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Plaything by Kate

Page history last edited by Rob Classact 9 years, 6 months ago

Part 1

Mike was boring. His scope of life didn't extend beyond his trivial passions: video games, sci-fi, anime, spy paperbacks, cable TV and keeping on top of the latest in technology. He hadn't slept with a woman since college and the few times he tried to get out of his house in Palm Springs were pitifully unsuccessful. Invariably he would retreat to a corner or hand around the edge of the dance floor nervously bobbing his head and shuffling a little to the whumping beat as he stared at the girls. He wanted them, the blondes, goths, trendies, asians, and glamour girls, but the haughty way they held themselves, their tight clothing- sophisticated or outrageous- and their cruel red lips held him back. Too intimidated to approach, he'd watch helplessly as they strutted, danced, and invariably disappeared with a group of chattering girlfriends or a prowling alpha male. Returning home he'd breathe a sigh of disappointment and relief and turn on Dragnet or cartoons, trying not to berate himself for being a shameless lecher as well as an impotent coward. He was, in short, a loser.


But Mike was a very wealthy looser. His immaturity and countless hours frittered away in front of the computer had made him somewhat of an expert on technology and youth trends. He'd helped finance the extension of Telletubbies from the U.K. to America, invested in the import of Sailor Moon and the even more lucrative introduction of Pokemon to US children. He was on top of the latest in life enhancement, from better cell phones reception to clearer TV imaging. In his most successful venture he had brought over the Tomogachi craze from Japan. He had built up the project from the ground level; it was under his influence that the model marketed to westerners was developed (featuring a resurrectable chick to accommodate the irresponsibility of American kids). In spite of bastard rip-offs like Giga-pets, he'd made a fortune, and now enjoyed the cushy job of trying out prototypes of computer games and gadgets and predicting for the companies how to modify, if possible, their product for American consumers.


So it was no surprise to Mike when UPS dropped off a package the size of a milk crate plastered with cautionary stickers warning FRAGILE in both Japanese and English from Ban Dai Corporation, Tokyo. Ban Dai was high tech, but most of the stuff they'd sent him was way too weirdly Japanese to ever market in the US. As far as really Japanese products went, the manga and anime doo-dads were usually a safe bet, but Mike had learned that the Japanese have a very different idea of what's fun than Americans. The only item of theirs he'd been able to push in the US was the Tomagachi, and even that was weird enough that the craze, though lucrative, did not last long. He thought back to the last product they'd sent him, almost a year ago; he vaguely remembered a small and technologically sophisticated hologram generator which produced some very lifelike but bizarre cutesy things doing... well, he'd never been able to figure out what the hell was going on. The music was way off, too; spooky but really catchy. The irksome jingle came back to him as he carefully cut open the box containing whatever it was they'd been cooking up in the year since he rejected the toy.


Inside the box, nestled in layers of foam packing, was a package full of brightly colored pills and a second packed with white pills, a small black sealed baggie and an instruction sheet along with a request for evaluation from the people at Ban Dai. He'd nearly forgotten this job in the weeks since the company had contacted him; fifteen hundred dollars for his expert opinion. Mike smiled smugly, satisfied with the knowledge that he'd come so far that money rolled into his bank account for playing with a new toys. He settled back to examine the products more closely.


While the business letter was written pretty fluently, the enclosed instructions were a mess of typically garbled English. He scanned them; they seemed simple enough. 'OK,' Mike said 'I am opening black baggy of SODATSU NA ON'NA NO KO with gently and put in lighted place.' He carefully opened the airtight plastic bag and took a look at SODATSU NA ON'NA NO KO.


It was an egg. Slightly larger and more round than a regular egg, the thing was spongy and white but pearly. The multicolored sheen of the opalescent surface looked tacky, and Mike decided it was a girl toy. Typical 'chibi' and 'kawaii'. He turned it around, couldn't find any buttons or seams and, shrugging, set it on the counter under the kitchen lamp.


Nothing happened. After ten minutes of staring at the damn thing, Mike flipped on the TV, glancing from time to time at the soft, shiny egg.

When 'Three's Company' broke for commercial, he looked again, aware that he'd gotten too absorbed in the show to check on the egg for some time. He couldn't see any change from his seat but he went over to check more closely anyhow. No American kid would be patient enough to sit around this long waiting for their new gadget to start working. Something must have happened by now, he thought.


And indeed it had. A small part of the egg was protruding slightly; he could actually see the distended part moving subtly. The tiny pulse in the spot intensified into a definite push from the inside. Hatching, Mike figured. Makes sense. He grew juvenilely impatient, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, anxious to see what the hell was going to come out.


He had predicted something ridiculously cute, befitting the girly shimmer of the egg, but nothing prepared him for the tiny figure that finally broke out from the spongy shell and crept out, gleaming wetly with the egg's thick fluid, onto the counter to lie, heaving, in the light of the kitchen lamp. It was a girl. A tiny, naked girl- no, a woman; she had full breasts and a wisp of pubic hair that matched the dense purple hair on her head. 'Jesus H. Christ,' Mike mumbled aloud, 'how the hell did they put that together?' What was it made of? Was it- she- alive? Whatever she was, it wasn't human; she looked exactly like an anime babe: huge eyes quivering with beads of light, shiny purple hair falling into perfect soft spikes, enormous (well, proportionally) tits, the works. He was dumbfounded. And then she spoke.

'Mika!' It was a small, high-pitched voice. What did 'Mika' mean? Was that her name? Did she need something? Without taking his eyes off the little living doll, he stepped away and quickly fumbled for the instructions. Under 'care' he read that, according to the shitty language of the directions, he was supposed to give it food and water, like a pet, and the instructions referred him to the bag of colored pills marked 'esa na ni naru'.


On closer inspection, he realized that the brightly colored contents were not pills but some kind of solid pellet; they looked more or less like really big rainbow sprinkles. What the hell was in those things? Worry about that later, Mike decided, and scuttled back to the counter to feed the tiny girl, who was lying limply from the exertion of hatching. At his approach, she picked up her head and fixed him with those unnaturally huge, dilated eyes. 'Mika!' she whined. He selected a blue candy-pill-thing for her and extended his hand. 'Mika! Mika!' she yelped and sprang to her feet, dancing from one foot to the other and raising both arms to grab at his fingers. She snatched it eagerly and immediately started biting into it with greedy hunger.


Mike took out his notepad and tried to think how to record what had just happened. Under the last entry of 'No change' he noted the time and recorded the amount of food given, the utterance that was, presumably, her name, and a description of her features. He searched around in his desk and finally found a ruler to check her dimensions. No tape measure, but he figured he could measure her proportions with string and then measure that. Getting her to stand still long enough to be measured was tricky, but with some coaxing she stood upright and he measured her height at 3.8 in. The string method worked pretty well, her dimensions came out to 2.5, 1.3, 2.2 inches. Outlandish for a human.... well, outlandish for an ordinary woman. He weighed her in at just over a pound, with Mika more or less cooperating. She was a little skittish, but seemed to understand that he wasn't going to hurt her. What did she make of all this? Could she even think? Mike was at a loss. She whined again and he gave her another colored 'esa'. He watched as the downed the second, then began to explore his messy countertop.


She sniffed around in circles before making her way over to Mike's Dilbert mug still half full of sludgy coffee from this morning. Her fingertips just barely reached the rim, and she stepped cocked her head and asked 'Mika?' A few more steps took her to the handle, which she shinnied up to perch on the rim of the mug, sniffing and wrinkling her all-but-invisible nose. She gave a little yelp of delight when she saw her reflection in the murky coffee, and began tilting her head and admiring herself with a satisfied insect purr. Reaching up to coyly brush her hair, Mika lost her grip and fell foreword into the mug. Plip. Michael quickly emptied girl and coffee into the sink. The girl, purple hair all muddy with coffee, was spitting and gagging at the bitter taste but seemed otherwise ok.


'You're lucky shit wasn't hot, little Mika-thing,' Michael said as he rinsed her gently, wondering what he was supposed to do with her. He referred to the instructions and saw glossy pictures of plastic SODATSU NA ON'NA NO KO habitats ranging from tiny to enormous 'depending on how much roaming space you want her to have,' Michael figured. Well, he wasn't going to shell out for one of these plastic playgrounds for a test sample, he decided. Not when he still had the terrarium left behind by Basilisk, the iguana that had escaped and turned up dead under the couch three weeks later. It was three and a half feet by two and a good two and a half high, with a little lamp, fake rocks and a water dish. 'Well, baby,' he told Mika, 'it aint a little jap penthouse, but it'll have to be good enough for you.'


It was not good enough for her. Mika held her tiny nose and, gesturing at the iguana crap encrusting the glass walls, yelled 'Mi-KA!' at him. 'Sorry, babe,' Mike said, placing the screen cover on the glass tank. He dashed off a few more observations, then watched Mika circle the terrarium, finally curling up catlike in a corner. He stared at her tiny body for a long time, watching her impossible breasts rise and fall as she breathed in and out. He couldn't help thinking that if she weren't a toy-pet-product and if she were life-sized.... He suddenly snapped back to reality and shook his head, aware of his slight but waxing hardness and unnerved by it. 'Sweet dreams, Mika,' he whispered, and snapped off the light as he left the room.


At three am he was awakened by an insistent cry of 'Mika-Mika-Mika-Mika-Mika...' He groaned, rolled over and tried to sleep through it, but she seemed to have sensed that he was awake because her cries changed in pitch; her calls became insistent, demanding. 'Mmmrrrgh,' and he was out of bed, fumbling for the light switch. 'Like a goddamn Tomogachi,' he thought. Like a baby.

