Timmy's New Life, part 4 PREVIEW by C.L.T. A young man is brought to heel by tall dominant women The story so far: Timmy is a 4'11", 25-year-old orphan who lives with his rich aunt, Rose Nordgren (nearly 7'; probably in her mid-30s), and her maid, Brooks Fraser (6'3"; early 20s). Martha Thollen (5'8" when we last saw her; early 40s) was a friend of his parents, and her tall precocious daughter is named Sarah. The first three chapters are available on the DtV site. [NOTE: This is just a preview of the fourth chapter. I'm releasing it now because I've received so many emails requesting that I hurry up with the story. Sorry for the delay, but the full version of chapter four won't be done for another week or two. I'm further along in it than just what I'm releasing now, but there's still a ways to go. When I release all of chapter four, these beginning bits may have changed some in the final version. I haven't even proofread them yet. Comments would be welcome: email eslepov@yahoo.com>. Also let me know if you have any ideas for (non-sexual) activities that could take place at Sarah's party.] Chapter 4: Sarah's Birthday Party The next week started off with Timmy hopelessly willing to slow or stop the hands on the clock. Every hour of every day that went by, Timmy found himself sighing and consciously wishing that the safe moments of the present could last forever. He did not want to go to Sarah Thollen's Sweet Thirteen party--that statement had been in his mind for weeks, and now that the big day was drawing very near, his anxiety reached a crescendo. Timmy found himself looking with trepidation at arbitrary marks on his doorframe and wondering "Is THAT how tall Sarah will be when I see her?" Two weekends ago he had seen a mark on the Thollens' wall that suggested twelve-year-old Sarah was nearly 5'10", almost a full foot taller than Timmy. He hadn't seen Sarah herself since that fateful reunion in the mall, almost a month ago. Her skyrocketing height and relatively mature, very confident demeanor had equally intimidated Timmy. This was a girl whom he had babysat just a couple of years ago. Now she had returned into his life and--more than anything else that had happened to him in the last year, more than his aunt dressing him in girly clothes, more even than his parents' deaths--Sarah Thollen had made Timmy feel scared and inadequate. In the mall that day she had by turns comforted him and embarrassed him. She had treated him sweetly and even, amazingly, made him feel okay about sitting on her lap; but then just as quickly she would turn around and belittle him meanly, or cram his thin little body against her much larger, atheletic frame, just to prove to him how much bigger and stronger she was than him, even though she was less than half his age and not even close to being fully developed yet. Timmy remembered the cute little dark-haired, brown-eyed girl he used to babysit. She was precocious, was quite a handful at times, but back then Timmy was at least able to tell himself that he could indeed control a girl and watch over her. But now he was 25, hadn't had a girlfriend in several years, and the little girl he used to get paid to be in charge of was now back in his life as if to prove to him just how far he had fallen behind. He did some quick estimating in his mind and realized that Sarah was now much taller and stronger than him than he had been taller and stronger than her a few years ago. They hadn't just switched places; she was now decidedly MORE superior than him--proportionately MORE dominant over him--than he had ever been when he knew her a few years ago. The thought deflated him. She was also mature for her age, more mature than he was when he was a teenager even. He wondered how he would have felt about Sarah if he knew her when he was her age. He wondered how he would have felt about her even if he was a senior in high school and he saw her, this towering sixth grader who seemed so poised in every social situation. On the level of the social, he wasn't even sure that he outranked her now, even though he was much older and a holder of a couple degrees in higher education. Because she simply exuded confidence and strength, whereas he found it impossible to lose his aura of weakness and nervousness. If somehow their respective stats and personality traits could be presented to an objective observer, then--barring their ages--it would be a sure thing to say that Sarah should be the one babysitting Timmy now. That realization make him feel very weird indeed. Timmy's sullen mood wasn't overlooked by his aunt. Rose Nordgren kept a watchful eye on her nephew that week as he moped around her mansion. As she expected, there was no "honeymoon" period after the date with Brooks. Whatever fun Timmy had had with the maid was soon forgotten, as expected, and Timmy returned to his normal furtive, antisocial disposition. Rose knew that Timmy's scared little male mind was solely preoccupied with the fears of what lay ahead. Even though he could do nothing about it (he WAS going to the party, that much had been made very clear to him), he still inevitably chose to fixate and worry about the worst that could happen. Just like a man. A Nervous Nelly. Rose knew she had to nip Timmy's pointless bad mood in the bud before Saturday drew too near. On the one hand, though it was obviously good for a man to worry and feel intimidated about something regarding dominant women, too much of that would simply ruin Timmy and make him too dredfully neurotic. The trick was to make the man fear but also enjoy the prospective of any and all socialization with any and all females. Being something of an expert in these techniques, Rose Nordgren knew exactly how to manipulate Timmy for his own good. She came to him on Wednesday afternoon when he was sitting alone on the veranda. It was a sunny afternoon and it seemed that spring was right around the corner. Timmy wore his pink winter coat and matching pink pants. Rose had just finished a workout; her black leotard clung to her long fit body, and a white sweatband held her moist brown bangs from her moist forehead. She smiled a perfect white smile at Timmy as she crotched down before him. He was sitting on a tall chair but, even so, his big aunt was eye-level with him when kneeling. "Hi sweetie," she said. Not for the first time, Timmy was surprised at how easily it was for Rose to brighten his day with just a couple words. He got lost in her brown eyes and admired the gorgeous tan skin of her covergirl face. "Hi Aunty," he said. "Why are you sitting out here so sad all alone?" she asked innocently. "I-I don't know," he said. He knew that she was probing and that they were going to have a heart-to-heart now, whether he wanted to or not. His aunt was a source of so many heavyhanded "changes" in his life--all designed, it seemed, to emasculate him--and yet he began to realize that a heart-to-heart with Aunt Rose was just what he needed, just what he had been waiting for all week. "Why don't you come inside? I'll make you some hot cocoa and you can sit on my lap and maybe