Timmy's New Life: Chapter 5
by C.L.T.
A young man is brought to heel by tall dominant women


Chapters 1-4 here:
http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/1misc32/timmysnewlife.txt

Please vote for and discuss your favorite female characters here:
http://www.amazonlove.org/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=6&t=5708&hilit=


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Chapter 5: Shopping Trip with the Thollens!

When Timmy awoke the next morning, he felt as though he had slept for a 
year. The first thing he noted was the immense amount of sunlight, 
flooding in through the white curtains of Martha's big bedroom windows. 
The second thing he noted was that he was totally immobile and couldn't 
budge an inch. Gradually, as the fog of strange dreams lifted from his 
mind, he realized what the problem was: In her sleep Martha had totally 
encased Timmy's little body between her giant thighs. She lay on her 
right side, breathing faintly, her head far above Timmy's; her right 
leg was against the mattress, her left leg was crooked over it, and 
Timmy was between the two, mashed tight in between the two colossal 
thighs. Only his head was sticking out, and the rest of his body must 
have been trapped and squeezed for so long that it had all fallen 
"asleep". At least, Timmy hoped that this was the case. The only other 
explanation was that in her violent lovemaking Martha had paralyzed or 
wrecked Timmy's little body some other way.

"Martha," he said, and his voice sounded like a weak squeak, surprising 
and dismaying him.

No answer, 

"Martha!" he yelled, after clearing his throat, now more sure of 
himself.

The big woman smiled in her sleep and made a little cooing noise.

Timmy could tell now that both of them were completely naked. He noted 
that Martha still had traces of red lipstick on, and this reminded him 
of all the fun they had the previous night--at least, the fun they had 
before he passed out. Who knows how much more fun Martha had had with 
him after she had overwhelmed him with sweat and exhaustion. She had 
been so very rough with him, an insatiable sexual bully.

"Martha!"

She seemed to stir a bit and mutter something in her sleep that could 
have been "Timmy". Then she absentmindedly squeezed him hard, simply by 
straightening up her legs a bit and stretching.

"OW!" The pain came sharp and quickly, then stopped. Timmy was relieved 
to know that at least he hadn't lost sense in his body, but the squeeze 
was so piercing that he instantly feared IT may have paralyzed him 
anyway.

He was still trapped and his body would not respond to his impulses. 
His arms were trapped between Martha's legs and even under perfect 
conditions he wasn't sure he would be strong enough to get out. He 
couldn't even see his arms at the moment, but he could see Martha's big 

bulging legs--he could see little else, in fact--and he knew for sure 
that his arms weren't even a 10th as big around. Maybe not even 100th 
as big in terms of volume.

Last night at Sarah's birthday party he had learned that he himself had 
sunk to a height of only 4'10". And then he watched as Martha was 
measured at just over 5'10". It was inconceivable to Timmy. She was a 
middle-aged woman. A couple years ago they both looked each other 
square in the eye, and they were both just a couple inches over the 5-
foot mark. But now, thanks only in part to the big heels Martha had 
taken to wearing, compounded with Timmy's tendency to stoop a bit these 
days out of general fearfulness, Martha completely dwarfed him to a 
laughable extent, not only in terms of height but also in terms of 
girth and apparent strength and vitality. But wasn't HE supposed to be 
in the prime of his life? And wasn't SHE supposed to be a bit "over the 
hill"? Instead, it was almost as if they weren't even of the same 
species anymore, as if she hailed from a race of domineering, well-fed 
giantesses, while he came from a family of malnourished pipsqueak slave 
imps.

Just then he felt a warm throbbing sensation, and realized that he was 
getting a boner.

("At least one muscle in my body still works," Timmy thought.)

His penis, however, must have been doubled-over or bent in some way, 
for he sensed a growing uncomfortable feeling, as if his penis were 
unable to straighten itself out and lengthen itself unimpeded.

Just then Martha cooed again, and Timmy looked up fearfully to see that 
she had indeed awoken.

"Just what are you doing, my little boy?" she asked him, a sleepy 
bemused look on her fair-featured face, her ruby-red hair falling down 
across one cheek.

"Martha!" Timmy squeaked. "Help me!"

"Oh you are so adorable, Timmy," Martha mused.

Timmy's groin continued to tighten.

"Please!" he tried again. "Let me out!"

"Are you popping a STIFFY for MOI, Timmy?" Martha asked, that same 
familiar wide smile returning to her face.

"Yes! But--Oh! It's trapped! I'm trapped, and--!"

"You are so cute and desperate, Timmy," Martha drawled, sitting up a 
bit.

Timmy whined hopelessly.

"Oh all right," she said. "Out you pop."

She took her one leg off of him, leaving him laying against the length 
of the other.

"I said 'Out you POP', Timmy!"

Then she bounced her lower leg against the mattress, springing Timmy's 
little body up into the air. Disoriented, the little man scrambled 
uselessly, flailing his arms, before falling right into Martha's lap.

"Can't stay away, huh?" she asked him.

Her crotch was spread wide and Timmy could smell her sweet musk. So 
overwhelmed was he, by everything, that he could only look down at his 
throbbing boner, whine again, and then gesture from his crotch to hers.

"Oh Timmy," she said, "what are we going to do with you? Last night you 
couldn't stay awake for it, but now you want it first thing in the 
morning. And I am NOT a morning person."

She straightened herself up in bed, threw off what little expanse of 
the sheets were actually covering her massive body, and then stood up, 
totally unconcerned with how any of her movements might jostle Timmy 
about.

He found himself face-down against the mattress, and when he picked his 
head up he saw that he was staring into Martha's big rear end as she 
was admiring herself in the full-length mirror.

She thrust out one curvy leg and then the other, posing, then raised 
her arms--which were slightly chubby, yet slightly defined, and VERY 
feminine--and flexed her bicep muscles. Next she put one hand and then 
the other on her voluptuous hips and turned from left to right. Timmy 
could see the reflection of her face in the mirror, and it was clear 
that Martha was pleased with her changing body.

"Mmm," she said. "I love the new me. Don't YOU love the new me?" she 
asked Timmy, whirling around to face him.

He had sat up a bit and dangled his legs over the edge of the bed. His 
feet were nowhere near the floor, though.

"Yes, Martha," he replied dutifully.

"What do you like BEST about me, Timmy?" the naked woman asked, then 
cupped and jiggled her immense breasts a bit. "And don't say my boobs. 
That's just a boring answer."

Timmy's erection throbbed hard and he involuntarily shot his hands to 
his crotch to simultaneously touch and hide it.

"Uh..." he muttered, so turned on now that he could scarcely think.

"We-e-e-e-ell?" Martha said, sashaying towards him, bending down, and 
putting a single finger under Timmy's chin to force him to look up into 
her bright eyes.

"Uh," he said again. "I-I g-guess I like how big you are."

"Well," she said, turning away from him again, clearly a bit 
disappointed in his response. "YES, I SUPPOSE so... *I* like how big 
I'm getting too. But really, Timmy, in your position pretty much 
EVERYONE is 'big'."

"I-I know," Timmy murmured, ashamed of himself. "M-Martha?"

"Y-yes, T-Timmy?" she answered, whirling around again and mocking his 
stutter.

"C-can I p-please have sex w-with you again this m-morning? My penis--
I-I'm just so turned on and h-hard. A-and I can't take it--I-I can't 
take it--I-I n-need to come into your big b-body!"

Martha threw her head back and laughed, then provocatively posed for 
him a bit, rubbing her hands all over her immense body while smiling 
down at him wolfishly.

"The answer is NO, Timmy!" she said, seemingly happy to disappoint him. 
"I already told you! I don't like sex in the morning! Don't be a 
whiner!" 

She bounded over to sit down on the bed next to him. This caused the 
entire mattress to tilt and Timmy's body slammed hard into her big bare 
thigh. ("How much does she WEIGH?" Timmy wondered.)

"Now if you make me tell you this a THIRD time," Martha continued, "I'm 
afraid I will have no choice but to discipline you. I spank very hard 
now--I spanked hard before all this, just ask my ex-husband--but I 
shudder to think what your backside would look like, or how long it 
would take you to recover, if I really went to town on your little 
fanny now!"

Timmy whimpered.

"Perhaps we can come to an agreement, however," Martha said, picking up 
Timmy with one arm and plopping his little body belly-down across her 
lap. "Would you like that?"

"Oh! U-uh, yes, Martha," Timmy said, distracted by how she was running 
her short nails along his back and buttocks.

"Perhaps I will let you have your way with me, let you 'get off' 
however you'd like--PROVIDED that we are both standing up. And you can 
have NO use of stools."

"U-um, um," Timmy murmured.

"No high heels on my part either, Timmy," Martha added. "Fair is fair, 
after all."

"O-okay!" Timmy said.

"VERY good!" Martha chirped, then got up, holding Timmy by wrapping one 
hand around the back of his neck before putting him down.

Martha walked back over to the full-length mirror, her insane curves 
jiggling all over in the process.

"Here is where I'll stand," she told him, "the better that I can watch 
the proceedings."

Timmy tentatively crept up to her gigantic body, unsure where or how to 
begin.

"NOW," she informed him, "you have five minutes. Do your worst, you 
brute you!" She threw the back of one of her hands over her eyes, 
sarcastically.

It seemed impossible, but to Timmy Martha looked a good deal more than 
the 12 inches--or at most 13 inches--that she had towered over him by 
as recently as the previous night. She certainly looked more than a 
foot taller to him now, and she wasn't even wearing heels, as she had 
worn when they made love standing up--or, more accurately, when Martha 
had used his body to fuck herself--about eight or nine hours ago. His 
eyes weren't even up to the level of Martha's nipples.

"You can stop STARING so much, Timmy!" she said merrily. "I KNOW I have 
nice breasts! I know they are very big and don't sag very much--but you 
are on the clock, little man! I'm not going to stand here in my 
birthday suit forever!"

He waddled over to her, crouching a bit as he walked, almost feeling 
weighed down by his throbbing boner--though this couldn't be the case. 
His penis hadn't shrunk in recent weeks; it was the only part of his 
body that hadn't! But, still, Timmy was not a well-endowed man, not in 
any sense.

He came up behind Martha. Just noticing that her gigantic ass now 
extended all the way from his shoulders to his crotch now excited him 
almost to the point of premature orgasm. He wrapped his hands as far as 
he could around Martha's middle and just squeezed her. It was the sort 
of hug a toddler might give. Still holding onto her, he attempted to 
raise himself up, but he couldn't hold his own weight and soon fell 
back down. Then, after struggling back to his feet, he couldn't help 
but just bury his face in Martha's left ass cheek, smelling it and 
kissing it and licking it ravenously.

"Just two or three more minutes, Timmy," Martha called, seeming to be 
totally bored by Timmy's actions.

He whined and walked around Martha a few times, somewhat panicked and 
not able to decide the best plan of attack.

There was nothing that he wanted more in the world than to put his 
penis inside Martha Thollen's ass or cunt, but both were almost a foot 
too high for his erection to reach.

Finally he stopped in front of her and gestured his open arms up at 
her.

"Oh, you want me to pick you up?" Martha asked. "How adorable! 
Unfortunately, no, the rules say I can't. We must both be STANDING UP."

Timmy whined again, his penis still throbbing more urgently than ever, 
but Martha just smiled down at him.

"You are even more pathetic than I thought you were, Timmy!" she told 
him, this time with real harshness in her voice. "You only have a 
minute left. Why don't you just hump my leg like the little puppydog 
you are and get this over with!"

He threw himself at her feet now, groveling and giving off a whine that 
seemed ready to turn into crying. Why wouldn't she be nice to him? He 
was driven mad with desire for her big body, for her to just pick him 
up and put his penis inside the places of her body that were nice and 
warm and cozy.

"OOooh, little Timmy!" Martha cooed happily from high above, suddenly 
changing her tune completely. "I'm sowwy if I scaahd yew!"

As Timmy kissed and licked Martha's feet, the big woman knelt down and 
put a friendly hand on his bent back. He furtively gazed up at her, and 
above her massive cleavage saw her sweet face observing him with soft 
understanding.

"We REALLY have to get ready to go to the mall, though, Timmy, so we 
don't have MUCH TIME," she explained. "That's the point I was trying to 
drive home to you."

She stood back up to her full height and put her hands delicately on 
Timmy's shoulders as he stood as well. ("My god," Timmy thought, "she 
HAS to be above six feet now. It ISN'T just my lowly perspective.") 

"I present to you my left leg, Timmy," Martha said, thrusting her leg 
out towards him and jostling him a bit in the process, her gigantic 
thigh crashing against his groin and lifting him up in the air briefly. 
"You may hump and love this leg now if you wish, treating it like it 
was your girlfriend. And I want you to enjoy yourself, Timmy, but 
please... be somewhat quick about it."

Timmy didn't need to be told twice, and by now he was most grateful for 
Martha's patience with him. He knew that other women--Brooks, for 
instance--would have put him over their knee and spanked him soundly 
long before now, if he had annoyed and delayed them even half so long 
as he had delayed Martha this morning.

To start with, he noticed that his drooping little ballsack rested on 
Martha's kneecap. Her hips came up to his shoulders, and just her leg 
reached up to his mid-chest. Hunched over a bit as he was, overcome 
with desire, he found that Martha's leg really was almost the size of a 
woman to him. Of course, that was under the old, prejudiced, 
stereotypical way of viewing things, when most women were expected to 
be somewhat shorter than the men they were paired with. But even then, 
Timmy couldn't help noticing, Martha's leg probably outweighed him. He 
put his arms around it and felt how huge and solid it was. He 
remembered how last night it looked as though two of Little Dewey might 
be able to fit in one of Martha's legs. He was still bigger than Dewey 
was compared to Martha, proportionately speaking, but he wondered how 
long it would be, if she kept growing at such a rapid pace and he kept 
slowly withering away, before he looked and felt even smaller than 
Dewey looked last night.

He embraced Martha's leg feverishly--just barely able to wrap his arms 
around it--and then thrust his groin against it. From high above he 
heard her throaty laugh and felt her bounce and lift and shake her leg 
a bit, almost as if someone had told her to "put her left leg in and 
shake it all about". 

He moaned in sheer ecstasy at the sensation of so much smooth soft 
flesh against his body. He rubbed his hands greedily over the gigantic 
expanse of Martha's thigh. She continued to jostle his body 
effortlessly, just by bouncing her leg a little bit. Clearly his weight 
was no impedance to her. He stretched his right hand around to the side 
as far as he could reach, and was just able to feel enough of Martha's 
gigantic rump to placate his fetish for her big shapely ass. All the 
while he humped her leg, mashing and jabbing his stiff little dick 
against her thigh and kneecap.

"COME along now, Timmy," Martha teased. "Spunk your little load for me 
already! I know you're obsessed with how at age 43 I'm suddenly 
becoming the hottest girl in the known universe!"

Timmy licked her stomach and side and then stood on his tiptoes to just 
barely lick the underside of Martha's left boob. His penis was rock 
hard, and between his own grip and Martha's jiggling, they had gotten 
into a pretty good rhythm of his little body getting bounced and 
banged, dick-first, against her big leg.

"I know there are other girls in your life," Martha continued, in a 
strange hypnotic tone, "younger and newer and taller for the time 
being. And I know that I was just 'an old friend of your parents'. But 
you know as well as I do, Timmy, that no one can compete with my sexual 
appetite or curves! I know you think I'm getting to be the hottest 
chick EVER, and I won't rest until the whole WORLD thinks of me the 
same way YOU DO! But don't worry, my little special boy, when I grow to 
MONSTER size, Timmy, you're gonna be the first little snack I crush and 
gobble up, just as soon as I squeeze all the semen out of you!"

Martha's dirty talk had done it; her thigh bounced him up particularly 
high and when he came crashing down, his sack hitting her kneecap, he 
exploded in ecstasy, shooting a long, large load all over her thigh. He 
collapsed as it happened, the life draining out of him, and he had to 
grab onto Martha's leg for support. 

He felt so weak and just wanted to shrivel up then and rest. Martha, 
however, wouldn't let him. She held him up by putting one of her plump 
but deceptively strong hands under his shoulder. With her other hand 
she wiped up most of the semen on her thigh and then licked her palm 
clean, flicking her tongue a few extra times for Timmy's benefit as she 
stared down into his eyes.

A minute later, when he had relatively recovered, Martha let him stand 
on his own feet again finally, and then walked over to her closet to 
look for some clothes. Facing her gigantic ass again, which she had 
just covered in lacy see-thru red panties, Timmy once again wondered 
just how big she had gotten and how much bigger she was going to get.

Still totally naked, he clumsily walked towards her, looking down 
bashfully and noticing how absolutely tiny his little feet looked in 
comparison with Martha's. Then he looked up, to see that absolutely 
huge creamy white ass again. He considered it the best ass ever, as it 
was so shapely, and as he approached it now it seemed bigger and higher 
than ever to him. He didn't care how much older than him Martha was, or 
how strange she was sometimes; he didn't care if she was going through 
a midlife crisis or what. Whatever the negatives might be, her 
attractiveness overrode all of them. From her sexy face, with its wide 
lips and beaklike nose, to her relatively dainty hands and feet, to her 
monstrous proportions everywhere else--he wanted her more than anything 
and thought this big Jewish woman, whom others might call a "yenta", 
was becoming the very epitome of sexiness.

Even though she was turned away from him it was as if Martha sensed his 
approach, for just before he reached her, his arms outstretched and 
poised to hug his tiny little manform to her gigantic womanform, she 
snapped: 

"Timmy, go away now, hurry, and go get dressed! And I don't mean that 
little costume you wore to the party, either! Last night I laid out 
some nice little clothes for you in the bathroom down the hall! Go put 
them on and meet me and Sarah in the kitchen for breakfast!"

-----

He wasn't all that surprised when he saw the little pile of purple and 
pink clothing waiting for him in the bathroom. Of course Martha would 
make sure that he was wearing the girliest clothes possible. No doubt 
these were some of Sarah's clothes from when she was younger. None of 
this surprised him. He put on the frilly pink panties, the little pink 
socks, and the pink cotton tights with an unamused but resigned 
expression on his face. After all, he DID just get to sleep and have 
sex multiple times with a budding giantess. The situation wasn't ideal-
-far from it--and the sex itself was certainly problematic to say the 
least. But all in all things weren't so bad for Timmy. Maybe this 
simply said more about the rock-bottom expectations that he had going 
in: the idea of attending Sarah's Sweet Thirteen birthday party and 
then spending the night initially sounded like it would probably turn 
into the worst 24 hours of Timmy's life. But it was far from that. 
Sure, now he had to go shopping with the Thollens--and it wasn't easily 
to look forward to such a sure-to-be obnoxious and prolongated affair--
but if he played his cards right he'd probably get to release himself 
in Martha's presence, or maybe IN MARTHA, at least once more before 
being driven back home to his Aunt Rose's mansion.

He stepped into the tiny little ballet-style slippers that Martha had 
left out for him, and even this was bearable. No doubt both Martha and 
Sarah would be wearing heels when they went out today, and after all 
the ostensible reason for the outing was to return a pair of 
gigantically heeled boots that Timmy had been coerced into giving Sarah 
for her birthday, but still, Timmy was used to this treatment by now. 
He put on the little tiny white shoes without any mental anguish, and 
finally turned to the last item of clothing Martha had left him.

It was here that Timmy finally felt an upshot, a pin-prick of shame. 
The bright purple garment looked familiar to him from the very second 
he started unfolding it. It was an old shirt and he recognized it even 
before he saw what was on the front of it. It was not only a shirt that 
Sarah used to wear, it was a shirt that Timmy had SEEN Sarah wearing 
plenty of times before. It was Sarah's favorite shirt from the days, 
roughly two-and-a-half years ago, when Timmy had been her babysitter. 
Timmy finished unfolding the shirt and held it out before him. There it 
was: a vintage-style image of Wonder Woman in a muscular pose, her long 
bare legs bent somewhat to the side, as if she were flying, one of her 
hands on her hip and the other held forth in a clenched fist, with a 
long red thumbnail showing. Beneath the superheroine it said "Girl 
POWER!" in big cursive letters.

Timmy knew that NOT wearing the shirt, or turning it inside-out, would 
cause more problems than it would solve. He frowned, gritted his teeth-
-clearly annoyed now at how he was being treated, demeaned and taken 
advantage of--but then he put the shirt on. 

And this is when "insult to injury" kicked in, for he realized that the 
shirt was actually a little BIG on him.

"It can't be," he thought. But it was. Maybe Sarah had stretched it out 
some? Very possibly she had continued to wear the shirt long after she 
had outgrown it; after all, it WAS her favorite shirt from childhood. 
Timmy couldn't convince himself that the shirt LOOKED stretched out--it 
just looked very WORN--but perhaps the shirt was stretched in a way 
that wouldn't show? Furthermore, perhaps Martha had purposely stretched 
the shirt out before leaving it there for Timmy; possibly she wanted to 
give him the impression that he was smaller than he really was. Any of 
those things could be true, but the fact remained that there Timmy 
stood, wearing a notable shirt belonging to the girl he used to 
babysit--a shirt that she used to wear all the time when he babysat for 
her--and it was definitely BIG on him.

Had he shrunk so much? Did Sarah used to be bigger than he remembered? 
As recently as a month ago, Timmy was nearly 5'2", and he had been that 
height for years. As recently as last night, he was 4'10". Had Sarah 
been 4'10" when he babysat for her? He didn't remember. During that 
time he certainly had no worries of Sarah passing him in height in the 
then-near future. She was definitely shorter than him. Could she had 
come within four inches of his height without him noticing? Timmy 
didn't know and he didn't want to think about it anymore. It made him 
feel small and pathetic and weak, and besides, his little stomach was 
gurgling. He was hungry.

Awash in fresh shame, he walked out of the door, wearing Sarah's Wonder 
Woman shirt, and headed toward the Thollen's breakfast table.

-----

The smell of sizzling bacon greeted him, and Timmy didn't think 
anything ever smelled so good. The strict vegetarian diet that Aunt 
Rose had imposed upon him meant that he hadn't had any meat in longer 
than he cared to remember. The one exception had been the pitifully 
small bits of crayfish and lobster that Brooks had bought him on their 
"date", but grateful as he was for that, it was only seafood. This was 
real bacon!

The indignity of his girly attire totally forgotten, Timmy strode into 
the kitchen. Martha was standing over the stove, humming to herself as 
she cooked. She was clothed in a huge red bathrobe, and this made Timmy 

think of how she had played "Mrs. Claus" for him a few weeks ago. He'd 
love to sit on her lap again now, especially if she'd feed him 
breakfast that way.

"Take a seat at the counter please, Timmy," Martha instructed him, 
throwing hardly a glance in his direction. "Everything is almost ready. 
There's coffee and milk and orange juice there, and there's glasses..."

Timmy had to climb, literally, onto one of the high stools by the 
counter. His legs dangled two or three feet above the ground. It was a 
precarious perch for such a little man.

"This all looks great, Martha," he told her, "and it smells fantastic!"

"Mm," Martha considered, still busying herself around the stove, "I'm 
glad you think so. I've found that very few men these days--my ex-
husband, for instance--fully appreciate how some of us women still 
SLAVE away to provide you men with good homecooked meals..."

("Jeez," Timmy thought, grabbing a napkin and some silverware from 
across the counter, "ragging on the ex-husband again. Any excuse to put 
him down. She wasn't even this obsessed with him when I used to come 
over here to babysit, and that was fresh after the divorce happened. 
It's almost like Martha is developing anger issues or something, though 
why it's happening now is anyone's guess. Maybe the pills she takes? 
Still, it isn't like I have any love lost for the ex-husband. Any guy 
who wouldn't worship the ground Martha walked on and do everything he 
could to get her back--that's a guy I can't understand. Of course, 
Martha is overbearing, and she didn't have the body she does now back 
when she was married, but...")

His thoughts trailed off as he noticed the flaw in his original 
argument, but it was at that moment that Martha brought the sizzling 
fryingpan over and slid two portions of sunny-side-up eggs onto Timmy's 
plate. The little man was dumbfounded, especially once some bacon and 
sausages--SAUSAGES too!--were placed beside them.

"Eat up, Timmy," Martha instructed. "If you don't clean your plate I'll 
take it as an insult to my cooking. And you wouldn't like me when I'm 
insulted!"

Timmy didn't really know where to begin. The knife and fork felt heavy 
in his hands as they hovered over his plate.

"Hey," he suddenly asked, "where's Sarah?"

"Right here, spud," came a voice, and on cue the leggy teenager bounded 
into the kitchen. She wore only black mesh exercise shorts that 
scarcely came a quarter of the way down her thighs, and a black shorts 
bra. Her hair was somewhat wet, and droplets of water collected at the 
tips of her dark bangs. For the first time ever, Timmy noticed that 
Sarah's navel was pierced; a teardrop-shaped pearl ornament hung inside 
her bellybutton. Aside from that, the rest of her abdomen rippled with 
a faint definition that Timmy had never seen on Sarah before. She was 
officially a teenager now, and it was as if she really had grown up--
even more so than before--overnight.

She glided over to her mother, gave Martha a peck on the cheek, and 
then the two women began dishing up their own shares of breakfast onto 
their plates. Their shares, needless to say, were much larger than 
Timmy's.

Timmy sat dumbfounded. This was so for many reasons, but at the moment 
one single element captured his attention: Martha and Sarah were the 
same height. Just last night he KNEW that the daughter was taller. He 
had seen it with his own eyes. Sarah was--and maybe WAS was the key 
word--exactly six feet tall, and Martha was measured at 5'10". Earlier 
this morning Timmy thought that Martha was taller than she had been, 
and this morning she looked just as tall as Sarah. But had Sarah grown 
any overnight as well, or was it safe to conclude that they were both 
6-feet even? Timmy didn't want to slide down from his stool to try and 
find out if Sarah looked taller as well. He was too scared to find out. 
Besides, he was pretty sure that he had shrunk some overnight--again--
so there was no way to be certain of anything unless they brought out 
the measuring tape again, and Timmy's nerves could not handle that kind 
of tension so early in the morning.

"Nice shirt, spud," Sarah said, snapping Timmy out of his reverie and 
tousling his hair with her long fingers, "I used to have one JUST like 
it."

She pulled up a stool, sat down next to him, and began to eat.

God she looked gigantic to Timmy. Her long bare legs easily reached the 
floor. Her plate had roughly twice as much on it as Timmy's did, and 
she was devouring it ravenously, while he had basically been too afraid 
to even touch any of his, a fact which didn't escape Martha's notice.

"I said EAT, Timmy!" she bellowed. There was a touch of humor to her 
directive, but only just a touch.

Then Timmy dug in, eating happily. The meat really did taste good to 
him.

"Don't you want anything to drink, Timmy?" Martha asked. "Coffee? 
Orange juice?"

"Err," Timmy began, undecided on what he wanted. At the moment he was 
content with just the food. Couldn't Martha leave him alone for more 
than two seconds?

"I would recommend the orange juice, Timmy," said Sarah, holding up her 
own glass of OJ. It looked small in her hands, and Timmy couldn't help 
noticing that her trim almond-shaped nails had been painted a smooth 
shiny black. "Do you know why?"

Timmy nervously looked up at Sarah while pouring the big pitcher of 
orange juice into the cup before him. It was almost too heavy for him 
to pour with any confidence.

"Err, no, Sarah. W-why?"

The big teen smiled and then leaned way down to stare into Timmy's 
little face.

"Because COFFEE stunts your GROWTH, Timmy!" she said, and then began 
giggling.

Martha joined in the laughter, and Timmy looked over to see the older 
woman shoving an entire meaty handful of bacon into her mouth as she 
cackled.

Timmy felt a bit ill. It was weird being around them. It would have 
been weird being at the Thollens' house for breakfast even under normal 
circumstances--and how impossible it seemed that "normal" circumstances 
would ever return for Timmy--but given the tenor of the conversation, 
which seemed progressively anti-Timmy, everything seemed too nerve-
wracking. He didn't know how he was going to get through an entire 
sure-to-be-long shopping trip with these two beautiful bullies.

"AW!" Sarah said sarcastically, as Timmy put his head down bashfully 
and with growing frustration. "AW!"

Then she propelled herself forward, out of her high stool and towards 
Timmy. As he clenched his arms close to his body and retreated inward, 
he felt Sarah's big hands inevitably force their way under his armpits. 
Still sarcastically cooing over him, Sarah stood up to her full height 
and held Timmy in midair before her, at arms' length.

"Did the big mean girls make little Timmy sad?" Sarah asked him 
mockingly, talking to him as if he were nothing but a little baby--not 
even a big baby, but a little one.

Timmy said nothing. He was very aware that in any other situation he 
would be seething in raw anger, but here Sarah was so humiliating him 
by holding him aloft with such ease, that he had no choice but to feel 
meek and modest before his obvious superior. And here he thought that 
Sarah, well, LIKED him.

"I-I-I'm sorry, Sarah," he said, not knowing why exactly he was 
apologizing but feeling that he should, since he was obviously 
deficient in some way.

At that Sarah smiled slyly and drew Timmy in for a long close embrace. 
"Awww! Come here!" His head nuzzled against her bare shoulder and he 
did his best to put his arms around her to hang on. Meanwhile she 
easily wrapped her arms around his body and stroked him comfortingly 
from his back, down past his butt and to his thighs, which she squeezed 
and grabbed a bit in order to hoist him up and get a better grip.

Sarah then started patting Timmy's back reassuringly, swinging him back 
and forth almost as if she were rocking him to sleep. His dangling 
little feet randomly bounced against Sarah's legs, far above the ground 
as she held him.

Suddenly a flash came, and Timmy turned to see that Martha had indeed 
taken their picture.

"So adorable!" she cried.

"That's gonna be my new profile pic!" Sarah chirped, then bent in to 
give Timmy a loud kiss on his nose.

"I take it you already did your exercises today, Sarah?" Martha asked.

"Yep!" Sarah said happily, holding out an arm and flexing a very 
noticeable bicep right in Timmy's face. "Too bad you slept in, Timmy, 
you coulda watched me do yoga in my supercool workout gear!"

Martha munched a final mouthful of meat and then began clearing the 
counter. "Okay then, if you're almost ready then we can leave soon. 
Timmy is all dressed, Sarah, so you need to--"

"I know, I know!" the teenager moaned, rolling her eyes. "Forgive me 
for not wanting to keep you waiting at the breakfast table. I decided 
I'd change AFTER we ate."

"No cheek today, young lady!" Martha warned, pointing a spatula at 
Sarah. "We both get enough of it from Timmy." She walked over to them, 
a smile growing on her face. "And rather than argue amongst ourselves, 
we need to be a united female front against Timmy here, don't we?" Here 
she began tickling Timmy's tummy, and the little male laughed and 
squirmed in Sarah's arms.

"Alright, alright..." Timmy moaned. And once Martha backed off Sarah 
gradually released him and let gravity slowly pull him down the long 
length of her body.

When Timmy reached the floor and stood on his own two feet, he noticed 
that Sarah's bellybutton, along with her pretty pearl piercing, was at 
shoulder level to him. Clearly she HAD grown overnight. Or had he just 
shrunk?

Sarah said, "Okay, I'll go get dressed now so we can leave," Sarah 
said, and Martha turned back to the dishes.

Just as Sarah was about to leave the room, though, she leaned back over 
towards Timmy, who was making his way back to his breakfast, and 
abruptly yanked him out of the room with her.