Mika was no baby. He could see from her indignant expression when he approached her terrarium that she was all woman, and a high-mainanance one at that. She scowled at him as though he'd stood her up for a big date, and her womanly fury actually made her even more unbearably cute; her breasts bobbing as she huffed, sticking out her lower lip and tossing her head. 'Heh heh heh, all riled up, huh?' 'Mika,' she said coldly, her wide eyes narrowed to thick-lashed slits with derision. 'What what what?' he asked, taken aback, then realized he was being rebuked by a toy, whipped by less than four inches of a girl. No fucking way. But a second glance at Mika, fuming like an incensed cat, rattled his feelings of domination, and he reached for the bag of colored food pellets, eager to get this over with.


'There, ya happy?' he asked, proffering a green one. The little vixen snatched it from his fingertips and gave him a disdainful, yet forgiving 'Mika.' He tossed in a couple more in case she got hungry again, and filled the dish with water. As he was replacing it, he noticed how dirty the bowl was and, without thinking, immediately returned to the kitchen to scrub it before offering it to his demanding ward. She seemed pleased with the water dish and, after admiring herself in the reflection yet again, rinsed her face and hands, and even allowed him to very carefully stroke her hair with one fingertip. It was softer than a robin's breast. He remained caressing her, transfixed, until she rose to her feet, stretched her lithe and voluptuous body and dismissed him with a nod. Michael returned to his room and crawled back into bed. Lying, waiting for sleep, he could still feel her smoothness against his fingertips.


Morning found Mika still curled up and dozing in the slice of sunshine that fell across her body from the chink in the blinds. Her glossy hair was rumpled. 'Morning, sweet thing,' Mike said, and Mika mumbled and snuggled her head further into her folded arms, clearly determined to wake up when and only when it suited her. Smiling, Michael went through the coffee-making ritual and munched on a frosted Pop Tart, unfolding the newspaper. He forced himself to read most of the cover stories, a facsimile of adulthood he'd purposely adopted, before allowing himself to flip to the comics. Today's Ziggy made no sense and the Family Circus, as always, turned his stomach, but he read it anyway.


'Too bad she's too little to cook,' he thought, remembering the stacks of pancakes and those little sausage patties his mother used to churn out. The place could certainly use a woman's touch; the house was masculine by default and sloppiness. Where worthless nostalgia like Happy Meal toys weren't crowding the tabletops, empty beer cans, CD and DVD collectors edition boxes stood under a film of dust alongside vestiges of manliness, like the enormous lighter shaped like a tiger (Mike didn't smoke) and expensive hunting knives that were lucky to see use if he needed to open a bag of Fritos. Movie posters took up the wallspace along with a Jimmy Hendrix, an M.C. Esher print, a blacklight spiral (throwbacks to college days he couldn't part with) and a mounted pair of stag antlers, which he couldn't remember acquiring. Yessir, if she were life-sized, his little woman could really make the place a little tidier, at least. Mike had never fully adjusted to independent living, and in spite of degree, career, bulging bank account and house, Mike still lived like he was a college student, slumping around while waiting for the next deadline or party. That's another thing, he thought, becoming once again acutely and uncomfortably aware of his loneliness. I'd screw her little jap brains out if she were life sized. In a second. He glanced at the tank and was gratified to see Mika stretching and rubbing her eyes.


'Hey, you.' Mike approached the terrarium and inspected Mika. She flashed him a smile and held out her hands for another pellet. Damn, she'd finished both the extras he'd thrown in last night and still she wanted more. How long was she going to keep eating like this. He handed her a pink pellet, teasing 'you're gonna get fat if you don't look out, sweetie.'


He did a double take. Had she gotten fatter? He examined her more closely. Nope, still trim and curved like an obscene hourglass, but she did look heavier somehow. Bigger, he realized. He mulled that over. Makes sense, he thought, the program has to have some sort of direction or, personality aside, she'd be no different from any pet like his late iguana. Go over well with girls, too- the whole mothering thing. Good design feature, he decided, and waited for her to finish the two yellows he'd fed her before attempting to measure her. When she'd finished licking her fingers, Mike lowered his hand into the tank, palm open and Mika, understanding, stepped into it. She seemed to be catching on to the ruler bit, too. She stood up straight and grinned as he checked her height. Was she aware she was growing? It would seem so; she gestured towards her expanded chest and held her head high. Well, high being 4.5 inches, but what a spurt for less than a day! Incredible, Mike thought. At least he now knew why she was eating so damn much; he'd been wondering if maybe she weren't like on of those goldfish that just keep eating as long as you feed them, right up to the minute they go belly-up with a busted gut.


Mika strutted for a few minutes, and further explored the countertop. She gave the coffee a wide berth, and instead scrambled nimbly up a pile of empty pizza boxes and food containers, surveying the room from the top. She then leapt like a deer, diving towards and grapping ahold of, the telephone cord. She shimmied up the coils, examined the entirely uninteresting mouthpiece of the telephone, and then clambered back down to the lowest point of the loop, where she swung idly back and forth, legs braced against the wall.


Michael observed her play and added 'physical coordination and activity' to his notation on her size increase. No wonder Ban Dai offered such big pens for these things, all full of ladders and wheels and swing-bars. These SODATSU NA ON'NA NO KOS were highly active and curious; he would have to teeny-girlie-proof his house, the thought, surveying all the potential dangers on the countertop and lying on the floor. Those hunting knives, the lighter, the outlets.... He checked back to make sure Mika hadn't already gotten into trouble and was shocked to see that, still braced by her legs against the wall, she'd straddled one side of the phone cord loop and was grinding her pelvis against the plastic cord between her legs. 'Jesus H. Christ!' he said, and approached his brazen pet, who continued wriggling and emitted an audible purr and short squeaks of pleasure. Mika turned her head and saw him standing beside her, mouth open, and slid him a sexy, slow smile through sultry, half-closed eyes. 'Meeeeeka,' she cooed in a husky, breathless voice, and spread her slender legs wider. He could smell her desire, rising off her in waves of sweetness underscored with the thick, raw female scent of a heated animal. Christ! They could never sell such a thing to kids, Mike decided as his mind recovered from the shock. He shook his head to clear it, trying not to be overpowered by her sweet-musk sex smell, and pulled her carefully off the phone cord. A filmy smear of her wetness shone on the cord as it settled against the wall.


Mika, however, did not cease her motions, but continued to thrust her pelvis at nothing as he held her, facing away from him, by the waist. She emitted a small whine at the cessation of stimulation, and twisted her hot, moist body in Mike's hand, so that she lay on his palm and coiled her legs around his index finger. Mike watched helplessly as she began to slowly humping his finger, nuzzling his second knuckle with her silky purple head. What was he supposed to do? He could feel the warmth and sticky dampness of her crotch, and her (proportionally) huge and perfectly round breasts bobbed with a frenetic motion that was both lewd and exquisite. His feeling of shock was being superceded with an intense fascination that was more than purely academic. Mike had never seen a woman so genuinely turned on before, so shamelessly pleasure-drunk, and his body responded, heedless of the strange nature of the source of his arousal. Unconsciously he urged her on, as her thrusts became more frantic and her huffing and gasps were punctuated by short, sharp squeaks of 'Mika! Mika!'.


Before he could decide what to do, Mika's body made a final, violent thrash against his finger, and she climaxed in a spurt of girl juice and a shriek of agonized pleasure 'Miii-kaaaaa!'. She collapsed, sprawled across his palm, legs dangling, and gazed up at him through sated, half closed eyes, still panting. She giggled and chirped 'Mika' softly like a naughty child. Mike set her down gently on the arm of the sofa and collapsed against the cushions, unaware that his left hand had found its way to his crotch. She slowly, mindlessly pumped her legs against the soft upholstery, and let her hands wander to her big breasts to aimlessly caress their still-stiff nipples, as her body wound down from her violent climax. Mike slumped, dazed, and wondered what to make of it all. 


Part 2


Part of Mike was shocked at what he had done. Mika was a product, he told himself, not a person- well, not human, anyway. And yet... he watched her snuggle dreamily into the leather sofa... she was a woman. A tiny woman. A growing woman, at that, though he was sure the developmental phase of her program had been completed. Well, she certainly wouldn't do as a toy for little girls, he thought dryly. Maybe that's not what she was designed for. A living anime babe, a live woman who ate, slept, grew... and fucked. Jesus Christ! Maybe she was designed for lonely men. Lonely single men, certainly, since the little wife would never care for such a thing. But single men worked; how would they go about handling the constant maintenance? Lonely old men, then. Like me, he thought. Twenty six and already curled up to sit on my pile of money and stare at the ceiling.

Mike's head snapped up as a mug full of pens scattered on the carpet, overturned by Mika, who yelped, then met Mike's gaze and giggled apologetically. She turned her attention towards the range of desktop clutter that must have been a landscape to her. She explored the surface of the desk with a fearlessness that might have been innocence or boldness, her curiosity matched only by the shortness of her attention span. She picked up an unbent paperclip and showed off her strength by bending it into a circle, unbending it again and stabbing it into a gummy eraser. She sniffed out a wad of chewing gum stuck to a post-it and licked it tentatively. Her tiny mouth spread into a skull-splitting grin when she discovered its pliability, and Mika began forming the gum into various shapes: now a pancake, now a tube, now an egg. Her interest already dwindling, she made to toss the gum aside and her shiny blue eyes widened when it remained stuck to both hands. Mike chuckled as she whimpered in distress, then frustration as she unstuck the gum from one hand, only to transfer it to the other. Long strands of gum stretched between her hands and fingers as she tried to extricate her little hands, and as her frustration peaked, her little face crumpled and she let out a tiny 'Meeee...' that grew into a wail 'KAAAAA!!', and she began screaming with impotent rage, shaking her purple-haired head and pounding her gummy fists in a bull-blown tantrum. 'Ok, Ok, calm down, sweetie,' Mike shushed her, using a wet paper towel to wipe her sticky hands off. Her shrieking died down to a whimper, and she snuffled as she wiggled her clean fingers and rubbed her hands together. She hiccupped a few times and wiped her nose with her hand. 'There there,' Mike said, petting her pretty hair with two gentle fingers. His fussy little girl smiled up at him and said 'Mika' with a distinct tone of gratitude. Then, her fit over and her curiosity rekindled, she struck out to explore the rest of Mike's messy desk, ignoring him completely. 