I'll hug your little body?" A month ago, hearing his aunt say something like that to him would have been unbelievable and sick to him. By now however, Timmy regretfully loved the idea and couldn't wait. He still felt guilt about being attracted to his aunt, but this too was fading. His position in life being what it was, with his body being what it was and Rose's body being was it was, he just couldn't help but want to be as intimate with her as possible. "Okay Aunty," he said stupidly and jumped down from the chair. She opened the sliding glass door for him and let him enter the house first. His eyes were below Rose's relatively small but pert breasts as he passed her and walked inside. He took his coat off and she prepared the hot cocoa. He watched her pour the hot water into their mugs, and suddenly he was glad that Brooks was nowhere to be found at the moment (probably doing laundry, or scrubbing out the cum-stains in his panties--many of them put there due to all of the memories that she had given him on their recent date night). Timmy wanted it to just be him and Rose, together forever, as sappy and insane as that sounded. He was a 25-year-old man with something of a high education and, last he checked, a fairly high intelligence. Yet here he was being treated like a toddler by a woman who allowed him no real agency or control over his own life--and yet he loved it. He watched Rose and began to salivate in response to her impossibly tall, perfectly sculpted body as it fluttered about the kitchen. She was in perfect shape, and her carmel skin and chestnut hair seemed to beckon him towards her. Timmy imagined that, given enough time, he could make love to every part of Rose's body individually, ejaculating all over it, because all of it was sexy, and it would all be with a sense of deep affection. When she strode toward him and offered him a cup of cocoa he noticed again that she was still sweaty from her yoga workout. He prayed to god that she wouldn't change clothes anytime soon. She didn't. She led him by the hand over to a big overstuffed chair; she sat down, and then he sat down on her sweaty lycra-covered lap, against her sweaty lycra- covered chest. Her wetness and the smell of her wet body overwhelmed him. Her musk even overpowered the smell of the cocoa. Both of the smells mixed together so nicely, so sexily, that Timmy closed his eyes, leaned back, and hoped with all his might that Rose would simply reach down with her long, long fingers and begin to masturbate him right then. Because THAT would be the greatest ecstasy he could imagine, and he seemed so close to experiencing it. Rose did reach down, but not to sneak her big hands into Timmy's pants. Rather, she reached down to steady his cup of cocoa, which Timmy--lost in his reverie-- nearly dropped. "Watch out, sweetie!" she warned, her voice having a happy shade to it. "The cocoa's really hot. Maybe I should hold it for you? It's a big cup for a little boy like you." Timmy steadied himself and rejoined reality. "No, that's okay. I-I got it now." He raised the cup to take a long sip. "Let me at least help you," she said, and enveloped Timmy's hands within her own. Her fingers were so much longer than Timmy's that it was almost comical. Timmy's little hands couldn't even be seen; Rose's hands completely covered his and she did most of the lifting. Her hands were so sexy and soft, with natural nails and just the right carmel color to her skin. Timmy's grip went limp. He felt weak but his penis sprang to attention. She raised the cup up to his lips. "Ready?" she asked. The cocoa tasted so good to Timmy. He never wanted it to end, feeling Aunt Rose's big thumbs against his chin. When the drink was finally over she set the mug on a coaster next to the chair. "Oops," she said. "Got a little on your chin and cheeks, Timmy." She promptly wiped his lips and chin with her long forefinger. "Wanna lick?" she asked, holding the tip of her cocoa-covered finger before Timmy's trembling mouth. He nervously opened up and began to kiss his aunt's big finger. His erection was raging now as he tasted her skin along with the chocolate. His aunt laughed a bit and then withdrew her finger. "Ew, I've got Timmy juice on me," she teased, indicating the spit that Timmy had slobbered on her, then she raised her finger to her lips, licked it clean, and then chuckled just enough to jiggle Timmy as he sat on her lap. He was almost ready to explode. After what had just happened it was all he could do not to ask Rose to please wank him off now--please, please, please. For all he knew she would punish him severely for asking such a thing, but it was to the point where he could hardly help it. "Okay Timmy, time to talk about Sarah," his aunt said, instantly changing the mood completely. Until this moment he had actually forgotten about what was going to happen this weekend. "I don't want to go to her party," Timmy said bashfully, putting his head down. "Why not?" Timmy thought for a minute before saying, "You know why." "Yes, I do know why. But I want you to say it." Timmy was silent again. He didn't like these mindgames that Rose sometimes played with him. He felt trapped. He felt like a lab rat--or rather a LAP rat--in some sort of experiment. Finally he said, "It isn't right for a 25-year-old man to go to a 12-year-old girl's Sweet Thirteen party." "Why not?" Rose asked. "Because it's not. It's too weird." "But you know Sarah. And you like her as a friend. And you used to babysit for her. You have a connection." "I know, but--" "That day in the mall you couldn't get enough of her. I remember you were like a little puppy, scampering around her, jumping on her lap, playing with her and--" "That's NOT how it was exactly." "Oh?" his aunt said in mock surprise. "Then how was it? You tell me." "I-I... I didn't want to see her but I made the best of it, I guess." "Timmy," Rose said, putting a long finger beneath his chin and tilting his gaze up so that he was looking into her beautiful deep eyes. "You NEED to be around Sarah again. You NEED to. You know it will be good for you. And the reason why it will be good for you is the exact reason that you're afraid of doing it. Now tell me why you are really afraid of going to her party." He sighed and closed his eyes. "Because all of the girls there will be so much bigger than me. A-and that isn't fair because I'm so much older than them." "Well, LIFE isn't fair, Timmy," Rose said in a sharp tone that made Timmy feel even more anxious. He wished she would just be nice to him all the time, rather than giving him this tough treatment sometimes. "I-I know, but--" he started. "BE QUIET. You need to go to that party simply to get used to your new position in this new world. Young girls are going to be taller than you. That's obviously going to happen, and you better get used to it. Being a guest of Sarah's will be doubly beneficial to you, because it will give you experience at being subordinate to a girl who is--" "What?!" Timmy yelped. "'Subordinate'? What do you--?" His aunt's body closed around him. She squeezed his sides