right?” Her hand came to cup my swollen, distended sac. I flinched. “It’s stressful. But when you’re like this, when you’re making me feel big, when you’re making me feel strong and capable, I feel like I can handle anything. I love you for that.” Her hand had slowly, gently but casually, begun to fondle my golfball-sized testicles, sending shockwaves of electricity up and down my skeleton. I did my best not to writhe and groan. “You could do that, you can help me feel big.”

What she was doing, of course, was turning my insecurity into an understanding of her needs. She was giving me a way to contribute. “It could help us both, if you could do that,” she continued, “It’s you that gives me all my strength, and if you’re willing to help me relax, help me get stronger and do a better job, it would mean the world.”

“holy shit yes Melissa…” I heard myself agreeing.

She looked deep into my eyes, seeing that, yes, I was right of mind, unclouded. “So you’ll do it?” she smiled, “You’ll be the best little boyfriend and help me get better and better? Help me do what I need to do and always be there for me? So I can be there for you?”

“yes…yes of course…”

“And that will make you feel better about taking money from me?” She was massaging my balls firmly now, her hand at times squeezing, causing my stomach to clench.

“y-yes…”

“That’s great, that before you were distracted thinking about business, and responsibilities, all those little things that just got in the way,” she said, squeezing my sac again for emphasis, “but now I’ll have all of your attention focused where it should be.” She squeezed again. “On me.”

“o-o-on what’s important,” I followed without hesitation, as soon as I could speak again.

“Oh Jay oh god yes,” she lauded with a little moan, as if surprised by my eager response.

“j-just please…” I began, swaying on my feet as her hand’s attention on my scrotum became more insistent, “please don’t…”

“Please don’t what, sweetie?” she asked, cocking her head, watching my face.

“don’t g-get upset if I…if I…” What was I trying to say? I felt so inadequate, that even here in my ignominy I felt like I couldn’t live up to anything that was being asked of me.

“If you what? If you can’t do everything right? If you don’t pay me enough attention?” she asked, again half-annoyed that I was looking at the ground and not her. There was a slight shift in her voice, as if she was becoming a bit impatient, almost slightly offended. She gave my balls one firm, final squeeze and then released them. “Do you think I’ll be upset if I find you…what? Kissing the other girls? That it’ll make me cry?”

Here, again, was a change in her mood, and it made me nervous. She looked at me, and then slowly stood, suddenly looming over me in her tight knit sweater and short pleated skirt. Her enormous heels raised her to a height so great that I’d be staring at her midriff if my eyes could have left the ground. I’d backed up, reflexively, two stumbling steps, but she followed suit with one great one of her own. As she approached me she placed her hands on her hips and stood straight, to appear even taller. Then, towering above me, she asked: “Do I look like the kind of girl that cries easily? Hmm?”

She looked down at me. She knew what I really was. A scared little mouse. I  could just hear her thinking: you’ll do whatever the amazon says, won’t you little mousey-mouse haha?

“You like me in my heels, don’t you?” she asked, with a bit of a growl in her voice and taking a step towards me, watching me retreat.

I knew, immediately, what she was doing. She wanted it already; payback. She’d given me money, and now she wanted my attention. She wanted me to be a good boyfriend. She wanted me to make her feel huge.

“y-yes…” I stammered, “you’re so beautiful.”

I watched as she looked to her side, to the bureau onto which she’d thrown the teddy bear. Aside him lay two big white-and-blue pom-poms, nestled behind the cheerleading trophy. She picked them up, took one in each hand.

“Does it turn you on?” she asked, stepping again towards me and shaking the pom-poms a bit, pushing me slowly into backsteps, “Me being this tall?”

“i-it does,” I agreed, watching her now shake the pom-poms at me again. I knew I needed to play into her desires, what she wanted here, or I’d face something I didn’t know if I could handle. My arousal, like so many times before, was seasoned with a palpable sense of fear. “y-you’re so tall, so strong. So big and beautiful.”

“Yesss…” she moaned, her voice deep. She continued to shake the pom-poms, aggressively now, looking for all intents and purposes like an overgrown, oversexed cheerleader, all boobs and curves in her sweater and skirt. She was shaking the pom-poms, and oh my god as she stepped towards me I felt it. Her feet were shaking the ground, rattling pictures in their frames. “And I make you hard, don’t I? Being this big?”