She opened an inkpad, wrinkled her nose at the odor and abandoned it, unwittingly planting one foot on its surface as she moved on to examine the Newton's Cradle, leaving tiny perfect left footprints across a sheet of paper, each one smaller than a thumbprint. She seemed perplexed by the metal balls suspended from the wooden frame, which was level with her head, and gave the row of six balls and experimental push. When they swung back and forth, she gave a little scream of glee: 'Meee-ka!' She circled the Newton's Cradle, and gave the metal balls another shove. Mike said 'Hey, little Mika, check this out. This is what you do,' and her stopped the thing's motion, pulled back the suspended ball on the right end and let it go, allowing it to make contact with a click and making the ball on the left end swing out. Mika's eyes widened with amazement, and her head ticked back and forth, following the movement. When it slowed, she quickly moved to do what Mike had done, setting the device into motion again. Dear God, she was so cute, Mike thought, watching her bright-eyed fascination. Then, seeing that she was totally engrossed in this new toy, he flicked on the TV and settled into the patchy leather sofa to watch Topcat. 

A few minutes later, Mika called out to him. With a little reluctance he abandoned the program to attend to her. 'What?' She was saying 'Mika Mika', both arms extended and nodding towards the kitchen. 'Oh, right. Food.' Mike rustled her up a small handful of pellets, and set them, and Mika, on the coffee table, where she fell to with startling voracity, making smacking sounds that told him that, whatever they were, those giant sprinkles were tasty as hell. He licked a blue one with the tip of his tongue and found it unbearably sweet. 'Eeech. You can have those for yourself,' he told her and settled down at the computer to fritter away the rest of the day. 

Dinnertime found Mika snuggled in Mike's womb chair, idly rolling a small rubber ball back and forth, one of those twenty-five cent jobs you buy from the little hopper outside supermarkets. She'd worn herself out bouncing it across the floor and chasing after it, crawling under chairs and into corners to retrieve it. Mike nuked a Hungry Man TV dinner of Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes, stuck a Mad Max DVD in the player and settled on the sofa with a beer. He seldom drank more than one unless he was watching an action flick. He missed getting shit-faced drunk with his buddies like back in his college days, but what was the point of drinking if you couldn't round up your friends and raise hell? Or pick up a girl at a party and keep refilling her gay-ass wine cooler till she was tipsy enough to sneak off to a bedroom. He missed that, too: crazy, sloppy drunken sex. Well, any sex for that matter. He finished off the can of Miller and stared gloomily into his potatoes. What the hell, he thought, and popped open another. It wasn't until Mel Gibson was kicking ass well into the chase scene that he realized he'd finished the six pack. 'shit,' he said to himself in surprise. Six wasn't a lot, but he hadn't had more than a couple in a row since....shit, how long? He tried to think, staring blankly at the widescreen. 
He snapped out of it when he felt a tug on the leg of his pants. It was Mika. She scrambled up his trousers and perched on his knee. He absentmindedly petted her soft purple hair and reached for another bite of... hey- how the hell did she do that? He judged the distance from the floor to be some two feet, and Mika was only 4 and a half inches....wasn't she? Maybe he had measured wrong- she looked bigger than that. His blurry brain thought back. Yeah, she shouldn't be- she couldn't be...big enough to be blocking his view of the screen like that. But she was. 

He lifted her onto the coffee table next to the plastic tray of food (she felt heavier. It wasn't possible.) and he headed back to the kitchen for the ruler and another beer. She stood up when she saw the ruler and held herself straight against it. Six and a half inches. She was two inches taller. And she knew it. She was beaming smugly, proud of her growth. Mike took a deep breath. How could she be growing so fast? Was there something wrong with her? Maybe she was... defective. She was only a product, after all. But she no longer seemed that way to him. She hopped from the coffee table onto his lap and smiled at him, eyes shinning. 

Was she a toy or a woman? He couldn't decide. He slowly looked her over. A live anime babe. Unbelievable. Eyes like supershiny blue saucers, big bouncy tits that moved like flesh just doesn't move, purple hair, purple pubes.... It wasn't until Mika shifted and gave a little cry of surprise that he realized he was getting hard. 
Christ he thought drunkenly. Jesus fucking Christ. She was so beautiful. He cracked another can of Miller and took a long drink, watching her. She shifted on his stiffening crotch, and, as if sensing his arousal, began to rock slowly back and forth, her big breasts, now bigger, move as she breathed heavily. Before he knew it the can was empty. He tossed it over his shoulder. 'Meeeeekaaaaa,' she purred, rubbing herself against his crotch. She was getting more and more turned on; her hands strayed to her breasts, cupping, squeezing, licking her fingers to rub her stiffening nipples. Mike ran a finger down her back and she arched her back, thrusting out her chest. His finger grazed her ass and she moaned, not like some plaything pixie: like a woman. 

She pushed her breasts against his finger. 'Mikaaaaa,' she said in a thick, throaty voice. He rubbed himself through his jeans. His throbbing hard-on felt strained against his pants. Mike was drunk and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself; he unzipped his pants and freed his aching cock. Mika gasped and stopped moving. Her little jaw dropped. Ever curious, she crept closer and reached out. The contact of her tiny, moist fingers made his penis lurch. It twitched when she ran her hand along it. Mika was transfixed, fascinated. She had obviously never seen one before, but her body responded without needing her understanding. She wrapped her arms around it, her hands just barely meeting, pulled forward as it rose to its full height, bigger than she was. She strained to reach the head, where a pearl of pre-cum quivered. A groan escaped Mike as she ran her little hands from the bottom to the furthest she could reach, and he could not resist picking her up and holding her eager groping hands against the head. She licked the bead of fluid. Just a drop, but it spilled down her chin. She thrust her whole body up against it and began humping his dick. It parted her breasts and bobbed up and down as she first rubbed, then slammed her tiny pelvis against it. 'Mi- Mi- Mi- KA!!' she gasped and all of a sudden he surged past the point of no return and he was moving his hips as she bucked up against his hard dick, riding it as he groaned, straining towards release. 

He came. He surged over her back, on her face, against her breasts as she brought them up to meet his spurts. He came until his balls ached and Mika's continuous caresses became so intensely pleasurable it hurt, badly, and he trembled. She was still going; her hands sought out the patch of purple between her legs, working franticly, her breasts swinging crazily. Mike caught hold of her and brought her up against his mouth. He licked the wetness from between her little legs, ass to stomach, and the taste was unbearably candy-sweet. She screamed. He licked. He licked and she came in a gush of sugar juice, shrieking and thrashing, her entire pelvis sucked tight in Mike's mouth. Shuddering, she went limp. They both lay, panting, sticky, dizzy. Mike was beginning to sink into a sodden drunken fog. He was going to pass out any minute. The tiny purple-haired girl swam in his vision, now two, now three. 'Mika,' he moaned and he was gone. 


Part 3 


The radio signal buzzed and faded as Mike drove home from the mall along the coast, thinking about Mika.  He had been certain that Mika was through growing, but by the end of the week she stood three foot three.  Obviously she was too big to fit into the glass terrarium anymore, but Mike didn’t like the idea of sleeping alongside a midget-sized nonhuman as though she was a woman, nor was he comfortable having her sleep at the foot of his bed like a dog.  In his mind she stood somewhere between sexual partner and pet, fitting neither category, and he ended up making arrangements for her on the sofa.  She preferred to sleep curled up, and would arrange the cushions into something of a nest around her.  She still roused him regularly from sleep, in need of food or some other attention. Mike was still wary about giving her free access to the package of colored pellets, which was by now almost half empty (the white ones were, as yet, untouched), worried that she might eat herself sick.  Growing up, he’d found caring for the family’s two cats easy, as they ate only what they needed from their dish, but knew that even the smartest of dogs didn’t behave that way, after his border collie puppy, Jasper, ate an unattended Sunday ham down to the bone and ended up sleeping it off three feet underground in the backyard the next day.  He wasn’t sure exactly how much control Mika had over her appetite, and so, though it meant feeding her at odd hours and intervals at her demand, Mike kept Mika’s food supply well out of her reach in a locked liquor cabinet. 


Mika’s sexual appetite posed another problem.  Once she’d shot from six and a half inches to almost two feet in a series of erratic spurts which left Mike dazed, Mike was able to pleasure her with a fingertip, rubbing between her legs at an almost nonexistent clitoris.  Penetration was impossible, even with a pinkie, but Mika would spasm with pleasure when Mike ran his fingertip along the length of her miniscule vaginal slit, eliciting little rushes of sugary fluid.  At this size she was better able to reciprocate, too, by clutching and caressing his penis in doll hands and licking with her pretty pink (and, sweet jesus, agile) tongue.  Her playful little adoring kissy-kisses along its length and especially at the swollen tip made him almost pray for her to grow more, so that he could fit his member into her eager mouth.  Funny, he sometimes thought, but she seemed most excited not when he ejaculated, but when his dick expanded, rose, and swelled at the ministrations of her cunning little hands. 