They stood alone in the hallway. A confused Timmy looked way up into 
Sarah's eyes, and couldn't help noticing that high above him on the 
wall was the marking of "Sarah age 12 yrs. & 11.5 mos. - 5'9.6"!"", 
which he had noticed two weeks ago. Here and now, the pretty head of 
the just-turned-13 version of Sarah Thollen stood well above that mark.

She grinned down at Timmy in an odd fashion, guided his body around so 
as to back him up against the wall, and then gazed down at him. Timmy 
started to feel very, very small and nervous.

"W-w-w-what d-do you w-w-want, S-Sarah?" he murmured.

"We're going to have a NICE, NICE time today, Timmy," she told him, 
ignoring his direct question. "We're going to go to the mall with my 
mom and have a NICE, NICE time."

"O-o-okay, Sarah. I-I-I know that, a-a-and I a-agree. W-we'll h-have a 
n-n--"

"Timmy, stop babbling and just listen to me," she said in the very 
nicest way possible. "We're supposed to be friends, right?"

Timmy's eyes darted from side to side. "U-uhm, y-yeah, we're friends."

"Best friends," Sarah amended. It wasn't a question.

The very idea of a nearly 27-year-old man being "BEST FRIENDS" with a 
13-year-old girl, a girl he used to babysit for years ago, now a giant 
teen girl whose breasts were slightly above eye-level to him--it all 
seemed insane to Timmy. Still, fearful of the repercussions if he dared 
turn her down, as Sarah's long soft fingers with their black nail 
polish were creeping around his slight shoulders, Timmy was forced to 

conclude:

"Y-yes, Sarah. W-we're best friends."

"Then why did you sneak out of my room last night!?" she snapped, her 
voice like that of a spoiled child--like that of the spoiled young girl 
which in fact she was. And then she throttled him a bit, knocking his 
bony little shoulders back against the wall.

"Why did you leave me, Timmy?!" she hissed again. Her big brown doe-
eyes had never looked so piercing and intense.

"I-I-I'm sorry, Sarah, i-it's just that I c-couldn't sleep a-and you 
were hugging me t-too tight a-and y-your m-mom offered me--"

"Omigod, I KNOW what my mom 'offered' you, Timmy," Sarah said, throwing 
him back against the wall and releasing him, turning around and rolling 
her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," he said again. "I-I c-couldn't r-really h-help it."

"I KNOW you couldn't help it," she said, turning to him again and 
squatting down so that she was roughly eye-level with him. "That's the 
problem. You SHOULD be able to help it. You SHOULD do what your friends 
ask you to."

"I-I'm friends with y-your mom too, y'know," Timmy said, and instantly 
regretted it. The words were like an uppercut to Sarah's chin, like a 
punch thrown by someone far larger than Timmy. Sarah's feelings were 
getting hurt; she was quite aware of Timmy and her mother's 
"friendship", but she wanted to be "best friends" with Timmy, friends 
in a clean, perfect, honest way that superseded any other sort of 
attraction. At this point, Sarah didn't have to explain the details to 
Timmy; her wounded reaction told him everything. Feeling guilty, he 
leaned into the still-kneeling girl, wrapped his arms around her 
shoulders and hugged her tight. "I'm sorry, Sarah, I'll do better next 
time."

After some sniffling and eye-wiping, Sarah patted Timmy on his head and 
then stood back up to her full, imposing height.

"See that you do," she said, once she had composed herself. "You forget 
that even though we're besties, and even though you're older than me, 
I'm still in charge of you." Timmy definitely didn't like that idea, 
but before he could decide whether or not to dissent, Sarah continued: 
"I can be awfully mean if I want. AND I'm awfully strong, as you know 
firsthand from yesterday. So DON'T get on my badside, ol' buddy of 
mine."

With that she bent her knees a bit in order to playfully punch Timmy 
right in his breadbasket--approximately right were Wonder Woman's fist 
was on his shirt, in fact. The jovial blow caught Timmy off-guard and 
it hurt him far more than he knew it should have. Still, he tried to 
laugh it off; he was just glad that Sarah had stopped crying. It broke 
his heart to see her cry.

"Remember, little boy," she told him as she walked down the hall to go 
get dressed, "I'm the boss of you once we get to the mall and my mom 
inevitably goes off on her own. Be on your best behavior, guy. You 
might be my best friend but I will still spank you if I need to."

Unnerved, but unsurprised, Timmy turned back to the kitchen. His 
stomach was beginning to hurt him, and not just from Sarah's punch. As 
he climbed back up to his stool, he began wondering whether or not it 
was a good idea to feed his digestive system so much meat again all of 
a sudden. He wasn't used to eating it anymore and wasn't sure how 
easily his body could process it.

"What's wrong?" Martha asked him, whirling around from the sink. "You 
don't look very well, Timmy. I certainly hope you don't think there's a 
problem with my cooking!"

"N-no no!" Timmy hurriedly told her. "It's just that I haven't eaten 
meat in so long, because--"

"Due to your weird aunt's dietary rules," Martha finished. "Yes, well, 
I certainly respect her decisions and her ability to put you on what 
she thinks is the right diet..." ("Even if I'm a 26-year-old man who 
wants to eat OTHER things of my own free will?" Timmy asked himself.) 
"...but in my house I always like to feed little boys just what they 
want to eat. You saw how I handed out candies to Little Dewey and Hans 
last night? I like giving out sweets and goodies, or in your case meat 
treats. It makes me feel... oh, like Mrs. Claus, I guess you could 
say!"

She sauntered over to Timmy in a sexy walk, turned and then thrust her 
big, red-robe covered ass in his direction.

Timmy certainly enjoyed Martha's banter and shape, but the illness 
rising in his gut superseded everything else at the moment.

"You poor dear," Martha said. "Hang on a minute..."

As she left the room, Timmy raced over to the garbage bin. He opened it 
and quickly vomited up everything he had eaten that morning: all of the 
eggs, sausage, bacon and orange juice--gone. The upside was that as 
soon as his stomach was empty, he instantly felt good again. Hungry, 
but good. He drank a bit more orange juice and was sitting in his stool 
again when Martha returned, as if nothing had happened.

"Here you go," she said, holding out two blue pills in the palm of her 
hand.

"What are they?" Timmy asked, picking them up.

"They'll make you feel better today, Timmy."

"No funny stuff, r-right, Martha?"

She gave him a dirty look.

"You're going to be holding hands with my daughter most of the day, 
Timmy. I'm certainly NOT going to want you to have a big, permanent, 
out-of-control boner the whole time!"

Too tired to argue or question anymore, Timmy gulped down the pills. 
("They must be some sort of digestive or painkiller," he told himself.)

Just as Timmy was about to tell Martha about his accident, and about 
how he was still hungry, she abruptly snapped at him:

"DO finish your orange juice, Timmy! Sarah is dressed now and we're 
BOTH waiting on YOU! How typical it is for the weakest link and slowest 
person to be the one MALE in the house!"

("Jeez," he thought, "I've never seen a woman in a bathrobe so anxious 
to get out the door to go shopping on a Sunday morning.")

"Uh," he offered, unable to help himself, "are you just going to wear 
your ROBE to the mall, then, Martha?"

She smiled, as if she were expecting this question.

"NO, TIMMY!" she bellowed happily. "I've decided to be a bit daring on 
this fine winter's day, and it's only what's UNDER the robe that I'll 
be wearing!"

With that Martha stepped back to give Timmy a better view.

She then promptly dropped her robe to reveal nothing more than the 
skimpiest of bikinis. Its coloring was a swirl of hot fluorescent pink 
and baby blue, and it barely covered any of Martha's humungous curves. 
Her insane cleavage thrust out close to a foot from her chest. She 
jiggled all over as she placed a dainty hand on a heaving hip and 
beamed down proudly at the quivering little male sitting before her. 

The sight caused Timmy to almost fall off his stool. He was in shock 
and awe at Martha's boldness and daring. Was she really going to wear 
nothing but an almost nonexistent swimsuit to the mall--in February, no 
less?

"...Now," she said, clearing the air and stroking her cleavage absent-
mindedly with her other hand. "All I'VE yet to do is put on my 6-inch 
platform boots and we're out the door! Sarah is waiting in the 
convertible for you to sit on her lap--so once again, I know you have a 
tiny tummy, but squeeze those last two drops of orange juice inside, 
Timmy--for you are a growing boy and need your vitamin C--and LET'S 
GO!" 

And with that Martha turned around to storm out of the room, leaving a 
stunned Timmy to gaze speechlessly at her monstrously large ass cheeks 
as they jiggled back and forth, the thin strip of bikini bottom 
disappearing deep inside them.

-----

It was frightfully cold outside. Dressed in only his threadbare hand-
me-down clothing, Timmy hurriedly pranced down the driveway towards the 
red convertible. Martha's mountainous form was in the driver's seat, 
and Sarah was waiting in the passenger's seat. Just as she said, Martha 
was indeed wearing only her swimsuit. Timmy couldn't believe it. 
Thankfully, Sarah had on a long black coat, and as Timmy climbed onto 
her lap--she was wearing dark blue jeans and a tight black turtleneck--
Sarah folded the coat over his body, protecting him from the cold.

"Is everybody finally ready, then?" Martha asked. Without waiting for 
an answer she started the car out of the driveway and began to race 
toward the mall.

Aside from being a cold day, it was also a sunny day. Both women had 
sunglasses on. Sarah's were big, circular and dark. Martha's were 
fairly big too, but they had light blue lenses, allowing for observers 
to see her pretty eyes.

Timmy glanced over and noticed that, sure enough, the frigid air and 
wind had ensured that the points of Martha's nipples were very visible 
through her bikini top. In the confined space, both Martha and her 
boobs had never looked bigger.

Timmy shivered. He heard Sarah make an "Aw!" sound and then snuggled 
him closer to her. Her lap was relatively soft and warm. His feet 
didn't even come close to touching the floor, but looking down he 
noticed that Sarah was wearing a very sharp pair of brown leather 
booties with 3-inch heels. As if she needed them.

Glancing over he saw that Martha too was wearing heels. She was indeed 
wearing the 6-inch platform boots she had alluded to earlier. Made out 
of a plasticky/pleather material, they came up to her knees. They were 
bright blue, a shade that matched the blue in her swimsuit, and their 
heels were very cartoonish, dramatic and chunky. 

The thought of walking next to these towering superbabes--Martha 
especially--in a public place made Timmy shiver again.

"Aww!" Sarah said again, louder this time. She squeezed Timmy tightly 
and then snaked her hands back through the arms of her coat. She was 
wearing simple black cloth gloves, and with her hands she rubbed 
Timmy's little body rigorously, in an effort to warm him up.

"Th-thanks, Sarah," he said, quite happy for her to assume that his 

shivering only had to do with the cold and not with any other sort of 
nervousness. And what Sarah was doing really did feel good. Her coat 
was still buttoned and wrapped around the both of them, and Timmy was 
really starting to feel cozy, despite being in a convertible barreling 
down the highway in wintertime.

Eventually Sarah stopped rubbing, squeezed Timmy tightly, and then 
rested her gloved hands on Timmy's lap.

It was then that Martha decided to turn the radio on. Trashy pop music, 
of course, but from the slight banter they made it seemed that Martha 
knew the songs better than Sarah did.

("A 40-something-year-old woman," Timmy thought, "dressed in an 
outrageous manner, going to the mall on a Sunday morning. At times it 
seems that the 13-year-old daughter is more respectable and mature. I 
wonder what Sarah can possibly think of her mother? Isn't she 
embarrassed? I mean...")

Timmy's thoughts trailed off as he glanced over at Martha again. She 
was bopping the steering wheel in time with the music, and even that 

slight action was causing her massive breasts to jiggle quite a lot. 
There was almost nothing on her. Her incredible curviness was revealed 
to a scandalous extent. Timmy began to wonder whether the mall would 
even let her enter the building like this.

Before he knew it, he was developing a hardon. He shut his eyes and 
turned his head away from Martha, trying to get her ungodly feminine 
form out of his mind. Sarah's hands were still resting quite near his 
crotch, and if he wasn't careful...

He opened his eyes and tried to concentrate on and care about the 
passing urban waste. Few people were out and about at this hour, and 
none of the rundown buildings caught his eye or imagination. All he 
could think about was how gargantuan Martha Thollen was going to look, 
dressed in next to nothing, stomping through the mall in heels that 
made her closer to 7 feet tall than 6, as insane as that...

He couldn't help it.

"Hmph!" he heard Sarah say, from above and behind his head.

"I-I-I..." Timmy stuttered, trying to apologize and explain, somehow.

The girl pulled her hands away from his lap, paused, and then thought 
better of it: she suddenly shot her hands back down to Timmy's crotch 
and in one sharp motion grabbed onto everything down there and just 
SQUEEZED.

"OOOOWWW!" Timmy screamed. And then Sarah snaked her hands back out 
through the sleeves of her coat, as if nothing had happened.

"What are you two kids doing, huh?" Martha asked rhetorically, not 
taking her eyes off the road.

Sarah casually put her hands together over Timmy's lap again, but this 
time through the outside of her long coat.

"I thought we might put our earlier unpleasantness behind us," she 
whispered in his ear. "But now I see that you want to be naughty today. 
In case you were wondering, Timmy, that sort of naughtiness from you 
does NOT amuse me. But I'll give you one more chance to prove to me 
that you can be a good boy, and we'll have a nice day at the mall."

Then Sarah bent down and kissed him sweetly on the head.

Timmy said nothing, frozen in fear and trepidation, as Martha pulled 
into the mall parking lot.

-----

Sitting on Sarah's lap as he was, Timmy had to be the first one out of 
the car. He had but a short few seconds of pacing around nervously 
before Martha appeared before him for the first time while wearing her 
big blue boots with the 6-inch heels.

Nothing could have prepared Timmy for the sight before him. She stood 
somewhere between six-and-a-half and seven feet tall. She was nearly 
naked and her expansive curves almost completely filled little Timmy's 
vision. Without a word Martha backed Timmy up against the car and 
beamed down happily from behind her designer shades.

"You LIKE?" she asked him rhetorically.

His shoulders were below Martha's waist. Her bellybutton was level with 
his thin, gulping neck. One of her big knees knocked--perhaps 
unintentionally--against Timmy's raging boner and she pinned him tight 
between the car and her naked belly. The tiny string bikini seemed 
stretched to the breaking point, with Martha's big crotch thrust 
forward into Timmy's meager chest.

He just gagged and made sputtering noises.

"Oh Mom..." Sarah mused. The tall teenager shut the car door and walked 
over to stand beside her mother, her 3-inch bootie heels making loud 
noises against the pavement. She had tossed her longcoat in the car and 
only wore her tight jeans and clingy black turtleneck. "Poor Timmy. Let 
him go."

Martha continued to grin down at him but then slowly backed away.

Freed, Timmy instinctively turned toward Sarah and gave her a hug 
around her waist.

"Yes," the girl told him, patting his back, "hug your savior."

"Get the boots from the trunk, Sarah, and come along."

Smiling happily, the girl opened the trunk and removed the gigantic 
heels--every bit as tall as the ones Martha was wearing--and handed 
them to Timmy.

"Here, Timmy," she said. "I'm not the one who bought them. You did. So 
you can carry them for me. Otherwise your 'gift' is just more work for 
me, and that's definitely not how it should work."

Martha nodded approvingly.

The boots were each half as tall as Timmy himself was. He had his arms 
full but thought that he could probably manage them all right.

Martha led the way, clearly eager to enter the mall. Sarah followed and 
Timmy stumbled behind. 

Sarah's black longcoat would occasionally get in the way, and the big 
boots he was carrying obscured his vision somewhat, but he still had an 
excellent view of Martha's gigantic asscheeks as she strode ahead of 
them. They were such a big target that they were hard to miss.

He wasn't sure how it was all going to work out, though, especially if 
Martha was there, when he returned the boots. Of course this was all an 
elaborate ruse, an excuse just to go to the mall. Sarah had tried the 
boots on last night and they fit her fine. He supposed that he and 
Sarah would just wait until Martha went off on her own, and then they 
would pretend to return the boots, tell her mother that they had, and 
then simply walk back out with the same pair they walked in with.

"Don't slip, Timmy!" Sarah cautioned "Keep your mind on what you're 
doing!"

There was still a bit of slush and snow in the parking lot. In his 
pathetic little hand-me-down ballet shoes, which could have passed for 
little doll's shoes, Timmy was not dressed for February. Then again, 
neither was Martha.

"I wish you had a free hand I could hold!" Sarah complained, as they 
neared the entrance. "I think I'd like to hold my little man-friend's 
baby paw," she added quietly, giggling a bit and clearly trying to get 
a rise out of Timmy.

"I wasn't thinking," Martha said, tossing her shoulder-length red hair 
back as she addressed her daughter. "I agree it's best for Timmy to 
carry your boots--but at the same time perhaps I could have carried 
HIM!"

Sarah giggled.

"Would YEW have LIKED that, Timmy!?" Martha asked patronizingly, 
turning around fully and bending down in Timmy's face for a moment. She 
breathed in deep, heaved her chest out a bit, and did something between 
a muscle pose and a "vogue" shot.

"Mom," Sarah laughed, "I think if you so much as touch Timmy right now, 
even with your pinky against the tip of his nose, I'd be needing to 
escort him to the little boys room and help him change his panties!"

Both women laughed. By now Timmy was used to being embarrassed and 
emasculated all the time, but this degree of raunchiness from Sarah was 
something new and troubling to him.

They finally reached the mall doors, but both Martha and Sarah just 
seemed to pause there. Blank expressions were on their faces. Timmy 
looked up at both of them puzzled. Then Martha sighed and began tapping 
the front of one boot. Then Sarah sighed and began examining her 
painted nails. Finally Timmy got the idea.

He snuck his way in front of the women--they weren't making it easy, 
since they were standing so close to the doors--and began to try to get 
a grip on one of the door handles. This wasn't easy either, since his 
arms were already full.

"Watch those boots, Timmy," Sarah instructed. "If they fall and get 
slush and salt on them, that will probably mean they can't be returned. 
And in that case I'll be very, very pissed at you, and you will 
probably be getting a very severe spanking on the spot."

By now, Timmy knew that even though Sarah was currently joking, she 
probably WOULD spank him in the event that he dropped a boot. And even 
if Sarah wouldn't want to do it, he had the impression that Martha 
would make sure it happened. It simply wasn't a wise idea for a woman 
to threaten a man without making good on the promise. That kind of 
laxity could throw off an entire training and obedience regiment.

"C-Can y-you h-h-hold the boots?" Timmy asked, as he struggled to get 
enough fingers free to budge the door handle.

Both women sighed simultaneously, and then chuckled at this coincidence 
under their breath. They were obviously not going to help him. It was 
too much fun to watch him squirm and struggle.

Finally Timmy, using three fingers and the entire strength of his right 
arm, was barely able to open the door just far enough for him to sneak 
his little foot in. He couldn't maintain the pressure, though, and the 
door swung back shut, silently crushing his leg in the process. He 
stifled a scream. Thankfully he wasn't hurt too bad and was able to use 
his leg as leverage to open the door again. Then, with his entire body, 
Sarah's birthday boots still jumbled and somehow balanced in his arms, 
he managed to hold it open wide enough and long enough for Sarah to 
nonchalantly walk through.

Martha, however, was skeptical.

"I think you might have to open the adjacent door too, Timmy," she 
remarked. "I'm afraid that I'm simply too... voluptuous to fit through 
one door."

"I-I... I CAN'T," Timmy said, struggling to keep the one door open.

"Oh very well," Martha said dismissively. "But don't say I didn't warn 
you."

She squeezed past Timmy then, and went out of her way to squish his 
little body very hard against the doorframe in the process.

Timmy felt Martha's big curves crushing his existence away, and there 
was nothing he could do about it. Just as he was about to pass out, and 
just as he was also about to come in his panties, Martha let up. She 
was inside the mall now.

Dazed and recovering from the experience, Timmy let one of Sarah's 
boots slip from his grasp.

He shrieked and pawed the air, but it was too late.

Lucky for Timmy, however, the falling boot ended up inside the mall, 
landing sole-down, standing upright, on the clean linoleum floor.

"Aw," Sarah said, rubbing her hands together, "and I was just getting 
warmed up to give one naughty little boy a spanking. I guess that'll 
have to wait for later." She winked at him.

Timmy picked up the boot and quickly scampered behind the two ladies. 
His little legs weren't nearly as long as theirs, so he had to walk a 
lot faster to keep up.

And he had reason to keep up. As no one had been out and about in the 
parking lot, this was Timmy's first chance to see how people reacted to 
Martha's lack of clothes. He didn't want to miss their reactions, and 
half of him still expected some mall cops to try and convince Martha to 
leave the premises due to some violation of public indecency conduct.

"Sarah," Martha said suddenly, "why don't you try on those boots right 
now, just to make sure that they don't fit. No sense in wasting a trip 
to the shoe store."

("Oh yeah right," Timmy thought. "Maybe you should've thought about 
that before we left to go to the mall. That's what any sane person 
would've done.")

"...Because if they actually DO fit you well enough," Martha continued, 
"or are only a little too small, perhaps I could wear them."

("Oh there we go," Timmy thought. "So that was your angle. You just 
wanted to get your daughter's present for yourself, if possible. What a 
greedy, materialistic...")

"Okay, Mom," Sarah said, and motioned Timmy over towards a bench.

("Of course they're going to fit," Timmy thought. "We don't really have 
to trade them in. So at least that means one fewer stop before I get 
out of this mall.")

Sarah sat at the bench, patted the space next to her to show Timmy 
where she wanted him to sit, and began taking her sharp black leather 
booties off.

Timmy gazed over at Martha, who was standing about twenty feet away, 
and noticed the first passerby: a man in his late thirties, dressed in 
a tan sports jacket. He looked to be of slightly less than average 
height, and Martha stood head, neck, and shoulders above him. She 
showed the world a beaming smile, directed at nothing in particular, 
and seemed to maneuver herself so that she got nearly in the man's way 
as he passed. Timmy noticed that he looked up at her nervously as he 
quickly walked--almost ran--by her. When he was past, Timmy's eyes kept 
following him, and he caught the man glancing back three or four times 
to look at Martha again. In particular, once Martha herself had turned 
away, the man paused and looked for a long time at Martha's gigantic 
bare asscheeks.

"Oh! They are WAY TOO SMALL!" Sarah said, making grunting noises as she 
tried to put the boots on.

Timmy was puzzled.

Martha strode over quickly and squatted her bulky form down by her 
daughter.

"Are you sure?" the mother asked, putting her hands on the boot and 
trying to force it onto Sarah's foot.

"OW!" the daughter said. "Okay, enough, Mom! They don't fit!"

They really didn't.

But just last night Sarah had worn them in front of Timmy, had worn 
them FOR Timmy, just to see how much taller than him she was when she 
had them on. He suspected that Martha had grown overnight--No, he KNEW 
that she had--but now he knew that Sarah had grown overnight as well. 
And what's more, even her feet had gotten significantly bigger!

Timmy furtively put his head down and sighed. The picture of Wonder 
Woman on his shirt looked back at him tauntingly. "Girl POWER!"

Sarah put one of her long index fingers with the glossy black nail 
polish under Timmy's chin and tilted his head up.

"Hey," she told him, "buck up, little sprout."

Timmy just sniffled.

Sarah took the boot off and began to put back on her black leather 
booties with the 3-inch heels. They had long thin laces, and the 
eyelets that the laces went through were shiny silver circles, but all 
Sarah really had to do was zip up the side zippers than ran down inner 

side of the booties.

"W-wow," Timmy said, glad to finally have something to contribute in 
the way of conversation, "th-those are really cool shoes, Sarah."


She smiled. "I'm glad you like them, Timmy."

She reached over and hugged him close with one arm, sliding his little 
body along the bench with great ease.

"Maybe when you're older and I outgrow them, I'll hand 'em on down to 
you!"

Timmy flushed with embarrassment. There was no way he could EVER fit 
into those slick booties of Sarah's. They were probably at least ten 
sizes too big for him. With their shiny leather heels, they looked 
gigantic, dangerous and scary next to the innocent, childish little 
baby slippers that Timmy was wearing.

"Would you like that?" Sarah continued. "I'm sure you'd like havin' 
three extra inches of height, huh?"

Timmy blushed and shrank a bit in Sarah's gentle embrace.

"Those three extra inches of height MIGHT be just enough to get you 
over the ever-elusive five-foot marker, huh?" Sarah teased.

Timmy blushed again, beet red. He liked it when Sarah paid attention to 
him and made him feel this way. He was her special little guy.

Sarah zipped up the second bootie and ruffled Timmy's hair before 
standing up and answering her own question by happily concluding: "Nah! 
Even three extra inches wouldn't make little Timmy five feet tall! Not 
anymore, anyway!"

In the precious seconds he had before they pressed onwards, Timmy's 
mind raced to ponder this. Last night, as Sarah herself had measured, 
he was 4'10", so three extra inches would have put him over the five-
foot mark. But today he did feel somewhat smaller. Did Sarah realize 
that he was smaller? She must have, but--

"You go with Sarah," Martha was commanding him. "I'm going to go to the 
spa and maybe get a bit of a makeover. I'll meet you at the restaurant 
for lunch in about an hour."

("She really thinks she needs a makeover AGAIN?" Timmy asked himself in 
disbelief. Still, his seemingly permanent, pulsating hardon had the 
effect of tempering his inner, passive-aggressive criticisms of Martha, 
which until recently were the only things he had to feel good about 
regarding her. Now, however, he got more out of just taking her all in 
and experiencing her fantastic, powerful presence. "I hope she doesn't 
change herself TOO much," Timmy considered. "As it is, she's basically 
become an impossibly sexy walking fuck-fantasy.")
 
"Come here before you go, Timmy," Martha instructed him, as if she were 
going to miss ordering him around and nannying over him constantly, and 
so she wanted to get one more command in before they parted company.

Timmy walked up and stood well in the shadow of the imposing woman. She 
had to be over two feet taller than him. Around 6'10" to his 4'9", he 
reckoned.

"Oh I can barely see you under these!" Martha opined, clutching one 
massive breast in each hand. "Come give Big Martha a big hug and a kiss 
before you go!"

She bent down, wrapped her shapely arms around his tiny form and 
smushed him into her endless cleavage. His face lost in her boob-flesh, 
Timmy was thoroughly overwhelmed and disoriented. Somewhere in it all 
he remembered Martha's lips on his own, but more than anything he 
remembered his tongue licking as much of her tits as he could manage. 
They were so big that it seemed like it would take an hour for him to 

cover all of them, but still, he got more than a mouthful and was very 
grateful.

Sarah caught his hand when Martha was done with him, and as the teen 
led him away he snuck a quick glance behind him to see Martha's 
towering, bikini'd form as she lumbered past grown adults who looked 
like children beside her. From their body language, Timmy could tell 
that everyone in the vicinity--man, woman, and child--was totally 
distracted almost to the point of obsession with Martha's very physical 
presence. One man was so focused on staring at Martha that he came 
within one step of walking into a pillar. Another man nearly walked 
into a garbage can.

"I-I'm sorry, Sarah," Timmy squeaked as she led him onwards.

"Here, take the boots again," she snapped, thrusting the two boots 
towards Timmy's chest. 

They were easy for her to handle, but Timmy with his free arm could 
barely carry them.

"I-I-I'm sorry," Timmy moaned again.

"What are you SORRY about?" Sarah asked, stopping midstride and 
whirling around to face her diminutive companion.

"I-I-I-I--"

"'I-I-I-I--'. Spit it out, Timmy! Or I'll spank you right now without 
another word!"

"I apologize for how I-I've acted a-a-around your mom, a-and--"

"Why should you be apologizing for that?" Sarah asked, an air of 
genuine, growing concern in her voice, and even a slight softening of 
tone.

"B-b-because i-it m-must be em-embarrassing for you--"

"Why would it embarrass me?" Sarah asked, confused.

"W-well because of how she acts, a-and... and b-because I'm sort of 
supposed to be YOUR friend, b-but when your mom r-really uh th-throws 
herself out th-there I-I can't r-really r-resist, a-a-and..."

"Oh Timmy," Sarah said, most concerned. "You really shouldn't blame 
yourself for any of that. As I said before, I know you can't help it! 
You're just a little... MALE, really. That's all. I understand it when 
you act, well, pathetic."

The thirteen-year-old bent down and gave Timmy a kiss on the tip of his 
nose. That did make him feel better.

"I-i-it doesn't embarrass you when y-your mom--"

"My mom might annoy me sometimes, but I'm certainly not embarrassed by 
her! On the contrary, I'm PROUD of my mom! I think she's awesome! And 
it's so good to see that she's finally started to really move on since 
missing my dad for so long. And I'm certainly not embarrassed by the 
way she looks or dresses! She looks HOT--I know it and I can admit it! 
She has a rockin' body, doesn't she? I'm not some repressed girl from a 
hundred years ago who thinks that my mom should 'act her age', whatever 
that means. I think it's really good that I have a strong, confident 
mother. ALL women need to feel confident. You know that, Timmy, RIGHT?"

He wanted to say "What about the men, though, and how does this 
bullying female narcissism effect them?" But all he actually did was 
tell Sarah "Yes, of course," like the good little boy he was. The 
threat of spanking was still in the air, and Timmy did not want to be 
seen to contradict or second-guess his current female guardian in any 
way, for fear of the resultant disciplinary action. After all, as he 
had been well-informed in advance, Sarah WAS in charge of him now. 
Sure, there was a time when he was in charge of her, but that was a 
long, long time ago, before she was even twelve. And if we now lived in 
an age when 12-year-old girls were quite handily beating up their 
fathers as part of a coming-of-age rite, then what chance did little 
Timmy have against a 13-year-old like Sarah Thollen? He looked up at 
her indomitable, perfectly beautiful face, with its deep brown eyes and 
slick black air, and he knew the answer: He had absolutely no chance at 
all to exert his will--much less in body--in any way that even slightly 
contradicted her own. Things had totally changed, and even if she were 
smaller and weaker than him now, she was too pretty for him to want to 
strike or even contradict in any way that would make her sad. The funny 
thing was, she was the closest thing to a daughter he had, and the 
situation they were in was quite like what a daughter-father 
relationship had come to mean in this day and age.

"If you're good today, I'll buy you an icecream cone and let you sit on 
my knee while you eat it," Sarah informed him as they walked along the 
mall. "But you have to be a good little boy all day long, okay?"

"Okay, Sarah," Timmy said. As if on cue then, his little stomach 
gurgled. He still hadn't had anything to eat today--well, nothing that 
he could keep down. He couldn't eat meat anymore, but ice cream would 
probably he okay. After all, even babies could eat ice cream.

"Sarah?" Timmy asked then, looking way up at her as she confidently 
strode through the mall, her big soft hand with its strong fingers 
thoroughly engulfing Timmy's thin little paw.

"Yes, Timmy?"

"H-h-how tall are you?"

"You know 'h-h-how tall' I am, Timmy. We just measured me yesterday, 
remember?" She paused then, flipped her sunglasses up onto the top of 
her sleek dark hair, and looked down at Timmy thoughtfully. "Don't you 
remember when that big girl Victoria held you up so you could see 'h-h-
how tall' I was at my birthday party?"

"Y-yes, Sarah, b-b-but... uh... d-don't you feel t-taller t-today?"