“oh my god yes,” I replied, in all earnestness. I’d come up against something, a piece of furniture bumping against my legs. Maybe the bench at the end of her bed. Stopped in my retreat, I stepped to the side a bit, and took another step back.

“Oh, Jay, I love being this big,” she said, now stopping where she was, “I want to see how hard I can make you.” At that, she tossed the pom-poms aside and, in her next motion, grabbed the hem of her sweater and peeled it off, over her head.

With the sudden appearance of her jaw-dropping torso I gasped, groaned. She was wearing a big, full-coverage white bra that lifted her enormous breasts into twin cannonballs bigger than human heads, sitting high and firm on her chest. With a shake of her head she fluffed out the raven mane of her hair and threw the sweater to the side. Good god this young woman was magnificent, standing nearly seven-and-a-half feet tall in her platform heels, white bra and short white skirt.

Instinctively, I took another step back.

“Stop…” she began, lazily taking one big step to plant herself right in front of me once more. The house shook again. “...running away.”

My heart froze at her command, and I stopped dead. My eyes were first planted at her glorious middle, ribcage barreled over an impressive thoracic cavity. Her waist, the narrowest part of her torso in circumference, was highlighted by abdominals like a gentle washboard. I looked up, and my vision was dominated by the white, mountainous swells of luminous satin that ballooned from her chest. My heart was racing, and I wasn’t thinking. I felt my left foot start to step backwards…

“STOP,” she boomed, and this time my heart nearly exploded. She then growled, as if overcome by an arousal she was struggling to control, and continued. “Here, I need you to stay with me,” she said, and then at the same bent down at the waist and leaned into me. With one hand she pulled the underband of her bra out, the other hand palming me by the back of the skull and sticking my head between the center gore of the bra and her sternum, into the gap. She wiggled herself down over me, my face sliding up in between her firm, massive breasts, and allowed the bra to snap back into place. In my shock, my arms shot out straight to my sides, and waved wildly as, gradually, she began to stand. She was lifting me off the ground! Holding me only by the head and neck, strapped into her chest by her bra! 

My feet kicked wildly, now more than a foot off the ground, and through her chest I heard her giggle, laugh. Around me her breast flesh jiggled, making me hyperaware of her mirth. In defense, and looking for support, I reached out and placed my hands on her, feeling them take purchase on broad hips. I felt her shiver at my touch, and for a moment she placed her hands behind my butt, holding me to her. My cock, hard and throbbing, pressed up into her skirt and lower washboard. Despite myself I ground into her, she pressing my hips into hers in response. She turned, I felt it, and took several steps, holding me to her.

“Oh, my god, Jay,” I heard her say, voice thundering through her chest in a basso profundo, “look at us.” I knew, I could tell, she was looking at us in a mirror. What I must look like from behind, bare of butt and shrunken and gaunt, strapped into the body of this Amazon. I felt her hands moving, one leaving me, and next thing I knew there was another strap, something coming around my waist.

“I’m…trying to get this around us,” she said, and I realized it was a belt. The new one she had bought me? She was trying to belt us together. My face, fully my entire head, was bound to her bosom by her bra. She now wanted to lash us together by the waists as well? I think she could tell I was getting frightened, and she didn’t want that. “Relax, honey, I’ve almost got it…”

A giggle, the sound of a buckle, and a little squeal of triumph. Yes, now we were belted together, bound. Or, rather, I was tied to her, attached to her. Made to feel even smaller than I already was. It was humiliating, but after a few moments and a few breaths I did start to relax, I did. Maybe it was by her command, or maybe it was her perfume, so strong off the skin of her breasts. But I felt my body loosen, hang, let the belt and the bra hold me. She had taken her hands away and began to walk around, chuckling and laughing, apparently beyond amused by what she could do. The thunder in my ears was her heart, her voice, her laughter…and the house rattling. And - was that the click of a phone camera?

”W-why is the floor shaking?” I spoke, into her cleavage. Would she even hear me?

“That’s you and me, sweetie,” she said, “And, the floor is nothing. You and me? Together? We’re gonna make the whole world shake!”

“oh please yes,” I moaned, imagining her as a titan stomping through cities, me nestled and lost hidden between her building-sized tits. “So big…” I said in a groan.

“AHG Haha!” she cried, maybe picturing the same thing herself. Whatever it was, she was suddenly overcome and between us I felt her hand tear away her skirt, and then her panties. My cock now throbbed, with all its monstrous size, up against her-

whoah!