with her long forearms, and closed him in between her thighs and chest by leaning down on him. His little legs, which dangled out only a little farther than her knees anyway, started kicking in a futile manner. "I TOLD YOU TO BE QUIET," she said, and when he stopped squirming she continued. "Now. You need to get used to obeying any female. No matter how young they are, sweety. Before you fuss again, let me simply ask the rhetorical question of whether--today--whether Sarah Thollen would be in charge of you, or whether you would be in charge of Sarah Thollen? If the two of you were stranded on a desert island, how do you think the natural pecking order would shape itself? She would obviously be the boss, Timmy, and there'd be nothing you could do about it. You'd be cooking her meals, cleaning her house, and washing her clothes as per her instructions, while she did the heavy lifting, hunted, and planned out how life was going to work for her and for you. Whining at her and saying 'No fair, you're only twelve' would not matter. She would just laugh at you, pull your little body over her much bigger, much stronger, zero-fat thighs, and start happily spanking your bony little butt until you stopped crying and inevitably submitted to her authority. To her authority on everything. But forget the desert island scenario, Timmy, because--hell--at the mall I couldn't leave you two alone in the store together for five minutes without her naturally beginning to show her dominance over you by picking you up, carrying you around and not letting you down. Remember that?" "...Yeah," Timmy said, bashful and defeated. "So do you see why it's so important--for your own sake--for you to get used to this position?" "Yeah," he said again. "It's for YOUR OWN good, Timmy. You know that. And if you can just let go of your obsolete male ego, I think you'll learn to have a much better time with all of this. I think there's a good chance you'll have a very fun time at Sarah's party. All of the girls there will judt love you. I know they will." "Okay," Timmy said. "I'll try." ("Because... what CHOICE do I have?" he wondered silently, a touch of residual spite and resentment still in him.) "That's my sweetie," Rose said and bent down to give him a loud puckery kiss on the cheek. "Now hop down and go see what's in that bag over there." She gestured to a brown paper bag that was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. Puzzled, Timmy slid down his aunts long tan legs, as if they were a playground slide, and wandered over to the bag. He furtively peeked inside and saw brown leather. He pulled the bag onto the floor and struggled with it a bit to get the item, or items, out. From her chair he heard his aunt chuckle and realized that he probably did look pretty foolish, fighting with a paper bag. Finally he pulled out a vintage cowboy boot with a platform and very high heel. "You'll be 5'4" in these," his aunt said. "These are five-inchers." Timmy admired them. It seemed perverse, but at this point he firmly believed that it would be better to be 5'4" and dressed in heels than 4'11", especially when he was going to be surrounded by a lot of young girls who could be looking for any excuse to make fun of him. The call of "You're wearing girls shoes!" would wound him a lot less deeply than "You're a little pipsqueak midget!" "Th-thank you," Timmy murmured, genuinely touched, pulling the other boot out. "Thank you, Aunt Rose." "I hope they aren't too big on you. They're mine from when I was ten." That unexpected bit of information hit Timmy like a fryingpan to the head. Was he really about the same size that his aunt was when she was only ten years old? Before he could even begin to process this idea, her voice came again: "I mean, I was taller then than you are now, but I think my feet were kinda small for my size back then. Oh! Look in the bag--there's a picture in there." Timmy's mind swirled as he looked back in the paper sack and, sure enough, spied an old photograph. "That's me and my date. I was a cowgirl for our little elementary school costume party!" Timmy looked at the picture. Sure enough, even though he had never seen a picture of his aunt as a kid before, the young girl in the photo was unmistakably her. She was dressed in a white button-up shirt, white cowboy hat, jean skirt, and she was wearing those same five-inch cowboy boots. She wore that familiar, stunning smile and held two toy revolvers. Next to her, coming up only to her chest, was the lucky little kid who got to be her date. He was dressed stupidly, in a childish Superman costume. Ten-year-old Rose, though trim and slim, looked like she outweighed her date by a good deal and towered over him by nine or ten inches. What must the little boy have felt to see her wearing these needlessly high cowboy boots, just to put her that much more above him? "Wow," Timmy said. It was all he could say. "Put them on!" his aunt urged. He stood the boots up side by side and lowered his sock feet into them. They were too big. He knew it. Still, he was so much taller now--he couldn't believe it, it was such a change. It felt good and he instantly had some confidence back. "Are they too big for you, Timmy? They are, aren't they?" "N-no!" Timmy said. "No, they're fine!" "You aren't going to have to do any of your old tricks and put silly little tissues in them to make them fit, are you?" "No, Aunt Rose, I promise you! They'll work out fine!" He clomped around the room. The boots weren't meant to be kneehighs, but on his little legs the top of the boots did indeed come up to his knees. "Okay then," Rose said, putting the matter to rest, "if you say they fit okay, then you can wear them. But if you trip or fall, then it's your own fault and I'm taking them away from you so you don't hurt yourself. Deal?" "Deal!" he said eagerly, continuing to clomp around and--maybe--just getting the hang of it. His aunt stood up and approached him. "Wow!" she said jokingly. "Now you're almost as tall as I am!" Timmy smiled and clomped over to her. He put his arms around his gorgeous aunt, who was still over a foot and a half taller than him, and buried his head into the lower portion of her lycra-covered breasts. "I love you, Aunt Rose. Thank you for these." "I love you too, Timmy. Tomorrow we can go to the mall and pick out a similar pair for you to give Sarah for her birthday." He froze. "Oh no," he thought. Feeling his apprehension, his aunt quickly gave him something to look forward to again. "I know you don't understand the reasons why I have you do the things I have you do, Timmy. But if it's any consolation--I'll tell you this right now--what I have scheduled for us to do on Saturday right before the party will be something you'll really like." "W-what is it?" Timmy asked, looking straight up into his aunt's smiling face. "Well Timmy," she said, "I know how you felt a few minutes ago, when you were on my lap. I know all about that. Okay?" "...Okay," he said, beginning to feel ashamed. "I don't feel the same way about you that you're beginning to feel about me..." His stomach