"Of course I do, Timmy," the teen told him, giving him a warm smile. "I 
feel a little taller EVERY day. Because I GROW a bit more every day. It 
may be a foreign concept to someone puny like you, but that's what 
girls do."

Timmy shivered a bit. For some reason, he felt really vulnerable right 
now.

"Aw, what is it, little guy?" Sarah asked him.

"It's just that, y-yesterday the boots fit y-you fine," he began, in a 
shaky little voice, "but t-today your f-foot g-grew so much, a-a-and--"

"Oh, come here, little Timmy," Sarah interrupted. "You are so darling."

She squatted her big body down beside him, gently shifted the boots 
from Timmy's arms down to the floor, then gathered Timmy's little body 
into her arms and stood up again, holding him like a baby.

"You don't have to be so scared all the time," she told him, gently 
stroking his head. "I'm right here for you and I'm not going to let 
anything happen to you. And you know I'm never mean to you without 
there being a good reason for it."

"I-I know," Timmy murmured. "Y-you are so good to me, Sarah."

"That's right," she said with satisfaction, nuzzling her face to his.

She then began putting one of her big hands on Timmy's stomach, snaking 
it under his Wonder Woman shirt and ticking him a bit. Timmy giggled 
then, and put his both his hands on Sarah's one. She acquiesced and 
withdrew her hand then, but left it there for Timmy to keep fingering 
and playing with.

Timmy was captivated by how much larger it was than his own hands. It 
was so long and soft and slender, yet at the same time quite strong. 
The smoky black nail polish in particular emphasized how much bigger 
Sarah's nails were than Timmy's. He compared one of his hands to hers, 
holding them side by side, and his looked like that of a little 
underdeveloped baby's beside hers.

"Hey Timmy, what's that?" Sarah suddenly asked, pointing with her pinky 
toward his crotch, and then lightly pressing the finger onto the tip of 
a noticeable bulge in his pink cotton tights.

Timmy whined.

"STILL thinking about my mom, huh?" Sarah said, chuckling a bit.

"Uh... yeah," Timmy agreed.

"Poor boy. We'll have to do something about that sometime."

With these words she set him back down on his little feet and took his 
hand.

"Come on now, little one, let's exchange my boots."

-----

Timmy was just as interested in Sarah's feet as he had been in her 
hands. As they sat next to each other on the bench of the lingerie 
store's shoe section, Timmy was quite distracted. Her toenails were 
painted with the same black polish that Timmy had found so captivating 
on Sarah's fingertips. Most of all, of course, what struck him were the 
size and length of Sarah's feet. Next to her bare feet, his little 
shoes looked tiny. He had noticed this earlier but the comparison 
endlessly fascinated him.

She caught him looking, of course, and insisted that he take one of his 
shoes and little socks off so they could compare directly. He did this 
with a mixed feeling of anxious excitement, eagerly pressing his tiny 
foot against Sarah's gargantuan one, then putting his foot somewhat on 
top of hers. Her foot felt so big and smooth against his miniscule 
little tootsie.

"Let me see something quick," she said, reaching down. She grabbed 
Timmy's bare foot in one of her hands and compared that way. Yesterday, 
last night, her hand had been slightly longer than his foot. Now her 
hand was noticeably longer still. She gave a big grin as she pressed 
the palm of her hand against the sole of Timmy's foot.

"Ha! Not even close!" she said happily.

And then she curled her fingers, with their black nails, around the end 
of Timmy's toes.

"Aw!" she said with adoration. "BABY feet!"

Timmy blushed.

Sarah giggled at this, let his foot go, and then sat back up, putting 
one of her hands on his knee--in truth, her hand covered almost all of 
his thigh as well--and gave him a few playful pats. Timmy looked over 
and saw how much higher her knee was than his as they sat next to each 
other on the bench, and how much bigger her thigh and overall leg was 
compared to his own.

Just as he was about to lean over and give Sarah another big hug around 
her waist, and maybe venture a kiss as well--he couldn't resist much 
longer--the clerk returned with a replacement pair of boots for Sarah.

It was the same freckle-faced man Timmy had encountered there last 
time, when he was with his Aunt Rose. The clerk had looked him over, 
and there was an unspoken recognition between the two men.

"Oh thank you, dear," Sarah said to him, as she took the big pleather 
boots from his grasp and began putting them on.

Timmy hurriedly put his own sock and shoe back on and stood up. He was 
instinctively afraid of these boots. The pair he had gotten Sarah were 
big and scary enough, but this even larger size was unbelievable. He 
noticed that the clerk himself seemed to show trepidation just carrying 
them. The hard femininity that such items helped create--and the parts 
of women's personalities that they helped to unlock and encourage--were 
inherently fearsome to males.

Timmy noticed also that the clerk, just as before, didn't seem much 
taller than himself. ("Has he shrunk since last time as well?" Timmy 
wondered.) He wondered what the man's own situation was. What sorts of 
women were in charge of HIS life?

"Yes, I can already tell that these will fit better than the others," 
Sarah remarked. "TIMMY here got me the wrong size!" she said pointedly, 
but not without some palpable teasing. "What a way to ruin a girl's 
Sweet Thirteen, huh?!"

She addressed this last question to the little clerk, who instantly 
began to get more nervous, really feeling the pressure of having to 
interact with this most impressive girl.

"U-uh, y-y-you're only thirteen?" the man asked.

"Yep!" Sarah said brightly, looking up. "Timmy here used to be my 
babysitter--but now he's just my little buddy!" With that she reached 
over and grabbed Timmy around his waist with only one hand, pulling him 
back closer to her. He had been sort of absentmindedly moving away, 
still scared of the boots. "Pretty neat--right?!"

She was addressing the clerk again, and paused in her boot-lacing to 
make sure he gave her a response.

"Um, y-yeah I guess it is. H-how old i-is he then?" the man stuttered, 
trying to make conversation in a way that would somehow put him at ease 
in this high-pressure interaction. "H-how old are you?" he added under 
his breath, to Timmy specifically. It was very telling that he felt 
that the proper way to do things was to address questions to the female 
present, rather than to the man, even if the female was much, much 
younger than the man, and even if the questions were about the man 
anyway.

"TELL him how old you are, Timmy!" Sarah instructed. It was like a 

parent forcing their child to recite their age proudly, to show off to 
inquisitive company.

"I-I'm a-almost twenty-seven," Timmy said.

"Oh, I-I see," the clerk said.

Sarah smiled, finishing up her laces. The tall black boots went up to 
her knees and had flaps to cover them.

"Yes," she remarked, "because of our ages, he isn't really 
proportionately old enough to babysit me anymore. He's a few years too 
young, is the problem." At this Sarah quickly and affectionately messed 
up Timmy's hair again with one of her long-fingered hands. She was 
joking, of course, and everyone knew it. Yes, THAT was the only 
problem: their ages. If he had been a little older, it would be FINE 
and conceivable for the tiny little man to still watch over a girl who 
was so much larger and stronger than him. Right. Then, as an 
afterthought, Sarah added, "Say! How old are YOU, mister?"

She leaned forward, putting her arms across her knees and resting her 
chin on them. Even sitting down on the low bench, she was almost the 
same height as the men.

"I-I'm th-thirty-three," said the clerk, whose name according to his 
nametag was Tommy. He really starting to shake a bit in dread of what 
was coming.

"Wow!" Sarah said brightly and loudly. A few other shoppers, mostly 
women, were on the periphery of the shoe section, and they could very 
possibly have picked up the spirit of the scene, if not quite grasped 
every single word uttered. "Twenty years older than me! Does that mean 
YOU might be able to babysit me?!"

As Sarah said this, she rose from her seat and stood in her new boots 
for the first time. With their platforms and heels they added somewhere 
between seven and eight inches of height to her already 6-foot-plus 
stature.

Both men were totally dwarfed and looking into her bellybutton area. 
Her elegant black turtleneck was tucked into her dark blue jeans, and a 
thick brown leather belt with a big shiny buckle was at the level of 
the men's necks.

"WELL?" she asked Tommy the clerk again, stepping toward him. He was 
frozen in fear not only by Sarah's immense height but by her dark 
beauty. Tommy HAD a girlfriend--a woman he had been with for years--and 
these days she was the only female who moved him in any remotely 
romantic way. But even so, it was obvious that Sarah was the coolest 
girl Tommy had ever had more than passing contact with; it was hard not 
to fall under her spell and do everything he could for her, in the 
hopes that maybe when she turned 18 she would remember him fondly. Even 
on a primal level, Tommy felt a strong yearning to please Sarah, for no 
other reason than the fact that she exuded a strong female presence, 
before which it was his place to grovel and supplicate himself.

"I-I-I would love to babysit you," he finally managed to say.

Sarah snickered. Giving a half smile and looking down on the two shaky 
little men before her, she produced a hair band from her pocket and 
tied her tresses back in a ponytail.

"Aw, that's so cute," she said. "You're BOTH so cute."

She reached out to both men, putting one hand behind each of their 
heads, and pulled them close to her. They both hugged her 
instinctively, and Timmy in particular had to make a quick readjustment 
once his hand naturally fell on Sarah's tight jean-covered butt. This 
could get awkward in a hurry if he wasn't careful. Timmy did not have 
improper feelings for Sarah--he was NOT sexually attracted to her--but 

she was a VERY pretty girl.

"Okay then," she said eventually, softly letting the men know that it 
was time for them to stop hugging her. Here were two adult men whose 
combined ages were 60 years, and yet a just-turned-13-year-old girl was 
the dominant party here, and it wasn't even close. "I'm happy with my 
'purchase', so I think it's time to go. But first..."

She took a few steps and did a few poses, stretching her legs and 
lifting one knee and then the other up to her chest in quite a 
provocative manner. Then she lifted her right leg up and swung the boot 
sideways so that it pressed solidly against Timmy's chest, knocking the 
wind out of him a bit. Her knee, with the leather flap partially over 
it, rested under Timmy's chin, and her leg was so long that some of the 
heel was mashed against Timmy's crotch.

"...Whatta ya think, spud, should I wear these around today?"

Timmy gulped, which wasn't easy with Sarah's big knee under his chin.

"U-u-uhm..."

"Don't you think I look hot in them?" Sarah asked in a matter of fact 
way.

"I-I-I think you should wear them if you want to, sure," Timmy said.

"Yay," Sarah said softly, pulling her leg away from him. "Thank you for 
giving me your permission, Timmy."

She bent way down and gave him a kiss on the top of his head.

Then the three of them began heading over to the counter, Sarah guiding 
the men by placing her hands on their shoulders. Timmy carried the 
booties that Sarah had been wearing earlier. Even they felt big enough 
in his arms. Their heels seemed long enough to him, but they weren't 
even half as tall as the heels of the boots Sarah was wearing now.

"I wonder, though..." Sarah said as they reached the counter, and then 
she paused, squinting her eyes and rubbing her chin with a long, black-
nailed thumb and forefinger.

"Um... w-what, w-what are you w-wondering?" the nervous little clerk 
had to ask eventually, as if Sarah were waiting for him to respond.

"It's just..." she began slowly. "You see... Tommy, is it?"

She had craned her neck a bit and spied the man's nametag.


"Uh, y-yeah," he said. "M-my name's Tom-Tommy."

"Oh how cute," Sarah mused. "Timmy and Tommy, my two little guys who 
help me out with my big high-heeled boots." Both men couldn't help but 
blush. "I wonder if I should get ANOTHER pair, a couple sizes BIGGER. 
You see, Tommy..." She bent way down to look the man square in the 
face. "I am still a growing girl, and I have a good ways to go before 
I'll be done."

"O-o-okay," Tommy said.

"Why don't you be a good little boy, go back in the back, and bring me 
out another pair two sizes bigger. Do you think you can do that for me, 
Tommy? My name is Sarah, by the way."

"O-o-okay, Sarah," he said, and then darted off as fast as his legs 
would carry him, anxious to please the 13-year-old superbabe.

When he was gone Sarah smiled at Timmy.

"You're not jealous, are you, Timmy?" she asked.

"Uh, no..." he said.

"You don't mind me teasing and babying another man, do you, Timmy?"

"N-no, not at all, Sarah."

"Good," she replied brightly. "Because I think it's quite fun. And 
besides, in my position, given my stature, qualities, and smarts, it's 
kinda hard for me to interact with any man without sort of 'defacto' 
reducing him to an infant anyway. But, don't worry..." She snaked her 
arm behind him and pulled Timmy's little body close to her towering 
toned form, her sizable thigh bouncing into his meager chest. "...You 
still are my special little guy who will always get teased by me more, 
and more often, than anyone."

"I know, Sarah," Timmy said softly, as he wrapped his arms around her 
athletic thigh and pressed his face into the soft fabric of her shirt, 
right above her leather belt.

The clerk returned, holding a pair of boots that for all the world 
looked over half as tall as he was.

"Those should be fine!" Sarah chirped. "And I'm sure it will take me SO 
LONG to grow into them!" This last part sounded quite sarcastic. "Do 
you have a big box you could put them in, Tommy?"

"Um, yes, Sarah," the man said, struggling with the boots and then 
setting them down. "Right behind the counter here. Give me a few 
moments."

Suddenly Timmy wondered how they were going to pay for all this. The 
boots Sarah was wearing were free in exchange--the store didn't even 
need to see the receipt for the previous boots that Timmy had brought 
Sarah as a present, but these new boots...

"Um, Sarah?" Timmy squeaked. He began to explain his concern, but Sarah 
waved him off and told him to "Shh!"

"Oh Tommy," Sarah said, just as the little man had finally managed to 
get the big boots in a big box and the big box in a big bag.

"Err, yes, S-Sarah?" he asked.


"I was thinking, since you're my new babysitter and all... if it 
possibly wouldn't be too late for you to get me a Sweet Thirteen 
present. I mean, I have really only been thirteen now for... oh... 
twelve hours or so. So I think gifts are still allowed. That is, IF you 
wanna be my babysitter."

Tommy was speechless. He didn't know actually what this "babysitter" 
business would actually entail--he thought it was just a joke earlier. 
But now he sensed that it might entail him having to give this girl a 
free pair of $500 boots.

"I, uh..."

"You DO have a sort of employee discount here at the store, Tommy, 
don't you?"

"Uh, well, uh uh, not really, no..." he began. "We a-a-actually have 
that, b-but it's only for, uh, for f-female employees. N-not for 
males."

"Oh, yet another one of those sad things that is 'Not for males'," 
Sarah mused. "I suppose you will just have to buy the boots for me, 
then, won't you?"

Tommy froze and Timmy felt his pain.

"B-but th-these are $500, a-and that's more than I make i-in a whole 
week! And--"

"Tommy," Sarah said calmly. "You want to get the chance to be my 
babysitter sometime soon, don't you?"

The man stuttered and sputtered nervously, not making any coherent 
words.

"Then get me the boots. Otherwise I think you should call your 
supervisor over here, so we can all discuss how you have led me on and 
then disappointed me."

"Oh! N-n-no!" Tommy squeaked. "I-I-I'll buy you the boots, Sarah! Okay? 
A-a-and then sometime I-I-I can b-babysit for y-you?"

"Of course you can, little man," Sarah purred. "I really do need a 
mature and responsible adult, like yourself, to watch over me. And do 
you want to know why?"

"W-w-why?" Tommy asked.

"Well, for two reasons. First, because little TIMMY here"--Sarah kneed 
him playfully and strongly in the chest; her knee would have gotten him 
right in the privates were she not wearing those boots--"has regressed 
to the point where it's now more likely and more necessary for ME to 

spank HIM, than for HIM to spank ME. And secondly, because I can be a 
BAD GIRL, Tommy, so I need a man to watch over me. Maybe not to stop me 
from being bad--because, how could he?--but at least to witness just 
how bad I might get. Understand?"

Sarah's voice was happy but devilish.

"O-o-oh," Tommy said, uneasily.


"But YOU, Tommy, I think YOU could probably still have it in you to 
spank me if I got out of hand, right? Or at least to try. That wouldn't 
deter me from being bad in the future, and getting spanked might 
actually be a sort of reward that I would expect from being bad, you 
understand."

She leaned over the counter, towering over him. He was only at most two 
inches taller than Timmy and was shaking like a leaf.

"And you're so much OLDER, so you spanking me would be proper. Yes, it 
won't be a while yet--two or three whole months--before I'd be in the 
position to spank you. I suppose a girl isn't superior to a 33-year-old 
man until she's, oh, let's say 13 and a third years old, at the latest. 
So, you have at least a few months during which you could conceivably 
pretend to be in charge of me, right?"

Tommy winced. Sarah laughed warmly. It was obvious that neither Tommy 
nor Timmy--individually or combined--could ever be conceivably in 
charge of Sarah NOW. Probably she had first become superior to the both 
of them combined soon after her TWELFTH birthday.

After the purchases were made, Sarah's old booties were placed in the 
box as well, and Timmy carried the huge bag with the even-larger boots 
in them, while Sarah still seemed very taken with the new 7-inchers 
that she was wearing.

"Th-th-thank you for shopping w-with us, a-a-and have a nice day!" 
Tommy told them.

"Oh Tommy," Sarah drawled, then turned around and walked behind the 
counter. Her strides were so impossibly long now that it only seemed to 
take her about two steps; it would have taken Timmy or Tommy closer to 
ten.

She bent herself almost in half in order to look Tommy in the eye.

"Thank YOU--SOOOOOOO much!"

She put one of her hands behind his head, and with the other one she 
snaked her fingers around the knot of his tie and pulled him close to 
her. She closed her eyes and gave him a long kiss--it was close-
mouthed, but it was on his lips.

She then stood back up and put her long hands on his little shaking 
shoulders.

"I'll come back some day soon and tell you when I need you to babysit 
me, 'kay?"

As Tommy sputtered out an "Okay", Sarah flipped her sunglasses back 
down over her eyes and then strode back, snatching Timmy's hand, and 
power-walking out of the store, clearly feeling even higher confidence 
than usual since she was wearing her new boots.

"Come on, Timmy!" she said with clear annoyance, for no reason. "Move 
your tiny little midget twig-legs. We've gotta meet my mom for lunch 
now!"

-----

Due to the increased height augmentation provided by her new boots, 
Sarah was now so tall that Timmy had to position his own hand near the 
level of his head just to be able to hold hands with her as they walked 
through the mall. She certainly wasn't going to walk with a stoop just 
for his benefit.

They were going to eat at a fairly upscale restaurant that was inside 
the mall. Timmy had never eaten there before, but had known about it 
before, and for some reason he felt that someone had recently mentioned 
it to him, but he forget who or in what context.

As they approached the entrance, the clicking of Sarah's big pointy 
high heels stopped as she stepped onto the red carpet. Timmy had gotten 
used to the rhythmic clip-clop sound and instantly missed hearing it.

"Now you be a good boy at the restaurant," Sarah instructed him, "and 
on our way out of the mall, an icecream cone and a knee-sitting session 
are still in the offing for you. I might even cuddle you a bit too."

Timmy smiled.

As they entered the restaurant a loud, familiar voice filled their 
ears. It was Martha, and she was not happy.

A small maitre-d' in his early 50s was trying to explain something to 
her, but Martha--who now had a freshly styled dirty blonde haircut--was 
having none of it. Still absurdly dressed in her almost microscopic 
bikini, she looked absolutely gigantic to Timmy. It was true that Sarah 
now was a couple inches taller, thanks to her new boots with their 
even-higher heels, but her comparatively svelte dancer's body--however 
strong it was--was nothing to Martha's. Martha's hips flared outward as 
she stood in an aggressive stance, fuming and looming over the small 
man before her. Timmy instantly had flashbacks of what it was like when 
Brooks took him to a restaurant a few weeks ago. He hoped this trip 
wouldn't turn into as angry an affair as that one did, however 
momentarily, when Brooks couldn't get a seat right away either.

"What do you mean?!" Martha yelled, not noticing that Timmy and Sarah 
had entered behind her. "I demand to see your boss--No, no, I demand to 
see the owner of this dump!"

"Please, madame," the maitre-d' said exasperatedly, as sweat streamed 
down his forehead. "The owner--he isn't here right now, and--"

"'HE'?!" Martha bellowed. "Oh, 'HE', of course!" She dejectedly slapped 
her palm against her big hip. "Of course this sexist establishment 
would be run by a goddamn MALE! If there were any justice in this 
world, some progressive-minded women would have bought you out already-
-And don't think, after this dreadful experience, I won't do just that! 
I have friends, you know, and by the end of the month you and your 
idiotic boss could find yourselves scrubbing the toilets here and 

waiting on us, bringing me and the other ladies nice drinks and letting 
us use your bent backs as little tables and foot-rests!"

The man shivered.

"Uh, Mom? We're here," Sarah said, stepping up and bringing Timmy along 
with her. She made sure to hold Timmy tight in front of her, so that he 
wouldn't get scared.

"Oh, Sarah and Timmy, how wonderful," said Martha, turning to greet 
them. "I've been trying to get us a table, but that's proving a bit 
difficult thanks to this little PIGGY here!"

With that she turned back to the maitre-d', put one hand on his 
shoulder and held her other hand as a closed fist thrust only an inch 
or so in front of the little man's face. Martha's hands had always been 
relatively small, Timmy thought, and even after she started her growth 
spurt it always seemed like her hands remained comparatively dainty. 
There was no doubt that these hands were still hers, but they seemed 
larger now, plumper and meatier, radiating with strength and power. 
They had pink nails now, manicured with white French tips, and her 
closed fist looked almost as big as the man's head.

"He says that I'm not allowed to eat here," Martha said, "due to the 
way I DRESS. I guess this establishment is scared of seeing RAW FEMALE 
POWER or something! But I'm sorry, little man--you and your boss don't 
have the right to hide from THE WAY THINGS ARE now, and I'm going to 
damn well eat here if I want to!"

"Uh-uh-uh actually," the man offered, "this restaurant is private 
property and we reserve the right to refuse service for any reason that 
doesn't have to do with race or--"

"SHUT. UP."

Martha ground her teeth and kneaded the man's shoulder, contemplating 
what she was going to do next.

Just as the man started to squeak "Ow, y-y-you're hurting me", Sarah 
stepped in.

"Uh, Mom?" the tall teen asked. "Why don't you go stand over there and 
let me talk to him."

Martha acquiesced, but not without a sighing huff. She turned back 
towards the door and stomped off in her big cartoonish boots. Timmy was 
captivated by how her insane curves jiggled and bounced as she walked. 
He couldn't imagine how much pressure her string bikini was under. As 
her colossal breasts furiously plunged down and hurdled up with her 
every step, it was amazing that the swimsuit hadn't already snapped off 
of her bulging body.

Sarah put on her sweetest face and turned to the little man before her. 
He stood just over five feet tall--just under two feet shorter than she 
was--and was over three times her age.

"Hi there," she said sweetly. "My name's SARAH. Can you say 'SA-RAH'?"

"Uh-uh-uh, Sarah--" the man began, very nervous and confused. "H-hello, 
Sarah. Your mother has--"

"I know," she said, nodding with understanding. "I know how she can 
be."

"W-we have a dresscode here, and your mother is dressed 
inappropriately, to say the least. Also, there are other patrons, and 
the way she has been acting, so loud and disruptive and--"

"Yes, yes," Sarah said, putting a finger to the man's lips to signal 
for him to be quiet now. "But you see, SIR"--she said 'sir' in a very 
sarcastic way--"my mother, as you can tell, likes to eat. She likes to 
eat MEAT. More than that, she NEEDS to eat meat in order to feed her 
rapidly expanding body. She has not eaten any meat in a few hours now. 
That is why you need to show her to a table and get one of your little 
waiters to give us a menu as soon as you possibly can, for your own 
sake."

"I realize this--I-I," the maitre-d' sputtered. "B-but she is simply 
inappropriate, a-and--"

"Let me tell you what will happen if you don't seat us within the next 
minute," Sarah continued, getting down on her knees to be more on the 
man's level. "If you think my mom has been frustrated and disruptive so 
far, you've no idea what will happen next. If I tell her you won't show 
us a table, there is nothing--and no one--to stop her from simply 
charging through this anteroom, into the main dining room, and simply 
barreling through and rampaging toward the table of whichever patrons 
have the biggest and most visible chunks of meat on their plates. Do 
you understand that? It has already been torture for her, and she has 
shown remarkable restraint, to endure the smells of your wonderful 
cooked meat so far, without you letting her have any. I am telling you 
now, I am warning you, that she will not be able to last or hold 
herself back much longer. She is a charging bull, or a rhino, and there 
is nothing to stop her from getting what she wants. This can either 
happen peacefully or violently--it is your choice."

"I-I-I'm afraid that I c-can't--" the man began.

"There is also another consideration," Sarah said, standing up to her 
full height and putting her hands on the man's shoulders. "Let me make 
this perfectly clear to you, little one. I am thirteen years old. I 
have already broken my first man--my father--about six months ago. I 
have broken other men since then; it is nothing to me; I live for it; I 
live to prove myself mentally, physically, and socially superior to 
smaller, older, weaker men--just--like--you. And I DARE you to give me 
a reason. So let me simply put it to you this way: Show us to our table 
NOW or I will quite happily fucking break your little biddy goddamn 
feeble male body beyond all recognition, you worthless fragile 
pipsqueak."

The man's mouth dropped open and he shivered. Timmy saw that the 
contrast between their bodies was immense. Sarah looked so much bigger, 
stronger and dominant. And somehow, he was very proud of her.

"Uh, r-r-right this way, then!" the maitre-d' chirped, loud enough for 
the words to be directed toward Martha as well.

The latter spun around and caught Timmy's shoulder as they all walked 
into the main dining room.

"You see, Timmy," she said to him in a hushed voice. "I raised my 
daughter right."

Timmy furtively nodded and said, "Uh-huh".

"She did a good job, didn't she?" Martha continued, beaming with pride. 
"I tell you, Timmy, sometimes *I* personally just don't have the 
patience to deal with such stupid men. Well, they're ALL stupid, but... 
at least some of them--like YOU, I suppose--are smart enough NOT to try 
and challenge us women. Right, Timmy?"

"Uh, r-right, Martha."

She pinched his buttcheeks sharply through his pink cotton tights and 
intoned a satisfied "Mm-hmph!" sound.

They sat at a circular table in the center of the floor. There were 
four chairs, and Sarah and Timmy took chairs next to each other, while 
Martha sat next to Timmy and across from her daughter.

"Did you two have a nice time?" she asked them. "I like your new boots, 
Sarah. It looks like even the appearance--to say nothing of the KICK--
of footwear such as that will really get the attention, respect and 
servitude of men any men who come in their way. And those heels will 
put you ahead of me, at least for a while."

Sarah smiled proudly. "Your hair looks awesome, Mom."

"Thanks," Martha said, thrusting her head from side to side so that the 
still-wet blond tresses, now cut a bit above shoulder-length, danced 
back and forth. "And I had a nice facial and an herbal mud bath. It's 
really too bad you couldn't've come to the spa with me, Timmy. I could 
have sat you on my big body in the muddy bathtub while I soaked in it 
naked. Would you have liked that? Of course, probably before too long 
you'd be depositing OTHER sorts of natural liquids onto me while I 
bathed." Timmy blushed. "Oo, and I got these."

Martha remembered her newly manicured white and pink nails and showed 
them off to the table. Both Sarah and Timmy approved.

The waiter came, and Timmy did a double take.

"Jerome!" he said. It was his old friend, the one who last time was 
sweet on Brooks and his hot Aunt Rose.

"Hey! Timmy!" Jerome said, before turning to Martha and Sarah. "How you 
folks, doing?"

"We are very well now that the infuriating man out there finally seated 
us," Martha said quite spitefully, though a sly smile was creeping onto 
her lips. "You two know each other, eh?"

Timmy and Jerome looked at each other more nervously than seemed 
warranted, then nodded.

"Oh how cute," Martha remarked.

"Aw, Timmy has a wittle friend!" Sarah chirped, joining in the fun.

For the second time that day Timmy noted how easy it was now for a 13-
year-old girl to make fun of, tease, and subjugate multiple men each 
more than twice her age.


"Do I know you, Jerome?" Martha asked him.

"Ehrm, I don't think so..." the young man said. "W-what's your name, 
then?"

"I'm MARTHA THOLLEN--Timmy should have stepped up and introduced us, 
but I'll do the honors--and THIS is my little daughter Sarah."

"Oh, uh, h-hey. My name's Jerome, a-as I guess you already heard Tim 
say."

First Martha and then Sarah stretched their long arms out to shake 
Jerome's hand. Needless to say, his little brown paw disappeared deep 
within their long smooth alabaster fingers.

For the first time Timmy noticed how much shorter Jerome looked. This 
was hard to assess, of course, because Timmy himself was sitting. Back 
in the old days, six months ago, Timmy was only a couple of inches 
shorter than Jerome, and Jerome could just about pass for "normal" in 
stature. Sure, he was shorter than average, but he was about 5'5" or 
5'6"--just within range for an adult male not to stick out as being 
freakishly tiny. Now, however, Jerome only seemed an inch or two taller 
than Martha and Sarah, and the ladies were sitting down in fairly low 
seats. It wasn't just Jerome's height that seemed diminished, either; 
even in his dressy waiters clothes, Timmy could tell that he had lost 
quite a bit of weight. He used to be fairly athletic; now he looked 
thin.

("Damn," Timmy thought, "I wonder what his mom--or maybe his little 
sister--have been doing to him at home? Maybe putting him on the same 
diet Aunt Rose put me on...")

"You know..." Martha said, drawing out this introduction far longer 
than Timmy thought she needed to, "I think... I think I do remember 
you. About three years ago, didn't I bump into Timmy and you at the 
mall? Not this mall, but the other one. It was Christmas time, I think, 
and--"

"Oh! Oh shit!" Jerome said, unable to help himself. "You're the lady 
that Timmy used to babysit for? I mean--" he checked himself, 
embarrassed, "he didn't babysit YOU, he babysat..." He turned to the 
very leggy brunette beside Timmy, the tall girl with the perfect, 
smiling face. "Oh, damn--YOU?"

"That's right," Sarah said with a smile, and Timmy was really tired of 
hearing this by now; it never got any less embarrassing. To make 
matters worse, Sarah leaned over and pinched Timmy's cheeks and smushed 
his lips together with her black-nailed finger tips as she recounted 
the rest of the story once again: "Little Timmy used to babysit ME, but 
now *I* take care of him and bring him on my little shopping trips and 
look out for him just like a big-sister style protectress should! Isn't 
that right, Timmy?"

Timmy nodded, ashamed of himself and sore as hell that Jerome was 
seeing just how much he had been subjugated.

Jerome chuckled, but underneath it was a growing nervousness that the 
surface-level joviality could not quite mask.

"Damn..." was all he could say.