After her most recent growth spurt, Mike found he was able, with much struggle on both ends, worm a finger inside Mika’s clutching pussy and get herd off sure as pulling a trigger.  The first time it slipped between her slick inner lips, Mika had split his skull with a shriek of "Miiiiiiiiiiikaaaaaaa!!!!" and come before he could think to move it around inside her.  The next day found her just a couple of inches bigger, and her cute little cunt a fraction bigger.  Enough, at least, for Mike to carefully explore her pink insides with a gentle finger, which her body squeezed in waves of delight.  Now, when she wasn’t busy playing, eating, swimming in the bathtub or masturbating, she was forever demanding a handjob, pointing at the purple-plush triangle of her pubis and saying "Miiika…" in a tone both coy and commanding.  Lately, Mike was beginning to tire of constantly servicing her, and he’d been forced to alternate hands to prevent his right index finger from wearing out.  Her sexual appetite seemed to be increasing along with her height, and every time he was sure she had leveled off, she grew another inch, even two, under his very eyes.  She was a living wet dream, sure, but sex play with a three foot two girl made him feel a little like a pedophile, though her dangerous curves and hefty breasts showed she was every inch a woman.  Then again, if she grew to be life sized…?  He would often glance at her and imagine the ubervixen she would be at about five and a half feet - fuckable size - and hope that her growth pattern kept up.  Mika, for her part, seemed to have no intention of stopping anytime soon. 


When she’d measured in at three foot three, she had snatched the measuring tape from Mike’s hands and read the numbers herself.  While she couldn’t read, and still spoke only one discernable word, Mika had easily grasped the concept of numbers (and, to Mike’s annoyance, symbols: she had taken to scribbling hearts, stars and cutesy critters on walls and paper alike).  Reading her height at 129 centimeters, she held her head high, grinned like the cat that swallowed the canary, and shook her perfectly round little ass in a little dance of joy.  That was another new habit of hers: dancing.  Having free reign of the house, she’d been dicking around on Mike’s sound system and managed to tune into a station that played "non-stop J-pop" and she never tired of shaking her tight, bouncy little butt to those stupid canned electronic beats backing up high-pitched girlie vocals from Japanese pop stars that all sounded the damn same to her tormented caretaker. 


Then there was the problem of clothing her.  When Mika had stood less than two feet tall, Mike began to feel there was something indecent about her running around the house naked all day.  He made a trip to Toys R Us looking for something that might fit her, since he had no intention of learning to sew and she wasn’t yet big enough to wear even baby clothes.  He found that the only clothing that came separate from the doll were Barbie outfits.  "Should have thought of that one while she still might’ve fit into them," he thought, realizing that only Barbie clothes would conceivably be able to accommodate her disproportionately large, lush tits and ass.  He was forced to pick out a few dolls slightly larger than Mika, to leave room for her womanly curves, including a couple of those creepy Cabbage Patch Kids.  At the register he was sure the cashier (and everyone else in line) shot him a funny look.  "For my niece," he said apologetically, but he was sure the girl at the register wasn’t buying it, and he felt like explaining that he wasn’t some sort of retarded weirdo, that he just happened to have a small but growing synthetic woman who… yeah, right.  He had ducked out of the store as quickly as possible, wishing there was another toy store in the area, because he had had a sinking feeling that he might have to return for a bigger doll in the near future. 


Mika had been excited with her new clothes.  She’d been running through his manga collection, and clearly wanted to look more like the comic book girls.  The Cabbage Patch Kids’ clothes were very tight on her, which she seemed to like, though Mike later caught her in the act of cutting them to a more racy fit with a pair of nail scissors.  Of course, there were no fitting underpants to be had, and while she looked more decent (and human) in her frilly doll dresses, Mike would often catch a glimpse of her bare ass as she clambered onto countertops or bounced on his bed and the peek at her naked behind under a frilly skirt was somehow more sexy (and here he felt a pang of dirtiness) than seeing her whole nude body.  She often pointed to pictures of young women wearing adult clothes (especially very fancy and feminine dresses), and indicated with a hopeful "Mika Mika!" that she wanted him to get her something more suited for her… age?  Mike was unsure on this issue; she was more clever, and certainly more developed, than a child, but more playful and giggly than a grown-up woman.  He decided she had the approximate mental age of a sixteen year old, and he was at a loss as to how to clothe her as such, as she so clearly desired. 


The problem was confounded when Mika had shot past the three foot mark.  She must have been growing all day, but it wasn’t until mid-afternoon that Mike heard an audible rip and saw that Mika’s breasts had burst the seams of her clothing, and her butt was just barely peeking out from under her ruined blue dress.  It was back to all day nudity until this morning, when Mike had headed out to seek out any children’s clothing at the Kiddie Korner that might suit her, feeling even more self-conscious as he paid for four kiddie-sized dresses than he had buying the dolls, especially the package of "days of the week" underpants.  The clothing he’d chosen was fancy enough for Mika’s taste and mostly made of stretchy material; hopefully when he got home, there would be enough give to accommodate Mika’s figure.  When she found that a garment constricted her chest, she would cut out the front just enough for her high, firm breasts to spill out.  Her breasts, which, even on a body less than two and a half feet tall would fit a petite full-grown woman, looked scandalous rearing naked out of a childish gingham dress. 


The way she ran through clothes, she might as well have been one of those theater and steak dinner type of women, the manicured ones that seemed to require some personal quotas of flowers and lobster before you could get a sniff between their legs.  Kid’s clothes weren’t cheap, and he’d had to buy all sorts of things to accommodate and amuse Mika, who’d get into trouble if she wasn’t kept busy.  She had ripped open six boxes of cereal and given the kitchen a carpet of crunch after she’d seen Mike fish a plastic Big Bird out of his bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.  She’d put a few new holes in the couch with his cheap but manly "ninja knife," and dealt herself a nasty cut on the finger, impressing Mike with her bravery (or was it pride) when she ground her teeth together and didn’t flinch while Mike rinsed it with iodine. 


After she’d ripped open his collector’s edition Star Trek action figures to play some weird version of tea party with, Mike had introduced her to a fierce regiment of entertainment activities. He’d tied a tire swing to the biggest tree in his backyard, gotten the little vixen hooked on video games and thrilled her ass off with his anime collection.  He wasn’t sure if she understood Japanese better than English or if she just liked watching the exploits of people stylized just like her, but Mika went gaga for the anime, and she watched My Neighbor Totoro at least four times a day.  Back to back.  She was also extremely physical, so once she outgrew the bathtub he’d introduced her to his small kidney-shaped swimming pool, wrapped around the waist securely in a single water wing until he was certain she would be safe without his supervision.  She took to the water like a seal pup, and, being something of a show-off, taught herself all kinds of fancy dives and stunts.  She was phenomenally strong and flexible, and God only knew but those tits probably had something to do with how she could float so easily. 


Slowly, Mika seeped into every detail of Mike’s life, and she constantly diverted his attention with her needs and sometimes frivolous demands.  Though it irritated and exhausted Mike, deep down he knew that caring for and cleaning up after Mika had given his placid and dull life a centerpoint, and he couldn’t resent her.  For the first time in his life he was forced to be responsible, when he had never even been truly responsible for himself.  He didn’t control her - Lord, no one could! - but he looked out for her and took sincere pleasure in her happiness, even if that meant being at her beck and call twenty four hours a day.  As far as marketing her kind, Mike gave the company the thumbs-down.  He couldn’t picture anyone else caring for a… whatever she was, but the company must have found a consumer market in Japan, because the people he contacted talked him into ordering some of that special exercise and play equipment along with two bigger bags of those colored pellets she couldn’t get enough of.  He had stopped taking notes on her behavior for the benefit of Ban-Dai Co., but he’d continued to track her height.  He’d even found a weird freehand graph, courtesy of Mika, that she’d drawn up charting her growth.  His first reaction was to be impressed at her cleverness, but that had given way to mild shock when he saw the jagged climb of her growth over the last week.  Though irregular, it was a sharp enough incline to ruffle his sense of security in knowing that she would stop once she reached human height. 


Mike stepped out of the car, trying not to reflect on this last uncertain fact, and gathered up the bag of new clothes, another bag of toys, a greasy bucket of chicken for dinner and the rented videos, mostly more Ranma episodes for Mika.  She didn’t meet him at the door or help him with the bags, though that was to be expected, but he didn’t hear her anywhere in the house.  That was odd.  Whatever Mika did, she did loudly, and it wasn’t until he’d set everything down and cocked his head that he heard the crunching sound that made his stomach drop.  Goddamn her, she hadn’t... 


But she had, and she didn’t look very sorry either, even when Mike stood over her, casting an angry shadow over the purple-haired figure that carelessly munched handfuls of colored pellets at his feet.  He looked at the locked cabinet.  It was still locked, all right, but the other side had been pried off its hinges with a screwdriver.  Giant candy pills covered the carpet, but most of them had gone inside Mika, who had the audacity to go on crunching and licking her lips as she looked up at Mike without a trace of apology in her huge blue eyes.  "Mika! What the hell do you think you’re doing?  You’re gonna make yourself sick and anyhow, that shit ain’t cheap!  Well? Are you even listening?"  Mika blinked.  Mike reached down to haul Mika to her feet.  And that’s when he heard the ripping sound. 