churned. "...but," she continued, "I know that your poor little manimal mind can't help it. And I DO want you to feel good about yourself." She stared down into his little face so far below hers. She studied his nervous little expression and she reached down with a big soft hand and covered his cheek and the whole side of his head with it, patting him gently. "That's why Saturday morning I'm going to give you a handjob, Timmy. I'm going to give you release into my hand. It's going to be nice and I'm going to give it to you. And I might even kiss you, too." She smiled. Timmy instinctively hugged her and pushed his erect penis against her towering bare legs. His knees went weak and it was all he could do not to fall over in his loose, clunky new boots that Aunt Rose had worn when she was ten. ***** The next few days zoomed by. Any trepidation that Timmy still had about Saturday was counteracted by his anticipation of Rose's promise to jerk him off. On Friday morning they went to the mall and, unlike the previous time, it was not a traumatic experience for Timmy. He bravely accepted the fact that he had to do what his aunt thought was best. He had to hold her big hand as they walked, he had to be dressed in his little pink capris and a ruffled purple shirt, and he had to support his aunt's idea to get Sarah some high-heeled boots for a birthday present. They went back to the lingerie store (the one that he had caused such a scene in last time), and Aunt Rose asked the clerk if they had any cowboy boots with heels. "I'm sorry, ma'am," said the clerk, a freckle-faced man not much older (or much taller) than Timmy, "but the only cowboy boots we carry have platforms on them, not heels. We have some with four-inch platforms, if you'd like to see them." "Hmm," his aunt mused, looking down at Timmy. "The cowboy boots I gave you are five-inchers. It wouldn't make much sense to give Sarah four-inchers, would it?" Timmy knew that the question was rhetorical, but it pained him not to blurt out some dissent along the lines of "Sarah's already tall! Can't you let me gain even in inch on her somehow? Or do I always have to come out on the losing end of everything?" But instead he stayed silent and turned his attention to his aunt's big left hand, within which his own hand was enveloped. In just 24 hours that hand would be touching his penis, he thought, deciding that he could put up with anything if that was his reward. "What about those?" his aunt asked the clerk as she pointed to a daringly tall pair of black thigh-high pleather boots. "Oh, th-those?" the little clerk asked, seemingly afraid to even acknowledge the scary looking footwear. "I-I thought you said you were shopping for a 13-year-old girl?" "I am," Rose said, "but 13 is an appropriate age for a young lady to start feeling confident and at ease with her dominant femininity. We live in a progressive society, and I hope you aren't making the ignorant mistake of assuming that anyone who wears such footwear automatically becomes a sex object, whore, or 'streetwalker'." "N-no, of course not, madame!" "Do not mistake the attire of confidence with the attire of submission." "N-no, of course not, madame! I have undergone much training in school and additional training before I could get this job. I am more than aware of the attitudes of the past, which were all purely sexist from top to bottom, and I swear an oath of denoucement upon them each week in order to receive a paycheck." Rose nodded. "That's good to hear." The clerk then handed Rose the boots. They looked so tall compared to the clerk and Timmy; they were over half as tall as the men were. "Do you think Sarah would like these, Timmy?" she asked. Not bothering to wait for his answer, she inspected them and drew Timmy's attention to the boots' heels. "LOOK at how tall those heels are Timmy! Look!" The black boots had heels and platforms on them, and she pointed the super- high spikey heels in Timmy's direction. The heels looked as long as his forearm. He did everything he could not to imagine Sarah wearing those boots, but finally his mental effort failed and the image of a laughing Sarah towering over him, nearly two feet taller than him, burst into his mind. He cringed and couldn't help giving out a tiny little wimper. "We'll take them," Aunt Rose announced, smilingly. "This size should fit Sarah. If not she can return them. And Timmy can come with her if she needs to return them. So either way, it's a win-win. Either she gets to wear them at he party, or Timmy and her can go on a little play-date." She smiled down at Timmy, who instinctively put his head down and tugged on her hand a bit, wanting to go. ***** Saturday morning finally came. Usually it was Brooks who roused Timmy every 9 o'clock sharp, but this day it was Aunt Rose's big hand that wrapped itself arond Timmy's shoulder (and most of his upper-arm) and gently shook his little body until his eyelids cracked open. "Hi sweetie," she said. "You know what today is." She sat down on his bed, next to his little lying form. For whatever reason, Timmy instinctively thought that it was the day he had to get measured and weighed again. Then he remembered that Brooks already measured him last Saturday. As he came out of dreamland it took him a few moments to remember what today actually was. As soon as he did, though, he smiled up at his aunt, cooed softly, and shot his arms over and hugged the part of his aunt's midriff that he could reach. She was dressed in an open silk robe with an exotic Japanese print on it. Beneath the robe Timmy could see that she wore white silk undergarments; her dark nipples showed through the thin but expensive fabric. Rose looked down at her nephew and her naturally dark lips twisted up into a self-satisfied smirk. "Baby can't wait for mommy to play with him, huh?" she asked. Again Timmy realized that had she said words like that to him even a few weeks ago, he would have become indignant, if not outright angry. Now, however, he was scarcely even ashamed of desiring Rose to the extent that he did. She could call him her baby all she wanted. "I know you like me treating you this way. I know you want to please me," Rose continued. "But the trick for you today is to learn that you should be so willing to please ANY woman, no matter how little or young." Timmy eased his hug and looked up at her, a bit confused. "W-what do you mean? What do you expect me t-to do for Sarah?" "Anything she wants," Rose replied. "You don't mean--" "Timmy, Sarah is only thirteen. Of course she's not going to want you to do anything bad or naughty or adult with her. The very thought is disgusting, and wrong. And in a few minutes you're going to find out just how wrong I think it would be for you to have any sexual ideas about Sarah. But right now, I simply mean that you need to do what she tells you to do, when she tells you to do anything, and that you should generally have an attitude of wanting to please her and make her life nice. You should have that same attitude when you're around all women, even those you don't know." A bit dismayed, Timmy