A hand, and shift of hips, and suddenly I was slid up inside her.

“Oh my god,” I groaned, sparks flashing before my eyes.

“Shhh…shhhshhhshhh honey,” she said, “just hold on and focus…” She was going to ….nnnnghh….she was going to fuck me standing up. Fuck me with my meager male body just attached to her. “Focus on enjoying yourself as…mmmnnh…” she continued, half-overcome herself, “as I just take care of everything.”

I felt her hands on my legs, guiding them, encouraging me to wrap my legs around her. I did the best I could, until I was clinging to her like a baby monkey. I started to buck into her, awkwardly sliding my steel-hard shaft up, into her belly. On any other woman I would have been hitting cervix, but with Melissa I was just the right size. I thrust, grunting, again.

Gently, she shushed me. “No, shh…you don’t even have to do that…just let me,” she spoke, “Let me do you like this…” With that, I felt her hands behind me, big hands on my thin hips, cupping my scrawny butt. She used them to begin to move me, slowly but firmly into her, at her own pace.

“There we go, there we go baby,” she purred in obvious delight, “just hold on, hold onto me.”

NNngh NNgh NNgh…I grunted, little sounds into her tits. Her flesh was warming, around me, and my perspiration was beginning to mingle with her own. The scent of her perfume, strong to begin with, was growing stronger. It was like a drug, she was like a drug. I couldn’t get enough, and lucky for me there was always more of her.

I felt, as we stood there and fucked, one of her hands leave my rear. She continued to pump me into her with her left hand, but her right came up to peel one of my thin arms away from her torso and take hold of my hand. She directed it up underneath the sides of her.

“There you go, under the wings of my bra,” she said, now moving my other hand under that of the other thick, elastic side strap. Up past the wrists, now, my hands were slid under her bra, under her armpits. And then, with a soft moan coming from deep in her lungs, I felt Melissa swell. Though my vision was useless, my face plastered between her enormous breasts, I could tell what was happening. She was flexing, pumping up her body, bringing strength and blood to her muscles. I had sensed a change in her perfumes, which had grown subtly sharper, and under my hands and forearms her lats swelled. She was, in her intumescence, trapping them. With the swelling of her back muscles, her bra became so taut around my hands that I couldn’t move them if I tried. My head, as well, was pulled even more firmly into her cleavage by her expansion.

“I have you trapped,” she breathed, voice deeper and even more sonorous from under her ribs. I could feel the strength in it, as well as in her newly blossomed, rippling musculature. If I’d felt dwarfed before, I felt absolutely feeble in comparison to her now, plastered to her like a remora. “You…you can’t get away, can you?

“n-no…” I squeaked, into her tits, “I’m just stuck to you.”

“OH GOD, yessss…” she groaned, shoving my hips into herself more aggressively now, her rhythm quickening. “You’re stuck to me…you’re stuck to meeerrrrrRRRRRRARRR…!”

I felt her quake, her whole body convulsing, and suddenly we were moving again. With me still strapped and clinging to her, she was climbing onto the bed, onto her hands and knees. The bed creaked in complaint below us. One arm supporting her, she set up pillows under us, under where my head and shoulders would be so when - in her next move - she unclasped her bra I would fall, my upper body at least, onto them. My head was still cradled in the hammock of her loosened bra, but as she lowered it down her shoulders I fell the final bit down. My lower body was still lashed to her by the belt, my cock still inside her, my legs still clasping at her gawkily.

My vision back, the light of the room once again with me, I found myself staring up at the bare, enormous breasts of Melissa, my beautiful new Office Manager as she had her hands planted on the bed straddled above my head. They hovered in the air above me, hanging nearly to my face and I goggled at them in awe. My hips were aloft, strapped fast, and as I stared at her swollen brown nipples I felt her rearranging my legs, so that now hers were spread around mine. Somehow she did this without me ever leaving her hot inner warmth, just barely losing the rhythm of our lovemaking. Though her breasts dominated my vision, the glimpses I got of her forearms confirmed what I knew: she was pumped up, swollen in size.

“Melissssy’s grown so nice and big and strong for you, hasn’t she?” she purred. With her hands now supporting her weight, she’d stopped thrusting me into her.

“so big…” I groaned, feebly pushing my hips as much as I could manage upwards. I wanted to come in her! I wanted to come in her!

“So tall, everything, so big,” she continued, transported, “so much bigger than you.”