As the menus were handed out, Timmy's mind suddenly shot back to that 
day, three winters ago, when he and Jerome had met Martha Thollen in 
the mall. He remembered that little Sarah--she really was little then, 
not quite 10 years old--was with her mother. Jerome readily sensed that 
Martha could be quite obnoxious, overtalkative and overfriendly, and 
that Sarah was a precocious child who was quite a handful. Timmy 
remembered Jerome razzing him about this afterwards, and every time for 
the next year or so, whenever he told Jerome that he couldn't hang out 
on such-and-such a night because he had to babysit Sarah, Jerome always 
cracked up. Of course, they were young guys in their early 20s then, so 
naturally they brought up Martha in inappropriate, rude ways. 
Specifically, Jerome would routinely suggest that the only reason Timmy 
was still going through with this mundane babysitting gig was because 
Martha must be giving him sexual favors. He would suggest this 
jokingly, Timmy would deny it emphatically, and then Jerome would often 
say something like: "Damn, I don't know how you can go through with it! 
I mean, that lady is what they call a 'YENTA'. And it ain't even that, 
she's just so short and pudgy--it'd be like havin' sex with a child or 
a midget or one a' them Umpaloompa things!" This was one of many 
instances, Timmy had noticed, in which Jerome would pointedly draw 
attention to someone shorter than himself, probably in order to make 
himself feel taller. At the time, Jerome was about 5'5", while Timmy 
and Martha were both around 5'2" or 5'3". Jerome would rarely tease 
Timmy about his height--he had too much respect for him and valued him 
as a friend--but he sure went to town suggesting that Martha was "too 
short". Whenever this happened, Timmy wanted to say, "Dammit, I'm the 
same height as her! And you're only a couple inches taller! And in 
heels, Martha would probably be taller than you!" But he never said any 
of this, and would always change the subject as discussions of height--
even back then--made him uncomfortable.

All of this came flooding back into Timmy's mind now, and he thought 
how ironic it was that now it was Jerome who appeared kid-sized, if not 
toddler-sized, in comparison to Martha.

"What are you going to have, Timmy?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, um..."

He had no idea. He had been reminiscing on the past too much. His 
stomach was still gurgling though, and he was really, really hungry now 
that Sarah mentioned it.

"It's such a shame..." Martha mused, "that this restaurant is so 
retrogressive. Look at this"--she pointed a pink nail to something on 
the menu--"they still call it just a 'children's' section. The 
progressive restaurants are switching that to 'Children and Men', and 
for them--for the men, at least--there is more of a variety of 
vegetarian and protein-free dishes."

Martha and Sarah both snickered at this and Timmy didn't know if Martha 
was simply joking or if this was a real thing. The idea certainly 
frightened him--he didn't want society to go in that direction!--but 
once again he was too nervous of what the answer might to be to probe 
Martha on it and ask if she were serious.

In the end, Sarah ordered two whole prime rib steaks, done rare, with 
two orders of homefries. She said this was just "to start with" and 
that she might order another course later.

As Timmy began to order--he thought steak sounded yummy as well--Martha 
interrupted him.

"Our little man here has a problem digesting red meat. I'm sure he's 
forgotten this, so that's why I'm stepping in to make his decision for 
him. I think it would be okay for him to have a little sea food. He 
could probably process that just well enough, and as his current 
guardian, I am going to accept responsibility for that. I think it 
would be fine, and most appropriate, for little Timmy to have the 
shrimp scampi, with some coleslaw. And a child-size apple juice for him 
to drink."

"Uh... o-kay," Jerome said, writing this down.

Timmy blushed but said nothing, shrinking in his seat.

"And as for the lady of the table," Martha continued, simply closing 
her menu and looking up--actually more "over" than "up"--into Jerome's 
eyes, "I simply want an uncut rack of pig's ribs, cooked well-done, and 
slathered with enough barbeque sauce to drown a man in."

A befuddled expression came across Jerome's face.

"Just the one rack to start with, you understand," she added. "I'll 
probably end up eating at least four of them. Tell the little slave-
chefs back there that they can start cooking the second rack as soon as 
you bring out the first, and so on."

Jerome began to protest, saying that he wasn't sure they served such a 
thing, but Martha pounded her big fist on the table, almost cracking 
the oaken wood, and informed him that "They MUST have some uncut swine 
meat back there. I just want to eat big chunks of it, with the bones 
relatively unbroken, so I can break them myself if need be. Get your 
little legs back there and find me something like that, or there will 
be hell to pay." And then in her very sweetest voice she added, "Okay, 
Jerome?" while batting her eyes, putting her elbow lazily on the table, 
and resting her chin on her clutched fist.

Jerome scampered off.

Timmy was stunned--granted, he now lived in an almost permanent state 
of astonishment, whenever he was around women--but he was still 
somewhat taken aback.

"Um, Martha?" he asked, feeling that this meal would go less awkwardly 
if he actually contributed to the conversation rather than simply let 
the women--Martha in particular--rampage all over him.

"Yes, Timmy-dear?"

"Uh, I-I thought you were Jewish, and, uh, yet you ordered pork, and 
uh..."

"Oh you silly backwards boy," she said, an air of love and sympathy in 
her sweet, throaty voice. "Sarah and I--we're not that sort of Jew. We 
are more 'modern', you see, and though I certainly respect my genetics-
-because they gave me a good start in life--I'll eat whatever I damn 
well want. Got it?"

"Uh, y-y-yeah." ("Jeez, sorry I asked!" he thought.)

Then Jerome brought their drinks over. The ladies had just ordered 
cherry soda, while Martha had ordered Timmy the apple juice.

"Is there, uh, anything else?" he asked, seemingly eager to run away 
from them again, and Timmy didn't blame him.

"Why yes there IS," Martha said, sounding a bit indignant that a waiter 
might actually want to check on his other customers instead of be 
constantly faced with her. "I would like it very much if you could sort 
of hang out with US while we eat. Go and get some of the other little 
servants to attend to the other tables you were dealing with."

"Uh..."

"I'll make it worth your while," Martha declared, brushing one of her 
hands over a ballooning breast.

"I'll, uh, I'll see what I can do," Jerome said. "Gimme two minutes and 
I'll be back."

Just after he walked off Timmy started to slide out of his seat. He 
wanted to hurry up and catch Jerome's attention; it felt like they 
needed to talk alone before whatever was going to happen at this meal 
actually happened. Martha, however, caught Timmy's wrist and clutched 
it very tightly in her hand.

"And where do you think you're going, Timmykins?"

"Um. I have to go to the bathroom," Timmy said.

"Sarah can take you."

"No no no no--PLEASE," Timmy said, remembering that he should really 
try to be polite to women, unless he wanted matters to get worse in a 
hurry, "please, Martha, I'll be okay."

Martha looked over at her daughter. "Do you think he'll be okay to go 
off on his own, if it's just to the bathroom?"

Sarah smiled. "Mm, I think he can probably manage. Just barely. There 
aren't many other people here, and no predatory women that I can see."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised at that," Martha rolled her eyes. "What kind 
of self-respecting woman would want to eat in a sexist place like this? 
My every instinct is to start a one-woman revolution here and take over 
the place; I'd rather do that than eat here, even, but at the moment... 
I can't be bothered. Anyway, Timmy, tell Sarah THANK-YOU for letting 
you GO POTTY alone."

"Uh, THANK YOU, Sarah, f-f-for letting me uh g-go potty by myself."

Sarah grinned. "You're welcome, Timmykins."

"HURRY BACK," Martha said. "Straight to the bathroom and back--nowhere 
else."

Timmy nodded. Martha let go of his wrist--it really felt like she 
crushed the life out of it, but strangely it didn't hurt THAT much--and 
he scampered off.

"Jerome!" he said, glad to catch him just as he turned the corner away 
from the main dining area.

"Dude," Jerome said in a hushed voice. "This is crazy."

"Yeah, tell me about it. I tried to tell you before about how all my 
life has been turned upside-down, and--"

"It's like..." Jerome searched for the right words but came up empty. 
"It's like I-don't-know-what. I mean... man... in general things are 
pretty weird, but--this stuff with that woman and her daughter, man... 
I mean, what the fuck."

"You remember meeting her before--?"

"YEAH, I remember that NOW, and it's NUTS to think about!"

"Okay, Jerome," Timmy said calmly, trying to slow things down. He 
suddenly noticed that Jerome was only about an inch or so taller than 
he was, and Jerome had dress shoes on while he had totally flat ballet 
slippers. "Jerome, I don't know what Martha has planned or whatever, 
but you need to be careful."

"I'm gonna fuckin' lose my job over this," Jerome moaned.

"What? Are you not allowed to sit with us?"

"No--I am, the manager just wants everything to go smooth and let that 
Martha woman get whatever she wants just to get her out of here without 
any problems. It's like he's terrified that she could destroy the 
place. But it's so nuts, man, that I don't know how I can ever get 
through this."

For once Timmy laughed at Jerome for a change. "YOU don't know how to 
get through it? I think this is the first time I've ever heard about 
YOU being nervous about dealing with a female."

"Yeah, well, man, life has changed and THAT woman has definitely 

changed. You remember how I used to say that fuckin' her would be like 
havin' sex with a midget or a child or whatever?"

"OH THAT'S INTERESTING!" came a loud voice from above. "THAT'S NICE AND 
INTERESTING TO HEAR MYSELF TALKED ABOUT THAT WAY!"

Both men nearly leapt into each other's arms, they were so scared. 
Martha strode up to them, towering about two feet taller than both. Her 
massive, nearly naked body filled so much of the reedy little men's 
vision that they guessed she must weigh three or four times as much as 
the two of them combined.

"Uh, damn, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Jerome gasped. "I just--"

"THERE'S NO NEED TO BE 'SORRY', JEROME. I JUST THINK IT'S QUITE 
AMUSING! *TIMMY*, ON THE OTHER HAND, SHOULD BE BOWING DOWN AND 
APOLOGIZING PROFUSELY! HE DIDN'T DO WHAT I INSTRUCTED HIM TO DO AND 
WHAT HE PROMISED TO DO!"

Timmy knew that it'd do no good to say that he was on his way to the 
bathroom when he happened to run into Jerome. He knew this excuse 
wouldn't fly; Martha was too canny and would be able to see through it; 
excuses would only make matters worse. Besides, he really had lied, 
deceived, and disobeyed her. He deserved to feel horrible about this, 
and he did.

He threw himself on the floor and began kissing Martha's big baby-blue 
boots.


"I'm sorry, Martha! I'm sorry! It'll never happen again!"

"You're goddamn right it'll never happen again! From now on, when 
you're with us you don't ever get the right to be out of our sight 
EVER, not for one second, you naughty little liar you!"

Timmy continued groveling, and was indeed on the verge of tears, his 
profuse apologies turning into babbling.

"Ahem," Martha said, turning to Jerome. "Are our meals almost ready, 
Jerome?"

"Uh, yeah," he said dimly. "I th-think so."

"Well," she said authoritatively. "You have five minutes. Bring them 
out to us and then you are to stay with us while we eat. You can do 
your best to amuse me, like a good little boy should, especially after 
the gross insult I just overheard you say."

Jerome nodded and then ran off.

"Get up, little worm," Martha said to Timmy.

Feeling ashamed for so many compounding reasons, he stood up and 
noticed that his head was not much above Martha's bellybutton.

Then she reached down and simply scooped him up in her arms.

"Hold onto my neck, Timmy. I don't feel like carrying you. So either 
hold on for dear life or else you can fall to the floor and I can 
trample over you."

He did as he was told. She took away her hands and left him swinging on 
his own. Martha's neck had never seemed bigger or thicker or further 
away to him. It was all he could manage to interlock his little fingers 
and hang on, his head bouncing in and out of Martha's gargantuan 
cleavage as she walked back to the table.

Less then five minutes later, just as Sarah and Martha were finishing 
their cherry sodas, Jerome wheeled out a cart on which were placed four 
plates. Timmy was served his shrimp scampi, with a pitifully small 
portion of coleslaw on the side. Sarah was served two dinner plates 
with two portions of very rare prime rib, with heaps of homefries on 
the side. And last but not least--what overwhelmed everything else--
came Martha's meal: a huge metal plate on which was set a big curved 
rack of ribs slathered in barbeque sauce. Timmy had never seen pigs 
ribs that large; they looked like they must have come from a 
prehistoric wild boar.

"I trust that the chefs back there have already started cooking the 
next course?" Martha asked.

"Uh, yeah they have," Jerome hastened to say. "No worries."

"Very good. Now go over there and bring me that bench," she pointed at 
a four-foot long backless leather bench that was near the entrance of 
the room--evidently a place for people to sit if they needed to wait 
for a table. "This little chair is too small for my big lady tuckus."

Jerome did as he was told, and they swapped out the (relatively) tiny 
little chair Martha had been sitting in, replacing it with the leather 
bench.

"All right now! Before we dig in, I think it's time to offer our little 
guest the best seat in the house!" Martha slapped her right thigh 
emphatically, indicating that she wanted Jerome to sit on her lap as 
she ate. She then added, "Well, actually, THIS is the best seat in the 
house"--she stood up, turned around, and thrust out her gigantic ass 
right in Jerome's face; it had to be over three feet in diameter, and 
the tiny little bikini thong was just visible in her ass-crack--"but 
Jerome will have to wait till later to sample that."

Timmy and his friend looked at each other nervously, and then Jerome 
quietly climbed up on Martha's lap.

"You know, Jerome, I hope little Timmy isn't too jealous of you--he 
needn't be--because he used to be my favorite little lapsitter..."

Martha began to relate the entire story of Timmy's visit to her a few 
weeks ago. No details were left out--not the Santa suit, not the brutal 
fucking--and Martha didn't seem ashamed or reluctant to talk about any 
of this in front of her daughter. Sarah just ate quietly, occasionally 
chuckling along with her mother, and sometimes jabbing her finger into 
Timmy's shoulder whenever Martha recounted a part of the story in which 
Timmy seemed particularly cute and pathetic. 

It didn't take long before Martha's hands, face, and forearms were all 
covered with barbeque sauce. She ate with her hands, of course, 
sometimes picking up the entire rack of ribs, sometimes breaking the 
bones about noisily. She relished ripping the meat off the bones with 
her teeth, and she usually ate with her mouth open. She talked while 
she was eating as well, dominating the conversation as usual, and Timmy 
noticed that she ate particularly ravenously whenever she recounted a 
part in the story that concerned how much fun she thought it was to 
bang and fuck and crush his tiny little weak body with her humungous 
heavenly form.

Jerome observed all of this with speechless dread. Martha bopped him up 
and down on her knee sometimes and would ask him rhetorical questions--
"What do you think of THAT, Jerome?" or "How would YOU like that to 
happen to YOU, Jerome?"--after mentioning things that she had done to 
Timmy's body.

While Timmy had only managed to eat two or three shrimp so far, Sarah 
had eaten an entire plate of steak, and Martha had eaten and licked the 
huge plate of ribs clean. At this point, Jerome was bounced off of 
Martha's knee--Timmy knew what that felt like--and was told to go get 
her second serving.

The second serving was just as big as the first, if not bigger. Jerome 
could barely carry the plate in his arms; the rack of meat seemed 
almost as big as he did. Martha eagerly scooped it up and said she was 
glad to see hot steam coming off of the ribs and sauce. Again Jerome 
climbed up on her lap--and he looked understandably weary by now--and 
again Martha related another story. 

This time she told the table all about her interactions with Timmy 
yesterday--everything from how funny it was when he tripped in the 

driveway, falling into Martha's cleavage and then getting his precious 
cowboy heels stripped off him by an angry Brooks Fraser, to Timmy 
lapsitting on Martha while they ate birthday cake, to Martha watching 
Timmy's face when she was measured at just over 5'10" ("Yes, it was 
just yesterday but 5'10" seems so long ago now!"), to waiting for Timmy 
to enter her room at night, to waking up sometime after midnight and 
dominating, bullying, and fucking him silly until--and AFTER--he passed 
out from exhaustion.

At various times Timmy blushed, Jerome cowered or had a confused look 
on his face, and Sarah laughed. The teen evidently wasn't put off by 
hearing about how her best friend had been so willingly used and abused 
by her own mother. Probably it didn't make her like Timmy any more--
probably less--but the matter at hand was framed in terms of her 
mother's raw feminist power and sexual dominance, and these were things 
that any girl could get behind.

By the time she was done, Martha in her rampancy had gotten even more 
barbeque sauce all over her face, hands and forearms. It was almost as 
if she were drenched in sweet dark blood. She lifted the big empty 
platter to her lips and actually drank the barbeque sauce that was left 
over. Then she ordered Jerome to bring her third course. He took the 
empty plate, along with Sarah's empty plates--for she had finished her 
second steak by now--and hurried off.

Timmy had managed to find room for another few fork-fulls of coleslaw, 
and had eaten another shrimp and a half by now. He felt full but also 
thought it was important to keep trying to eat, and clean his plate, so 
that Sarah and Martha wouldn't have yet another reason to make fun of 
him and call him "too little".

Martha's third course was even bigger than the second, and she showed 
no signs of slowing down. She also had Jerome bring her some 
margaritas, but she wanted them served in pitchers--not in mere 
glasses. The sour alcohol only seemed to whet Martha's appetite even 
more, and the rest of the table sat in stunned awe as she broke the 
bones and gobbled up the huge chunks of barbequed meat.

As she sent Jerome off for her fourth course ("And there better be more 
back there where that came from!"), Timmy tried to do some calculations 
in his head. How much had Martha actually eaten? Each round of ribs was 
huge, possibly around ten pounds of meat on the bones, and Martha was 
on her fourth one. Meanwhile Timmy still had over half his food left, 
and his shrimp were getting nearly as cold as the coleslaw. He doubted 
that there was even one pound of food in his whole meal, total.

As Jerome returned, Sarah told him she herself would actually have 
another prime rib steak after all.

"I'm a growing girl," Sarah noted.

"And I'm a growing WOMAN," added Martha happily, talking and laughing 
with her mouth full.

Exhausted in stunned disbelief at how much the Thollens were eating, 
Jerome spun around to head back to the kitchen, but not before Martha 
pointedly told him to hurry his little feet back because she had more 
stories to tell.

These stories, Timmy learned--once Jerome was eventually plopped back 
up on Martha's lap, and she needed to pluck him with her greasy hand to 
help him up--had to do with her ex-husband, Sarah's father. Martha 
recounted how, even years ago when she was much smaller, she was every 
bit her husband's superior, mentally and physically.

"He had the size advantage, slightly, back then, but he never had the 
confidence or the fire that I always had. Disagreements were often 
settled by wrestling matches, and I always came out on top, literally."

Martha told these tales with happy relish, and Timmy was concerned to 
see Sarah taking it all in stride and laughing right along, laughing 
derisively at her own father. Martha told them how shocked her ex-hubby 
was when she beat him in armwrestling, and how she conditioned him to 
accept her sharp criticisms even in public. "He was too scared to do 
anything about it, so I'd let him have it, and tell him exactly what I 
thought of him and his stupid ideas sometimes. Isn't that right, 
Sarah?" Sarah said that it was, and then Martha launched into an 
account of how proud she'd been to see Sarah "break" her father about 
six months ago.

"It was NO contest," Martha declared, smiling widely. "I was so 
overjoyed to see Sarah's strong limbs hold back my rotten little ex-
husband's. There's nothing better than watching a formerly dominant man 
be shown his place by someone he always rudely expected to be 'below' 
him. Though even I didn't expect just HOW much stronger Sarah was than 
her father, even back then. And, you know, given my own rapid progress, 
someday soon I think I'd like to have another go at him myself, just to 
see how tough I can make it on him! I think it'd be great fun, to 
mangle him like he's never been mangled before and really show him all 
the woman he's been missing!"

Through it all, Timmy was ashamed to note that his boner never went 
away but only hardened. Social custom dictated that he had to watch 
Martha almost the whole time--after all, she was doing all the talking-
-and that meant staring at her magnificent body. If the swimsuit was 
too tight on her before she started eating, it was perceptibly even 
tighter now. The front strap around her back and side seemed to dig 
into her bulging flesh by about two inches, and her breasts were 
exploding out around the bikini; the little blue and pink flaps simply 
could not hold them back.


At one point, as her fourth course was ending, Timmy noticed that 
Jerome seemed to have a massive boner as well, visible through his 
dress pants. This was more than understandable, for he had been 
bouncing up and down on Martha's knee as she laughed and jiggled her 
way through lunch, with his little head right next to and occasionally 
touching her massive right boob. ("God," Timmy thought, "that one 
breast is about five times the size of his head.") And when Jerome 
scampered off to go and get Martha a fifth helping of ribs, Timmy could 
tell that he was walking funny, and not JUST because Martha had swatted 
his ass with her big greasy palm as he went away.

"I don't know about you," Martha said to Sarah and Timmy, "but I'm 
starting to get in the mood for some ice cream after this."

"I've already promised Timmy some ice cream LATER," Sarah noted, "IF 
he's good."

"Oh I see!" said Martha, throwing back another pitcher of margarita. 
"Well, you and I can still have some here. Timmy will just have to 
wait."

When Jerome brought out Martha's fifth full ribcage of barbequed pork, 
he was immediately sent back to the kitchen to order a sixth and to ask 
how much they had left in total. The answer was that they had five 
more.

"I'll take all of them," Martha replied without hesitation.

"A-a-all of them? N-n-now?"

"Yes, Jerome, and please bring me more margarita. I am working myself 
up to a frenzy here and am going to need more--more of everything, 
really."

Timmy had never seen anyone eat the way Martha was eating now, and he 
had THOUGHT that she was about to slow down. She was literally eating 
ribcage after ribcage of some sort of wild boar, each one less cooked 
than the previous one, because she was eating faster and so they had 
less time to cook, and she was eating them as fast as Jerome could 
bring them out to her. She didn't care how rare the meat was--and by 
the seventh and eighth course, it was getting quite rare indeed--as 
long as it was drenched in barbeque sauce.

By now, Sarah had finished her third prime rib steak, and handed the 
empty plate daintily to little Jerome. Timmy noted that her hand 
touched his in the exchange, and Sarah's alabaster fingers looked so 
long and strong and perfect compared to Jerome's tiny little stick 
fingers.

As Martha finished her TENTH rack of ribs, she burped loudly. Almost 
her entire face was covered with dark red barbeque sauce, as were her 
hands and most of her arms. She almost looked like a super-MILF version 
of Hannibal Lecter. 

Timmy estimated that she had just consumed approximately 100 pounds of 
meat. It was inconceivable. No doubt it had something to do with the 
health pills she was on, but Timmy hadn't seen her take any today. 
Whatever the drugs were doing for her was certainly helping, but more 
than anything else it had to be said that this was Martha's natural 
personality bursting through; she was becoming the peak human that she 
could possibly become.

"Are you going to eat those?" she asked Timmy, pointing a sauce-
drenched index finger towards his plate. This whole time he had only 
managed to eat three and half of the nine shrimp he had been given.

He shook his head.

Martha leaned and reached over to take his plate, causing her big right 
boob to squash Jerome's head from behind as she mashed him into the 
table. Then she scarfed down the rest of the shrimp and brushed the 
remains of the wet coleslaw into her gaping mouth as well, getting a 
bit of the white cream on her lips and chin in the process. She looked 
like an absolute pig--maybe the sexist pig ever, but a pig nonetheless-
-and in less than five seconds she had eaten more than Timmy had been 
able to eat all day, and that on top of the 100+ pounds she had already 
eaten in the last hour.

While Jerome looked like he was ready to explode, both from fear and 
sexual excitement, Martha capped things off by lifting the last giant 
saucer on which the ribs had been served. She tilted it so as to pour 
all of the generous barbeque sauce off. Only about half of it made it 
into her open mouth; the rest of it spattered and plopped and drizzled 
down all over her gigantic neck and chest and boobs. In the end she 
gave another very loud burp--a burp that sounded more like a roar--and 
raised her fists in triumph. She was a champion of consuming protein. 
She looked like a total mess, but because of her lack of clothing she 
also looked like she was the biggest hottest female mudwrestler ever, 
covered in a sexy and disgusting form of warpaint.

"Now, Jerome," she purred, "Go and get my daughter and me some icecream 
sundaes, or else we'll have to eat YOU for dessert. Well, at least *I* 
would. I'm not sure a 13-year-old can be quite a 'man-eater' yet."

Jerome jumped off Martha's lap--it seemed higher off the ground to him 
now--and ran to the kitchen as fast as he could. It occurred to Timmy 
that, were he in Jerome's position, he would have seriously thought 
about fleeing the scene completely, whenever Martha let him go to the 
kitchen like this.

"Don't worry," Sarah said suddenly, turning to face him, "I'll get you 
a little icecream cone of your own on the way out."

Timmy really didn't like this game of pretending that he cared so much 
about Sarah getting him an ice cream cone. Still, when she told him 
this she put her long hands on his shoulders reassuringly. And Timmy 
did appreciate that; it did put his mind at ease.

Jerome returned with two very large sundaes--hot fudge and whip cream 
and cherries all over both.

"Oh, VERY nice!" Martha said, rubbing her sticky, sauce-covered hands 
together. "But first thing's first, Jerome, as we proceed toward the 
end of our lunch. I've saved a special place for you and kept it warm."

Martha leered over at Jerome, looking incredibly predatory, and then 
lifted up one of her immensely shapely, creamy white thighs.

"I want you tucked under there now, little boy," she told him.

Jerome approached furtively. From the corner of his eye, Timmy saw 
Sarah stifle a giggle as she ate her sundae, and then pull the spoon 
out of her mouth with a smacking sound.

Evidently he was taking too long to assume the position--or maybe he 
would have eventually thought better of it and ran for his life--but 
Martha impatiently lurched forward, grabbed him with one of her meaty 
hands, and shoved him under her thigh.

"GET! UNDER there!" she cried, and then she lowered her big thunder 
thigh down, trapping the little man underneath. Martha had placed him 
down on his belly; only his head and shoulders were visible.

Jerome uttered a pitiful little moan of a sort that Timmy could never 
imagine coming out of his friend's mouth before.

"THAT's for insulting me earlier," Martha told him. "Well, MUCH 
earlier. YEARS ago. When you thought it was okay for you to pick on a 
poor little woman. NO. You were wrong. But it IS okay for me to pick on 
poor little men!" She laughed and Sarah, still eating her ice cream, 
did the same.

"Do yew wan' sum?" Martha asked Jerome, looking down and holding the 
spoon toward him.

Jerome looked up and just moaned.

"Then watch this!" Martha said, and then started rubbing the spoon 
against the boob that was right over Jerome's head. A mixture of 
vanilla icecream, whipcream and hot fudge was mashed into Martha's 
breast, all over her already-tortured bikini top, right over the place 
where her nipple was pooking out. Eventually, a few drops of the mess, 
now mixed with the preexisting barbeque sauce, dripped down onto 
Jerome's head.

"AW!" Martha cooed. "First you better eat this anyway."

With that she held a hand out toward Sarah. Her daughter look a vial of 
pills out of her purse and handed one to her mother. Martha then bent 
down some, really pushing her thigh down hard on Jerome's back in the 
process, and then stuffed the pill into his mouth and--really shoving 
her long thick finger in--pushing it down his throat as well.

"That'll kill some of the pain, Jerome. And you'll need it."

Jerome gulped and Timmy did too. Timmy looked over at Sarah, who looked 
super cool and calm as she finished up her sundae, rimming her spoon 
around the inside of the glass to get any remaining icecream and fudge.

"NOW TIMMY!" Martha bellowed.

"W-w-what?" Timmy asked.

"NOW YOU GO UNDER MY OTHER THIGH!"

His face turned white.

"B-b-but w-w-w-why?"

"BECAUSE YOU DISOBEYED ME EARLIER, not going to the bathroom as you 
said. Well, if that's the way you want it, now I'll just have to do 
everything I can to make you pee your pants!"

Timmy knew that arguing or protesting would just lead to increased 
punishment in the end. There was no way he could win. He really did see 
how he had been wrong from the start and he shouldn't've lied or 
disobeyed Martha earlier.

He got down off the chair--it was quite a drop--and approached Martha 
for the first time after she had gained so much weight. She really did 
look considerably bigger now. He shivered. Even sitting down, her boobs 
were above his head, and her thighs totally gigantic to him. He 
remembered how just that morning he made love to one of those legs as 
if it was the size of a person compared to him. Now not even one of 
Martha's legs was in his little league.

She raised her left thigh and he climbed under. The leather seat below 
was wet with her sweat and musky warmth, but that was nothing to 
compare to how he felt when her thigh slowly came down on top of him, 
pressing against his back. He felt totally trapped but also totally 
immersed in her feminism. It was strange and painful and humiliating--
but there were worse jobs in the world than being Martha Thollen's 
cushion.

He could hear her laugh and jiggle above him. He knew that he would be 
bowing to her every whim for the rest of his life.

"Oh yes, my poor little boys," she said to them, "my how things have 
changed. You used to be able to giggle about me behind my back, but I 
know that after this meeting you won't be speaking of Martha Thollen in 
any tone that she doesn't deserve. And the tone she deserves is, well, 
however you would talk about the hottest, biggest bitch on the planet, 
that any man couldn't help but wanna fuck till my big body busted off 
his cock!"

She laughed again, and Sarah did too.

Timmy couldn't help wondering what the restaurant manager thought of 
all this. At what point would they try to stop her? She was really 
pressing things, calling their bluff.

Finally, after bouncing up and down on their backs more than a few 
times--Timmy heard several cracks and thought sure that she was really 
going to injure them--Martha let up and scooped each of them into her 
sticky sauce-covered arms.

"I need two little pussy babies to lick off all this mess from my 
massive fucking hot bod," she told them matter of factly.

Just as both Timmy and Jerome were about to volunteer wildly--for they 
couldn't help reacting that way--Martha corrected herself.

"Actually, no, I need two NAKED little pussy babies to lick off all 
this mess from my massive fucking SUPERhot bod."

With that she flopped both Jerome and Timmy across her lap and began 
ripping their clothes off. With Timmy she was more careful--after all, 
these clothes were Sarah's, and the Wonder Woman shirt in particular 
had meaning--but with Jerome she completely ruined his dapper waiter's 
attire, literally tearing it from his meager frame with her long strong 
fingers and girly nails. Now that he was naked, Timmy could see that 
Jerome was far thinner than he ever imagined him looking. Once upon a 
time, Jerome was quite strong looking and sporty. Now he looked thin 
and malnourished.

"Now LICK, little boys."

They didn't need to be told twice. Both men were fully erect and 
couldn't help twitching their groins a bit as they slurped away. They 
ran their tongues all over Martha's massive arms--so bulging and solid, 
with only slight definition, yet somehow part of the perfect female 
form that she possessed. Martha grinned down at her eager little 
worshippers as they lapped at her big hands. She could stick individual 
fingers all the way down their throats, and they didn't mind--so happy 
were they to be pleasing her. Next they licked her sauce-covered neck 
and face, tickling her to the point of hysterics in the process. It was 
as if two little puppies were kissing their master. Lastly, they lapped 
at her breasts, the most sizable task of all. And not until they 
cleaned the rest of them did Martha pull her tiny bikini flaps to the 
side so that Jerome and Timmy could suck on her erect nipples.

As they did this, as these 20-something men literally sat in her lap, 
one on each knee, and sucked the boobs of her massive 40-something-
year-old Super MILF body, Martha snaked her boa constrictor-like arms 
around them, and grasped their pulsating members in her strong hands.

They were both ready to come almost immediately after they felt her 
woman's touch.

Jerome moaned loudly, surely attracting the attention of the entire 
restaurant, but as he did so Martha picked him up by holding his little 
body in the crook of her right arm, folding his body in on itself, and 
she slyly twisted his penis just so that it was pointed right in his 
face. Unable to stop himself, with the rest of Martha's fingers dancing 
and rubbing his scrotum, then just roughly squeezing his ballsack, 
Jerome ejaculated blast after blast of semen into his own face.

Martha roared with laughter, lifted his little body again and then 
mashed his face into her big naked boob. Her right hand was covering 
the back of his head; she had accomplished this entire maneuver with 
only one arm.