dropped his right arm; it landed on the bed just beside her curvy ass. His left was still near his aunt's bellybutton so he kept it there, as dropping it would land it right in his aunt's crotch. "I have a few surprises for you, Timmy," she said, breaking the silence and reaching back to pull out a white canvas bag. ("It seems like these women, Rose and Brooks, are always coming into my room with surprises," Timmy thought, "and so few of them are pleasabt surprises.") "First of all," his aunt said, pulling out a little bottle, "today you need to take a different sort of pill." "Oh god, not another one," Timmy replied. "I'm not sure I--" "You'll only take this pill today. It's a special pill just for today." "What does it do?" Timmy asked, taking a red little egg-shaped capsule from between his aunt's big fingers. "You'll find out what it does in just a few minutes." "It's not going to SHRINK me is it?!" Timmy asked, beginning to panic. "I can't afford to be any smaller! I can't! Oh god, Auntie, I can't be any smaller, especially not around all the big girls who are sure to be at the party!" He really was on the verge of tears, all of a sudden. He realized that there was nothing he could do if his aunt really demanded that he take this pill. And even if she didn't actually demand it, he knew that he would indeed make the trade-off and swallow the pill, even if was going to shrink him down to nothing, as long as that meant Rose would still touch his penis today. "It's not going to shrink you, Timmy," she reassured him. "None of the medicine I've ever given you as shrunk you." "That's n-not true!" Timmy said. "I've lost about three or four inches since--" "The medicine has just burned off the unhealthy cells of your body. Unfortunately you had a lot of unhealthy cells." "I-I know, but..." "Relax," she said, looking him in the eyes and almost hypnotizing him with her beauty. She looked so good to Timmy. She had to be in her mid-30s, but she was such an ageless, gorgeous woman. Her high cheekbones and tanned skin bewitched him. "This medicine isn't the same as anything I've ever given you before. Just trust me, Timmy. Just obey me and take it. And then we can have some fun." "O-okay," Timmy said, spellbound. Still staring into Rose's eyes, he popped the pill into his mouth and tried to swallow. But he couldn't swallow. His mouth was dry, mostly from anxiety and nervousness. He kept trying, gulping, but it was no use. "What's wrong?" his aunt asked. "Um, I can't--" "Hurry up and swallow. You don't want the capsule to dissolve and get all that nasty tasting medicine in your mouth." "I-I can't. It's too big and--" "Just use your spit, Timmy," his aunt sighed, beginning to lose patience. "P-please get me a glass of water!" he yelped, not liking that this otherwise routine act of pill-swallowing was becoming such a big deal. "I'm not your MAID, Timmy," Rose said, quite annoyed. "Ooohh," he moaned, as the capsule started to dissolve. "I don't have any cups or anything in my bathroom anyway, I--" "Oh for god's sake," Rose said dismissively, bending down to put her face near his. Next she yanked his head with a big hand and turned it towards hers so that their lips were touching. Her lips forced his open, then sealed themselves around his mouth. The next thing Timmy knew, his aunt was forcing a stream of her own saliva into his mouth. The spit kept coming, filling his mouth almost entirely. Timmy wiggled his tongue around in it, instinctively relishing any liquid that had been in his personal goddess's body. Finally Aunt Rose pulled away from him but still held the back of his head in her large palm. "Now swallow," she instructed him. He gulped and nearly choked a couple times, but finally Timmy swallowed the mouthful of Rose's spit that she had given him, and along with it he felt the red pill go down his throat. "W-what happens now?" Timmy asked in a meek voice, sitting up in bed for the first time that morning. "We have a few minutes before it kicks in. We'll have our fun in just a bit, but first I want to show you what else I got you. This will be your dress for the party." From the canvas bag Rose pulled out an old-fashioned pink puffy dress and petticoat. They looked like something Shirley Temple would have worn in an old movie. Next she pulled out a makeup kit and began to tell Timmy how cute he would look with red blush, red lipstick, and maybe some light shadows around his eyes. She then pulled out a blonde wig, with the hair tied in two pigtails, and a brown miniature cowboy hat that would match his boots. "I think you'll be adorable. Like a little showgirl from an old Western!" Timmy was, again, dismayed. "This isn't supposed to be a costume party. It's just a birthday party." "Nonsense, Timmy. All the other little girls will be dressing up. And I'm sure that a few of Sarah's friends who have boyfriends will be dressing them up as well." She paused, sighed, and gave him a downcast glare. "I worked hard to pick out the right outfit for you. I was hoping you'd appreciate it. Instead it seems that all you want from me is my big hands to rub your peeper." "N-no, Aunty!" Timmy pleaded. "Aunty, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I just... I still have some transitioning left to do, is all." Rose twisted her dark lips at him, then gave a slight smile. "Okay, Timmy. That's my boy. That's what I wanted to hear. I know you still have a ways to go yet, but I AM very proud of you." "Th-thank you, Aunty," he said, relieved that his guardian was neither mad at him nor sad about him. "You WILL look so cute in all this," she said, putting the items back in the canvas bag. "Let's hope that Brooks can contain herself and doesn't molest you on the way to the party." "O-oh?" Timmy replied nervously. "I thought you were--" "No, no. Brooks is driving you. I'm just joking, though. Don't worry. I'll tell her not to mess up your makeup or rip your petticoat." She winked, then sat the bag down next to the bed. "So..." Timmy began uncertainly, "what should we do next?" Rose just smiled at him silently. Finally she reached her long, outstretched arms towards him, which he took as a cue to get out from under the bedcovers. His little nearlt naked body was so thin and so pale in comparison with his aunt's supple, tan form. She nonchalantly reached her hands around his waist--they wrapped all the way around him, since he was so thin and her fingers were so long--and lifted him sideways onto her lap. Still sitting on his bed, Rose leaned back lazily until she rested against the wall. Timmy was smiling up at her, his butt sitting in her crotch and his legs wiggling in anticipation. Rose walked her long fingers down Timmy's naked chest and then used her index finger to pull up the waist band of his little white cotton panties. "Hm," she mused. "What could there be under this little tent here? Hm. What is in here, Timmy? What's that little bump making this little white tent?" Timmy just cooed and giggled. He loved how she was treating him. His erection was rock hard. "I wonder if there's a little peeper in there that