Seams burst open, and her chestless gingham dress split right down the back, as Mika rose to her feet.  And kept rising.  For a moment she looked as shocked as Mike, who stood gaping and rooted to the spot.  Then a sly flicker moved across her face and shone in her sky-colored eyes.  The glint of power, like light off the blade of a knife.  A little smile tugged at her mouth and she didn’t move as the minutes ticked slowly by.  Or rather, she only moved upward.  Mike’s mouth worked but no sound came out as he watched her grow from waist-high to level with his heart, and still she kept growing, growing faster or was it his imagination?  Mike was either scared or just plain shocked - shitless either way.  Mika carelessly brushed away the shreds of fabric that still clung to her very naked body, the breasts swelling, jutting visibly outward, almost ridiculously big, enough to be unbearably sexy if Mike hadn’t been so blanked out with alarm.  Mika breathed thickly and her body quivered with the electric thrill of expansion.  Her thick purple hair went wild, the tips brushing, then growing past, her tight, inflating butt.  She looked him in the eye, triumphantly, and suddenly Mike felt very small.  Though he still stood almost a head taller than Mika, even that distance was starting to close.  Her impressive figure was expanding to become intimidatingly statuesque.  Her growth rate wasn’t winding down, in fact, it seemed to be increasing, and then in culminated in a final burst that shot her up five inches taller in less than a minute... and Mika looked down at him, literally.  His mouth formed the word, but no sound came out: "Mika." 


And she laughed, loudly, her broad shoulders heaving and her whole body shaking with mirth - not a cruel laugh, but one of exultation, and she looked at Mike as one might look at a silly, but dear, plaything.  Then she gave him a fond embrace, too tightly - she didn’t know her own strength - and Mike’s jaw was jammed between her big, yielding breasts, his forehead pressed against her neck.  Then she lifted him bodily off the ground and, for the first time, and with a teasing smile, kissed him on the mouth.


Part 4


Mike gritted his teeth as he was put on hold for the sixth time and the tinny Japanese muzak started up again. He swiveled his office chair slightly and looked over at Mika, who was watching "Totoro" for the millionth time. Mika turned her head at the sound and grinned naughtily at Mike through the thick curtain of purple bangs that hung over her face. She cocked an eyebrow. Mike froze, found that the receiver in his hand had become slick with nervous sweat. When he failed to respond, Mika held him in her stare for a long, uncomfortable moment, then sniffed and returned her gaze to the screen, once more becoming engrossed in the program. She gave a little trill when her favorite character, a nameless pointy-eared fluff-thing, appeared again.

Though now an intimidating six foot something, Mika had retained her childish mannerisms. She fidgeted as she lay sprawled on the floor, her upper body shifted back by the mass of her immense breasts, chin propped on her palm while the fingers of her free hand twirled and twisted a lock of her thick purple hair. She idly kicked her lower legs back and forth, slowly raising and lowering one, then the other. Mike watched the slow, grinding motion of her ass as she carelessly shifted her legs. He swallowed hard. He prayed she couldn't feel his eyes on her, traveling up her spine, the shinny mass of trailing hair, lingering on her breasts. They looked swollen, soft, yet tightly inflated.... ridiculously big, he thought, returning for a moment to the professional critic he was. Too big, disproportionate. And yet? Mike turned onto her right side and those lush breasts rolled with the motion of her chest like ripe- he turned his head quickly, but not quickly enough to evade Mika's knowing glance. She drew her legs in and slowly rose to her feet. 

Mika stood. Mike gave a small helpless groan. She stood, head cocked and smiling, stood maybe six and a half feet tall, her hips tilted, her tiny waist tight and curving upwards to meet those massive, obscene breasts that rose and fell as she breathed and made Mike's hands shake, the receiver slipping in a sweaty death grip. He prayed she wouldn't move. Of course, she moved. Towards him, her breasts bouncing more than they should have with her light, deliberate step. She stopped five inches from him, her pubis level with his face. He could smell her excitement and he felt like prey in the shadow of a playful tiger. The predator giggled and bent down and kissed his forehead, her tits softly bumping his neck, her hair falling all around him like a curtain and for a moment the world was cut off and there was only Mika, all around him a great terrible toy, Mika, and then she giggled and stood back, waiting for him to respond. 

"...Hello? Hello, sir?" Mike jerked the receiver back to his ear and cleared his throat, eyes still locked on Mika's. "Yes, hello? This is Mister Kenway. Yes. Yes, I spoke to them already. No, they told me to talk to you. Yes." There was a clatter of Japanese in the background and then Mike was politely asked please to be hold again for one moment sir. Mika whined impatiently and shifted her weight to her left foot. Her right hand wandered up again to fidget with her hair. Don't say it, Mike thought, Don't say it. "Miiiika?" she cooed. Damnit! Damn her! Mike shifted uncomfortably in his chair, painfully aware of the boner that tented his pants and belied his intimidation. And didn't she know it. 

"Mika," she said again, and this time there was an edge to her voice. She had his attention and wanted to play, a little kitten of a sex goddess though now there was nothing little about her, and both of them seemed to know that now she'd be getting her way. Not just because Mike, hell, no man, could resist, but because of her stance, the way she now drew herself upright and held her head high, way too high for Mike's comfort. And the strength of her! Mike recalled his unsuccessful attempt to wrest the remainder of the colored food pellets away from her, and the nonchalant shove she'd delivered that had sent him sprawling. Thank God he'd fallen on his ass and not his head; the girl didn't know her own strength. Even she had seemed surprised at the ease with which she was able to rebuff him, though she also looked rather pleased with herself, and had tested the power of her newly grown arms by lifting Mike's La-Z-Boy with a squeal of self-satisfied delight and set it down huffing slightly and with a smirk Mike did not like the looks of. 

Now, as she stood impatiently before him, he could still see the bag of colored pellets stashed next to the TV where she'd been lounging and knew there was no way to get at them without being blocked, outrun or worse. She wouldn't hurt him, not deliberately, but... well, there was something downright unnerving about this big, imposing schoolgirl of a toy, that made him feel no longer like a caretaker and more like, as Mika seemed to think, a playmate. No, he thought, a plaything. That's what I'll be to her if this doesn't stop right now. 

As if on cue, the spokesman or whoever they'd redirected Mike to now, suddenly picked up the line and chirped a very courteous good afternoon, could he please to explain once again the problem he is experiencing with American prototype. "Well, she- it's- grown way too big. I think it's from eating those colored pill things and I can't figure out how to end the program, and-" Mike took a shaky breath and tried to speak more slowly and clearly, "and I need to know how to make... it stop growing." Without missing a beat, the spokesman politely inquired if Mike had still the bag of white pill. "Yes, it's still in the cupboard, she never tried eating those for some reason." "Well, sir, you have only to feed with white esa instead, colored pill are esa na ni naru, make plaything grow to desired size. If you feed too many esa na ni naru and are unhappy with size, stop feeding and plaything will shut down, yes?" "Uh, you mean, like the Tomogachi? Does it, like, stop working or can you get it going again after it's shut down?" The spokesman chuckled. "Well, American consumers we find not so good at maintaining pet, but prototype is Japanese version, cannot be restarted. You think we should install restart program?" his voice was sharper as he asked. This was Mike's job, to provide feedback, but he didn't know what to say, and now Mika was getting impatient, making purry whining noises and her hand strayed to her crotch while the other stroked Mike's shoulder urgently. "Miiika," she insisted, and he quickly excused himself and hung up the phone. 

Now what? Mike thought. She was beautiful, he was turned on, she obviously wanted him, but to be honest he was scared of her, and the way she was gently but insistently demanding that he satisfy her. And how could he get those growth pills away from her and get her to eat the white ones? He turned the problem over in his mind, but could see no easy solution and Mika's rapid breathing and her hand twining her sparse purple pubic hair was distracting him. He couldn't think straight. The hand on his shoulder tightened and she hauled him to his feet. 

Now he was almost eye to eye with her big buoyant breasts, rising and falling with her heavy breath. Her hands locked around his waist and she purred and pulled him close to her- too close, crushing him into the softness of her chest, and her pelvis nudged and ground against his stomach. Her body fell into a strange natural rhythm of pulsing against him, pressing, nuzzling, pulling tight again. His crotch was swollen, his head trapped, and though the nervousness remained tight as a twist of wire in his stomach, he couldn't help freeing his hands from Mika's embrace to touch those awesome tits, firm, bouncy, soft- his mouth moved to engulf a stiffening nipple and Mika cooed with delight and pulled his head tight against her breast, mashing his face into her flesh so that for a moment he struggled to breathe. Then she began caressing his head, his back, running a nail across the small of his back and reaching around to graze his throbbing hard-on through his jeans. Mike's will evaporated and he didn't resist or even think as Mika actually lifted him and set him down on the big leather couch. She popped five buttons removing his shirt, and the cheap leashed made tacky scrunching sounds as she settled down on top of him. As if in a dream, he saw her hovering over him, felt the slick embrace of her narrow cunt as she mounted him, and her breasts shifting, then bouncing wildly as rode his hips down, her hair a frenzy of kinetic purple shine which she tossed back like a banner as she shrieked wit delight. 

* * * * 
Mike lay naked, dazed and semi-conscious on the sticky sofa. He felt as drained as if he'd donated six pints of blood. Well, six pints of semen would be more like it. He watched through half-closed eyes as Mika cleaned herself like a cat, running her hand across her glistening thigh and licking her fingers, wipe, lick, repeat. If he'd had the strength, he might have tried to stop her as she retrieved the bag of growth pellets and began to munch with all the relish of a kid eating candy, but what would be the point? And two new bags were arriving tomorrow! What had he been thinking? It should have been obvious what was making her grow, but, then, he'd never expected anything like this. Mika crunched and grinned. It looked to Mike like she was enjoying his disapproval, defiantly eating away, not out of hunger, but a stubborn will to increase her size. Why? Wasn't she big enough already? How could this keep going?

It couldn't. It couldn't and it wouldn't, Mike decided, and mustering the remainder of his strength, lifted himself off the sofa and wandered casually into the kitchen, feeling Mika's suspicious eyes on him. He shoved spilling boxes of cereal aside, retrieving the bag of white pellets from the cupboard. He couldn't stop feeding her. He couldn't kill... shut her down. At least not yet. She isn't human, he reminded himself. She's a toy, a product. But when he turned, holding the bag behind his back and met her huge blue eyes, he wavered. Well, not yet anyway. But the growing had to stop. 

