Tiffani slipped into the guest room of the mansion and quietly removed the lingerie from her shopping bag. The fabric of the pale pink babydoll was sheer, the darker bra cups embroidered with floral designs matching the thong panties. She stripped out of her clothes and put on the sexy sleepwear, lacing the ribbon over her breasts. She knew her husband liked seeing her cleavage—he had paid for her implants, after all—and she loved showing off her assets.
She made her way to the master bedroom, her straight platinum hair hanging halfway down her back. Stopping at the closed door, she listened to the faint moans coming from inside. Knowing his behavior, she smirked.
Porn, she thought. He’s already in the mood. Perfect.
She ran her hands down her sides, her fingertips lightly caressing herself and sending tingles to her spine. If he was priming himself, then why couldn’t she?
“Surprise!” Tiffani said upon opening the bedroom door, but she was the one shocked by what she saw.
The flat-screen television on the wall wasn’t on, but the orgasmic sounds she heard continued. On the bed, she recognized her husband’s ass as it vibrated up and down. Had their king-size mattress been old instead of one of those magic foam types, the springs would be squeaking.
“Ah, don’t stop, Victor,” said a sultry female voice under him. Her accent was thick, pronouncing his name Wictor.
“What the fuck?!” shrieked Tiffani, starting to sob and hyperventilate.
Victor jumped up off of the woman, taking a bed sheet with him. One hand securing the sheet around his waist, he held out his other hand in a stop gesture. “Tiff, it’s not what you think.”
“It’s exactly what she thinks, Wictor.” The woman moved fluidly onto her feet and stood, stark naked, beside the bed. Her wavy dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and onto the olive skin of her perfectly round and real breasts, which were larger than Tiffani’s. The way she stood, one hand on the curve of her hips and one knee bent, was almost like she was seducing everyone else in the room.
The thick carpet absorbed the sound of Tiffani’s footsteps as she stomped forward. Poking Victor’s chest, she cried, “You big dick! I’d never cheat on you!” She sniffled and wiped her eyes before marching toward the woman. “And you, you’re nothing but a…”
As Tiffani approached, her eyes widened upon realizing exactly how tall the woman was. Six-four at least, she estimated, just taller than Victor. “…a big slut,” she continued meekly, craning her neck to look up at her.
The woman stared down at Tiffani and cocked a dark crescent eyebrow. “Such rude vords from a little, insignificant vife.”
Tiffani raised a hand as if to slap the woman across her face but thought better of it as the woman’s breasts defied gravity right before her. They were intimidating. Arousing. And they smelled like feminine sweat tinged with a dash of roses.
“But they give me a vonderful idea.” She took a step back and clapped her hands above her head. Closing her eyes and humming, she thrust her hips once to the left and once to the right. Then she opened her eyes and held her hands high over Tiffani’s head, wiggling her fingers as if she was manipulating a marionette.
The lights in the room flickered, and Tiffani evaporated in a puff of pink smoke.
“Holy shit, Olga!” exclaimed Victor, rushing toward her.
She shot a hand forward to stop him. “Careful, Wictor. Vatch vhere you step.” She held a finger in front of her pursed, painted lips. “Listen.”
“Where the hell am I?” squeaked a faint voice from the floor.
Victor looked down and saw Tiffani’s lingerie rumpled on the floor, something—a mouse or other critter—scampering underneath it. As he looked closely through the translucent material, he saw a tiny pair of shapely human legs leading up to a tight ass. Right around the small of the creature’s back was the end of fine silky hair. “Tiff?” he asked incredulously.
“Where are you?” she called. An enormous tent from nowhere had collapsed upon her form, and the smooth fabric slid over her inexplicably nude body as she crawled forward until she got herself out from under it. Standing in an odd field of thistle, she looked up at the two smooth tree trunks filling her vision. They went up and up…
A shadow fell over her, and like projected a planetarium ceiling, she saw the other woman’s face. “Now I really am a big slut,” she bellowed.
Tiffani screamed as a giant hand reached down and snatched her into the air.
“Come, Wictor, make love to us,” said Olga’s booming voice.
Her breathing constricted in the tight grip, Tiffani tried prying herself free from the giant fingers, thick blood-red armored plates manicured at their ends. It must have been a dream or hallucination—the woman must have drugged her—because otherwise, it meant she had been reduced to no more than five or six inches tall.
Tiffani’s world flipped direction as the giantess relaxed on the bed and set her between two mounds of rose-scented flesh. Free for an instant, Tiffani tried to slither away, but the squishy orbs compressed against her and two pairs of giant tongs spread her legs apart.
“Wictor, don’t keep us vaiting. Bury your head in my chest.”
Watching from the foot of the bed, Victor couldn’t believe his eyes. The exotic woman he had taken home for a tryst pinned his miniaturized wife between her breasts. He considered calling the police, but they probably wouldn’t believe his story. He considered trying to rescue Tiffani, but if Olga had the power to shrink people, upsetting her could be dangerous. He considered running away, but he couldn’t deny his arousal. The bed sheet, still held around his waist, was pushed forward by his engorged and erect dick.