I could play with?" Rose asked. "My big hand is awfully lonely and would like a little sidekick to play with. Is there a little friend in this tent for my big hand to play with?" "Yes," Timmy said, his eyes closing momentarily and his head leaning back to the side. "Oh god yes." "Well maybe I should pull this tent down and see what's inside then," Rose continued. She expertly removed Timmy's panties as unobstrusively as possible, lifting him up with one hand and sliding the panties down with the other. Timmy's erection bobbed up at her; it had one visible vein in it, which was throbbing in anticipation. "Hmmm," Rose said. "I don't know if my big hand should touch it. Would that be okay?" "Yes, yes, yes," Timmy replied, looking up at the scene before him. His penis was so erect and throbbing that it felt bigger than ever to him, but next to Rose's hand it appeared tiny, not even as long as her thumb, not even as think around as her elegant pinky. "I don't know..." Rose considered. "I think that little fellow might be too tiny to play with. He might get hurt." "No, n-no..." Timmy moaned, unable to take the anticipation any longer. He arched his back, trying to touch his little dick to the big feminine hand that was hovering inches above it. "Well...Maybe if these five big sisters"--she wiggled her long fingers--"play easy with their little brother"--she winked at him mysteriously--"then everything will be okay." With that she lowered her open palm and Timmy felt overpowering ecstasy as soon as he felt her smooth skin against his penis. Her insanely long fingers wrapped around his cock and stroked him gently. She drummbed his shaft and ran the back of her clean trimmed nails along his modest length, chuckling as she did so. "Aw, isn't this nice? Little brother and his big sisters just frolicking together and having fun. I think the big sisters just want to give their little brother some nice hugs and maybe a massage." She squeezed his dick slowly and carefully, not wanting to cause pain. Then she began fingering him between her thumb, forefinger and middle finger, rubbing his penis in circular motions. He gave a high-pitched moan. Next she enveloped his whole penis in her hand and simply began to pump him rhythmically, because he was now more than ready to be milked. She did not accompany this action with any more euphmemistic sayings. Rather she simply bore down and jerked him in a straightforward, professional manner. Before too long Timmy's little body began to squirm and buck and spasm. Rose quickly leaned down and through half-closed eyes he saw her own half-closed eyes approach his. As she kissed him long and tenderly, he shot blast after blast of hot semen out of his penis, but none leaked from Rose's cocoon-like hand. When he was finally done he sighed and seemed to couch himself deeper into Rose's lap. He felt heavy as he weighed against her supple thighs, though really Rose hardly felt his weight at all. She smiled down at him as she removed her hand from his now shrinking penis. "You're going to have to take a shower, Timmy." "Hm? I know," he said glancing up just in time to see Rose's hand come down on his chest. She smeared his come all over his belly, wiping it clean from her palm and fingers. Rose laughed. He looked up again and saw that his penis was still shrinking. He did have a small penis normally, but something was wrong. It was shrinking too much, too fast. His confusion was perceptible, but he was also still feeling the residual pleasure of just having ejaculated, and with one eye he still couldn't help admiring his aunt's form, draped as it was in the elegant Japanese robe, her dark nipples still showing through the white silk bra. And there was another sensation too; he felt that the pill she had made him take was somehow working, doing something. He almost lost himself in all this, overwhelmed by too much, but finally managed to speak. "What did you do to me?" "Why, Timmy," Rose smirked. "That's not the first orgasm you've ever had, is it?" "I don't mean that, I mean..." "I know what you mean, sweetie. I was just joking." "Then what--what's happening to me?" He looked down at his penis again, which was now shriveling down into an embarrassingly small little button. Rose reached her hands under him and lifted him up into her arms as she rose from the bed. "Babydoll, you're going to be around a lot of excited girls today. These girls are much stronger than you, but also much younger than you. And they can be very curious. I don't want them to do anything to you, whether innocent or malicious, that might cause you any troubles." Timmy curled himself up into a ball. "But that isn't fair, Auntie, to punish me for what THEY MIGHT do." "It isn't a punishment, babydoll," she said to him tenderly, smiling at him. "It's for your own protection--from them and, perhaps most of all, from yourself." "W-what do you mean?" "Timmy," Rose said, her voice suddenly serious and her grip on him suddenly quite firm, "to put it simply, I know that you can't control yourself or your bodily drives. Not when a female body, much larger than yours, may be putting you in an uncompromising position. These girls, though young, are significantly developed and post-pubescent. These aren't the malnourished, stunted little girls of centuries past, when men impeded girls' growth by feeding them their own horrid, stupid idea of what human diet was supposed to be. Nor are they forced to wear repressive garb that hid and therefore made them feel ashamed of their bodies. No, these girls are modern, strong, confident young women whose natural instinct is to test and prove their superiority over men, which may well mean physical contact that might give your confused manimal mind the wrong idea, though perhaps only subconsciously, through no fault of your own. Either way, for your own sake, I think we should remove the possibility that you might get an erection at the party." So that was it. Timmy began to say that under no circumstances would he find Sarah or any other of her other little friends desirable in that way, but then he realized that no matter what he said it wouldn't matter, for the decision had already been made for him, he had already taken the pill, and the pill had done it's work. "It'll only last for twenty-four hours or so," Rose explained. "Maybe this time tomorrow when Brooks wakes you up she can give you a nice wank if you were a good boy at the party. It's so good for you and your little penis to put up with this-- it really is for your own good." He couldn't argue. She set him down on the floor, his little naked form barely coming up to her midriff. He put his arms around her and buried his eyes in her taunt tan stomach. She put her hands on the back of his head, and on his shoulder, and squeezed him into her. "I love you, little Timmy," she said. "I'm so proud of you for being so bravely compliant. And I know you're not a naughty man who would ever want to get an erection when you shouldn't. But at the party you aren't going to be in control of things, and Sarah in particular will be able