“yesss…” I admitted. I felt like I could burst at any minute.

“Yes, good boy, good boy,” she crooned deeply, “I’ve been holding back my excitement allllll evening. It’s been getting bigger and bigger and bigger and I don’t think I can do it any more.” She bristled with size, strength, barely contained emotion. “Are you ready for me?”

“y-yes…”

Around me and above me I could sense her body flexing, swelling even larger. “We could do so many things together, Jay. You just need to tell me what you want.”

“I…” I began, “I just want you to love me.”

That made her chuckle. “Oh,” she laughed, “I’m going to do that very, very well….”

I groaned.

“Now, I want you to lay down under me and just watch my body, my breasts moving…” At that, she squeezed them together between her arms, blooming cleavage even closer to my face. She let me goggle, stare at the tautnes of her bulging, tumescent flesh and skin, the veins below it. Then she rose up a bit, so I could see her arms, shoulders. “Watch my muscles flexing, growing. Just focus on being underneath me, feeling my strength and size and how it’s all here to protect you. Okay? Can you do that?”

“yuh-yuh-yess…” I managed.

“Look at my biceps, my arms, my shoulders,” she directed, her voice gentle but still deep and consumed with passion, “watch them swell up and think about how nothing in the world is as strong as I am, how I’d never let anything hurt you. Do you understand?”

“Yes…”

“Good,” she said. She knew I was learning. “How are you feeling?”

“Excited…thrilled. A little, uh…scared…”

Melissa giggled. “Shhh that’s okay, that’s natural,”  she said, “It’s natural, being as little a man as you are. It’s, like, an instinct.”

“yes..” I agreed.

“But we need to weed it out. We need to get rid of any fear of me, any fear of being this close to a woman this much bigger and stronger than you.”

“U-understood…?” I somehow said. I was trying, at this point - and probably failing - to sound confident, maybe casual, part of the conversation rather than completely overwhelmed.

She giggled again.

“You sound terrified, sweetie,” she laughed from above, squashing my hopes, “But that’s okay. You’ve got a lot of instincts telling you this is a dangerous situation.” She considered me, as I trembled below her, still lashed to her by the waist, head and shoulders on soft pillows below her. “You know how I feel about you, right?”

“y-yes…”

“But you need to hear me say it, don’t you?” she asked tenderly, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I love you, Jay. I love you so much.” Behind me, she was pulling in more pillows, so I could rise up a bit more. “I’ll provide for you,” she said, as she sat up taller a bit herself, “and I’ll always protect you.”

“oh my god I know,” I groaned, taking sanctuary in her words. But jesus…now I was able to look up at her, her hands moving up to fluff out the luxury of her hair. She was…huge. Muscles danced in her arms, bulged from her sides. Her shoulders were flexed with might. I was balls-deep in her, strapped in, and though I was fixated and agog at her body I somehow still hadn’t come.

She saw me down there, and smiled. ”Is there too much of me?” she asked, now flexing her traps brawnily. They swelled like twin pyramids aside her neck.

I gasped, with a sigh, but then spoke. ”n-no, don’t worry,” I said, “I like having lots of you.”

She groaned. That made her happy.

“Mmmm, lots, huh?” she drawled, tilting up her chin and letting me gaze more upon her flared, muscular upper body. “Here,” she said, when she spoke again, “Give me your hands.”

I raised them up, offered her my arms, and she took my hands and placed them upon her breasts, over the engorged swells of her nipples. I felt them push into my palms, and still holding me by the wrists she pressed my hands in deeper.

“Now, look,” she said, “See how your tiny little hands just disappear into my enormous breasts?”

They’re sunk in, they look so little, like they’re being swallowed.

“I know what you like,” she said with a smile, “Don’t I?”

“yes…”

“You like seeing how much larger I am than you,” she said.

“yes…”

“I’m so big, so so big,” she continued, “And that’s not all. I’m so much stronger than you. Look what happens when I tighten my pelvic muscles just a teensy bit…”

“Oh god!” I groaned aloud, feeling her inner walls squeeze in around me. Her coccygeus, her ileococcygeus - Jesus Christ!!

“You like that, don’t you baby?” she asked, laughing.

You’re so strong! You love doing this to me, don’t you?

She had me lashed to her, my waist to hers, my cock inside her as I all but hung from her body. And now she could crush me inside herself. She squeezed me again.

I groaned again, louder.