Next she turned to Timmy, who was still on the moment of ejaculation 
himself. Seeing what she had done to Jerome had not dissuaded him. It 
was scary, but at this point in his training, witnessing such 
domineering acts of women turned him on. He moaned as he looked up into 
her wide, toothy grin. He loved her face with her bright eyes and 
wanted to come into her thick full lips.

"Now now, Timmy," Martha cautioned. "You haven't been a good enough boy 
to deserve a second wanking today."

He moaned and bucked his little thighs expectantly.

"No... No..." Martha said.

He reached out to her body, grabbed her left boob and began humping at 
it uncontrollably. Over his shoulder he heard Sarah laugh.

Martha batted him away but put no real strength into it. It was clear 
that she was teasing Timmy. Still in her massive lap, he would crawl 
back over to her breast and then she would shoo him away again, lifting 
his entire body with a casual brush of her arm, sometimes tickling him 
a bit in the process.

Finally Timmy could take it no longer and he simply laid down, wrapped 
his arms and legs around her bare thigh and started dryhumping that, 
wailing in sexual frustration. Her thigh was so big and soft and 
shapely and creamy. He pressed his face into it as he humped it and 
slobbered kisses onto it.

Just before the point of orgasm he felt Martha's big hand rip him off 
of her thigh--her one hand was stronger than his entire body and big 
enough to reach around more than half of his waistline--and flip him 
over onto his back. He was already in the process of coming, but her 
hand shot down to his genitals, grabbed his cock like a joystick, and 
then she mashed her thumb down onto the tip of his member as hard as 
she possibly could.

Timmy screamed in agony, but his penis was blocked and no semen 
escaped.

Martha kept up the pressure, pinching his penis incredibly hard from 
the tip down to the base, sliding her fingers slowly backwards so as to 
return the semen back from where it came.

Timmy moaned a bit, but his fire was quelled. Dazed, he looked over to 
see a group of about a dozen people watching them. Most of them were 
men, but a few females were there too. Of course, the women bore 
expressions of awe while the men were outraged and horrified--but 
still, it was clear that the men were too afraid to actually DO 
anything.

Martha calmly handed Timmy's little exhausted naked body over the table 
to Sarah. The teen queen received his tiny form and hugged him tight. 
She planted a kiss on the top of his hair and told him "Everything is 
going to be alright. You did well". She had his clothes for him, stood 
him up on her lap and started to dress him.

"How did you like it?" Martha asked the crowd, most of whom looked away 
and shuffled off rather than meet her commanding gaze. Two of the women 
clapped and bit and said "You were great!"

The maitre-d' was there, and his mouth was hanging open.

"I'm still a bit STICKY," Martha said to the man, indicating her right 
breast, which had some of Jerome's come smeared all over it. "You have 
a fountain out front. Mind if I swim in it? I'd like to go skinny-
dipping with your little employee here."

The maitre-d' was frozen.

"I'll take that as a Yes," Martha told him. "Come on, Jerome, you're 
coming with me. Literally. I like to help little boys feel nice, but 
sometimes I like to shove their little knobs up my ass and squeeze 
their little bodies to death between my thighs to have a good time FOR 
ME too."

She yanked Jerome's quivering naked form off of her lap and guided him 
onto his feet. Timmy looked over to see his friend nearly collapse; he 
was still so exhausted and overwhelmed. Sarah set Timmy down in his 
chair and rushed over to hold Jerome up. Sarah looked so tall and 
strong next to Jerome, who was slightly crouched in his weakness. She 
was nearly seven feet tall in her new boots. Her knees came up to 
Jerome's torso. Jerome had always tried to pass himself off--with some 
success--as a Lothario, but here he was needing to be steadied on his 
feet by an athletic 13-year-old girl who looked like she could probably 
take on and win a fight against twenty Jeromes, a much younger girl who 
was waaaay out of his league in every way.

Then Timmy shook in trepidation as Martha herself stood up. It was the 
first time she had arisen since eating more weight than Timmy and 
Jerome had on their bones, combined.

She stood up and up and up, giving off a combination of a yawn and a 
roar as she did so, her naked breasts jutting proudly out from her 
body. And then she raised her curvy arms over her head and stretched 
her entire body. Timmy heard several cracks, as if someone were 
cracking their knuckles, and then Martha squatted down, reached behind 
herself to bend one knee and then the other under her, to crack those 
joints as well.

When she stood back up, she was taller than Sarah.

"These BOOTS are KILLING me, Sarah!" she complained, pointing down to 

her cartoonish blue boots, whose heels seemed modest compared to 
Sarah's. The boots, which had fit Martha so perfectly earlier today, 
were now cutting into her skin and appeared about five sizes too small. 
"I'll have to go and get new ones! That's what I'll do after my bath! 
So, you and Timmy can go play for an hour or so, then meet me in the 
information center so we can leave!"

Sarah nodded, then looked back at Timmy expectantly.

Timmy was not at all willing to stand up around the new and improved 
Martha right now. She had literally grown before his eyes. Last night 
Martha had said that she expected to top off at seven feet once all her 
growing was done. She was OVER that height now, in her heels at last. 
At this rate, she would hit that marker barefoot very soon indeed, and 
Timmy was not ready to witness it. All of these changes were coming too 
fast and quick; the women were exceeding every expectation; it was all 
too much for his little male mind to process.

"TIMMY!" she yelled at him suddenly, and then made the very demand he 
was fearing. "FRONT AND CENTER, little man! I want to bid you farewell 
properly, little lover, before we part company again."

His body carefully climbed down from the chair without him even feeling 
that he was in control of it. It was as if he was physically compelled 
to do what Martha said, as if her command of him was now so great that 
it penetrated to an unconscious level that he could not ever hope to 
resist. Not that he would WANT to resist her, at this point; by now he 
knew that disobeying her would be a very foolish and dangerous idea.

On quivering, shaky legs he approached her. From high above her 
familiar self-satisfied smile beamed down on him, soaking up glee from 
his nervousness.

"STAND UP STRAIGHT, TIMMY!" she bellowed.

He was looking directly into her crotch, right into the painfully small 
and tight pink and blue swirl bikini bottoms.

He felt Martha put a dainty--but humongous--hand on the top of his head 
and then brought it toward herself. The top of his head was only about 
belt-level on her now. She laughed.

"Now pull down your pants, Timmy, and let me see it one more time. I 
just want to check something."

Again he did as he was told. Sure enough, he still had a painfully 
throbbing, expectant hardon. His little tube of meat strained for all 
it was worth, jutting forward towards Martha.

"Aw, how CUTE you are, Timmy," she said.

He whined like a puppy.

"AW!" Martha said again. "So I take it you LIKE the New Martha? Yes, I 
was sure you would. But then again... what male wouldn't like me now?" 
She stretched her body again, brought herself up on the toes of her big 
boots, and then rubbed her hands over her impossibly voluptuous curves. 
"After all, I AM becoming every little boy's big wet-dream-come-true."

She made a noise then that was something like the way a lioness might 
purr. Timmy whined again, as Martha lowered one of her big hands. If 
only she would touch him now, if only even the tip of a manicured nail 
might touch the head of his penis, he was sure to explode on contact.

But Martha refused to give him this satisfaction. "Pull your pants up 
and go with Sarah, baby boy."

Then she turned to her other worshipper.

"Come on now, you little shit," she said, grabbing Jerome by the head--
putting her palm right over it like it was a baseball--and dragging him 
along behind her on the way to the fountain. "I like this restaurant. I 
didn't at first, but I do now, now that I've totally fucking conquered 
it. It's a lot more liberal than I thought it would be, thanks to me. 
It's a place where girls can do anything we wanna do. Well, EVERYWHERE 

is a place where girls can do anything we wanna do. Lucky for you, 
Jerome, all I wanna do now is just fuck the living shit outta dinky 
little men."

As Timmy was escorted by Sarah out of the restaurant, he heard a 
gigantic splash as Martha's body evidently plunged into the pool of the 
fountain. He knew he'd eventually need to commiserate with his friend 
about all of this, if Jerome survived the experience.

-----

They walked onwards through the mall then, doing nothing in particular. 
Timmy clutched Sarah's hand tighter than ever. He was happy to be with 
her now. He wasn't exactly sure WHY, but it was probably because he was 
simply glad that he wasn't in Jerome's position right now. He'd much 
rather walk through the mall with a cool girl like Sarah than be raped 
in a public fountain by a rampaging Martha who seemed to want to take 
out all her lingering, pent up frustrations about her past marriage on 
whatever male body was nearest to her. He didn't want anything to do 
with that. 

Actually, he wasn't sure if that was completely true. His omnipresent 
boner still needed relief, and Martha was just about as sexy as he 
could imagine any female ever becoming--but "making love" or rather 
"being taken" in a public setting seemed way too scary to him, 
especially given Martha's insatiability, immense size, brutality and 
strength. He really did fear for Jerome's wellbeing, despite the 
painkiller pill that Martha had given him. 

It was much safer to simply indulge in more innocent, juvenile affairs 
with Sarah, walking through the mall like a couple of good friends. And 
Timmy was proud to be escorted--and thus protected--by a young female 
so perfect and hip. He had only ever had a handful of girlfriends in 
his life, few of them lasted for any notable length of time. So, 
really, walking through the mall with a female acquaintance of any sort 
was a real thrill for him. Almost like he was making up for lost time; 
this was something he SHOULD have been doing with an innocent little 
playfriend when he was a boy about Sarah's age.

"Now stay in my sight at all times, Timmy," Sarah told him, apropos of 
nothing.

"Oh I will," Timmy quickly assured her, looking up at her dutifully and 
hoping to stave off any woman-to-boy lecturing that she might feel it 
her duty to administer at this time.

Just as Sarah opened her plush lips to launch into a longer litany of 

Rules for Ruled-Over Men, however, something stopped her dead in her 
tracks. Timmy was inadvertently tugged back to Sarah, as he had kept 
walking after she paused, and their tightly gripped hands acted like a 
bungy cord, hurdling him back against one of Sarah's shapely jean-
covered thighs.

"H-hey, uh, Sarah? What's wrong?"

Timmy tried to follow her gaze but couldn't tell what or whom she was 
looking at in the crowd.

Slowly a big Jack-o-Lantern grin formed across Sarah's face and she 
began to chuckle.

"Oh... ha ha ha ha, Timmy. You are in for a treat," she said, and then 
started off again in earnest, her tall heels clacking loudly against 
the floor. It was all Timmy could do to scamper beside her and try to 
keep up.

"Hello, JASON!" Sarah said, halting again. She had given no indication 
to Timmy that they were about to stop and greet someone, so again his 
little body whiplashed and slammed again into Sarah's big thigh. This 
time, though, Timmy thought he detected a little pull-back from Sarah 
herself, and he wondered if the first time this happened if Sarah 
hadn't subtly manipulated his tiny form then as well. She seemed to 
laugh a bit under her breath as his fragile form collided with her 
large thigh.

But Timmy couldn't even see whom Sarah was addressing. The crowd was 
thick and Timmy didn't have the greatest perspective. Almost half of 
his vision was taken up by being positioned so close to Sarah, and he 
was so short anyway.

"Hey!" Sarah said louder. "YOU!"

Timmy saw Sarah part the crowd a bit and then jab a long pointy finger 
down on someone's shoulder. The person was facing away from them and 
had appeared to be minding his own business, but Sarah's action 
suddenly snapped him to attention and he whirled around anxiously.

He was a boy with curly blond hair and glasses. Though not zit-covered, 
he appeared to have some skin problems--maybe eczema that he could just 
barely keep under control. Timmy couldn't tell his age, but he looked 
like a young teenager, probably someone in Sarah's grade. His clothes 
appeared somewhat oversized on him, and they had loud fluorescent 
colors that looked quite out of style. Most notably, of course, was the 
fact that he was a couple inches shorter even than Timmy, who instantly 
began to smile softly at this. Sarah's little friend LOVED it when he 
wasn't the shortest guy in the picture.

"Didn't you HEAR me calling you?" Sarah asked the boy sternly.

"Um...no," Jason said, putting his head down shyly.

Sarah immediately placed one of her fingers under Jason's chin and made 
him look back up at her. His nose was level with her belt buckle.

"Are you sure you weren't ignoring me?" she asked him, the air of 
threat in her voice.

"N-no!" Jason squeaked.

"Okay then. Well, why don't we get out of the stream of traffic and go 
over there and talk?" Sarah gestured with her thumb to a fairly empty 
alcove next to a vacant storefront.

"Um," Jason said, "my dad..."

Not waiting for him to answer, Sarah bent and reached down a bit and--
without asking--snatched one of Jason's little hands, and began 
compelling both men to walk away with her toward the place she wanted 
to go.

"It was a RHETORICAL question, dumbass," she told him. "And when I WANT 
you to do something, you DO it."

She walked in between the two much smaller males, and even though she 
wasn't squeezing hard, Timmy doubted that either of them could break 
free from her and run away if they wanted to.

"Here we are then," Sarah said as they reached a bench. She let go of 
their hands, almost daring them--Jason especially--to TRY to get away 
from her, and then with a sultry sigh plopped herself down in the 
middle of the bench. She patted her hands on either side of her. "Come 

along now, boys. Sit down next to me. Unless you'd rather sit on my 
lap?" She gave them both a wink and smiled.

Timmy climbed up to sit on her left and Jason climbed--much more 
hesitatingly--to sit on her right.

"Very good," she told them, stretched her arms out, patted them each on 
the shoulder and then left her arms dangling lazily that way, half on 
the back of the bench and half draped across their shoulders.

"Okay, well," she continued, "as if you haven't guessed: Timmy, this is 
Jason, a boy I go to school with. And, Jason, this is Timmy, a little 
boy I babysit."

("What?!" Timmy's mind shrieked.) Sarah chuckled and looked down at 
him. He didn't like this game. To be fair, since he was taller and 
obviously looked older than Jason, the schoolboy probably intuited that 
Sarah was joking. ("Then again," Timmy thought, "Sarah is my guardian 
at this time. That's almost like being a babysitter to me, but... but 
she isn't!") He tried to maintain his composure.

"So, Jason, I hear you're out with your daddy, huh?" She looked down at 
the bashful little boy and then added "THAT sounds fun" in a sarcastic 
tone.

The boy had a dour, if somewhat fearful, expression on his face.

"What do you WANT, Sarah?" he asked, in a tone that seemed calculated 
to not be QUITE rude enough to warrant a reprimand.

"Wouldn't you rather hang out with a cool girl like me instead?" Sarah 
asked him, arching her eyebrows and chocking her head to the side 
playfully and playing with her ponytail a bit.

"Sarah... just..." Jason searched for the right words. "Just leave me 
alone, okay? I gotta find my dad soon and--"

"Oo, oo," Sarah cooed, "'I gotta find Daddy, I gotta find Daddy, wah 
wah wah.'" Then she giggled. "Why are you so nervous about hanging out 
with me, Jason? What are you afraid that I might DO to you? HUH?"

Timmy leaned out in his seat with interest, so he could see Jason's 
annoyed expression. Sitting in the seat, both males were about eye-
level with Sarah's chest, so Timmy had to lean out farther than was 
comfortable. He considered that this really would be an easier, more 
sociable experience if Sarah really did sit them both on her lap.

"Do you like my new boots, Jason?" Sarah asked, then crossed her left 
leg across her knee so that the heel of the boot came down in Jason's 
lap. He was a thin boy and the heel especially looked frighteningly 
long and dangerous compared to his nervous body.

"Uh, v-very nice, Sarah, now--"

"But--" Sarah interrupted him, "do you think the heels are long enough 
to meet school regulation? I mean, for my grade they'd have to be at 
least three and a half inches long, and--"

"That's NOT regulation!" Jason yelled suddenly. He tried with both 
hands to shove Sarah's boot off his lap but he wasn't strong enough to 
do so, and Timmy could see Sarah's body flex a bit as she repositioned 
and dug the side of her boot down harder against Jason's crotch, 
trapping him there.

"Oh, it WILL be regulation very soon, Jason. WON'T IT!" It wasn't a 
question. She wasn't asking.

"NO, Sarah," Jason shot back. His voice was weaker but he had some 

fight in it. "You aren't going to bully us. I'm on the student council, 
and I'm NOT recommending--"

"The vote is on Tuesday," Sarah stated, and Timmy got the impression 
that this wasn't the first time this information was laid out or the 
first time this argument had happened. "And YOU and all your little 
weakling nerdo BUDDIES better vote for it, IF you know what's good for 
you."

"NO," Jason said again. "We're NOT and it's NOT FAIR."

Timmy was scared by all of this, but he was even more intrigued. 
Sarah's long soft hand was resting on her left knee; Timmy tapped it 
with his own little paw to get her attention.

"Sarah?" he asked. "Um, what are you guys talking about?"

"WELL, TIMMY," she said, turning toward him dramatically while keeping 
Jason under her boot, "let me explain. You see, there is a 'Fairness 
for Females' vote being held at our school this week, and there is a 
shockingly high amount of little boys--and even some hopelessly 
backward little girls--who are afraid of it."

"No, it's crazy and nutty and WRONG," Jason said.

"Let's let Timmy decide," Sarah said calmly, with a sly smile on her 
face. "You want 'Fairness for Females', don't you, Timmy?"

"Uh," he stalled momentarily, before hurriedly finding his place again: 
"I mean--Absolutely. Of course. But, uh, what exactly is it?"

"Well," Sarah said happily, "it's so nice and manly of you to take my 
word for it and give me your vote without knowing any of the details or 
reading the fine print as it were. But just to humor you, I'll tell you 
what you just agreed to. First of all, 'Fairness for Females' means 
that the school budget for cafeteria food is sort of restructured. 
Basically, girls get the food they deserve, and more of it. And 
meanwhile--as luck would have it--it means that boys can basically just 
eat whatever they want anyway."

Here Jason broke in: "It means boys only get tiny portions of 
vegetables, or else junk food."

Sarah laughed. "You're forgetting, Jason, that boys are loathe to eat 
vegetables as it is. So appropriating 'a few vegetables' for them is 
entirely reasonable. Meanwhile, as I said and as you alluded to with 
the mention of 'junk food', boys can have all the chips, candy, and 
soda they want."

"But who wants to--"

"You're forgetting," Sarah interrupted Jason again, "that this was 
decided based on studies of how boys were eating ALREADY. Most of them 
already are content to just eat a bunch of junk food. So, we let them 
have it."

"Yeah, but NO MEAT?!" Jason protested.

"Some cuts will have to be made," Sarah said, "if you guys want your 
infinite junkfood. And you and I know that many boys ARE perfectly 
willing to trade protein for sugar and filler carbohydrates. That's 
just the way it goes. Besides, as Timmy can attest, meat is hard on the 
male digestive system anyway, so it is good that we wise women are 
protecting you from it."

Timmy looked down. Then he realized that Sarah wanted an affirmation 
from him. "Uh, yes," he said, "I, well, I w-was having problems eating, 

uh, sausage and bacon earlier, and--"

"And we just got done eating lunch with my mother. You saw how much I 
and my mom--my mom especially--ate compared to you, right? So what 
sense would it make for boys and girls to have equal food budgets? As 
it is, the standard school meal in our cafeteria is far too small for a 

normal girl, and far too big for a normal boy."

"Far too big?!" Jason yelled. "The hamburgers are already dinky, and 
the milk comes in little tiny containers, and--"

"You forget," Sarah broke in, "that we are LETTING you have infinite 
soda and junk food, if you really need more to fill up on. As it was, 
even a great big boy like Timmy here couldn't even eat all of his 
coleslaw for lunch. Could you, Timmy?"

"Uh, n-n-n-no. I couldn't eat it all."

"See, Jason?" Sarah said, putting her hand on his far shoulder and 
pressing him close to her side. "It makes no sense to have unisex 
school lunches, much less to have similarly sized portions! Look at the 
size of ME, and then look at the size of YOU. Do you really think the 
two of us would or should or possibly could eat the same amount?"

Jason said nothing but his sulking was palpable.

"Let's continue, then," Sarah said brightly, and she might've added 
"now that I've handily won round one", but she didn't say that, 
probably to spare Jason's feelings. "'Fairness for Females' also means 
that right from Kindergarten on up males and females will begin to be 
prepared for the proportional stature that they will take on in adult 
life."

"It's means all the boys have to go barefoot and all the girls get 
'free' designer high-heeled pumps out of the pockets of male 
taxpayers!" Jason said venomously.

"Not true!" Sarah said happily, a smile on her face indicating that she 
was quite prepared to parry this attack and reverse it. "First of all, 
the boys do not 'have' to go barefoot. It is an option. If they'd like, 
they can also go about in socks or in stockings. They are even allowed 
to wear little flat ballet slippers like you've got on, Timmy. And 
don't you like wearing them?" At this Timmy blushed. "So, you see, the 
only rule for males is that they have to take off their regular shoes 
when they enter the schoolhouse. A reasonable rule, since MOST people 
take their shoes off when they go inside someone's house anyway. In 
fact, under this plan males have a lot MORE options than females do. 
Girls HAVE to wear high-heels, the minimum heights of which are 
staggered by grade-grouping. I'm in the 5-7 grade group, so I will have 
to wear heels that are at least 3 and a half inches high. I believe my 
new boots ARE even a bit TALLER than that--thank you, Timmy!--so that 
means I CAN wear them to school. Jason is in the 11-12 grade group, so 
the girls in his classes will all be wearing heels that are at least 
five inches high."

At this Timmy made a noise of shock. "Wait, what?! How old is he?"

"Jason here is a senior," Sarah purred. "I believe you're... 18?"

"Y-y-yeah," Jason said. "I'm 18."

"Jeez," Timmy murmured.

It never ceased to surprise Timmy how small the boys these days were 
getting--or rather, how small they were staying. At Sarah's party, 
Dewey and especially Hans seemed positively elfin compared to how boys 
their age were in Timmy's day, which wasn't so long ago. And how here 
was this 18-year-old, a young man who should be nearing the prime of 
his manhood, who was even smaller than Timmy, whom Timmy had mistaken 
for a classmate of the just-turned-13 Sarah. Timmy thought he had it 

bad himself, but Dewey and especially Hans (who was 17) had it worse 
yet, and Jason had it worse than any of them. Timmy thought for a 
moment and couldn't really remember the last time he had seen a teenage 
boy who actually looked, well, normal--to say nothing of one who looked 
above normal or athletic. He used to see groups of big strapping 
healthy looking male teens all the time--everyone did. But now it was 
much more prevalent to see sporty GIRLS walking around in packs, and 
almost all of them looked taller than average--or taller than what used 
to be "average."

"Do, um, do girls NEED heels, though?" Timmy asked furtively, then 
regretted asking the question. He really hoped that Sarah didn't take 
it the wrong way.

Thankfully she smiled. "No, of course we don't NEED heels. But you know 
as well as I do that 'Girls are getting taller these days', so it's 
obviously best to prepare boys and girls for their differing height-
roles. Otherwise it's sort of a shock to the system when it happens 
later on, don't you think?"


"Uh... I guess so, y-yeah," Timmy said.

"Besides, in real life women like my mom, or your Aunt Rose, wear 
toweringly high heels. So not only are girls getting taller, but 
they're wearing taller and taller heels in addition to this. Really, I 
think we won't be doing ENOUGH in school to prepare girls for the world 
they're entering. It is going to be even more female-dominated than 
anyone can possibly imagine now. If I had it my way, I'd have really, 
REALLY high heels given to girls almost from day one, to make damn sure 
that they towered over every male teacher or 'authority' figure in the 
building."

"It's not FAIR," Jason hissed.

"What was that Jason?" Sarah asked rhetorically. "Oh, by the way, 
Timmy, another of little Jason's fibs that he told a few minutes ago 
was that 'male taxpayers' have to pay for the schoolgirls' heels. 
That's an exaggeration. The money for the school budget comes from 
taxpayers in general. So, yes, some of the money will come from males, 
some of whom are hopelessly reactionary and thus don't want to fund 
'Fairness for Females'. But that's just how it goes. There are plenty 
of female taxpayers who don't want any of their money going for public 
utilities that males might use--because males are sure to use them to 
less success than women would--but, for now at least, there's nothing 
to be done about that, either. Furthermore, aside from everything else, 
it isn't even true that the heels HAVE to come from taxpayers' funds! 
Every single girl is free to simply bring her OWN pair of heels in. 
Which is what *I* will be doing."

With this she patted her boot, which was still laying firmly across 
Jason's little lap. Then she stared down smugly into Jason's little 
face, looming over him.

"So, um," Timmy started again, wanting to break what he perceived as 
oppressive anti-male awkwardness, "w-w-will it get enough votes t-to be 
passed?"

"I expect so," Sarah said, drawing her arms in and crossing them 
proudly across her chest. "We girls have a tendency to always win. 
Don't we, Jason? We ALWAYS WIN IN THE END."


"No!" Jason squeaked, meekly and pathetically.

"Welllll," Sarah drawled. "I'll tell you what will happen if we don't 
win. If we don't get enough votes, I guarantee you that all of the 
girls will stop doing all of the boys' homework for them. We will stop 
being such nice girls and start being mean girls. If you think we've 
been mean to you before, you haven't seen anything yet."

"A-a-all of the girls d-do a-all of the boys' homework?" Timmy asked, 
very confused.

"Well, not 'a-a-all'," Sarah laughed. "But a LOT of them do. Just out 
of the goodness of our hearts, and because it's so cute and easy to do 
this favor for our little buddies. You remember Hannah? She's helped 
Jason here a lot on his English homework this year."

Timmy remembered that Hannah was only Sarah's age, and in 7th grade. 
She didn't even seem particularly bright, certainly not the way the 
somewhat introspective Ting and perfect Sarah seemed. Yet Hannah was 
evidently instrumental in helping a 12th grade boy pass his English 
class?

"In fact," Sarah continued, "a lot of the more progressive female 
teachers--that is to say, almost all of the teachers, period--draw up a 
sort of informal list of pairings at the beginning of the year. 
Different girls from different grades help different boys with their 
homework. It's just a little thing that we do on the side. Unofficial 
tutoring, like. Some of the guys don't like it, but..." she turned to 
Jason and smiled down again, "if it weren't for this almost all the 
guys would be failing everything, and if you abolished the system now 
it'd really only hurt the guys. So you'd be spiting yourself, wouldn't 
you?"

"...Yes," Jason admitted reluctantly.

"Say that you need us," Sarah instructed him. "Say 'Boys need girls' 
help on homework'."

"Boys need girls' help on homework," he repeated.

"Say 'Older boys need younger girls' help on homework'."

He did so. Sarah giggled.

"Say 'I, shy, bashful, angry Jason who is 18 and stands 4-foot-six, 
need the help of fun-loving Hannah, who is 13 and 5'9", for my 
homework, or else I will not graduate'."

Jason said nothing, evidently unable to remember actually how Sarah's 
long sentence ran verbatim. "Just... shut up," he finally said, putting 
his head down in frustration.

Sarah threw her head back and laughed, then hunched over Jason, put her 
arms around him, and kissed him on the top of his curly head.

"Ew, I hope I didn't get germs or dandruff on me," she said, half-
mockingly, brushing the shoulder of her black turtleneck with her hand.

"Jeez," Timmy said again after a few moments had passed. He leaned back 
on the bench and thought about all of the changes that had happened in 
the American school system, all in the blink of an eye, it seemed. He 
wondered if there was ever a way boys could somehow organize themselves 
well enough, all get on the same page for once, and somehow fight back 
against what seemed to be a systematic conspiracy against them, an 
onslaught of raw female power rising at their expense and crushing them 
under. At the same time, however, it seemed as if the rise of women was 
fueled by a very real evolutionary advantage that they had, which had 
been unlocked somehow. He honestly didn't see how the tide could ever 
turn back the other way--the women were just going to keep getting 
stronger and more dominant, until they controlled everything and had 
their fun by constantly bashing men whenever the whim struck their 
fancy. He couldn't see how it would ever be possible for men to fight 
back now, not when so many of them were so lowly, and, moreover, when 
it just generally felt RIGHT to be under female control. He knew this 
better than almost anyone, but still his pitiful male ego, due to 
centuries of inherited historical prejudice, felt the pinprick of 
shame.

"Isn't there anything that boys are better at nowadays?" he asked.

He meant it as a rhetorical question, but Sarah happily answered: 

"Yes, they are better at whining, crying, and being short shrimpy 
little losers."

Thankfully, before the words could sting much, Sarah bent over to Timmy 
and paid some attention to him, nuzzling him and saying:

"But some of them, like you, are nice little guys that we girls love to 

cuddle a LOT."

She squeezed him gently, lovingly.

Strange to say, this was some real consolation for Timmy and his 
battered ego.

"Hey, what's goin' on here?" came a voice.

It was obviously Jason's father.

He was a pear-shaped man with a full but short beard and thick black 
glasses. Timmy estimated that he stood a hair over five feet. He 
approached the group with his hands in his pants pockets and a half 
smile on his face, not sure of what to make of anything and probably 
trying to play himself off as somewhat jovial and "okay" in front of 
Sarah.

"Hello, little sir," Sarah said, looking over at him and smiling. "I 
was just having a nice conversation with your son. My name is Sarah. 
Sarah THOLLEN."

From the way she repeated it, it was evident that Sarah's last name 
carried weight.

"You--" Jason's dad started, "you're the one--one a' the ones pushin' 
for that... that..."

"The 'Fairness for Females' act. Yes." Sarah smiled. "And you are on 
the Parent-Teacher Association. Are you not?"

"Uh, y-yeah you bet I am," the man said. There was growing nervousness 
in his voice, but he again sought to ward that off with joviality. 
"Hey, kinda awkward meetin' like this, huh?"

"Oh I don't think it's awkward at all," Sarah said calmly. "I think we 
can probably reach an understanding here if--"

"Dad, let's just GO!" Jason said, then suddenly tried to leap off of 
the bench. 

He was stopped quite handily by a combination of Sarah's boot, the side 
which was still pressed on his lap, and Sarah's long right arm, which 
quickly slipped around his neck and held him in place.

"Uh..." Jason's father said, not knowing what to do.

"Yes," Sarah continued. "I think we can probably reach quite a nice 
little agreement here, in quite short order." She looked to the side 
and announced, "Now, Timmy, if you don't mind, please slide over a 
little bit so Jason's daddy can sit down beside me, or--I know! Hey! 
Let's be real friendly here: How about both of you little friends sit 
on my lap, huh?"

Sarah withdrew her left boot from Jason's lap but kept the boy 
restrained with her right arm. Then she patted her thigh expectantly 
and looked at Jason's father. The man took one step forward but then 
seemed frozen in the spot. Sarah patted her thigh again, continued to 
stare at him but tilted her head slightly and raised an eyebrow, as if 
to warn him, and then she squeezed his son's neck just a little 
tighter.

"Um," Jason's father said stupidly, but then did as Sarah bade him and 
climbed onto her big left thigh. 

Next Sarah skillfully maneuvered Jason onto her right thigh, wrapped 
her long arms around both men, gave them a brief hug and then softly 
bounced them up and down on her lap.

"Isn't this nice?" she asked. "Every guy loves a lapsitting session. I 
know they do."

Both males were speechless.

"Now down to business," Sarah said. "What I would like from both of you 
little guys is simply for you to vote for the 'F for Fs' act and tell 
your little friends to do the same. Nothing more. Now, that isn't 
asking so much, is it?"

Jason's father began to protest a bit, but before he could get two 
syllables out, Sarah shook him gently and told him:

"SHHHHH!"