to do anything she wants to do with you, and it is after all your duty to submit to her. I'm sure she won't abuse you, but she may want to play with you in a way that might inevitably cause you to feel naughty thoughts, which we wouldn't want. So this precaution was for your own good." She was right. In a way, Timmy actually felt relieved that the possibility of getting a boner was now out of the question. He would now be free to enjoy himself--or at least try to enjoy himself--along with all of the other party guests. "Now go take a shower and wash your dried come off of your stomach, Timmy. Then we'll get you some brunch and dress you as cute as can be for Sarah." ***** "Oh my god I want to rape you," Brooks said in an awed, hushed tone as she looked at little Timmy, dressed to go out to the birthday party. He was wearing the pink puffy dress with matching petticoat, the blonde pigtail wig with the little brown cowboy hat sitting upon it, and lastly the clunky five-inch- heeled brown cowboy boots that Rose gave him. He wore red rouge on his cheeks, which his aunt had applied liberally, along with a touch of blue eye shadow and some red lipstick. He stumbled a bit as he stepped towards Brooks and the door. "Whoa there, cowboy," Brooks said, catching his shoulder. "You know what your aunt said. If you fall, then off come your precious boots. Though frankly I think it's kind of PATHETIC for a 25-year-old guy to be clinging to a pair of high heels because he's so worried about being shown up at a kids' party. Heh. Then again, it isn't only PATHETIC, it's also ADORABLE, Timmy. I mean that." She touched his chin with a white gloved hand and tilted his gaze up into her green eyes. The memory of their date returned to him. For a moment he mentally flashbacked to the time in the backseat of the limo, when he was trapped beneath Brooks' big body and she was grinding him beneath her, her hot scantily clad body bouncing and crashing down hard on top of him. And then he remembered what his aunt said about Brooks maybe giving him a handjob tomorrow morning, once his penis returned to normal, IF he was a "good little boy" at the party. "Ready to go, munchkin?" she asked. Timmy nodded. "Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked. "Um..." "Like, your little girlfriend's BIRTHDAY PRESENT, maybe?" "Oh yeah," Timmy said. Damn his luck. He had almost gotten out of the house without bringing those horribly tall boots. Another image flashed in his mind: Sarah towering over him more than usual, wearing the scary dominatrix heels. "The present's already in the car, spud," Brooks replied. "I carried it out while you were getting all pretty with your new makeup." "Oh," Timmy said. "So I was just testing you. And as usual you failed," Brooks said, giving him a provocative look. "What would you men do without us women around to clean up your mistakes and plan for your oversights even before you make them?" Not waiting for him to respond, she took his little hand in her big glove and led him out to the car. It was one of his aunt's sportscars, a convertible with the top down, red and relatively new. Brooks opened the passenger's side door for Timmy, helped him in, then walked around and hopped into the driver's seat without even opening the door. She adjusted the seat up some, because even though she was basically six and a half feet tall (including her black high heels) she still wasn't nearly as tall as Rose Nordgren. "Buckle up, little baby," she said to him. "Too bad we don't have a car seat to put you in. I swear, it seems like you get smaller and shrimpier every day. I wish we had time to measure you this Saturday." Timmy blushed, though one could hardly notice since his cheeks were already rosey red from the makeup. After this day was over--the day he had mostly feared for a month now--he already knew what his NEXT upcoming day of dread would be: whenever Brooks had to measure him next. But, honestly, he did not feel any smaller than he had been last weekend, when he checked in at 4'11". He supposed that the pills his aunt gave him really were working; he had hit the bottom and was going to come back up. After all, he remembered again, look what those same pills did for Martha Thollen. Brooks drove fast from the grounds of the mansion all the way into town. She had sunglasses on, and when Timmy turned to look at her as she drove he couldn't help but feel drawn to her--totally in awe, really. She seemed so cool, totally in command and in charge. Her short black hair fluttered in the breeze; her powerful gloved hands gripped the wheel; and her pretty mouth seemed always on the verge of a domineering sneer. He found himself wishing that Brooks really would pull the car over and rape him. He imagined her muscular arms reaching over and yanking him out of the seatbelt, her hands then ripping apart his clothes if not his body itself as she would dominate and molest him to meet her satisfaction. As if she knew what he was thinking, Brooks turned towards him and stared at him from behind her dark shades. She smiled at him wickedly, showing her perfect white teeth, then brought a gloved hand over to begin stroking his upper thigh. Now going over 80 miles an hour, the engine humming loudly, she continued to make all of the turns perfectly, even though her focus and gaze was on Timmy, not on the road. She started playing with his crotch, eventually snaking her hand into his panties. "Oh god," she snorted. Timmy couldn't even feel what she was doing, but he knew she must be fingering his shriveled, button-like penis. It didn't have any sensitivity, as if the medicine had completely numbed it. He just didn't feel anything at all. And at the moment, even though he could objectively say that he wanted Brooks with all his heart and soul, on another level he realized that he just wasn't turned on at all. Not really. The drug his aunt had given him was doing its job. "I'm sorry, Brooks, I..." he began, uncertainly. "I know all about it, pipsqueak. I just wanted to see and feel for myself." She had turned her attention back to the road and withdrawn her hand. "I-It will wear off by tomorrow morning, so maybe we could--" "Now you really ARE like a little doll," she said, interrupting his words and ignoring his feelings, "because you don't really have any genitals anymore. Just like a little doll doesn't." He put his head down. He hated it when Brooks did this to him. He felt frozen in shame, worthless, and also totally submissive to her will. He took on the role of a punching bag for her to hammer away at until her sadism was exhausted. "You're lucky you weren't really a doll of mine when I was younger," she continued. "No genitals? I would have gotten frustrated with that real quick. I was a girl who used to like to BREAK my dolls, you know. Maybe I'll break YOU someday. But I kind of already HAVE broken you MANY times, haven't I? . . . I said, HAVEN'T I?" "Yes, Brooks," he replied meekly. He felt lower than dirt, but at the same time he was very aware of the fact that, had his aunt not given him that pill, right now