Mike approached Mika, who now slowly and deliberately popping the pellets into her mouth one by one and chewing them slowly. Taunting him? Mike felt his jaw clench with anger. She was his, pet, woman, whatever, and she was defying him. "I could shut you down," he told her. Mika paused, a blue pellet at her lips, then raised her eyebrows and put it in her mouth. Could she understand? She needed to know who was in control. God knows, he couldn't toss aside a woman like that, human or not, but she needed to know that he could. As he stepped closer, she continued chewing, but pulled the bag closer to her. This wasn't going to be easy.

Mike dove for the bag, but Mika leapt aside with the grace of a deer, considering her size. She grinned, a little smear of blue growth candy staining her lower lip, and stood three feet from Mike, offering him the bag. When he stepped forward to take it she snatched it away, giggling. Again she held it out to him and this time when he grabbed at it, she held the bag above her head, laughing her giant ass off as Mike hopped and fumed, trying to reach it. She ran backwards a few steps, egging him to chase her around the room. It's just a game to her, Mike thought, and his stomach burned. Trying to remain calm, he held out a white pellet. Mika looked at the proffered food and took a couple of cautious steps closer, then swiftly swooped in and snatched it from his hand, still holding the bag of colored pellets out of reach. She examined the white one, licked it, then put it in her mouth. For a moment she furrower her brow, like a wine taster, then suddenly spit it out with an accusing "Mika!" What the hell? Mike licked one of the white pills. Same super-sweet flavor as the colored ones. Could she tell there was no growth medium in them? She narrowed her eyes, and Mike beat a hasty retreat to his room before her look of betrayal grew into a tantrum. It was time to find some clothes for that girl. 
He'd take her to the mall tomorrow and get some girl's clothes. He supposed he'd have to hit up the plus-size boutiques and buy some of those frumpy muumuu type baggy dresses they make for fat chicks, and some of those bras you could fir your head into. In the meantime, he dug up a pair of loose jeans, leftover from a really fat period in his early twenties that had come back into fashion with that baggy look, and a faded Bauhaus T-shirt. No underpants, of course, and no bra. Not that she needed one; her tits defied gravity, jutting straight out like twin torpedoes. And just as dangerous, Mike thought, as he returned to the living room with the clothes. Let her finish the bag, he decided. The next shipment wasn't coming in until tomorrow, and he'd simply withhold them. Then she'd have to eat the white ones and she'd stop growing. She was already a too big for his taste, too imposing, too intimidating, and the remainder of the bag would probably add another couple inches, but he could live with that. She was, after all the sexiest woman (or womaniod) he'd ever touched, and the cute, naughty smile she greeted him with when he watched her from the doorway as she munched stirred something strange and sweet in his heart. "Mika" she chirped, and made a kissy noise that was unbearably silly and cute. 

She pointed to the clothes and asked "Mika?" "Clothes, baby. We're gonna go out to get you some real ones tomorrow, but I can't take you out of here in your birthday suit. And I'm not putting these guys on you till after those damn things you ate take effect." He wondered what he was going to do about that purple hair. The hell with that, he realized, she doesn't look human. He'd gotten to used to her outsized eyes, the angles of her face and her teeny nose and mouth that he'd forgotten that her looks were straight out of anime. Well, there was nothing he could do about that. People will be staring anyhow, he figured, and I suppose it could pass as some kinda birth defect. 

He frowned. Mika had stopped eating but nothing was happening. She licked her fingers, eyes roving around the room looking slightly bored. She walked over to the radio, all curves in magnificent motion as she moved, and flipped on the J-pop. She shook her big, tight body in a jiggly dance more suited to a teenage princess than the exotic dancer she looked like, then picked up a green glitter hula hoop and started it twirling around her ample hips. 

It was a magnificent spectacle. It was also ridiculous. Her purple hair swished as she gyrated to the music, the hula hoop rolling around her hips and waist in a strangely erotic display, and she added a second one, gold glitter, easily accommodating the rotation of both. She was completely ignoring Mike, having a ball in her own little world, and Mike watched for a moment more, torn between laughter and arousal and finally shook his head slowly and slumped down on the sofa to read Maxim. 

Ten minutes passed with only the squealy pop music and the swish swish of the hula hoops. Mika had begun to sweat a little; Mike could catch the faint syrupy smell and hear her soft high-pitched panting. He zoned in on an articled about Amsterdam weed. Boy, it had been a while since he'd smoked pot. Might not be a bad idea to get some, have himself a little party. He wondered if drugs would affect Mika, then pictured her giggling, red-eyed and munching pellets by the handful- white ones, thank you very much. You can't beat stoned sex, he thought. A little miller, a little weed, a little Led Zeppelin... "MIKA!" Mike looked up in time to see both hula hoops hit the floor. 

Mika was gleefully cupping her breasts as they expanded before her very eyes from what must have been a double D to something beyond normal female measure, and the rest of her body growing with them. Her hair grew down to meet her expanding butt, and her shapely legs elongated. The hands on her breasts began to squeeze and she rubbed her still-growing thighs together lasciviously, moaning slightly. Her eyes were half closed and she arched her back, twisting her hips in a drunken state of arousal, her head tilted back and a dreamy smile spread across her face. She caught Mike's eye for a moment as he watched in fascination and mild horror, then grinned and purred. Her growth slowed and her body wound down slightly, panting as she pushed back damp strands of hair from her flushed face. She shivered, then drew herself up to her full height. Mike stared. "Mika," she purred, heady arousal and pride in her voice, waiting for Mike to admire her. Mike stared, motionless. 

Mika stretched her long, long limbs, and strutted slowly, moving catlike from pose to pose as the music shrilled on. She suddenly lifted her head and squealed "Mika!" and darted across the room like a nimble freight train. There was a clatter in the kitchen. What was she doing? She reemerged with the tape measure, beaming, and held it out to Mike. Still dazed, Mike stared. She sniffed and turned her shapely back on him and measured herself, holding the end of the measure down with her foot, and stretching it up to her head. She inspected the numbers, then jotted them down on her graph, and held out the tape measure to Mike, proudly jabbing her finger at the tape measure: 218? Jesus, she was reading the centimeters. Looking upside-down at the tape measure, Mike read 86 inches. Seven foot two. Jesus Christ. 

She stood him up, lifting him by his armpits, and laughed to see that his head was level with her upper torso. She playfully kissed the top of his head, then rubbed his hair around teasing "Mika Mika!" Mike fumed, irritated at this patronizing petting, and backed off grumbling while Mika laughed indulgently. "Ha ha, very funny. OK, Goliath girl, let's get some clothes on you. The pants, he realized, would be way too short, so he cut the legs off with the kitchen scissors. As for the T-shirt, it was a concert T, and pretty big at that. Bauhaus, he mused. The sacrifice of his shirt seemed to signal the end of an era. But nevermind that, he had to squeeze Mika's giant tits into this come hell or high water, he decided. He set to work ripping the seams at the neck and arm holes to accommodate the girth of Mika's limbs. Mika, clearly still aroused, crept up behind him and bent down to lick his ear, nuzzling her head into his shoulder while her pelvis pressed into his back. "Aw, c'mon Mika, not now," Mike pleaded. He was exasperated enough as it was, and he felt more like getting this giant of a girl dressed than taking advantage of her sweaty nudity. When she understood that she was getting a new outfit, Mika reluctantly backed off, so great was her passion for new clothes. 

She cooperated with the dressing, though she was obviously none too pleased with the masculinity of the outfit, what with her inclination towards all things fluffy and frilly. But when she was finally squeezed in and Mike surveyed the work, Mika couldn't have looked more womanly. 

The thin denim cutoffs were skintight and the waist hung low on her hips with the faintest shadow of the cleft of her buttocks visible in a sleazy, sexy kind of way. Similarly, the shirt covered her breasts alright, but only in the strictest sense of the word. The XL size that was probably meant to accommodate the greatest of beer guts was barely sufficient to cover her nipples and the slight crease at the bottom of her breasts was plainly visible, with the outward thrust of her breasts somewhat flattened against the material. Her wildly tousled purple hair added to the racy, monster-truck vixen look, and Mike mused for a moment that with a leather jacket she'd look like a biker's wet dream. The instant she moved, though, the effect was destroyed as she girlishly pranced into Mike's bedroom, humming some perky theme song, to admire herself in the full-length mirror. He could hear her cooing and simpering as he headed in to join her when a louder, more ominous noise made him freeze in his tracks. 

The sound of stitches popping came again and Mike bolted into the bedroom in time to see the seams at the bottoms of Mika's cutoffs begin to split. Her midriff suddenly became pinched by the waist of the shorts and the seams tore up the sides of both her elongating and widening thighs. Mika's pleasure at her new growth spurt was undermined by her discomfort and the loss of her new outfit. As she struggled uncomfortably with the waistband of the shorts, her chest expanded, and her breasts strained against the stretch of the thin, battered T-shirt, more and more of them becoming visible below the bottom of the shirt, which finally rode up around her armpits with a tearing sound, completely exposing her colossal breasts. "Miiii-kaaa," she whined with distress and stamped her foot, struggling to pull the top off. 

If he hadn't been so disturbed by her growth, Mike would have laughed at her predicament, which served her damn right for eating the forbidden colored pills, but as it was, he felt only helpless panic as he watched her head near the ceiling. Should have remembered she gorged more than once tonight, a thought chimed in the back of his mind. "Mikaaaaa!" she wailed, fumbling with the zipper of the painfully tight jean shorts, and Mike hurried to help her, but her struggles quickly became pointless as first the shirt and then the shorts were ripped completely off her enlarging body. 