Timmy suppressed a chuckle. As scary as some of her ideas were, he 
thought Sarah was often quite funny. He imagined that she probably gave 
her male teachers a lot of grief, but it was probably good for them to 
have a girl like Sarah in their classes. 

"Now," Sarah continued, "let me tell you two a little story. Once upon 
a time there was a little school, and this little school was filled 
with a lot of little boys. But it was also filled with a lot of big 
girls. The big girls wanted what was coming to them. They were bigger 
than the boys and they outperformed the boys at everything. The little 
boys just seemed to waste most of the opportunities that were given to 
them, while the girls--who excelled at everything and fulfilled every 
task beyond expectations--were hurting for MORE funding, so that they 
could actually work up to their natural level instead of banging their 
heads against a low--low, for them--glass ceiling all the time. Thus, 
the big girls wanted the funds to be reappropriated in a way that was 
more fair and sane and profitable for everyone. But the little boys 
didn't like this. They were mean and stubborn and they blamed the girls 
for their own failures and natural, stunted dispositions and bodies. So 
the little boys cried and whined and LIED"--here she shook Jason a bit, 
squeezed him into her with her right arm, and rigidly pumped him up and 
down on her knee--"LIED so much that the 'Fairness for Females' act 
just barely FAILED to pass. For almost all of the girls there, this was 
the first time they had failed at ANYTHING in life. And do you know how 
they reacted to this? Do you know how the big girls reacted to failing 
at something due to reasons of lying and cowardice and meanness and 
cheating and ignorance on the part of someone else, namely of the 
little boys? Do you know what they did?"

Here Sarah paused and looked back and forth from Jason to his father, 
giving both men a look of mock shock. Both males had bent their heads 
back to look her in the eye; they were compelled to do this while she 
was talking to them, even though they were seated outwards, with their 
legs draped over her thighs, dangling high off the floor, riding each 
of Sarah's thighs like it was a horse.

"Uh..." both men started.

"W-what did they do?" Jason's father finally managed to ask.

Sarah snickered, then she clutched both men tighter in her arms. She 
slid her arms somewhat under each man and then she proceeded to slowly 
stand up, bringing the men with her. She purposely didn't get a good 
enough grip under them, so the men were instinctively forced to reach 
up and put their thin little arms around Sarah's swanlike neck, lest 
they wanted to tumble to the hard floor below. Once Sarah had finally 
stood up to her full imposing height--almost seven feet in those big 
heeled boots--she then elected to reach under them a bit and secure 
them in her arms.

"Well," she said finally, "what do you THINK the big girls would do to 
the little boys if the little boys enraged them? What do you think the 
big girls COULD do to them? Imagine the worst you dare even think 
about, and I guarantee you that they--that WE--would do worse. And I 
guarantee you that there would be no way for any of you little boys to 
stop us."

Both males quivered in her arms.

"So," Sarah said, after a moment had passed and her point had sunk in a 
bit. "The way I see it, it's really in your best interest to vote for 
the act, isn't it? I mean, if I were you I'd be doing everything I 
could to make sure that act passed, for your own safety. Because, make 
no mistake about it, we women don't WANT to resort to violence, but we 
ABSOLUTELY WILL get very, VERY rough with you if you somehow manage to 
subvert the natural democratic process here, which obviously would 
demand that 'fairness' be enacted. No other result would even be 
legitimate, you see."

Timmy, still seated on the bench, couldn't believe how dominant Sarah 
was. He was beginning to be as proud of her as Martha was. It was truly 
a marvel to see a girl so young--only 13--take charge of two men, one 
of them at least three times her age, and not only physically thrill 
them, not only mentally outwit them, but blend both forms of domination 
together into a seamless dramatic production that really did teach 
these men an important lesson. The only other female he knew of who 
could have pulled off something like this so effortlessly and 
professionally was his Aunt Rose.

Compounded with this was the still-throbbing boner that Timmy had. 
Sarah was standing before him, with her tight jean-covered ass right 
above his head--but all he could do was think of Martha and her ass, 
and he was sure that's where his boner was coming from.

Both men, father and son, still clung to Sarah's neck. Timmy could see 
their little heads bobbing up and down a bit, evidently coming around 
and nodding in agreement to Sarah.

"So," Sarah concluded. "I believe we can agree to be friends now? And 
you will do what I say, vote the way I told you to, and encourage 
others to do so as well, for the reasons that I explained to you?"

Both father and son murmured their assent.

"VERY good," Sarah said. Then she nuzzled first the son and then the 
father. She made little cooing noises, gave a few licks to Jason's ear, 
laughed at him when he shook his head back and forth at this, and then 
she planted a kiss on his forehand. She then turned her head over to 
Jason's father, looked him seriously in the eye, gave him an 
impassioned "Thank you. I REALLY mean that", and then gave him a very 

long kiss, open-mouthed, right on the lips.

Both Jason and his father were left befuddled by all of this, but 
before they could really come to terms with any of it, Sarah was 
loosening her grasp on them in a calculated manner. Their arms weren't 
strong enough to support them on their own, so the men slowly drifted 
down Sarah's long body until their little feet finally touched the 
floor again, for the first time in nearly five minutes.

Sarah didn't let them go completely, however. She kept a controlling 
hand positioned on each of their backs. As noted before, Jason was so 
short that he was staring into where Sarah's bellybutton would be. His 
father was a little taller, but the top of his head scarcely reached 
the bottom of Sarah's pert breasts.

"So," Sarah said again. "Now we we're all friends, I think it's 
probably proper for you two to buy me some belated Sweet Thirteen 
birthday gifts, don't you think? I mean, I just hit the magic one-three 
only about 14 hours ago, y'know! That is... IF you wanna be my friends 
and enjoy the perks, and the PROTECTION from other girls who might 
become enraged on voting day, that comes along with that."

Still in confusion, both men looked up at Sarah. Timmy had seen her 
pull this trick before, and it still impressed him.

"I know, I know," Sarah said to them in a singsong manner. "You're 
probably still not totally sure if you wanna be friends with me. But, 
okay, I'll give you some reasons. First of all"--while still looming 
over them, she bent herself a bit to get more on their level, and the 
air of her voice made it seem as though she were telling them a secret-
-"I'm really, REALLY cool. Second, I'm really, REALLY pretty. Third, 
um, I'm KINDA, well, TALL!" She laughed sarcastically at her own joke. 
Fourth, I'm really, REALLY strong and a good fighter--just ask Timmy, I 
even dominated HIM in wrestling yesterday! And, lastly, fifth--" here 
she bent down even lower, clutched the men even tighter in her arms, so 
close that they were practically falling down into each other now and 
her arms had to help hold them up, and her voice was scarcely above a 
whisper: "You two are very, very, VERY... weak."

Timmy began to try to get a good glimpse of the crotches of the two 
men; he was sure that if this went on much longer than both of them 
would start to piss their pants.

"So," Sarah said once again. "If you really wanna be my good friends, 
then each of you needs to gimme a little kiss on my cheek, and then 
we'll go shopping so you can buy me some birthday gifts. K?"

First father and then son gave squatting Sarah a delicate kiss on her 
cheek. She said "Aw!" after each one, and ruffled each of their heads 
afterwards.

When this was done, she turned back to Timmy and reached an 
outstretched hand towards him.


"Okay, Timmykins. I don't care if I've made a lot of other boyfriends 
lately, YOU still get to hold one of my hands. Because you're my 
Timmykins."

Happily and proudly, Timmy hopped off the bench and eagerly grabbed one 
of Sarah's big soft hands.

"Who wants my other one?" Sarah asked.

It only took half a beat for Jason's dad to grab it. Timmy could see 
that Jason couldn't repress a soft groan at his father's servile 
nature.

"I heard that, Jason," Sarah said. "Now I'll give you one warning. Be a 
good, polite little boy now or else I'll spank you right here in front 
of everyone. Now, are you going to be a good little boy?"

"...Yes," Jason answered, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Say 'I will be a good little boy for Sarah who is over five years 
younger than me but much taller, much stronger and more mature than I 
am.'"

"I will be a good little boy for Sarah who is over five years younger 
than me but much taller, much stronger and more mature than I am."

"That's a good little Jason bitchboy," Sarah said, satisfied, and the 
four of them walked off.

Before too long they stopped at a kiosk.

"Oo," Sarah said, looking at some of the items. "Here's some stuff for 
you guys to get me. Pick out a shade of lipstick you think I'll look 
hottest in."

The three little males crowded around together and looked at the 
assortment of lipstick colors. Eventually they settled on a shade of 
pinkish purple that had sparkles in it. Jason's father bought it for 
Sarah, and Sarah immediately tried it on. The color looked very 
attractive on her thick, heartshaped plush lips.

"Do you think I look really hot in this?" Sarah asked Jason's father.

"Oo, yes," the man said, not without some discomfort.

"Would your wife wear something like this?"

"Ahh, I'm not sure. I-I-I don't think so," the man replied nervously, 
putting his hands in his pockets and bouncing a bit on one foot.

"Do you repress your wife, sir?" Sarah asked in a suddenly 
confrontational tone.

"Ah... No?" Jason's father said, unsure of himself.

"How tall is your wife, sir?"

"Uh... she's... about an inch'r'two shorter'n me."

"Hm," Sarah considered. "And she doesn't wear hot lipstick like this?"

"Ah... No. No."

"Well, sir," Sarah said, bending down and getting right in the man's 
face. "I want you to know that in the future, all of the girls are 
going to be more like me and less like your wife. What do you think of 
that?"

The man was too nervous and confused to say anything.

"Thank you for the lipstick, Mr. Jason's Daddy," Sarah concluded, and 
then gave him a big long kiss on his forehead, intoning an exaggerated 
"MMMWWAAAAHH!" sound as she did so, leaving him with a big pink-purple 
sparkly lip-shaped mark on his head. "I LOVE it and bet I look REALLY 
HOT IN IT, HUH!"

At a neighboring kiosk Sarah found some other items that tickled her 
fancy even more.

"Oh, PERFECT!" she said. "I want three pink ones!"

The pink items in question turned out to be three leashes. Timmy had 
seen parents put leashes like these on their toddlers, but Sarah 
insisted that her three little "pet men" wear them now as well.

"I only have two hands but there are three of you, so we pretty much 
NEED these to ensure that you don't get into trouble, or wander off and 
get lost, or get snatched up by a roving gang of girlscouts, huh?" She 
laughed and looked in Jason's direction.

Unquestioning, Jason's dad paid for the leashes; and Sarah took it upon 
herself to fasten them around each of the men's necks, as if they 
couldn't do it themselves. Each leash was only about three and a half 
feet long, so Sarah--clutching all three in one hand--was able to keep 
all three men close by her, right in front of her as she walked. 
Occasionally her knees bashed against each of their backsides as they 
walked, but rather than apologize whenever this happened, Sarah would 
utter a remark along the lines of "Get going, Timmy!" or "Faster, 
little Jason, unless you want me to kick you or trample over you!"

Her heels clacked thunderously and authoritatively behind him as they 
walked--well, Sarah was walking, somewhat briskly, but the men almost 
had to run to stay ahead of her; so long were her legs compared to 
theirs. Timmy's mind was caught up marveling at how impressive Sarah 
really was. Here she led three men in front of her: an 18-year-old, who 
should have been one of her peer-leaders at school; that boy's father, 
who had to be in his late 40s, and Timmy himself, who was nearly 27. 
That was around 75 combined years of maleness that this thirteen-year-
old girl was commanding with total ease. And there was no doubt that 
she could have handled the task just as well yesterday, when she was 

only twelve. Moreover, in short order she had gotten the three of them 
to agree with a social policy that was against each of their own best 
interests. She did this with total ease, setting the argument for them, 
showing them the apparent errors in their ways and flaws in their 
logic, and coaxing them along so that they mentally "got" where she 
wanted them to go. And here she was, making the metaphor a reality, 
leading them along with actual leashes, after having fastened 
emasculating pink collars around their thin necks.

Finally they arrived at an upscale boutique clothing store that Sarah 
wanted to enter.

"You two adorable new friends can buy me some stuff here, but then I'm 
afraid Timmy and I will have to depart in time to meet my mom. I WOULD 
introduce you guys to my mom, but given the mood she's in, if she saw 
you in these adorable collars I'm afraid she'd probably fuck you to 
death on the spot! What do you think of that!"

Timmy's boner throbbed hard again. Jason looked perceptibly annoyed 
about having to spend this much time with Sarah. Jason's dad looked 
around him nervously, but still had a goofy smile on his face.

There were two girls at the counter. Both wore watching uniforms: white 
t-shirts with high tapered sleeves underneath clingy black dresses, 
dark pantyhose, and black pumps that were "only" about three inches 
high. One of the girls was sitting and the other was standing. The 
seated girl had a nametag that said "Emily"; she was a fairly petite 
looking blonde with dark eye makeup and red lips. The girl who was 
standing was immense: almost as big around as Martha, but with none of 
Martha's womanly soft definition or confidence; she was tall too, 
almost as tall as Sarah; she had long plain brown hair and a nametag 
that said "Amy".

"Hello, ladies," Sarah said brightly, leading her small pack of small 
men ahead of her and then pulling back on their leashes so as to make 
them stop.

"Hello," both saleswomen replied in unison. Timmy estimated that they 
were both around his age--in their late 20s--though the blonde looked 
like she was the older of the two.

"My magnificent body is going to be trying on an assortment of clothes 
today," Sarah continued, "but the problem is that I've been tasked with 
keeping track of these three little fellows here." She raised up her 
hand with the leashes in it.

"I see," said the big girl whose name must've been Amy.

"So," Sarah concluded, "I'm afraid that I am going to have to let them 
loose on their own, but I just wanted to make sure that was okay, and 
also ask both of you to sort of keep your eye on them so they do not 
run off or attempt anything else naughty."

The seated blonde ("Emily") stood up, and Timmy was presently surprised 
to discover that she was indeed petite, probably only about 5'1" 
without heels.

"That shouldn't be a problem at all," Emily said. "As you can see, we 
haven't much business right now, so we would be pleased to help you 
out, bring you clothes, and mind your 'pets'." She gave a little laugh 
then and winked at Timmy.

"Very good," Sarah said. "But... pay special attention to this one 
here"--she tapped the head of Jason's father with one of her black-
nailed index fingers. "He is the one who is going to be paying for 
everything I want, so... we wouldn't want him to wander off before it's 
time for him to finally make himself useful by giving me his credit 
card and signing the receipt."

"Ha!" big Amy snorted. "Oh, don't worry. He won't be going anywhere."


Jason's father laughed nervously and shuffled his feet a bit as the 
hefty plain-Jane giantess walked over toward him. She must have weighed 
over 400 pounds; and she did have curves of a sort--she wasn't obese--
but looking at her was more scary than pleasant.

"And also keep a special eye on THIS one," Sarah continued, jabbing her 
other index finger into Jason's shoulder, which was about level with 
the bottom of Sarah's crotch. "He can be ESPECIALLY naughty, I've 
noticed."


"Will do," Emily said happily, looking knowingly at Jason. "I keep my 
boyfriend in line all the time, and your little guy isn't much smaller 
than him."

It was hard for Timmy to imagine a girl like Emily--who was so petite, 
thin, and soft looking--to dominate a man. Perhaps she was just joking 
a bit and making polite conversation. For decades if not centuries, 
women often jokes about "keeping their men in line", but until recently 
such statements would not be taken to mean real physical domination, 
threats or abuse. Probably Emily, who seemed like the sort of 
relatively "traditional" girl that Timmy used to see often in his 
college days, just meant this "keeping my boyfriend in line" comment in 
the old colloquial way. Timmy suddenly found himself really drawn to 
this girl. Without her heels on, she would be about the same height as 
he USED to be, before he started shedding precious inches four weeks 
ago. It was a shame he hadn't met this girl before now, and before she 
found a boyfriend, because he definitely would have wanted to ask her 
out. Even now he found himself wondering whether or not, boyfriend or 
no, she would possibly  entertain the idea of socializing with him 
outside of a professional context. These thoughts had all come to Timmy 
all of a sudden, but this Emily really did look like the exact "type" 
he had always wanted, and it had been a very long time since he had 
been around a "normal" female.

"TIMMY HERE," Sarah said loudly, snapping him out of his daze (perhaps 
she had noticed him staring at Emily and was not pleased), "will mostly 
be accompanying me and helping me pick out clothes. But, anyway, he is 
generally a good boy and can be trusted."

"Good to know," Amy said. And Emily gave a quick convivial laugh at 
this as well.

With that Sarah stooped and quickly unfastened the collars from the 
men's necks.

"You are free," she told them in mock dramatic fashion, "for a time at 
least."

He moved with Sarah as she browsed through the racks of clothes toward 
the swimsuit section.

"Summer is still a long ways off, I know," she said, "but seeing my mom 
show off today got me to thinking that I might wanna do the same thing 
sometime. But you know what the trouble is, Timmy?"

"Uh..." Timmy had no idea. "What?"

Sarah sighed and put her hand on her hip, disappointed in him. "Do you 
actually think I'd fit into any of my swimsuits from last year? I 
mean... what I have aren't all one-pieces, and yeah the bikinis allow 
for growth. But, the trouble is... see, I've grown sort of OUT in 
addition to growing UP, if you know what I mean."

To illustrate, Sarah put one hand on her chest, which Timmy estimated 
to be a C-cup, and moved her other hand to the back of her shapely hip.

"Oh, uh," Timmy stumbled, "y-yeah I see what you mean."

"So, Timmy, if you'll just help me pick some swimsuits out..."

Sarah continued talking but Timmy wasn't really listening. He had 
looked back to see what Emily was doing. She was occupied with Jason. 
Leaning back against the counter, she had her delicate arms crossed 
across her dainty chest and was looking down at him in amusement. Jason 
was not having such a good time, however. He was gesticulating with his 
hands and telling Emily about something--probably complaining about how 
Sarah had coerced him and his father into following her around and 
buying birthday gifts for her, or recounting the unfair "Fairness for 
Females" vote at school. Either way, Timmy was jealous. There was no 
way this little punk, who was still in high school, should deserve to 
squander the opportunity of such an attractive creature's time--not 
when Timmy was around. After all, the top of Jason's head didn't even 
reach the bottom of Emily's neck. Timmy was a couple inches taller than 
that--was much closer to Emily's age as well--and thus could provide 
her with something closer to the semblance of a traditional coupling 
opportunity.

"Are you listening to me, Timmy?" Sarah said pointedly.

"Oh, YES, Sarah. Yes."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Okay then, let's go into the fitting room 
and I'll try some of these on."

"Oops, lemme get the key for you," Amy called, when she saw that Sarah 
had tried the door to the changing room and found it locked.

The big girl yanked Jason's father with her, one of her meaty hands 
wrapped around his forearm. As she unlocked the door and turned the 
little golden latch to open it, she paused and looked down at him. 
"Behave, little man," she said, for no discernable reason.

"Oh," Sarah said, considering something. "Would the two of you like to 
follow us in the changing room as well? The more opinions the better."

"Of course," Amy said. "Come along now," she added, thrusting Jason's 
father ahead of her.

The room was fairly small and being so close to someone like Amy 
reminded Timmy of how he felt around Martha. Within his little pink 
cotton pants, his penis sprang to attention again, straining hard 
against the little hand-me-down panties he had gotten from Sarah.

Amy wasn't an ugly girl by any means. Indeed, up close Timmy could see 
the traits of a sort of earthy, homey, "farmer's daughter" beauty in 
her. The problem was, however, that she either really needed to lose 
about 250 lbs. or else do something to get her big blocklike body to 
look at bit toned.

"I'm sooo jealous of your body," Amy said, as if on cue, looking at 
Sarah's unbelievably perfect form.

"Oh, ha, don't mention it," the younger girl said, looking as if she 
were about to blush. Sarah was undressing; she had peeled off her long 
black turtleneck and was undoing her boots.

"I'm serious," Amy said, totally in awe of a barely pubescent girl who 
was probably less than half her age. "I'd kill for curves like yours 
and that kind of superhot body. You have a KILLER form."

"Well," Sarah said, obviously embarrassed, blushing. "Thanks. But... 
you DO have some curves yourself, you know. Doesn't she, guys?"

Standing there barefoot in just her blue jeans and a black bra, Sarah 
looked pointedly down at Timmy and Jason's father.

"Oh, uh, yeah, yeah she does," they said, tripping over each other's 
words.

"Aw shucks," Amy said, bashfully putting one of her hands on a thigh 
which was bigger around than both men combined. "I know I'm not much."

"What formula or supplements are you on?" Sarah asked, taking off her 
jeans and folding them. She was now only dressed in her black lingerie.

"Errr... Not any."

"Really?!" Sarah said, her eyes wide. "So you're..."

"Yep," Amy said, flexing one of her thick arms and pointing to her 
doughy bicep, "100% natural woman."

Timmy shivered a bit. So here was a girl who had almost reached Sarah's 
height and Martha's girth, and she didn't need any drugs to do so. 
True, she didn't look half--or even a tenth or hundredth--as attractive 
as either of the Thollen women (few did!). But still it was very 
impressive.

"You know that's not quite true, don't you?" Sarah asked her, a serious 
expression on her face.

"Err, what do you mean?" Amy asked.

"Well, formula and supplements only unlock your natural feminist 
potential," Sarah explained. "So, while it's totally awesome that 
you're so much woman without them, formula and supplements will be able 
to sort of filter out all of the bad things that have entered your body 
and mind through the anti-woman artificial environment that the 
patriarchy gave us. We still have a long ways to go to remodel 
civilization so that it's back to where MOTHER Nature intended it to 
be." Sarah smiled; it was clear that she was reciting almost verbatim 
something that she had gone over in school multiple times. "Meanwhile, 
formula and supplements can sort of fast-track you to where you should 
be--where all women will be one day and where we would've been all 
along if it wasn't for those naughty little insecure men."

Despite the accusatory content, she said this all in a sweet voice, and 
playfully ruffled Timmy's hair at the end.

"Oh, wow," Amy said, clearly stunned by the informative lecture that 
the 13-year-old had just given her. "I guess I kinda heard that before, 
but it never really sunk in, and I was always so big anyway that I--"

"It isn't really a question of size," Sarah explained. "For all I know, 
you could take the same drugs most other women take but not grow 
another inch. You'd actually lose weight while others gained it. And 
then there's the whole mental side of it. You'll really be thinking a 
lot clearer if you start taking supplements as soon as possible."

"Hm," Amy said, rubbing her chin with one of her giant fingers. Her 
nails were filed down but she had bright purple lipstick on. "Well, 
I'll get on that as soon as I can--after work, maybe."

"See that you do," Sarah said. "After all, the matriarchy of the future 
is waiting for you to join us and help us win and kick the men's little 
butts outta sight!"

"Sounds fun!" Amy said.

Both women laughed and high-fived each other.

Timmy and Jason's father looked at each other confused. It was very 
telling that the two men in the room just had to suffer through all of 
this without daring to say a word between themselves, meanwhile the 
pace and subject matter of everything was dictated by Sarah, a 13-year-
old girl who just happened to be a New Female.

"Okay now," Sarah said, addressing Amy. "I want you to make sure those 
two mensies turn away and face the wall--the wall WITHOUT the mirror on 
it--while I change out of my underwear."

"O-kay!" Amy said, moving her giant hen-like body between the two men 
and shoving them toward--and nearly into--the far wall. "Face this way 
until you hear a woman's voice telling you not to, got it?"

From over his shoulder Timmy heard Sarah chuckle, and heard the sounds 
of lingerie coming off and bikini straps going on and being snapped 
against taut skin. 

Then, when he was least expecting it, he felt a huge force behind his 

head. It bounced against him and shoved him face-first into the wall. 
From the corner of his eye he could see the same thing happening to 
Jason's father. After it happened the second time, he knew that it was 
Amy, squatting a bit and thrusting her chest out so that her big boobs 
bashed against the men's heads.

"Okay, I'm rea-dy!" Sarah called.

Amy grabbed the men's shoulders and roughly shoved them back around and 
in front of her.

Sarah was dressed in a small leopard-skin bikini. It was yellow and 
black and the straps holding it were black and very thin. Sarah cocked 
her hips to one side, put her hands on her hips, and pouted her pink-
purple-sparkle lips.

"What do you think?"

Amy was the first to speak. "Wow, you look REALLY sexy."

"Do YOU think I look sexy, Jason's Daddy?"


The man sputtered. It wasn't proper for a man to say that a 13-year-old 
girl was "sexy".

"You look very nice," he finally said.

"...But not sexy?" Sarah asked, arching her eyebrows.

Jason's father stuttered for about ten seconds then, unable to say 
anything. Both ladies laughed.

"Okay, okay," Sarah said. "Sorry for asking! You'd be surprised, Amy, 
how often I get that reaction around guys!"

"No I wouldn't!" Amy laughed.

"What do you think, Timmy?" Sarah asked, turning to her little friend 
and gesturing down the length of her body. "Is this bikini a keeper?"

"Um," Timmy considered. "Yeah. I think you look really cool in it, 
Sarah."

As if on cue, Sarah grabbed her sunglasses from her pile of clothes and 
put them on. "And now? With the shades?"

"E-e-even cooler," Timmy replied.

Sarah gave him a big smile and a double thumbs-up sign.

"Thanks, spud!" she told him. "Now, turn your little bodies back 
around."

Once again Amy roughly spun the men around and shoved them into the 
wall, even harder this time. She didn't let up at all now, she just 
gave a low chuckle and sort of leaned against them, pinning them to the 
wall with her hefty body. Timmy wondered where a girl, who had 
graduated from school a long time ago and who didn't even have the sort 
of domineering urges that came from feminist supplements, would have 
even got the idea to treat men this way.

Just as he began to find it hard to breathe, Sarah's voice came:

"Okay, little guys. Next swimsuit."

Both men gasped for air as Amy spun them around again. They could 
barely stand at first, so she had to hold them up, one hand under an 
armpit.

Now Sarah stood in a more elegant bikini. Its fabric was white, with 
dark brown outlines on each of the "triangles". The pieces of the 
bikini were held together by thin gold chains. Sarah had her sunglasses 
flipped up on her head and her big brown eyes stared down at the men.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"Wow, you look REALLY classy," said Amy.

"Erm," Jason's father quibbled. "How much, er, how expensive is it?"

"Does it REALLY matter?" Sarah asked, furrowing her brow, clearly 
annoyed.

"Well, it's-it's my money, you know and..." the man began, then changed 
his tact as he saw Sarah crossing her arms and standing on her tiptoes. 
"It's-it's just that... Well, it's WHITE, honey, and..."

"So WHAT?" Sarah asked pointedly.

"Well," Jason's father began again, "uh, white fabric, y'know, when it 
gets white--I mean when it gets WET, it..."

"Spit it out, dummy," Sarah said.

Amy put a big hand on the back of the man's neck.

"It's just that I'm worried it would become see-through, you know?" he 
finally said.

Sarah gave a puzzled look. "I'm THIRTEEN," she said. "Who would be 
looking at ME that way?"

Unable to tell exactly what game, if any, Sarah was playing, Timmy 
watched the man's face closely.

"Well, I mean, th-that's what I'm sayin', and if... if you don't want 
to sort of, sort of INVITE, uh, stares that y-you w-wouldn't want... I 
mean..."

"Mr. Jason's Daddy," Sarah said, rolling her eyes. "You see how tall I 
am? You see how strong I am? Do you honestly think that someone on the 
beach could actually threaten me? What? Some dinky little man like you? 
Or a twerp like your son? And do you honesty, honestly know--if I 
caught someone staring at me like that..."--here she crouched down to 
his level and got right in his face--"WHAT DO YOU THINK I WOULD DO TO 
THAT PERSON?" she bellowed in a way reminiscent of her mother.

Jason's father just trembled. Sarah stood back up to her full height, 
put her hands on her hips and studied him, waiting for a response and 
an apology.

"I-I-I'm sorry," he said finally. "I-I changed my mind. I-it's a-an 
awesome looking swimsuit--there are no problems with it--you-you look 
awesome in it, Sarah--"

"MS. THOLLEN from now on," Sarah informed him, almost scaring him out 
of his skin in the process.

"Ms. Thollen, Ms. Thollen," Jason's father agreed, nodding, shaking all 
over and bowing twice to her. "I-it looks great and I'm h-happy to buy 
it for you."

After a few more moments passed, Sarah finally gave a slow, long nod of 
her own, showing off her swanlike neck in the process. "Very good," she 
said. "And it's only $400."--Timmy noticed Jason's father's eyes bulge, 
but the man held himself in check and said nothing.--"Still," she 
continued, "I think it needs a few more things to really set it off 
right. Timmy? Could you go get me the largest pair of high-heeled cork 
sandals that they have in stock? I saw a display of them right next to 
the entrance. And also--bring me a necklace of some kind, would you? 
Don't worry, Mr. Jason's Daddy, if this all gets too expensive for you, 
you can always arrange to have some of the money come out of Jason's 
allowance. After all, HE needs to get me some presents too, you know."

Timmy made to leave but just as he got to the door Sarah called: "And 
send Jason on back here. I want to tease HIM to death, too!--I mean, 'I 
need his important little opinion on my hot sexy bikinis as well'!" 
Both Sarah and Amy broke into laughter.

Exiting the fitting room, Timmy exhaled deeply. He was glad to get away 
and be on his own, if only for a while.

The thought suddenly came to him that if he wanted to he could make a 
break for it. He could run to another store in the mall, ask urgently 
to use a phone, and call up Brooks to come get him. After all, before 
even being dropped off for Sarah's party yesterday--it seemed so long 
ago!--wonderful Brooks had said that if he ever needed her to rescue 
him, all he need do is call and she would come to save the day, his 
very own sexy muscle-packed Superwoman. Still, Timmy considered, all 
that would do is put him in a different sort of hectic situation, since 
life at under his Aunt Rose's roof wasn't much better than being at the 
mall with the Thollens. And if he checked out now, unannounced, Martha 
and Sarah would be especially upset, and disappointed in him. One 
inevitable phonecall from Martha to Rose, he knew, is all it would 
take. His Aunt Rose would probably spank him on the spot, right after 
she got off the phone, and then have Brooks drive him over to the 
Thollens so he could apologize and so both of them could take turns 
spanking him as well.

No, there was really no way out short of trying to convince Brooks to 
elope with him. He didn't have much to offer, aside from his meager 
little body which she loved to whale on, bully, and fuck so much. But 
she could do all of those things to him anytime as it was.

There was absolutely no way he could run away from everything on foot 
and try to make a life for himself independent of all these women. He 
was too tied in with them mentally now; they had a hold on him. But if 
only there were someone else--someone separate from all of this--that 
he could talk to.

It was at that moment, moving through the store, that he saw Emily 
again.

She and Jason were sitting at the counter, both of them sitting in 
stools--Jason's being the higher of the two, to make them level.

They seemed to be armwrestling. Timmy could see Emily's pretty red-
lipsticked face smiling as she strained a bit. Jason's back was to him 
but he could tell that the 18-year-old was straining and trying a lot 
harder than Em was. He was shaking and grunting while Emily--whose arm 
looked so comparatively skeletal compared to the arms of any other 
female he had seen in a long time now--appeared to be laughing more 
than she was TRYING. Still, she was trying, and it heartened Timmy to 
see at least one contest between a woman and a man that wasn't a 
complete, easy knockout for the fairer sex.

"Ha ha ha," came Emily's trilling, lilting laugh. "C'mon now, Jason, is 
that really all you've got?"