he'd certainly have a throbbing erection. ***** They walked up to the Thollen's doorstep hand in hand. Brooks still wore the sunglasses that Timmy, in a quite childish way, thought were "so cool", and in her free arm she carried the big box with a bow on it that contained Sarah's thigh- highs. Brooks rang the doorbell and as they waited for it to open she crouched down so she was level with Timmy. Though he couldn't see her eyes, he could tell that her expression was suddenly tender and honest. "Timmy," she said. "I'm being serious now. If you need help, or if something upsets you, or you get scared, or confused, and want to leave early... just call me, okay? Call your aunt's house; I'll answer, and then I'll drive as fast as I can to come get you. Okay?" "Okay, Brooks," Timmy said, genuinely touched. "I really do care about you, you know," Brooks continued. "I had a lot of fun on our date last weekend. I liked doing all those things to you. I hope you'll be happy with me doing them to you again sometime." "Yes," Timmy said. He was so appreciative of Brooks talking this way to him. It almost made him want to cry. It felt as if a dam was releasing pent up water pressure. "You're my special little pipsqueak dollman who I can molest as much as I want," Brooks said in the sweetest tone. "And no one gets to molest you more than I do- -or they have to go through me first." She raised her right arm and flexed, her sleeveless maid outfit allowing her bare bicept to explode in full view. "I know, Brooks, maybe we--" "Now give me a kiss, Timmy, and tell me that no one crushes your cock as hard as I do." He was going to say "maybe we could run away together and leave all this crazy bullshit behind, if you'd still like me if I could go back to being a normal man again"--but instead he just gave her a quick, obedient, close-mouthed kiss on the lips and told her: "Brooks, no one crushes my cock as hard as you do." She stood back up and smiled down at him. Even with his cowboy boots, which had higher heels than her shoes did, he was still at least a foot shorter than her. At that moment the door opened. Martha Thollen stood there, a toothy Mad- Hatterish smile on her face, and her dirty blonde hair teased into a lioness's mane that seemed slightly wet or gelled. She was dressed all in bright red--bright red dress that ended mid-thigh, bright red elbow-length gloves, bright red knee- high boots--but all Timmy noticed was her cleavage. Her boobs were spilling out of her low-cut dress, and it seemed almost comical for the thin spaghetti straps to try to hold them up; they stared Timmy straight in the face and he couldn't look away. "Timmy!" Martha said brightly. "How good it is to see you again!" "...You too," he murmured, his eyes still magnetically focused on her gigantic cleavage. Her breasts looked bigger than ever, but also more shapely. They hardly drooped much at all, quite an accomplishment for a woman in her forties. It must be the fitting of the dress, Timmy supposed. "And you must be Brooks, Rose's maid!" Martha said happily. Brooks gave her a dismissive smile and handed her Sarah's present. The two women's personalities were totally opposite, Timmy realized. He caught Brooks' glance as she looked down at Martha's cleavage, evidently jealous--since Brooks, despite her otherwise perfect toned body, had relatively small boobs--but also disapproving of Martha's showiness and friendliness. "I'll see you in three or four hours, Timmy," Brooks said, turning to walk away. Timmy finally found a way to tilt his head up to look Martha in the face. She was still smiling down at him. "See something you like?" she asked playfully, in a breathy voice. "There may be time for us to have some fun later. But for now let's go inside and see Sarah. All the other children are here--we were just waiting on you to have cake and then really get the party going. And I DO so love your little outfit Timmy!" "Thanks, Martha," he said. He wasn't sure how this could possibly work out, but he was glad to have an opening with Martha. It would be good to get away from Sarah and the other kids if things got too annoying; and getting away to go have sex with Martha was an added bonus. "Now," Martha said, putting Sarah's present down, "give me a hug already, and then let's go inside." Timmy again became mesmerized by her cleavage as he stared straight ahead and took a step towards her. He had forgotten that he was wearing the oversized cowboy boots, however, and on his first step he tripped over his own feet and fell forward, straight towards the soft balloons on Martha's chest. It all might have been okay--or actually much MORE than okay--if he hadn't let out a loud yelp as he was falling. Brooks was almost out of sight, but she heard his cry. She then turned around and came thundering back up the driveway. "You tripped, Timmy! You tripped!" she called teasingly. "You know what that means! You tripped in those boots just like I thought you would! So you don't get to wear them!" Timmy heard Brooks' bitchy voice even though his entire head was submerged in Martha's boobage. Martha herself could not stop laughing. She shook with laughter, which only jiggled Timmy's head further into her cleavage. Finally she pried her breasts apart with her red silken gloves, then coaxed Timmy's head free. Still laughing, she bent down, hugged Timmy, and gave him a kiss on the nose. "Oh Timmy," Martha said, "you're such a clown sometimes. I miss having you around." "I-I tripped, but I-I-I'm sorry," he explained, turning back and forth to Martha and Brooks. The latter just stood there with her brawny bare arms folded across her chest, smirking down at him. Martha was still giggling. "I-I-I promise not to let it happen again, and--" "It's too late, Timmy," Brooks said. "You know what your aunt's rules were. If you trip in those boots, you can't wear them. At least not until you grow into them." Martha laughed loudly at Brooks' last remark. Timmy sulked and sat down on the ground, half out of protest, half because if he really was going to remove his high-heeled cowboy boots, he would need to sit down to do so anyway. "As fun as that was," Martha said, "we don't want you tripping and hurting yourself, Timmy." "No we don't," said Brooks. "And we don't want to have to hurt and spank you just to get you to take off those boots, either." "And I'm sure Sarah has a pair of old shoes that will fit you," Martha offered. "She has a lot of pretty little shoes from when she was younger." Mournfully, Timmy slipped his little stocking feet out of the cowboy boots. Gritting his teeth, he handed the boots up to Brooks' waiting hands. And then he stood up again and suddenly felt tinier than ever. He had already grown used to seeing Brooks and Martha with those five-inchers on. Now most of Martha's fleshy globes were quite above his head, and he found himself eye-level with Brooks' stomach. "Bye Timmy," Brooks said again dismissively as she walked away. Martha gave Timmy a sad little smile as if to say "I feel your pain" and then took his hand to lead him into the house. ******