In a horny trance, he dropped the sheet and crawled onto the bed and onto Olga. He kissed her navel, and then slowly slid his tongue up her stomach to her ribcage. That’s where he first noticed Tiffani close up, wedged between Olga’s ample bosoms.
Her body was as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so in its smaller, more delicate form. She wriggled but couldn’t escape, and as tiny tears streaked her face, she pleaded, “Help me.”
“Lick her!” commanded Olga, her voice overpowering. “And play vith me!”
Victor brought his arms forward and started caressing Olga’s breasts, thumbing her nipples until she sighed. He brought his face forward until a faint and familiar whiff of lavender body spray wafted into his nostrils. Tiffani. Enticed by her scent, he wanted to feel her—wanted to taste her—so he let his tongue slide out of his mouth.
She screamed as the rough appendage made contact with her outer folds. She writhed but there was nowhere to go. Victor’s tongue probed her and held her down. Meanwhile, Olga’s breasts oozed onto hers, the taut skin compressing and twirling them. Through her cries and her inability to escape, she willed her body to go as limp as possible, hoping she’d awaken from the nightmare. She closed her eyes.
And then she released a squeal.
A small one at first, but without the bizarre sights of giant people immediately in her vision, all she could experience were tactile sensations. The pressure of hundreds of little bumps providing friction between her legs. The vibration of the mattress below her and the soft pillows on either side of her. Her fingers stroked the surfaces surrounding her, and a raspy moan from beyond rippled the world below her into violent earthquakes.
Suddenly, she was doused with warm salty water, as if a bucket had been emptied upon her. It was Victor’s aroma. She ran a finger through the puddle on her belly and then licked the sweat off it.
“Oh, Sweetie,” she purred. “Fuck me now.”
“I agree, Wictor,” added Olga, her breasts heaving Tiffani higher as they both panted. “I vant you to fuck us both.”
Victor lifted his head and stammered. “Wh—what?”
Tiffani hadn’t registered the comment. As soon as Victor’s tongue receded, she reached down to finger herself, the juices inside her already sloshing around. She wanted to come, needed to come. Any moment. Any second…
Then she was pinched at her waist and lifted up into the air as if by a crane. Her eyes reflexively popped open, but the scenery was a blur of quick motion. She kicked her legs and flailed her arms until she was hovering in front her husband’s face, as large as a billboard. Though he was as handsome as ever, her feelings of anger and betrayal resurfaced, though not stronger than her fear of being suspended relatively so high above the ground.
“Do something, you big dick!” she squawked.
“Did you hear that?” asked Olga, sitting up and grinning at Victor. “Again, your vife calls you that. Show her how big.” With that, she released Tiffani.
As she plummeted through the air, the apparent twenty or thirty feet whizzed by faster than Tiffani expected and ended almost immediately after it began when she landed catlike in a pair of hands cupped together.
Victor looked down at his tiny wife. Her body had always turned him on, but holding it his hands almost sent him over the edge. He could feel himself about to come, but he didn’t want to waste his load. He wanted to fuck both of them at once—the woman he controlled and the woman controlling him.
“Hey Tiff,” he said, rolling her into one hand and then scooping her up with the other. “After we’re done, I’ll raise the limit on your credit cards.”
He deposited her along his erect penis, her head by its head, and then crawled forward as Olga leaned back and spread her legs.
Terrified, Tiffani wrapped her legs around the thick shaft, slightly longer than she was. She knew where it was going, and she wanted to get off without getting crushed in the process. She clenched her legs tightly near its base and rotated herself down one side. It immediately rumbled with the rush of flowing blood and semen inside.
Victor groaned and then thrust himself forward.
Hanging below it, Tiffani prepared to let herself drop, but her entire body was squeezed into a dank and narrow chasm. The squishy walls inside Olga’s vagina against her back squashing her body and face against Victor’s dick, only her feet still barely outside. Between his musky scent and the humid air, she almost passed out.
The tremors of their bodies shook her, and their muffled but deafening sounds of pleasure and pain reverberated everywhere. The floodgates opened, and her body was drenched with a mixture of sticky and warm liquids.
Then everything went black.
“It vasn’t his dick that caused my climax,” said Olga’s voice from the dark heavens. “It vas your little toes twiddling my clit, so I spared you.”
Tiffani weakly opened her eyes, but she didn’t see Olga looking down at her. Only Victor.
He stood tall with his arms outstretched as if he was showing off his body. “Vhat do you think?” he said, but the voice wasn’t his. It was Olga’s.
“What the…?” muttered Tiffani, looking around at the expansive mattress where she lay. She was still shrunk.
“Wictor vas—as you said—a big dick, and I vanted a change.”
Whoever or whatever was in the room with Tiffani reached down and lifted her up to his—her?—face. As this entity spoke, Olga’s voice slowly transitioned into Victor’s, deep and masculine and without the accent. “I vill restore your size but you must live as my quiet and obedient trophy wife. If you refuse or try to escape, you will remain this size for me to keep as my personal trophy. The choice is yours.”