Jason just grunted in reply.

"Alright then," Emily said in a singsong tone. "I guess it's gonna be 
match number three to me."

Then she methodically--but not exactly easily--forced the back of 
Jason's hand down to the desk.

"Yeah!" Emily said then, holding her thin arms up in an obligatory 
double-bicep pose. "Girl power!"

Just then she noticed Timmy walking toward them. "Oh, hey," she said, 
pointing at his stupid Wonder Woman shirt. "It really is 'Girl Power'!" 
She gave a wide toothy grin, and looking at her mouth Timmy felt his 
penis instantly sprang to attention again.

"Uh, Sarah wants to see you back there, Jason," he said. "Now."

The mean-spirited teen sulked off.

"Be nice!" Emily called to him as he left. "Or, I told you, I'll give 
ya a spankin' if I need to." She smiled at Timmy. "Or your girlfriend 
probably would anyway, right?" she asked him, winking. "And she looks 
like she could hit a lot harder than me."

"Uh..." Timmy started, scrambling into the stool that Jason had been 
in, and lowering it a bit for himself, as if to emphasize to Emily that 
he wasn't as short as her last male visitor. "She isn't my girlfriend."

"Oh no?" Em asked. "What is she then?"

"Um, we're just friends."

"Oh," Emily said with a glint in her eyes. "Just friends. I see." She 
smiled at him. "So what can I do for you today, Mr. Man?"

Timmy loved that she omitted the word "Little" from her description of 
him.

"Oh, I just came to see you," Timmy said, glad to be flirting again.

"Just came to see me?" Em asked, giving him a playful but suspicious 
look. He loved her dark eyes with the dark eyeshadow around them. They 
went so well with her platinum blonde hair. Then Emily dropped her 
hands flat on the desk, calling attention to the several silver rings 
that she was wearing, and to the dark red nail polish of her elegant 
fingers. Timmy thought everything about her was just so cool and sexy. 
"What did you come to see me about?"


"Uh," Timmy mused. "I need some sandals."

"Some sandals. I see."

"Not for me, but for, uh--"

"Girlfriend," Emily whispered.

"No!" Timmy protested, smiling at her. "For my friend."

"Okay, then," Emily said, standing up. "I assume she means the heeled 
cork sandals we have on display?"

"Yes she does," Timmy said, standing up and following her.

"Know how I knew that?" Emily asked, stopping and turning to look down 
at Timmy. In her three-inch heels, she was ONLY about eight inches 
taller than him.

"Uh, because you saw the boots she was wearing when she came in, and 
assumed that she liked heels?"

"No," Emily said, smiling knowingly and raising her hands to her 
temples. "Because I'm psychic."

"Oh, really?" Timmy said, playing along.

"Yep," she replied. "I can get inside men's minds and know what they're 
lookin' for."

"Really. That's quite an awesome skill to have."

"Yes it is," Emily replied. Then she boldly clasped Timmy's hand in 
hers and led him on.

Her grip was delicate, and for once Timmy enjoyed touching a girl's 
hand without the girl nearly breaking the bones in his hand in the 
process.

"Okay, ummmm..." Emily said, once they had gotten to the display of 
sandals. "What size is she?"

"She just said to bring her the largest size you had," Timmy replied. 
"I think she, uh, probably plans on her feet growing a but more before 
summer gets here anyway."

"Yeah I'm not surprised," Emily said in a dismissive way. "At least 
with the way these type of sandals are made, you don't really need an 
exact size..."

Regrettably, Emily broke hands with him and began looking over the 
sandals. Timmy missed her touch already. He watched her thin fingers 
with all of their rings and their dark red nails--nails that were just 
a little longer than the tips of her fingers--and his boner throbbed 
again.

All of the sandals had platform-style heels that added at least five 
inches to the wearer's height. They were open-toed and mostly white, 
aside from the cork bit and the heel, which were tan-colored.

"I think these are probably the largest ones we have," Emily said, 
holding up a monstrously large pair of sandals. "Also the largest size 
that they make."

"Hm," Timmy said, taking the sandals in his arms. "Okay. I guess I'll 
bring them to her."

"You won't get lost, will you?" Emily asked with a smile.

"Uh, n-no," Timmy said.

"Because I can come with you if you want?"

They smiled at each other and Timmy sort of twisted one of his little 
slippered feet bashfully.

"Oh!" he suddenly remembered. "Actually, Sarah wanted me to bring her 
something else. A necklace of some sort, to go with the outfit."

"Hm," Emily said. "I see. She's trying on bathing suits, right? What 
color is the one she's got on now?"

"Uh. White."

"WHITE, huh?" Emily said, giving Timmy a quizzical look.

"She picked it out," Timmy said, feigning exhaustion. "I tried to tell 
her no, but she has to have it."

"Yeah, well," Emily began, then thought better of it. "I'm supposed to 
be nice to customers, so... I won't say anything."

"Her mother is an old friend of my family's," Timmy explained. "And I 
stress--a friend of my FAMILY'S, not a friend of my own choosing."

"Oh. Right," Emily said. "Gotcha. Say no more."

Timmy didn't like putting down the Thollens this way, but if he had to 
tell a semi-lie to save face with Emily, he would do so.

As they walked over to the jewelry display, Timmy decided to make 
another bold move.

"So, you were saying earlier that you had a boyfriend?"

Emily snickered and looked down, pausing a bit with an embarrassed 
smile on her face while she opened the jewelry case. ("She is so 
classically feminine and delicate!" Timmy thought. "Look at how thin 
her arms are--not really 'THIN'-thin, but just like NORMAL girls arms 
used to be! She is so sexy and pretty! With her nails and makeup--and 
nothing about the way she looks SCARES me! She isn't even THAT much 
taller than me! Only a little over half a foot!")

"Yes, I have a boyfriend," she managed to say after a couple moments 
had passed.

"Are you... HAPPILY boyfriended?" Timmy asked, a wry smile on his face.

"I'm not allowed to flirt with customers," Emily said, taking an 
exaggerated deep breath.

"Well," Timmy said, "for one thing, I'm not a customer. I'm only 
bringing something to my friend Sarah, and she's having that older guy-
-Jason's father--buy all this stuff for her." Emily wrinkled her nose 
at that idea, but Timmy went on: "Secondly, if you're not allowed to 
flirt with me, then what have you been doing for the last five 
minutes?"

Emily suppressed a laugh and rolled her eyes.

"Listen..." she said, "...Timmy?"

"Yes. Timmy."

"Timmy, right now isn't a good time. I like you and you're adorable, 
but... for a whoooole bunch of reasons, I just don't even want to go 
into what my boyfriend situation is like, much less get sort of semi-
involved with anyone else, at all, at this time, sorry." 

She brought her hands together and gave him a sad half-smile. 

"Understood," Timmy said, and tried to hide his disappointment. ("At 
least," he thought, "she DOES seem to like me. And knowing that a girl 
like her could at least LIKE a guy like me--that means a lot right now. 
I needed to know that was possible again.")

"I think this would probably look good with the rest of your friend's 
ensemble," Emily said, holding up a dangly necklace with several small 
sea-shells on it.

"Oh wow," Timmy said. "That is really pretty. It would look good on 
Sarah, I think. It would look even better on YOU."

Emily rolled her eyes again and said "STOP" in a playful manner. "Just 
stop. Teasing boy."

Then Emily led Timmy back to the changing rooms. 

"Here, let me help you with those," she told him, taking the gigantic 
heeled sandals out of his arms and carrying them herself. In her arms, 
they looked slightly less gigantic.

Her modest 3-inchers clip-clopped ahead of him and Timmy got to check 
out Emily's body. She had a nice little ass that moved very sexily in 
her black dress, and he also noticed a few jangly bracelets that she 
was wearing on her left wrist. ("She is so sexy," Timmy thought. "I 
love her style."

"Err, a little help?" Emily asked. With the sandals and necklace in her 
hands, she couldn't quite open the outer door that led to the hall of 
changing rooms.

Timmy tried it with his little fingers, but he just couldn't get the 
little golden latch to turn. Panicked, he hated to appear weak in front 
of his new crush! He tried it with both hands, though the latch itself 
was so small that even two of Timmy's little hands were too much to try 
to get a grip on it, but still he could only barely turn it a bit 
before it would slip and snap back in place.

"I think it's locked!" Timmy said out of desperation.

"Hm, no, it definitely isn't locked," Emily said suspiciously, "because 
otherwise you guys wouldn't've been able to get in the first place." 
She put down the sandals on a chair next to the door, and turned to 
Timmy. "Step aside, small fry," she said good-humoredly, brushing each 
of her bare arms as if she were rolling up pretend sleeves.

Timmy did as he was told, hating that this disparaging comparison had 
to happen.

Emily put one of her thin-fingered hands up to the little golden latch 
and easily turned it to the side.

"Hm," she said. "Isn't that interesting."

Then she let go of the latch, as if experimenting, and listened as it 
snapped back shut.

"Oh I think I was turning it the other way, the wrong way," Timmy said 
hurriedly by way of explanation.

"No," Emily said coolly. "It works both ways. See?" She turned the 
latch the other way and opened it that way as well, then again released 
the latch for it to snap back into the closed position. "Now you try," 
she told him, just the barest hint of a smile on her face.

Anxious to get this over, but still hoping against hope to somehow 
succeed at the task, Timmy quickly scampered up to the door again 
attempted to turn the little latch, first with one hand, then the 
other, then both. No go, no matter which way he tried to turn it. At 
best he could only turn the spring-loaded latch about a third of the 
way necessary to release the door, then it would snap back shut again.

"Here," Emily said, coming up behind him, "I'll show you . . . No, keep 
your hand there."

Emily placed her hand over Timmy's. Her hands weren't big by any means, 
but compared to his they certainly looked a lot more adult. Her hand 
totally covered his from view, he could feel the metal of Emily's cool 
rings against his skin, and he watched as the backs of her fingertips, 
with their shiny dark red nail polish, found his own little fingertips 
and directed them onto the latch, holding them in place.

"Ready?" the young woman asked him.

"Uh, r-ready," Timmy stuttered.

Slowly Emily turned the latch, pushing against Timmy's fingers to do 
so. At first Timmy was afraid that the mere pressure of her doing this 
would hurt his hand, but even though the strain on his little paw was 
great, he found that it didn't exactly hurt, and he liked feeing 
pressure when it was being exerted on him by a girl like Emily.

"See?" she asked him, as she demonstrated how the latch could be opened 
one way and then the other.

"Y-yeah," he said.

Emily giggled. "Okay, now you try again."

She took her hand away from his, instantly making Timmy feel a bit 
naked, betrayed and abandoned. He gave a half-hearted try but knew that 
it was no use. His hand was even aching a bit now due to the pressure 
Emily had put it under. He attempted the feat once again with his other 
hand, but it was no use.

Emily giggled again. "Still no luck, huh?"

Timmy turned to the girl and shook his head quickly, in shame. She was 
not THAT much bigger than him but in comparison to him she seemed 
infinitely more capable of performing basic tasks. How would he ever 
get on in life without someone like her being there to open doors for 
him?

She chuckled. "AW!" she said. "You're so cute!" She bent her knees a 
bit, cupped his chin in one of her hands, and gave him a quick kiss on 
the cheek. "Don't worry, guy. We all have our off-days and we all have 
random things that we just can't do, y'know? Think you can handle 
these, though, for another dozen feet or so?"

She handed him the sandals and he took them. Then Emily stepped in 
front of him and made a big show of opening the door, pretending to 
strain with all her might; then once she had finally budged it open 
just far enough, she gestured him to go through, saying that she 
"couldn't hold it much longer."

Timmy slipped through and then felt Emily fingers dancing on his 
shoulders as the walked in front of her down the hall.

When they met the others in the dressing room, Amy and Jason's dad had 
to leave and stand outside, for there wasn't enough space for all of 
them. Jason, of course, was pouting and sulking. His father was still 
trying to hold his sanity together, though Amy's bullying ways weren't 
making that easy for him. Sarah had presumably changed in and out of 
several other outfits--including shorts, shirts, and dress pants, 
judging by the rack of clothes next to her--but now she was back in the 
white swimsuit, waiting for Timmy to hand her the accessories.

"Oh these are great," she said, taking the sandals and the necklace 
from him.

"Your friend has excellent taste," Emily chirped, giving Timmy all the 
credit.

"Yes he does," Sarah said, giving him a mock punch to his shoulder, 
"that's why he's friends with ME."

Sarah reached back and fastened the necklace to her, showing off her 
toned arms in the process, and then she stepped into the high-heeled 
sandals.

"These are awesome," she said, evidently pleased to be back towering 
over Timmy by almost two feet again. "Don't YOU think I look awesome?" 
Sarah asked, addressing Emily.

"Yeah," she said. "You certainly look like what all the boys want these 
days."

She wasn't wrong, Timmy knew. And Timmy did think that Sarah Thollen 
was probably growing into the perfect woman, though Rose Nordgren and 
now perhaps even Martha Thollen would give her stiff competition. 
Still, the comment seemed to shortchange Emily herself in the process. 
Timmy wanted to tell Emily, "No, I want YOU too; YOU are really special 
and I'm probably going to be wanking off to YOU tonight when Brooks 
puts me to bed!" but that would have been unseemly. Within the comment 
there was a slight air of criticism directed towards Sarah as well; 
evidently Emily was more inclined to say that BOYS liked Sarah than to 
admit--as her colleague Amy had done readily--that she herself 
considered Sarah to be good-looking. Timmy hoped that Sarah wouldn't 
take offense at this, because there wasn't a doubt in his mind that 
Sarah could wipe the floor with Emily twenty times over, but still... 
it made him respect Emily some for having the courage and the 
intelligence to say such a thoughtful, multifaceted comment.

"Yes, I AM what all the boys want," Sarah said with much self-
satisfaction. "Now, could the rest of you leave us right now? We'll be 
back out in a jiffy to pay for all this--Well, *I* won't be paying for 
it, but someone will."

Once everyone else had left, Sarah turned to Timmy and wrapped her long 
naked arms around his slight shoulders.

"Oh Timmy," she moaned. "How are you doing today, Timmy?"

"I'm okay," he said, feeling Sarah's pert breasts press down onto the 
top of his head as she leaned onto him. His face was mashed right into 
her taut abdomen.

"Pretty busy day, though, huh?" she asked him, pulling back and looking 
down into his face, moving her hands up and playing with his cheeks.

"Uh... yeah."

"I understand that you have been pretty frustrated most of the day, 
Timmy, with no--shall we say--release?!"

What was she getting at. He tried to back away from her but she 
followed him and now had him up against the wall. He had walked into 
this trap.

"I know how you feel," she said. "I know you can't help it. I know you 
wanted my mom to 'do you', but she wouldn't, and she had her reasons 
for leaving you in that state. To make you want her more."

"Y-yes," Timmy admitted.

"And I know that you've had a throbbing boner the whole time we've been 
hanging out today."

"Y-y-yes," Timmy admitted.

"I don't like to see you like this, Timmy," she told him, grinding his 
little body hard against the wall, mashing him good against her strong 
toned form. "I think I'd like it if you could sort of get it out of 
your system, if only to relieve you for a little while."

"O-k-k-kay," Timmy said, nervous as hell.

"So," she said, backing up and looking down at him as he collapsed to 
the floor. "Sort of like I told you last night: There is a pile of my 
clothes over there, so... all you really need to do is go dry hump it. 
I'm going to be wearing a new dress the rest of the day, so you can 
just wank in the jeans and shirt I had on earlier. They're going to 
have to be washed anyway once I get home."

Standing there in her super-expensive white bikini, with its elegant 
fabric held together by gold chains, standing there with the seashell 
necklace on and standing in the 6-inch cork sandals that made her 
approximately 6'8", she said all this to him with a blank, matter-of-
fact look on her face, one hand on her hip and the other outstretched 
before him, palm-up in offering. She said it as if it were the most 
normal thing in the world.

"Okay, Sarah," he said, resigned to his task and absolutely knowing 
that he NEEDED release now. He took her hand and she helped him up.

While Sarah undressed herself and began to put on her new dress, Timmy 
undressed himself facing the other way. And then he half-crawled half-
scampered over to her clothes, hunched over them as if he were a little 
monkey, and then proceeded to straighten them out a bit on the floor.

Her jeans were big enough for his entire body to lie on. He put them on 
just to see how much bigger they were on him, and the answer was MUCH 
bigger. Then he took her soft black turtleneck and made it into a 
pillow for him. The sleeves were long enough that he could string them 
down beneath him, wrap them around his penis and put them under him 
like a little cushion.

Then, like a little bug in the rug--his hands beneath himself, feeling 
his penis and feeling the fabric of Sarah's clothes--he began to wank 
and to dryhump. He thought of Martha's overgrown--still growing--form, 
imagined her turning into a superhuman monster of QUEEN Kong-like 
proportions and destroying an entire city in her sexual rage. He 
imagined how it would feel if his whole body were somehow tucked in 
Martha's cleavage--right now she was nearly that big and he was nearly 
that small for it to soon become a real possibility. Then he thought 
about his new friend Emily and how cool and sexy her style was, how he 
wanted to be gentle with her and for her to be gentle back. For them to 
maybe go out on a date, maybe to a concert or something, and then go 
back to her place and fall into each other's arms. Maybe she would have 
a little leather jacket on while they fucked, and he would brush his 
hand through her platinum hair as he made out with her. This was doing 
it, he thought, his eyes were closed as his little haunches bucked 
faster and faster, about to hit orgasm.

"Timmy!" Sarah broke in, "What do you think?"

Instinctively Timmy opened his eyes and turned to look at her. She was 
wearing a very tight black dress with a spraypaint-like starburst of 
white splattered on the front. The dress fit her very well and 
displayed full cleavage with a slit going down nearly to Sarah's navel. 
It was basically sleeveless, although her shoulders were covered; 
Sarah's shapely toned arms hung down and one of her hands rested on her 
hip. The dress ended a couple inches above her knee; it was very 
tasteful but still showed an awful lot of leg, mainly because Sarah's 
legs were so long. Her long limbs, both arms and legs, looked so strong 
and supple. She also had on bright red glossy pumps with very daring 6-
inch heels. She twisted from side to side and clacked the heels on the 
floor a few times. Then she nodded her head a bit, just enough to cause 
her sunglasses, which had been perched on the top of her head, to fall 
right into place. She shook her head a bit then to cause a few strands 
of lovely hair to fall on the side of her face. The rest of her hair 
was caught up in her long ponytail. Timmy took all of this in within a 
few seconds. Then:

"Nooo..." he whined. It was too late for him to go back now. He began 
orgasming and pumping cum all over Sarah's jeans and shirt. He wanted 
to close his eyes and look away, but Sarah's piercing gaze wouldn't let 
him, and she with a knowing smile she kept saying "Timmy? Timmy? Are 
you all right? You don't like the dress?" all the way through until the 
last drop of ejaculate was out of him. He had done his best to think of 
Emily and Martha while the sperm was blasting out of him--and he even 
tried to remember his Aunt Rose and what it felt like when Brooks let 
him put his little knob inside her--but it was really no use: he had 
looked at Sarah's body the whole time he was cumming, and even though 
he still didn't "think of her that way", this fact was shame enough for 
him. He moaned and sobbed a bit.

"Get up, Timmy," Sarah told him after a few moments. She bent and 
patted his shoulder. "Put my clothes with your little Timmy-stains on 
them in that plastic bag, and bring the rest of the clothes out when 
you come. I can't carry them all myself."

She ended up carrying NONE of them, not out of the store anyway. All of 
the men carried her things for her after they were paid for.

Jason's father nearly hit the ceiling when he saw the bill, but he too 
knew that there was no going back at this point, and Sarah was going to 
get her way. "This is more money than I've ever spent on your mother in 
my whole fuckin' life," he grumbled to a dismayed Jason while signing 
the check.

Sarah was beaming with happiness and excitement. She was wearing her 
new dress and pumps and she had a whole new wardrobe of clothes to look 
forward to.

Both Emily and Amy waved to them as they left, and Timmy was 
particularly happy that Emily made a special effort to say "Byyyye, 
Timmy!" and then give a trilling laugh.

"I gave her your number, you know," Sarah told him, not five steps 
outside the door.

"What?" he said.

"Emily," Sarah replied. "I could tell that she liked you. So I gave her 
your phone number--well, the phone number at your aunt's house, but--"

"You did?!" he cried.

"Yeah, she was happy to have it. She said she'll probably call you."

Timmy was ecstatic. "THANK you, Sarah!" she said.

"Don't mention it, spud."

Jason grumbled. "'Oh theeeeenk yew, Sawah!'" he mocked.

Sarah stamped her heel down, stopped and whirled around to look down at 
her little schoolmate. "WHAT did you say, small one?" she asked.

"I'm sicka this!" Jason said, and threw the bags he was carrying for 
Sarah down on the floor. "I'm not doin' this anymore. We're done here 
now, RIGHT?! So my dad and I should GO."

"Your little daddy and you will go when and where I tell you to go," 
Sarah informed him. "And not a moment before. Is that clear?"

The 18-year-old looked up at her with rage in his eyes. A few moments 
passed and then he bent down to dutifully pick up the bags he had 
dropped.

"Fuckin' bitch," he muttered.

"WHAT?" Sarah asked rhetorically. "Okay, THAT does it!"

In one motion she scooped Jason up in one arm--wrapping one long hand 
around his entire neck--and then stormed back with him toward the 
boutique, her cold hard heels thundering. Jason's father and Timmy 
hurriedly picked up the dropped bags and followed behind.

"I'M sorry to trouble you ladies again," Sarah said to Emily and Amy, 
who had resumed their places around the counter, "but we just had a 
little problem with this naughty one outside, and he needs to be 
disciplined a.s.a.p."

"No problem," Amy said, while Emily looked on bemused and a bit 
skeptical. "You can use that chair over there, if it's okay."

"It looks fine," Sarah said, power-walking over to a cushy leather 
chair, Jason in tow.

Timmy and Jason's father furtively tiptoed around the outskirts of the 
scene, and Amy and Emily sauntered over to stand by them as well. Emily 
stood behind Timmy and even put her hands around his shoulders and 
leaned down so that her head was next to his. All were getting ready to 
watch the scene that was about to unfold.

"O-kay, little boy," Sarah told him. "Time for the loudmouth senior 
jerkoff to get spanked by a 'little' girl five grades under him at 
school! This has been comin' for a long time, buddy boy, you've been 
asking for it and now you're finally gonna get it!"

With that she turned Jason over, face-down in her lap and yanked his 
awkward oversized pants off. Jason's butt was nothing nice to look at. 
In places it was a bit hairy; it had a few zits on it; and it looked a 
sickly, pallid color.

Sarah suppressed a laugh. "Looks like I'm going to need to wash my 
hands after this job," she said.

She then held him down with her left hand and began whaling on his 
bottom with her left. He started crying but she kept up the pace 
nonstop, occasionally saying things to him along the lines of "Oh it's 
not that bad, you wussy" or "I know, I know, but we HAVE to do this".

Jason's father just stood by and did nothing. He just looked on, 
unblinking at the scene that was playing itself out before him, 
probably trying to convince himself that it was no big deal. Really, of 

course, he knew that if he opened his mouth to protest he'd be the next 
one thrown across Sarah's lap for punishment.

"She spanks hard, doesn't she?" Amy asked him.

"Uh, y-y-yes," Jason's father answered.

"Do YOU spank him that hard?" she asked with a smile.

"Uh, n-no. I-I don't spank him."

"DID you ever spank him?"

"Uh, no, no I didn't. I don't really b-believe in it."

"And yet you're going to let some strange girl spank the crud out of 
him while you just stand by?" Amy wanted to know. She was rubbing her 
brawny arms and studying Jason's father with growing consternation.

"W-well... I-I mean, S-Sarah IS in charge here, and..."

"I see how it is," Amy concluded. "You're just lucky she's not spanking 
YOU, aren't you?"

"Uh, y-yeah I am, I guess."

"You're also lucky I'M not spanking you." Amy smiled. "Girls like Sarah 
may be on the pill, but I'm stronger than most even though I'm off it, 
for now."

Jason's father wobbled a bit on his legs, uncertain of himself, but Amy 
quickly caught him in a bearhug from behind. "Don't worry, guy, I 
gotcha."

"So Timmy," Emily said, while all this was going on. "Has your 'friend' 
Sarah ever done anything like this to you?"


"No!" Timmy answered almost too quickly. The last thing he wanted Emily 
to know about him was that he had been spanked on multiple occasions by 
multiple women, even by a 10-year-old as recently as yesterday, and 
that his friend--for she really was his friend, maybe his best friend--
Sarah had outwrestled him and purposely abused his body a bit simply in 
order to "show him his proper place".

"Well, I'm gla-ad about that," Emily said, hugging his shoulders a bit 
more and nuzzling her head against his. Her soft blonde hair felt so 
good and she smelled so nice as well.

"WHAT is this?!" Sarah asked suddenly, just as the spanking stopped. 
"WHAT did I just feel?"

Jason said nothing but was evidently confused and nearly hysterical.

"TURN your little body OVER!" Sarah bellowed.

Shaking mightily, Jason did as he was told. Sarah's dress had pulled up 
a few inches as she sat there, and her bare bulging thighs looked so 
big in comparison to Jason's scrawny little body.

"WHAT is that?" Sarah asked again, and the four onlookers crowded 
around to see.

Jason's face was red with tears and he was sniffling, but at his crotch 
for everyone to see was a small but totally erect purple swollen boner.

"GET rid of THAT!" Sarah yelled. Jason just sniffled again. "GET RID OF 
IT!"

"I-I-I-I-I-I c-c-c-c-an't!" he said.

"GET RID OF IT NOW! STOP IT NOW OR I'LL *RIP* IT OFF!"

Totally traumatized, Jason threw his head back in mute frustration. He 
was completely overwhelmed and was about to have a panic attack.

Sarah then turned to the rest of them. "I'm dreadfully sorry to ask 
this, but is there anyone here who would like to help little Jason get 
rid of this very little but very disgusting problem?"

Timmy's eyes instantly shot down to look at Emily's hands. She was 
standing next to him now and her hands, with their cool rings and dark 
red nail polish looked so sexy to him. Even though he wanted Emily for 
himself, Timmy would have loved it if Emily stepped up then and 
volunteered to give Jason a handjob in front of everyone, if only to 
make his erection go away. Hell, if she did that Timmy would probably 
start masturbating himself again as he watched.

"No? No one?" Sarah asked, looking from side to side calmly while Jason 
went into convulsions in her lap.

"Ew, I'm not gonna do THAT," Amy whispered to no one in particular.

"Okay, THAT'S IT THEN," Sarah said, slapping her knees and standing up 
so quickly that half-naked Jason tumbled to the floor. "Get your pants 
back on as quick as you can, Tiny--we're getting out of here."

Doing as she bade him, Jason asked, "Uh, y-y-y-you mean I'm f-free to 
go now, then--"

"NO," Sarah said, you still need to have your little stiffy problem 
dealt with, so I'm rushing you to the one woman I know who will be able 
to service you in short order!" She grabbed Jason by the scruff of his 
neck and began power-walking out of the store and back through the 
mall, with Timmy and Jason's father scrambling behind her to keep up, 
struggling with the mountains of shopping bags in their little hands. 
"I'm taking you to MY MOTHER!"

-----

Martha had told them to meet her at the mall's information center. On 
their way there, however, they ran into a crowd of people gathering 
around a distant spectacle of some sort, and that spectacle turned out 
to be Martha herself.

Sarah was still fuming but she had long since scooped Jason up in her 
arms. It was simply far easier to carry him that way than to drag him 
behind her. Surely Jason hated being carried through the mall for all 
to see, held high by a tall girl who was five grades under him, but on 
the other hand, after all, his arm probably would have dislocated if 
Sarah kept dragging him the way she was--and there was no way his 
little legs could have kept up with her.

Timmy and Jason's father nearly gave up trying to follow Sarah. She was 
just so much faster. But every minute or so Sarah would turn around and 
wait impatiently for the two slowpokes to catch up. She would tap her 
red pumps impatiently, roll her eyes and scowl until they came close to 
her. "Try not to dawdle behind," she told them, frustrated at being 
held back in life once again due to men's deficiencies. "I would carry 

all three of you in my arms. But I just don't feel like it. For once, 
please try to carry your own weight, pull your fair share, and keep up 
with me, boys." Then she would whirl around and storm off again, 
naughty Jason clutched tight to the bosom of her short black dress.

Sarah obviously reached the outskirts of the crowd before Timmy and 
Jason's father did. Since she was taller than virtually everyone else, 
she soon saw what the central attraction was.

"OMIGOD!" she said, as Timmy and Jason's father came huffing up behind.

"What is it?" Timmy asked.

"COME AND SEE!" Sarah said, bending down a bit to snatch Timmy's hand. 
She was so excited that she almost crushed his hand in the process, 
leading them through the crowd, rudely pushing people--most of them 
men--out of her way.

Finally Sarah stopped and Timmy, who had hardly taken two steps on his 
own since Sarah had grabbed him, came crashing into her from behind--
the side of his head and his shoulder mashing impolitely against 
Sarah's right buttocks and upper thigh. He nearly fell down completely, 
but Sarah's strong hand wouldn't let go. She yanked him up and swung 
him around in front of her.

"Timmy, you are a disaster!" she told him.

He was disoriented and scared. Mallgoers were all around him and there 
was a strange din of excitement mixed with consternation in the air.

"I-I-I--" Timmy started to apologize.

"Just shut up and LOOK," Sarah told him, bending down a bit so that she 
was on his level, and pointing.

Before them, in an alcove of the mall, was the storefront of a comic 
book shop. Just outside of the door were some tables and chairs on 
which a dozen or so nerds were playing role playing games.--Well, none 
of them were playing games now, although a few of them were probably 
playing with themselves. Quite near the tables was a "life size" statue 
of the Incredible Hulk--green, muscular, half naked, and at least seven 
feet tall. Posing next to the statue, belittling it and showing off her 
even more impressive physique, was the star attraction that all the 
crowd couldn't stop gawking at: Martha Thollen herself.

It seemed that in the couple hours that they had been apart, Martha had 
gotten yet another makeover. She still wore--if you can really call it 
"wearing"--the incredibly tiny pink and blue bikini. It looked smaller 
on her than ever, and when she turned around to show off her mammoth 
asscheeks, no hint of the thong strap was visible. She now had 
straight, shoulder-length platinum blonde hair, however, big gold hoop 
earrings, and shiny pink lipstick generously applied to her smiling 
lips. True to her word, she had traded her 6-inch platform boots in for 
an even larger size. The boots themselves were larger, to better fit 
her expanded body, and the heels were taller as well. She now wore 
skin-tight hot pink pleather boots with black trim. They were not quite 
"thigh-highs"--and it was a good thing too, because soon above her 
knees Martha's shapely thighs expanded so much that there was not a 
boot made that could hold them. The platform heels gave her another 9 
or so inches. In total, Martha Thollen now stood over 7 and a half feet 
tall.

She patted the Hulk's head, which came up to her shoulder. Then she 
bent a bit, daintily bent one of her legs behind her, and kissed the 
Hulk's cheek. Smiling as she did so, she then turned to the crowd and 
writhed her monstrous near-naked body in front of them, bending low and 
rubbing her thighs and knees with her hands--mashing her butt back into 
the Hulk statue as she did so--than bringing her hands up to cup and 
caress her behemoth breasts. She licked her lips and showed the 
audience her tongue, and then she turned to the side, put one arm 
around the Hulk's neck casually, showed the crowd one of her ass-cheeks 
and then slapped it loudly, gyrating all the while.