Mika gasped as her chest sprung free and the shorts fell to the floor in tatters. Though she was clearly feeling the intoxication of growth, behind her heavy-lidded eyes was a look of apprehension as well as triumph. Clearly she hadn't anticipated this, but her heavy breathing was thick with satisfaction nonetheless. Her head bumped the ceiling, and she had to angle her neck downwards. For a moment, the growth stopped, and they both stood frozen, Mike staring straight up with his jaw open, almost between her long splendid legs, and gazing up between her heaving, titanic breasts to her flushed face, which mirrored the suspense in his own. Mika shifted uncomfortably and hunched down her shoulders and Mike saw her eyes flutter and roll back and knew an instant before it came again. 

Mika moaned and ground her pelvis, clutching her breast with one hand with the other braced against the ceiling, now far too low, and sank to her knees. "Miiiiii....." she quavered, and slowly collapsed onto the grimy plush carpet, her thick hair fanned out around her head, which twisted from side to side as she gasped and breathlessly tried to form the only word she knew. Her quivering pink mouth worked wordlessly and her eyes shone like rain on glass. She stretched out her arms, and they continued stretching even after she had fully extended them, and her feet were pushed partway into the mess of Mike's closet by the growth of her legs. She began to cry out with pleasure, her hands grasping at the air, and Mike could only freeze in dismay as what must now have been eleven feet of Mika dragged herself six feet across the carpet to grasp by the shoulder with one massive yet delicate hand. 

She pulled him to her, and Mike's head was suddenly crushed between her massive breasts which continued to swell even as he gasped for air. Struggling to free his head, his hands grasped her big nipples and she gave a hoarse gaspy cry, grabbing him tight by the waist and pulling him towards her face. His head momentarily freed, Mike found his mouth locked to the trembling lips of the now Massive Mika, whose tongue licked his entire mouth. She was shaking now, almost violently, and the thick, sweet animal smell of her arousal was overpowering. Mike's mind was lost as he tried to ride the soft, trembling storm of flesh that clutched at him from all sides, and his body responded with both panic and passion. He kissed her slick neck, biting into the soft flesh, and took one enormous nipple in his mouth, sucking like an infant on the oversized breast. With shaking hands, Mika pushed him downward, to the incredibly warm mound where her thighs met, the purple fur damp with sweat and sweet secretions. Mike obeyed without thinking. He sunk his hands into a tight chasm of wet velvet, and felt the rhythmic contractions of Mika's responsive body, spastic suction on his fingers. "Miii-kaaaa!!" She gave a long, drawn-out wail, and her fingers dug into the carped as she braced her body under the spasms of shattering pleasure. First his hands, then his mouth, locked on her swollen clitoris, and she bucked her hips violently, making Mike fear he'd loose his grip on her thrashing body until he felt her other hand clutch his back to hold him in place. The rhythm of her rocking hips against his pelvis was too much; Mike had to touch himself, to relieve the unbearable pressure in his crotch, but Mika wouldn't let him go. She pushed him forward until both his arms were buried inside her, clamped tightly in her spasming channel. "Mi... Mii...Miiii..." she choked and Mike braced himself for her impending orgasm, "Miiii....Miiii-KAAAAAAAA!!!" she shrieked and Mike's arms, clamped tightly in place for a terrifying moment, were suddenly and forcefully pushed from her body in a gush of syrup. She was still crying out with pleasure when Mike's numb hand found his crotch, and before he could even unbuckle his belt he'd come in his pants so hard that the pleasure of it felt like a stabbing release. 

Mika had stopped growing, but her orgasm was still waning. Had he been able to think, Mike might have guessed her height to be over eleven and a half feet. As it was, no such thought came to him, only a dull desire to be engulfed by his love creature, Mika, who called to him silently with outstretched arms. He crawled into her embrace, and she sank away softly into oblivion with his head nestled against her colossal chest. Sticky and spent, Mike rested his spinning head against her. As he drifted off he could distantly hear the beating of her enormous heart. 


Part 5


Mike stood outside The Zebra Club in a light sprinkle that promised more to come. He saw his reflection in the mirrored glass and saw the shoulders of his trenchcoat dampening and tasted the margharita that had gotten him this far. He hunched and shivered with chill and a faint flavor of shame, seeing what a picture of a sad, lonely creep he looked like, then abruptly turned away when he realized that anybody inside could see him moping through the other side of the glass. He set his jaw and pushed through the doors, walking with his head down so that he jumped when a beefy arm physically halted his frantic shuffle. He looked up at the bouncer, a perfect carciture in mirrored shades and tattoos nestled in hairy knots of muscle, and mumbled a feeble apology as he backed up and fumbled for his wallet. "Twenty," the bouncer helpfully commanded, and Mike handed over two tens and scuttled towards the bar, which was surprisingly empty. "Shit, I was probably supposed to tip him," Mike thought. Was the place going out of buisness or what? Besides the two leathery fillipinos smoking skinny cigarettes and shooting pool, the place was practically vacant.


The bar was fifteen worn velvet feet away, and Mike relaxed as he approached it, feeling the liquour stir warmly in his stomach. His step slowed to a swagger, unconciously walking to the rythm of "Eye of the Tiger", which played from four wall-mounted speakers. He slid onto a stool and shot the bartender a slick grin and a fiver. The bartender's eyes flicked toward him and she straightened up, a wel-tanned girl of about 30 whose hair had been abused into a shock of tinted ramen noodles that spilled from a purple plastic clip. Her freckled breasts were uplifted by a revealing purple bra, and Mike could see the faint dappled upper portion of the brownish areolas and the nubs poking like pencil erasers through the cheap material. He ordered a Guiness. With every meaty, bitter swallow, Mike felt the heady rush of anticipation and testosterone swell in his groin, and although he didn't smoke, he found himself smoothly withdrawing a pack of Lucky Strikes from inside his jacket and lighting up with a chrome zippo. He exhaled blue smoke and carelessly flicked a speck of ash into the nearest ashtray, his movements smooth and effortless as the motion of a tiger. Mike was feeling sexy.


The music changed again and the girl finally made her appearance. Strutting down the lighted catwalk that ran through the middle of the bar, the girl's exagerated undulations were both absurd and hypnotic: the swing of her hips, the bobbing breasts, the rolling shift of her ass as she walked. Five inch plastic heels clicked against the floor, which was situated at the same level as the bar, so that Mike was a little below eye level with her hips. She was wearing what might loosely be termed a bikini, a tiny silver garment with more laces than coverage. Mike was situated near the brass pole, which she took her sweet time approaching, then lightly jumped up and clung to it with first her arms, then her legs, revolving with slow, lewd grace until, bend backwards, she sunk so low her hair brushed the ground. She then slid herself up and caught Mike's eye in a well-practiced smoulder. Hanging on to the bar with one hand, she pulled the free end of one of the laces on her outfit and the top came off with a swish. Her breasts were thick and dense-looking, with smaller nipples than Mike had expected and the tan lines made them look even more naked. He noticed them stiffen as the sweat cooled on her skin, and the areolas took on the puckered texture of the peel of an orange. Mike held up a five dollar bill and she leaned far enough off the stage, crouched on her knees, to allow him the privelage of jamming the bill between the slick, heavy breasts, which she squeezed together with her hands to facilitate the cash deposit. Turning, she took the bill from her cleavage and tucked in into her silver thong, then began her routine in earnest, writhing and stroking herself, even spreading her legs and pulling the thong to one side to allow a brief glimpse of dark pink. Mike kept his cool but his hard penis slobbered shamelessly.


Another girl came clipping down the catwalk, a big, busty blonde with enormous hair and proportions. She must have been six two but she was wearing the same kind of platform heels made out of clear vinyl and gold plastic. She had bad skin and her face was heavily made up, her breasts far too thick and round to be natural, but the thick sleaze she exuded spelled sex. He could actually smell her hairspray, sweat and pussy; it was a hot, bitchy funk, slightly foul but he couldn't help sniffing for it. This one had the moves. She looked left and right, scanning the bar and saw Mike. She grinned wickedly. The blonde began her routine, working her ass in circles and loops until Mike was almost dizzy watching the muscles ripple under her tight, tanned skin, as she flipped her mess of dry hair in opposing circles. All this time she never once looked at Mike, but he couldn't help feeling that she was doing this for him, making a spectacle of herself. Mike felt helpless and irritated. It was like she was mocking him, and he wanted to shout for her to put some clothes on. She knew she was working him up, too, knew he was mad, and it made her laugh. She ran her hands up her glittery thighs to her crotch, to her tits, up through her hair, then spun quickly on her heels so that she was looking directly at Mike as she held her hair back with one hand and with the other squeezed one enormous tit, stuck out her tounge (oh Christ, it was pierced. Disgusting.) and licked her stiff dark nipple. Mike began to sweat and ground his teeth together. She beckoned to him with long curved nails. What did she want? For him to climb up onto the catwalk to her? Mike felt like he was missing an obvious cue to do something. The blonde laughed, or seemed to, then turned and walked towards the pole, slowly wobbling her bare ass away.


A third girl came down the runway, this one an asian. Mike liked that. The other slobs in the club looked, too. She was small and cute in spite of her sexy get-up. She ought to play up that innocent look, Mike thought, but she wasn't; she was decked out, sexy and mean. A purple vinyl bikini. Fake leather spike-heeled boots. A shiny pink sneer and a tacky tribal tattoo on her thigh. The other two girls were making out, kissing and fondling themselves, then one another. The third girl breezed by them, kissing the air in their direction, then attacking the brass pole with a polished humping and twirling routine.


