stevebasiclovestheworld: bingdingfing:“You’re not going out tonight.” You pause,
stevebasiclovestheworld: bingdingfing: “You’re not going out tonight.” You pause, hand on the doorknob, ready to leave. Your girlfriend is in the bedroom doorway, frowning. She looks stunning. Stunning and sexy and really fucking tall. Her head’s brushing the top of the frame. “Babe,” you say, willing your eyes to stay on her face, with her perfect pink lips, “it’s just a game night. I know how you hate those.” “So you thought to leave me at home alone?” She sniffs disdainfully and pouts. There’s a slight quiver in her body language that translates to a rolling ripple as she juts her chest out in annoyance. “Am I not enough for you?” Wrong. She was enough. More than enough. You could barely keep up anymore. Last time she’d felt frisky you’d been left keening and at her mercy in her lap, one tit smushed into your face while you bucked feebly into her other, her cooing and coaxing you the whole while. You turn away, flushing. The floor shakes as she steps closer, behind you. You keep your head staring straight ahead, at the doorknob just a tad above your head. “Who else is going to be there?” she asks. Her hands slide down around your neck and press into your chest, pulling your to her. There’s a sudden presence of warmth behind your head and her scent, her sheer presence is overpowering. You remember how magnificent, how truly gigantic she’d looked when you’d last tried cowgirl, barely able to look past her boobs while she bounced and just used you to climax over and over and- “-honey?” Ah right. She’d asked a question. “Just the guys. Uh, Kylie too, because it’s at her place and-” “Kylie?” she cuts in, voice soft. “You mean that bitch who tried to kiss you at Christmas?” “She was drunk,” you were quick to defend her. “She thought I was Liam and-” “How big is she?” “What?” “How big. Is. She?” she grabs your shoulders and spins you around. “Is she bigger than me? Are her tits even close to mine?” You recognize that tone of voice. Alarm bells ring in your hand as you scurry to explain, “What? No, of course not. Honey, you’re enormous, biggest woman I’ve ever met.” She smiles, and she uses a single, solitary finger to lift your head to look up at her properly. Your neck aches as you crane to see her over her mountain of boob. “Good boy~” she purrs. You’re so in awe you don’t even catch what you say next until it’s too late. “I mean, she’s pretty big for a normal person and she did say she used to have a crush on me but-” Fury contorts her face, and you know you’ve fucked up because the next thing out of her mouth is, “Big, you say? Well, let’s see about that!” Your breath is driven from your lungs as she holds you tight again, this time lifting you against her chest with two hands. A pillowy mass unlike anything fills your vision, almost smothering you against her boob as she expands and grows beyond the confines of her previous size. You try to struggle, kick, but all you do is push against an inexorable tide of tit and you find yourself helpless, as she just clutches you. A twang of her bra snapping off signals when she’s done. When she’s finished she can’t even be called massive. She clearly reaches the top of the fifteen foot ceiling and her boobs fill almost 85% of your sight, with a brief halo of beauty that is her face interrupting the rest. “Let’s see how she likes being four foot three,” your girlfriend brags. You tremble at her voice. She was overwhelming before but now she’s just domineering. “Oh don’t worry baby, you know I’ll only ever be nice to you. I’ll only ever steal your size when we’re playing. You’re so cute all short and small like this though It’s just all those bitches who think-” You had to interrupt. Too much more and you’d fall under her will and never get out. “I-I need to get going.” She places a palm against your back and breathes in. Her chest literally inflates like an air mattress and for a second of thunderstruck desire you can’t breath. Any gasp of air is met with boobflesh that subsumes thought. Finally, at last, she says. “I don’t want you to leave, baby.” You’re trembling. You don’t even fight as her other hand expertly pulls your pants down, leaving raw and pressed against her. “L-look, honey, it’s game night! It’s *nothing*. I’ll be gone a few hours-” “If it’s nothing, then why don’t you stay home with me?” Her hand pats your back comfortingly. “We can even play a game. Our game.” You bite your lip. You still weren’t over that. She’d literally trapped you in a special pocket in her bra cup that day, unable to touch her with the fabric separating you but still shrunken and and at her very large and playful whims. You’d had to permanently sacrifice part of your height for her to end it early. You still weren’t sure it’d been the right call. “I won’t even grow,” she says, as if you needed convincing. “I’ll just….hold you. Sit you down on my lap, lift my boobies high, tuck you and then slowly lower it over you. You can even stay this size. My big strong man at three feet tall…” You raise your head and force out an answer. Oh god it was so hard to think. There was just so much of her. “You promise? And if I w-win you grow me back?” She makes a whining noise in the back of her throat and you fall in love all over again. “If you want….” Your body’s already working against you, her skin feels so soft your bucking your hips involuntarily. You need to make a choice. “…yes,” you concede. “I’ll play.” In a flash she’s sitting down, your world falling askew briefly as you follow. Then, before you can get your bearings, she’s picking you up with one hand - one fucking massive hand - and propping you in her lap while her other arm holds her chest over you like a postponed avalanche. Your head is on her thigh and she as vibrating in place. “If I win, you grow me back to normal?” you confirm. “I will, baby,” she promises. She’s always good on her promises. “But if I win, I get to make you even smaller. Teeny tiny even.” You’re not even sure if the thought arouses you more than it terrifies you. “Ready? Let’s begin…” And as she lower her tits over you, you tell yourself to move. To run, scram while you still have the chance. But you don’t. You don’t really want to move. “Oh my,” you hear as your world becomes nothing but dark and softness, “This is going to be a very short game indeed…” Massively good work @bingdingfing bravo! -- source link