“You feel that? That’s my pelvic floor muscles.” She started, now, to squeeze me with them rhythmically. Oh, god, the pleasure! “They’re getting so strong, I feel like I could…” Suddenly she squeezed me with them hard. “...break you with them. But I won’t, I promise. Instead, let’s do this…”

Oh oh oh my god…what’s she going to do??

She began to undo the belt, the buckle behind her back. She was going to release me?.

“Ready, honey?”

”r-r-ready for what?” I stammered.

The buckle snapped open, I heard it. It loosened, I felt its leather slide out from behind my lower back. She showed it to me, and tossed it aside.

I was still inside her, my hips still up in the air. I was being held up by my cock.

“oh my god…” I marveled, eyes wide. My weight, some of it, was on my shoulders and upper back, on the pillows. But still - jesus! - she held me in the air with her vagina!

She giggled, amused both at my reaction and her own superhuman ability. How strong was this woman?!? “Does this hurt?” she asked.

“n-no…” I answered. And, no, it didn’t. Maybe it was how my body was positioned, maybe it was because of my shrunken size and mass, or maybe it was something else at work but though I was being all but totally suspended in air by the root of my manhood I felt no pain. Pressure, yes, as gravity tugged on me. But her embrace was stronger than the earth’s pull. “No it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay good,” she said, biting her lower lip as she sat up a bit straighter, rising up more on her knees and lifting me higher. My hips were nearly two feet off the bed, my upper back cradled in pillows. Suddenly, then, I felt it. Around my cock, where she’d had me grabbed tight by her vaginal muscles, she relaxed a bit. She let me slide out a bit, a couple inches, my hips slowly dropping towards the mattress. I hovered there, for a moment,  and then she pulled me back up.

“holy shit…” I gasped. What the fuck did she just do?!?

She giggled, and then she did it again. A few more inches this time, I slid nearly halfway out of her. She paused, and then with the unearthly control, unearthly strength of her pelvic muscles she slurped me back. Holy god!! She was lifting me up and down by my cock! My weight - meager as it was, but nearly all of it, legs, hips, torso - seemed like nothing to her! I began to stammer, blurting her name, maybe sounding panicked but as again she lowered me, sucked me back up, lowered me, sucked me back up, I started to realize: this is how you want to fuck me. She was laughing, amazed herself at what she could do, the strength and control she had. In and out, in and out I went, absolutely helpless.

“How are you feeling now?” she asked.

“l-l-like…like a rag doll…” I said.

She giggled, and pulled me up into her tightly. My body hung from her. Though my hands were still on her breasts, my shoulders on the pillows, she bore and held nearly all my weight by the grip between her legs.

“...being fucked by Superwoman,” I finished, and gave in as she screamed:

“YES!” she laughed.

nnghh…You liked that a lot.

And then suddenly, I was down, and up, and down, and up. She was lowering me, and raising me, and lowering me, and raising me. With the strength of her pelvic muscles, up and down and up and down and up and down and omigod omigod omigod

“Come for me Jay, come for me,” she began to chant, as my hands fell away from her breasts with the turbulence of our fucking, and now we were connected only at the waist. Up even higher she sat so even less of my weight was on the pillows. But I slid up and in up and in to her without losing a beat and my climax - both of ours, by the sound of her - was imminent.

“YEs YeSS YESSS!” she screamed, shaking me below her now, my legs swinging loose wild behind her, my arms hanging limply, head lolling on my neck and I was a rag doll I was I was like her toy up and down and up and down

“oh my god oh my god Melissaaaa…” I groaned and - “ahhhhhhhhhhgggggggghhhhhhh.!!!!” I was pulled up into her, massaged by her walls, let slide, only to be pulled in again. She coaxed me in and out as I lay flailing there helplessly. Faster and faster as she watched my pathetic expressions as I tried not to come. My body was like nothing to her, I was her toy, a shell of a man, dangling but bringing her-

“RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAA-AAAAAIIIIIIII LLLLLLOVVVVVVVE YOUUUUUUUUUUU JJJJJJJJAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!!!”

THE BED SHOOK. THE WALL RATTLED.

Women were laughing downstairs.

GLASS BROKE. THE EARTH QUAKED.

I couldn't take it…it was too much. My eyes went wide and, mouth agape in awe, I looked up into her eyes as I exploded inside her.

I was fucking hers.

===============================================

big thanks to ResistanceIsFutile in bringing this one to life and cleaning up my messy edges