When the asian babe finished with the pole she approached the other two. She smacked them both lightly on their sweat-sheened behinds and they broke their sucking kiss, a string of saliva connecting their mouths for an instant as they separated. The asian pointed a purple fingernail at Mike. The tall one nodded and whispered to the first girl. They stepped one by one off the stage and approached him.


Mike fumbled for his wallet, realizing what they wanted from him, but when he shakily held out a fiver, their eyes didn't move from his face for an instant. They encircled him, still rocking their tight bodies slightly to the beat. The little asian girl licked her shimmery lips. The tall blonde gave a quick nod to her companions and suddenly grabbed Mike's arms and with surprising strength, hauled him to his feet with both hands pinned behind his back. The other patrons in the bar seemed not to notice. What was going on? The blonde whispered in Mike's ear. "You like us, baby?" Mike nodded and spluttered. "See girls, he likes it. The little man wants a big kiss. Who's going to kiss our manly little man?" The asian girl stepped forward. With those shoes on she was almost as tall as Mike. She cocked her head for a moment, appraising him and said, "he'll do." She kissed him on the lips, long and fiercely. Mike's vision swam and he felt lightheaded. She ground her savage little mouth against his and gave a throaty "mmmmmmgh", then stepped back. It took Mike a couple of seconds to register what was wrong. The Asian babe was now about five inches taller than him. She nudged the first girl and she stepped up to Mike, kissing him deeply on the mouth, probing with her tongue. Again, Mike's head went light and dizzy and he felt a leaden stupefying buzz spread warmly from his head to his fingers and toes as the girl's tongue jabbed against his teeth. His head was tilted back more and more sharply until, as she released his lips at last she stood a foot taller than him. The asian girl approached him again, but the blonde wanted her turn and twisted his head back to meet her lips. She grinned wickedly, then pressed her lips to his and shoved her unyielding breasts against him. She kissed harder than either of the other girls, sucking until Mike's vision went to buzzing silver then black. For a moment he felt bodiless, floating in a world of formless black with no sense of time, then snapped back in a wave of tingles and nausea and found that he was no longer held by the blonde, that he was standing freely, wobbling, between the three of them, all looking down at him.


The asian girl giggled and dove for him again. Mike panicked and tried hopelessly to bolt, but the blonde stepped in front of him. She grabbed him firmly by the crotch, pressing her hand against Mike's erection in a grip that should have hurt but instead felt supremely pleasurable, as though his penis were engulfed in sex as thick as molten gold. His legs went numb, then limp. He spilled forward against her and now they were passing him around like a limp doll, kissing and laughing and growing taller every moment (or was he shrinking?)


Mike could no longer see the bar, the pool tables and catwalk and mirrors all faded into misty darkness and obscured by the tremendous bodies of the dancers who penned him in from all sides, but he could still hear the oomph oomph oomph of the beat vibrating him from far away. The Asian girl sucked at his face with a pink glossed mouth the size of Mike's entire head; as she kissed her mouth expanded until Mike's face was completely engulfed in her wet, warm mouth and he struggled helplessly to breathe. She released him (Mike gasped, choked and sucked in air like a starving man) only to pass him to the blonde. The blonde must have been... Mike couldn't tell how big she was. There was nothing to compare her size to except that she was bigger than the other girls and at least three or four times as big as Mike, who had lost all sense of his own proportions. The blonde tossed him like a baby, laughing, and stripped his pants off roughly as a child would undress a doll. Mike was too overwhelmed to struggle but he felt the blood rise to his face (and elsewhere) with humiliation as she flicked his privates with a teasing finger, the turned him over like an object and showed him- exposed him- to the other girls before clamping her outh over his crotch, her wide mouth sealing against his belly from hip to hip, and sucked gently. Mike groaned and felt with horror her mouth growing, his body in her hand rising farther and farther from wherever the floor was, rising past the heads of the other two girls who clamored for their turn to use Mike. Mike's body ached with horror and physical pleasure, shuddered with vertigo and a feeling of an extended orgasm too intense to bear.


The blonde released him momentarily and he saw that her mouth was as big as his entire body, the hand that held him the size of a car. The blonde beckoned to the other girls. "Watch this!" and sat down with Mike's stomach dropping as though riding a broken elevator plunging to the ground floor. He couldn't make out the floor past her expanse of belly, to which the blonde now pressed him, rubbing his body like massage toy over her stomach, shoving his head into her pierced navel and eliciting a booming giggle from the other girls. Then she used her free hand to peel off her thong and lowered Mike into the junction between her massive thighs. The smell of her sex made Mike's head spin and he wondered beneath the fear and humiliation that obscured all rational thought, wondered what she was going to do with him, and underneath that, felt with shame, helplessness and awe that he had no choice. This sleazy, sexy monolithic goddess possessed him entirely; in her huge hands he was simply a novel sex toy, a plaything of the awesome giantess. She lowered Mike to her pussy and released her grasp on him.


Mike immediately collapsed, but she nudged him to his feet with a finger almost as big as his body. Mike stood between wide tan lines on her mons, shaved except for a patch of pubic hair which couldn't have been bigger than a tuft on her, but was as big and thick as a shrub to him now. Her pubis, so pale compared to the leathery tanned shin of her belly and thighs, was abraded with razor burn that might have been negligible to the bar's audience, but now loomed with irritated stubble, reddened and rough with disturbingly magnified stubble. A poke in the back with a giant finger broke Mike's fascinated disorientation, and he was pushed forward, down between her legs.


"You know what to do," she boomed, but Mike didn't. He scrambled to get his bearings as the giant hand descended over him again, ducking and cowering. He dove for her clitoris to stave off her grip, to please her so that she woudn't pick him up again. Her clit was swollen and erect and at least the size of Mike's entire lower body, a pink knob twitching and moist, the hood retracted. Mike used both hands, rubbing in circles the wet, smooth surface, wrapping both arms around it to squeeze. Her pelvis jerked and spasmed and Mike clung to her clit to avoid being thrown off her body altogether, a motion which served only to excite he more. Slippery juice trickled from the slit between her legs. The asian girl spoke.


"Jezzy, do it! Stick him in there- no let me!" "You're not big enough," replied the blonde, I'll do it. I was gonna get to it in a second." "Give him to me when you're done, " the asian answered, "I'll get bigger and do it if you say he's any good." Mike trembled. With sudden realization as the massive hand reached for him, Mike dove for the blonde's brownish bust ad clung with both hands as her fingers closed around him and lifted his body. "Ow!" the giantess cried and dropped him. "You little bastard! Let go and cooperate or you'll be mighty sorry," and she flicked him with a finger. The blow, however conservative, knocked Mike over and he lost his grip on her wet hair. He didn't fight, now, as her hand grasped him carefully and still more carefully lowered him to her oozing vagina, the lips swollen, dark and parted, shiny with her secretions. She rubbed Mike's body up and down the split between her legs, from the crease of her buttocks to her throbbing clit, then began to bump his head up against her hole.


Mike was terrified, though a very vocal part of his mind was fascinated and marveled at this titaness' huge and hugely aroused genitalia, whose lips parted around his body as she began to feed his body up into her slit, with Mike fearful lets he suffocate. He struggled wildly, fearing for his life, but the blonde giant gave him an admonishing squeeze and, with a swiftness that caught Mike off guard, inserted him entirely into her vagina.


Mike flailed, engulfed, wet and squeezed in the powerful muscles of her vast cunt, but slowed as he found that, somehow, he could breathe. Instinctively he knew that his job was to please the titanic goddess and he began earnestly working his arms and legs in a rhythmic flailing motion. As he did so he crawled forward, seeking the rough spot inside her that would make her come. He could feel her body rocking and tilting and felt some pressure as she worked her clit, but he was secure inside her, wrapped in the private warm flesh of the biggest and most perfect of pussies. Mike thrust his body against her g-spot with all his strength, eager to increase her pleasure, to serve her, to please her. Though he was certain she could not feel it, his erection, so tiny against her giant genitals, was squeezed tight against his body and coated in juices so slick he felt he would ejaculate any minute, though both his hands were otherwise occupied.


It began with a series of long, slow squeezes, the gigantic orgasm of a giant woman, and Mike increased his frantic rubbing of her sweet spot, pushing and leaning into his with all his weight. The pressure increased and more juices began to soak him. Had he not been so single-mindedly focused on pleasuring his massive mistress, Mike might have wondered that he could still breathe, but as it was he threw himself all the more into working his entire body like a member inside her, rewarded by the wonderful juices of her wondrous cunt and the tightening which peaked a series of spasms that squeezed him like a fist. He could feel the vibrations as she cried out and he was squeezed like toothpaste from her channel, expelled in a gush of fluid so that he was halfway out of her body. Swollen walls of flesh pinned his arms to his sides as his sodden head and shoulders extruded from the giant blonde's vagina. She moaned, laughed weakly, and wrapped her fingers around him, pulling him free from the still-slurping clench of her body. Mike was swept away on a wave of satisfaction at having pleased her, and kissed the great fingers that encircled him with a passion that bordered on worship. The other girls moved in, grabbing for him and Mike cowered as their hands closed around him...


Mike woke up to the sensation of suffocation, flesh hemming in his head on all sides, and screamed, but his flesh-muffled cry came out as a bubbling farting sound against- what? Mike flailed and felt himself grasped and pulled free of... Mika's cleavage! She giggled and said "Mika" in a teasing yet apologetic tone, then let him climb down off her big body. Had she grown overnight? How could she be, what, eleven feet tall? How had he ended up crammed between her tits? The memories of the night before came flooding back to Mike and he groaned as he realized that the naked, purple-haired titanic vixen who now nuzzled him like a massive kitten just might make his nightmare come true.



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