Few if any of the dozens of people around her could even move, so 
captivated were they. All business inside the comic book shop had 
stopped. Workers and their manager had filled the space of the door, 
looking at Martha with their mouths open.

Timmy found it hard to pull his eyes away from Martha. Probably he 
could only do so because he knew Martha personally and because the 

spectacle simply scared him so damn much. He didn't know what had 
gotten into her head to do something like this, and he had no idea how 
it would end or what she would do next. He wasn't sure how long this 
insane, obscene display had been going on, but judging from the size of 
the crowd, Martha had been performing here for more than just a couple 
minutes. It seemed as though every single person who had walked by HAD 
stopped to stare, and remained there, but the mall was only so big and-
-perhaps luckily--there were not so many people out today.

Timmy saw one of the gaming geeks at the nearby table start to spasm. 
He was a portly man in his late 30s, goatee and glasses, wearing 
oversized shorts and a button-up shirt. He was staring at Martha 
intently, and both of his hands were under the table. There was no 
doubt in Timmy's mind that the man was jerking himself off. His eyes 
squinted a bit and drool began to run down his pudgy chin. As if on 
cue, Martha suddenly turned directly toward him, pointed a finger--with 
its carefully manicured pink nail--at him, then brought this finger to 
her sexy mouth and licked it with her tongue. It was as if she were 
acknowledging exactly what the man was doing, approving of it, and also 
letting him know that she owned him.


Looking about the crowd, Timmy saw several other men with their hands 
in their pants also, and they appeared to be going into trances as 
well. There was even a balding 40-something man who seemed to be 
telling his mortified wife--a short, uninteresting little thing in a 
boring sweater--to "shut up" and "leave me alone" while he studied 
Martha's every move, one hand playing with the bulge in his pants--
playing with it from the outside of his pants, no less.

Suddenly Timmy heard Sarah say "Tim-my..." in a sing-song fashion, and 
he was directed to see that Martha was waving to them and smiling 
happily--her eyes like sideways crescent moons. Evidently Martha was 
very glad that the people she knew best and loved most in this world 
were witnessing her fantastic public display of gargantuan femininity.

All in all, it should be said that Timmy was very glad he had just 
wanked off not too long ago. It was true that he already had another 
boner--what man could possibly look at the New Martha for more than two 
seconds and NOT get erect?--but he didn't have an irrepressible need to 
play with himself as of yet, and he was glad for that. This was yet 
another strange situation to be in. Exclamations of disbelief and 
groans of pleasure were heard throughout the crowd, and at any given 
time two or three cameras were going off.

Sarah bent down to him. "Do you want to stay here and watch," she asked 
him, "or do you want to go up with me when I bring her Jason?"

"Stay here," Timmy said in a pitiful, scared little voice.

"You're adorable," Sarah told him, and gave him a few pats on the head.

In Sarah's arms, Jason looked like a cat who knew he was about to be 
thrown into a pool or get a bath. He whined and yowled lowly and did 
everything he could to break free, but Sarah was having none of it. 
Walking up to her mother, she flexed her upper body hard, squeezing him 
painfully, and told him in a whispering voice to "Be good and get 
what's coming to you, boner boy."

Martha smiled wide as Sarah approached, and the two big females took 
turns turning their heads from side to side and saying "Mwah!" as they 
fake-kissed each other's cheeks.

Martha had to bend down quite a bit to do this, and this is what Timmy 
was struck by most of all at this moment. For the first time in many, 
many years, Martha actually looked like the big mama compared to Sarah. 
It wasn't just the heels either; Martha only had a 3-inch advantage 
there, and 3 inches were nothing when dealing with heights this high. 
Martha stood easily over a foot taller than her daughter now. The top 
of Sarah's head landed somewhere around Martha's neck. Martha could 
have put her chin on the top of Sarah's head now, and she'd actually 
have to bend her knees a bit and squat in order to do that. Martha's 

super-balloon boobs were right under Sarah's eyes, and even though 
Sarah was holding little Jason high in her arms, most of Martha's 
boobage was over his eye-level as well.

"And who is this delightful little friend?" Martha asked Sarah. "I 
expect it's a little person who's been naughty, but maybe it's also a 
new little person for me to play with!" She smiled down into Jason's 
fearful, tearful eyes, and gave him a wide Mad-Hatterish grin. Jason 
was petrified; the giantess before him was more than he could 
comprehend, more than he thought could actually exist in the real 
world. He could hardly cope. The deadly combination of Martha's 
sexiness, sheer physicality, and ultra-commanding presence stretched 
and strained the limits of little Jason's perception of reality.

"This is Little Bitch Jason," Sarah told her mother. "He's a much older 
boy who's deathly afraid of all of us 'little' girls, for all the 
reasons you might expect."

"MMM-HM!" Martha said. Clearly matters of the "Fairness for Females" 
act, and general small-minded male misogyny, were so well-understood 
that it didn't even matter what the exact nature of Jason's crimes 
were. Martha knew his type.

"As you might expect," Sarah continued, cuddling Jason hard in her arms 
and rocking him back and forth like a baby, "I have had to discipline 
him more than once, but do you know what I found at the end of our 
recent spanking session?"

"Oh I think I can guess," Martha hissed happily. "But why don't you 
tell me. It'll be just between us."

She gestured to the crowd then. It was true that neither Martha nor 
Sarah were "performing" now--they didn't need to, the audience was 
going to stay and watch Martha for as long as they could, no matter 
what--but their words could be heard by the twenty or so people closest 
to them--the front row, as it were.

"I found a nasty hard little dick!" Sarah said, with playful disgust in 
her voice. "And that's a major no-no where I'm concerned."

"YES, IT IS," Martha said loudly, looking menacingly into Jason's 
quivering face.

"I told him that I needed to bring him--and that little THING of his--
to YOU. Because you'd know what to do about it."

"Oh I certainly DO know what to do with hard little dicks! Yes I 
certainly doooo!" Martha drawled.

At that, several orgasmic moans went off in the crowd.

"Well that's good, mom," Sarah continued, carefully peeling Jason off 
of her chest, "because here's a rather NASTY little DICK named Jason!"


He didn't want to go, but Sarah forced him out of her arms and then 
shoved him down far onto the ground below, so he was finally back onto 
his own two feet.


"Meet Jason Peterson," Sarah said by way of conclusion, placing a hand 
on the small of his thin back to force him forward. "He is 18, stands 
all of 4'6"--if that, tops, for now--weighs probably a TENTH as much 
you, when he's soaking wet, and has an awful throbbing hardon that for 
the last twenty minutes I've gotten real fucking sick of feeling jabbed 
into my boob while I carried him!"

Sarah and Martha both laughed. Of course, they WERE performing a 
little--for Jason's benefit at least. Sarah pushed him forward again 
and then backed away to stand by Timmy.

Jason was an absolutely pathetic dwarf next to Martha. Understandably 

nervous, he was stooping a bit; but even if he were standing up 
perfectly straight, he wouldn't've even been level with her crotch. In 
her boots, Martha's legs were taller than his entire body. And each of 
her solid, curvaceous legs looked like it was about four times the size 
of his twiglike form.

As he shivered before her, Martha threw her head back--shaking her 
gorgeous blonde hair in the process--and cackled. "Hahaha! I LOVE 
LIFE!" she said.

Then she looked way down at the little man whose head was more than 
three feet below hers. A smug expression came across her face, as if 
she were thinking "Oh little man, what I could do to you."

Timmy couldn't help but hear a few more moans from the audience, and 
one man in particular, just a few feet away from Timmy, seemed to be 
starting to have an orgasm. Timmy held Sarah's hand tightly.

Martha bent her knees just a bit, flexing her goddess body in the 
process, but clearly she wouldn't deign to stoop so ridiculously low to 
look Jason in the eyes.

"Do you want to take your stupid clothes off in the next two seconds," 
she asked him calmly and politely, "or do you not care if I destroy 
them too when I destroy YOU?"

Scared out of his mind, Jason fumbled like hell to get his oversized t-
shirt off and to step out of his baggy shorts.

When this was accomplished, Martha held one of her hands over his head, 
with an index finger pointed down, and twirled it in a little circular 
motion.

Getting the hint, Jason turned around to face the crowd. All could see 
the throbbing little purple penis--roughly three inches long, though 
fully erect--that he had evidently been dealing with for some time.

"Oh, dear dear," Martha mused. "Don't tell me, little Jason, but do you 
actually have a CRUSH on my little daughter, who is so much your junior 
even though she is so much your superior?"

Jason looked up at Martha nervously, not wanting to answer but knowing 
that failure to speak would result in crueler forms of embarrassment 
and punishment.

"Y-yes," he squeaked.

"Oh dear, oh dear!" Martha said in mock shock. "And yet I told you NOT 
to tell me. Hm. Well. Well, well. And you have this crush even though 
you philosophically disagree with her--though calling your reactionary 
male viewpoint a 'philosophy' is being too kind. But you claim to hate 
Sarah and everything Sarah stands for--for, yes, Sarah has told me all 
about you before, little Jason Peterson--and yet... you still have a 
hard--a 'big' hard boner for her?"

"Y-y-y--" Jason tried to answer but was too scared to get the word out, 
so he changed tact: "I-I-It's A-A-ACTually for y-y-you N-NOW, th-the 
boner!" he stammered, his voice wobbling, almost shrieking at times.


"AW," Martha said, smiling down at him tenderly. "How adorable. I think 
that's ever so much nicer and better and more proper. In fact, if you 
hadn't a boner for me, THAT would be far more insulting and IMPROPER!"

She reached her long, bare, insanely solid and curvy arm down and 
patted Jason's goofy curly hair with her big long fingers.

"You seem like a real geek, Jason, I'm sorry to say," she told him, a 
glint in her eye. "I bet a boy like you probably feels at home near 
this comic shop and next to cartoon characters like the Hulk, huh?"

She stepped to the side a bit so that the Hulk--an immense statue in 
and of itself that was totally hidden from view when Martha was in 
front of it--could be seen by the audience. Still playing with Jason's 
hair, Martha took her other hand and patted the Hulk's head, the top of 
which was about level with her mouth.

"N-no," Jason said. "No, I n-never came here before."

"Oh, but you'll certainly COME here now," Martha joked. "And you ARE a 
geek, though. Right? I mean, it seems to me that you're a little boy 
who's been awfully lonely and without much female company of any sort 
in life. Right?"

She bent down a bit and began playing with Jason's face and pinching 
his cheeks a bit.

"Y-y-yesh," he said, as Martha fingered his lips.

"Not enough females around to set you STRAIGHT," Martha said. "That's 
what I thought. Tell me, Jason, are you a virgin?"

"...Yeah," he said, trying to hang his head but the side of Martha's 
big soft hand got in the way of his chin.

"Then I think it's time that changed," Martha said slyly. Then she 
withdrew her hand, bent her knees a bit more, and held her arms out 
wide to him.

He half-stepped and half-skipped into them, almost tripping into her 
arms, so nervous and anxious was he. She wrapped her arms around him--
each one of them was almost his size--and squeezed and nuzzled Jason's 
naked little body.

Timmy felt very uncomfortable and was starting to get a hardon himself, 
in spite of everything. He turned around and couldn't believe that this 
was actually taking place. Where were the cops? Where was the mall 
security? Finally he saw them. Two men in uniforms and some sort of 
badges. A fairly tall black man with a moustache and a white man with a 
shaved head. Both of them were simply observing the situation with 
their mouths hanging open and their hands creeping toward the front 
pockets of their pants.

Martha had scooped Jason high up into her arms and was kissing and 
making out with his entire body. She used her immense breasts as a sort 
of "shelf" on which to place Jason, and she only needed to nonchalantly 
play with and manipulate his body a bit to ensure that he didn't fall 
off. Her boobs functioned halfway between two big bouncy cushions or 
two waterbeds beneath him. As his body was toyed with and tossed this 
way and that, Martha's gigantic mammaries throbbed and bounced up and 
down, this way and that. The straps of the bikini were cutting deep 
into her ballooning flesh, but she didn't seem to mind. At this point 
she was evidently so superhumanly strong and durable that she could 
withstand any sort of pinching from clothes that were too tight. She 

probably enjoyed the stinging pain since it was a clear result of her 
being so damn big.

She yanked Jason's body this way and that, playing with him in whatever 
way whim and fancy struck her. She'd grab a little leg like it was a 
drumstick and use it to throw him upside-down. Then she'd twist a thin 
little arm, just to make him yelp, and then capture his open mouth with 
her own and shove her tongue inside for half a minute or so, barely 
even letting him breathe, slobbering all over him in her voracious 
rapture. All the while she refrained from touching his penis either 
with her hands or mouth. She wanted to, and he REALLY wanted her to, 
but Martha didn't want to risk an early explosion.

Martha then slowly fed Jason's body into her titanic cleavage. Once he 
was started down, she cupped her massive breasts and held him there, 
closing her cleavage and keeping him held aloft by the pressure. Then 
Martha eased up her grip some, and a few more inches of Jason slid 
down... then she hugged her breasts tighter again, stopping his 
descent. His arms were sticking up, his hands from the dangling limply 
around Martha's chin, and his little head was nose-deep while almost 
the rest of his entire body was engulfed within her gigantic boobage. 
Only his little feet and ankles were hanging out below.

"Oh GOD!" someone in the crowd yelled in ecstasy.

Timmy turned and happened to see Jason's father standing to the side, 
in the direction from where the scream came. Timmy wasn't sure if it 
was Jason's father who made the noise, but the man was definitely 
playing with himself now. His mouth was half open; his head was cocked 
to the side; he had a sleepy expression on his face, and he had one 
hand down the front of his windpants, stroking something hard. He was 
watching his little 18-year-old son be dominated sexually, in public, 
by the biggest sexual beast of a woman anyone had ever seen, a 40-
something-year-old MILF who stood seven and a half feet tall. Jason's 
dad was taking this all in and probably wouldn't've traded the 
experience for anything else in the world, other than a chance to be in 
his son's place now.

Timmy turned back to the action and found that Martha had a quizzical 
expression on her face. She seemed to be noticing something. Timmy 
observed closer and could see the tips of Jason's little feet jerking a 
bit, perhaps indicating that above them somewhere, lost in Martha's 
cleavage, the little man's haunches were bucking, as he attempted to 
dryhump/boob-fuck big Martha.

"No no," Martha said to Jason in a sexy voice. "Uh-uh. Now stop that. 
If you don't stop it I'll hurt you very badly. I'll let you go soon--
I'll let you have your fun soon, because I know you can't last much 
longer anyway--I have experience with LITTLE MEN passing out while 
having sex with me--but it has to be on my terms, when you have your 
little squirt."

Jason winced and almost started crying. It was clear that stopping was 

very difficult--resisting this urge now was the hardest thing he had 
ever had to do in his entire life--but he knew he had to do it. His 
feet stopped twitching.

"DAT's a gude widdle boyyy!" Martha said, then relaxed her grip on her 
breasts and let Jason slide the rest of the way through her cleavage.

Now absolutely drenched in sweat, barefoot Jason slowly landed on 
Martha's boots. His little toes were just an inch or so above her 
decidedly larger toes. Standing on top of her boots, which were on top 
of her platform heels, Jason was nearly a foot off the ground. Even 
with that height boost, his head still didn't quite come up to the 
bottom of her boobs, and his throbbing little penis still didn't come 
up to her crotch. He clung to her massive thigh. Martha laughed a bit 
and then jiggled her leg. Her kneecap slapped against Jason's ballsack.

She looked down at him tenderly.

"Is it about time, sweety?" she asked. "Is it about time for you to 
finally release yourself inside a woman?"

Jason nodded and blabbered out some sort of positive utterance. So 
turned on and totally overwhelmed was he that he couldn't even form 
coherent words at this point.

"Hm," Martha considered, rubbing her chin with one of her big sexy 
hands. "First I want to see something. Hop down."

Jason was reluctant to do so. He moaned and grabbed her thigh tighter--
though his sweaty little arms could not wrap themselves all the way 
around--and began rutting against her.

"Down! Down, puppy!" Martha said, shaking her thunder-thigh a bit and 
throwing Jason off. "Stand UP now, doggy!" she told him.

Jason scrambled to his feet again, his expression one of tortured 
frustration. He couldn't get want he wanted--what he needed--to get, 
and she was prolonging it to the point where he was about to go mad.

"Just one quick thing, puppy-puss, then I'll let you inside me," Martha 
said. She turned around quickly then, showing the crowd her massive ass 
again and presenting its splendor right in Jason's direction. She 
leaned her head to the side then, and tried to look back.

"I can't see!" she said laughingly. "I am too big now! Oh dear--I'm too 
ROUND!"--Here Timmy heard two men in the crowd go off simultaneously.--
"Can someone tell me--haha!--can someone tell me if his little head 
even comes up to my ass?"

"IT DOESN'T, MOM!" Sarah yelled happily, obvious pride in her voice. 
"His poofy hair might touch it, but it looks like the top of his head 
comes up to just BELOW the BOTTOM of your butt cheeks! Oh god, Jason, 
you are PATHETIC!"

Sarah started giggling uncontrollably and Martha also threw her head 
back and roared with laughter. Timmy heard Jason's father moan.

"So, Jason, how does it feel," Martha asked him, still looking back 
sideways at him, squatting a bit and shoving her ass out in his 
direction, knocking it into his head, "to be 'UNDER A BUTT'?"

Jason just shivered, and both females chuckled again.

"O-kay, little boy!" Martha finally said, turning her big body back 
around to face her new friend. "Come to Momma Martha now! Don't be 
shy!"

Jason didn't even have time to approach her of his own volition this 
time. Martha simply bent over, put her big hands under his armpits, and 
lifted him up--way up high so they could look at each other in the 
eyes.

"Hello, cootie," she said. "First a kiss--then your little dickie can 
play."

She looked at him with a forced dreamy expression, brought her pink-
pink lips to him and inhaled half of his face. She sucked and slurped 
him all over for the next minute, drooling spit all over him, and when 
she finally pulled back and let him go--he was coughing and gasping for 
air--most of his face looked like one big hickey.

"Well, that'll last for a while," Martha said nonchalantly. "So you can 
think of me every time you look in the mirror."

Her hands still under his armpits, she then lowered him down another 
foot and a half. His throbbing boner was now level with her vagina, at 
least, and--as luck would have it--his head was roughly level with a 
good deal of the gigantic expense of space and distance that was Martha 
Thollen's breast region.

"Oops," Martha said suddenly, and raised Jason up again. "Get your 
little tootsies through those straps so you can sort of 'sit in me'." 
She took one hand away from him and held out the straps of her bikini 
bottoms. She held out one strap and then the other, guiding one of 
Jason's legs and then the other through. She then lowered Jason again 
and he slid into Martha's strained bikini bottoms. His legs were in the 
openings hers were in, and his butt rested, cradled in the front patch 
of her bikini bottoms. Even though the bit of fabric had looked so tiny 
on Martha, covering her pussylips and not much else, it proved to be 
more than enough for Jason; it covered his entire butt and held him 
comfortably.

Martha took her arms away and he now sat facing her. He wrapped his 
legs as far as they would go around her huge thighs--which wasn't very 
far at all--and began rubbing at her breasts. 

Smiling, she took the tiny strap of string that went from one boob to 
the other in the front of her bikini, and she stretched it out so that 
it went behind Jason's head. Then she parted her boobs as best she 
could with her other hand, and let the strap go. Jason's head was 
sling-shot into Martha's cleavage. The bikini front held it there fast. 
He moaned.

"Are you in down there? You're so tiny that I don't know if I'd feel 
anything..."

She carefully probed his little crotch and reached down there with her 
pink nails with the white French tips.

"No, you're not in there. You're hard but you're not in there. Here--
let me."

She played around with his crotch a bit, squatted a bit herself in 
order to spread her vagina some, and then finally stood up straight 
again.

"THERE," she said. "NOW you're inside!"

From within Martha's cleavage, Jason moaned.

Martha laughed then, brought one hand up to her face and flicked some 
of her shoulder-length blonde locks over one ear. She then blew a kiss 
to the crowd and laughed.

"Go wild!" she told Jason, though she also may as well have been 
addressing the crowd also, as now many more people--some who had 
already had several orgasms, some who had been waiting for this all 
along--began putting their hands in their pants.

Pitiful little Jason tried to buck and hump as best he good, but it was 
evident that by now his meager body was almost exhausted after all the 
trials it had been put through, first by tall teen-queen Sarah and now 
by massive matriarchal Martha.

"Oh if you won't do it better then I'll do it for you!" she said 
sharply.

Then she clutched Jason's butt with one big hand and began gyrating. 
She shoved him deep inside her, squatting and pumping and flexing 
rhythmically and HARD. Jason's moans suddenly got a lot louder--a lot 
louder than Timmy thought the little guy could possibly moan.

Martha herself bore an expression of ecstasy as well. "Oh, I can BARELY 
ALMOST FEEEEEL you, Jason!" she said mockingly. She absolutely was 
feeling something, though, even if 90% of her ecstasy was due to awe at 
her own accomplishments here today. Well-deserved pride was a great 
aphrodisiac and a relatively good sextoy as well, it seemed.

Eventually Jason and Martha both let out simultaneous screams of 
pleasure. And as if in response, a very loud chorus of moans went up 
from the audience as well. 


Jason's body went totally limp then and it seemed he had nearly passed 
out. No longer a virgin, he had just experienced an orgasm for the 
ages, a sensation so colossal that it almost broke his body and mind. 
To say nothing of what Martha had done to him, just this sensation 
experienced on its own would have been enough to bowl him over and 
leave him shaking in the fetal position for hours.

Martha's gigantic arms, which were nearly as big around as Jason was, 
clutched his little body to her chest one more time for good measure, 
then she began to go about the process of freeing him, first his head 
from her cleavage and then his bottom from her bikini bottoms.

He was drenched in sweat and even his hair was soaked. At the end of 
it, she lifted his little, shivering naked body up to her face, gave 
him a last tiny little kiss on the nose, and then unceremoniously and 

shockingly just dropped his body onto the floor. He lay there, a tiny 
wet mass of almost lifeless skin and bones, in a little pile. He was 
totally without movement, but a couple seconds later he gave a little 
gasp, as if to let everyone know that he was alive, if only barely, 
though recovery would take a while.

"When you met me you were a little tiny boy," Martha told him, looking 
down imperiously from over seven feet above his small crumpled form, 
talking loud enough for most of the crowd to hear. "But thanks to me, 
now you know what it feels like to be a 'BIG STRONG MAN'!." She 
delicately put forth her right foot then, and with the toe of her giant 
hot pink boot she delicately lifted and draped Jason's entire body 
across her foot and then thrust him off, plopping his little body over 
until he was lying on his back, totally spent and destroyed, his little 
tummy quivering as he strained a bit to take in air. Martha raised one 
foot then and delicately placed the bottom of her platform boot on 
Jason's quivering stomach. She looked at the crowd then, smiled and 
winked, pouted her shapely pink lips then and licked them with her 
tongue.

Several more orgasmic moans went up from the audience, but mostly 
people started clapping and whooping. The applause wasn't exactly 
thunderous, however, mostly because the majority of the crowd was still 
too shocked by what they saw.

Sarah and Timmy walked up to Martha, now that the show was over, and 
Jason's father dawdled up behind them. Totally ignoring the little form 
of his son, who was still recovering on the floor, Jason's father told 
Martha: "Y-you a-are aMAZing!"

"Why THANK you, Mr. Peterson," Martha replied. She then offered him her 
hand and the man took it as if it were the greatest gift in the world, 
nervously touching it with both of his hands, shaking it a bit, then 
kissing it and eventually bowing down before her in an exaggerated act 
of worship that didn't seem to be much of an act at all.

"Are you two ready to get out of here?" Martha asked. "I LOVE that 
dress on you, Sarah. Black IS your color. And those red pumps are to 
die for!"

"Thanks, mom!" Sarah chirped, primping herself a bit and kicking back 
one of her heels. "Yeah, we're ready to go, it's just that I promised 
I'd get Timmy an ice cream."

"Has he been a good boy?" Martha asked, a glint in her eyes.

"Yes he pretty much has," Sarah replied.

"Pretty much?" Martha asked.

"Pretty much," Sarah concluded with a smile.

"Alright then," Martha said with a sigh. "I'll just gather up all our 
bags and lug them to the car myself then. Too bad I didn't have a 
little male helper to do that for me this time." She smiled at Timmy. 
"But I guess my baby-slave can take a breather just this once."

They said goodbye to Jason and his father, both of whom were still 
recovering from the experience, and walked off on their own. 

They left Martha just as a group of about a dozen little Asian tourists 
had found her. The painfully short people, most of them men, were 
scarcely bigger than Jason was, and they all began taking each other's 
pictures while standing next to a posing, beaming Martha, who was 
happily soaking up the attention. Some of them began climbing Martha's 
body as if it were a playground, hanging off of her arms and sitting on 
her large shoulders. As the cameras continued to flash, Martha called 
to Timmy and Sarah: "Don't be long, you two! I promise I'm just going 
to let a few of these cute little men get off on me--and then I'm going 
right to the car with our bags!"

-----

Timmy was so happy to be alone with Sarah again, holding her hand and 
walking through the mall, hearing the loud clacking of her new 6-inch 
heels as she walked--the sound had become both authoritative and 
reassuring to Timmy's ears.

"What did you think of the Petersons?" she asked.

Timmy stifled a laugh.

"Err, I feel bad that you have to go to school with one and also feel 
bad that the other one is on your school board."


"Yes," Sarah said. "Still, there's fun to be had with them, as you 
might have noticed."

"Sarah?" Timmy asked plaintively.

"Yes, Timmykins?"

"You don't think of me the way you think of them, do you? I know I'm an 
awfully little, pathetic man and everything, but..."

"Oh come here," Sarah said to him, bending down and taking him up high 
into her arms before resuming her walk through the mall. "You are so 
adorable. Of course I think more of you than I do of them. I know you 
are a perfectly polite, pliable little male. The best sort of boy a 
girl could ever want as her friend."

She kissed him on the cheek then, and Timmy blushed.

At the ice cream stand Sarah ordered a frozen yogurt and Timmy got a 
child-sized vanilla ice cream in a cone with pink sprinkles on top. 
Sarah ordered this for him, as one would expect of a girl holding a boy 
in her arms. They then went to sit on one of the nearby benches. As 
promised, Sarah sat Timmy on her left knee, turned him to face her, and 
occasionally bounced him up and down a bit while they ate.

"We can't be too long, you know, Timmy," Sarah warned. "My mom's 
probably already back at the car by now, and if we keep her too long 
she's just going to come back into the mall and cause another scene, 
just out of boredom."

Timmy couldn't imagine how his mind could take witnessing another 
public-sex performance from Martha. Once was enough, and by now his 
little testes had recharged enough that he would be totally enthralled 
with Martha himself and would probably not be able to refrain from 
playing with his penis in front of her, and in front of everyone else. 
Just thinking about it now made him start to get a boner. He just 
wanted to go home--back to his aunt's mansion--and go to bed where it 
was safe.

"Too much excitement for one day," he told Sarah, his lips coated with 
vanilla.

"OH MY GOD, SARAH?" came a voice.

They turned and saw a man who looked to be in his mid 30s. He was tall 
and broad-shouldered. He had tan skin and thick wavy brown hair. He 
wore a very expensive-looking tan business suit.

"Hello, Paul," Sarah said calmly.

"How are you doing?!" the man asked, very excited. "I just thought I'd 
go to the mall and--"

"Yes, I know we're in the mall, Paul," Sarah said sharply, turning back 
to her frozen yogurt, "so you don't have to state that fact. And I am 
doing fine, thank you."

"I've tried to get back in contact with you!" Paul said, undaunted. 
"But you never answered my messages or--"

"No, I never did, did I?" Sarah replied, licking her spoon.

"Are-are you, uh..." Paul faltered. "Are you seeing...? I mean... Who's 
this?" He gestured toward Timmy.

Sarah calmly ate the last spoonful of her yogurt and then dropped the 
empty dish in the adjacent trash bin. She cleared her throat. Then she 
carefully repositioned Timmy so that he was held safely and securely in 
one of her arms, and then stood up.

"This, Paul," she said, "is Timmy." 

Timmy looked over at the tall handsome man with some trepidation. He 
was not as tall as Sarah--though probably if they were both barefoot he 
would've only been an inch or two shorter--but he was certainly very 
big and imposing compared to Timmy. Even held in Sarah's arms, Timmy 
could sense that. Paul looked like just the sort of "alpha male" that 
often made Timmy nervous. It was not that Paul's sort of man seemed 
like he was a bully, but he was simply "over-socialized" and seemed to 
radiate a sort of masculine success and pride that Timmy had never 

known in  himself, could never hope to aspire toward, and thus feared.

Paul made an effort then to shake Timmy's hand; he reached a large 
clean elegant man-hand out toward Timmy, but soon saw that there was a 
problem.

"Um, err..." Paul said skeptically, pointing at Timmy.

The little man looked down to see that his ice cream cone was indeed 
running over, dripping onto his hands and onto his Wonder Woman t-
shirt.

"Oh Timmy!" Sarah said, trying not to sound as frustrated as she was. 
"I knew we should've got some napkins for you! That's my favorite old 
shirt you're wearing!" She hurriedly set him down on the floor and 
looked around a bit in a panic.

"I think I might have some wipes in my bag," Paul said, shifting over a 
strap that had been running diagonally in front of his suit and 
revealing a sort of leather messenger bag whose shape resembled that of 
a briefcase as well.

"That's a nice purse, Paul," Sarah said absentmindedly.

"It's, err, not a..." Paul began nervously, opening up the bag and 
scouring through it. "I mean, uh, thank you, Sarah. And h-here."

He held out two thin napkins that seemed like they came from a fast-
food takeaway. Sarah snatched them and bent down to give them to little 
Timmy, who quickly tried to sop up and stop the dripping ice cream.

"Eat it faster, Snuckums," Sarah whispered, before standing back up.

Paul shuffled his feet awkwardly and was clearly uncomfortable with 
Sarah now being so much taller than him. Evidently he hadn't seen her 
very recently, and that combined with her new 6-inch heels made quite 
an impression.

"Well, uh, I have to say, Sarah... You, uh, you look GREAT."

"Mmhm, thanks, Paul," she said dismissively, then added "A girl does 
try" in a somewhat sarcastic way insinuating that with Sarah everything 
was effortless anyway.

"Anyway, uh... Timmy?" Paul said, awkwardly trying to fill the silence 
even though all sense of social etiquette  would have told him that 
Sarah did not want to be disturbed and that he should leave. "It's, ah, 
nice to meet you."

Timmy looked up at the tall man but couldn't answer him, as his mouth 
was full of ice cream. He definitely didn't want to keep Martha 
waiting, and his nervousness at this new meeting made him just want to 
preoccupy his time with something anyway. What's worse, he didn't want 
the ice cream to drip anymore, either!

Timmy was roughly eye-level with where Sarah's bellybutton was. Paul 
was only staring into Sarah's collarbone. It was a treat for Timmy to 
see a male come even within a foot of Sarah's height, but he didn't 
much like the vibe he got from Paul, so he was happy to see the man 
towered over to some degree at least.

"He's my BOYFRIEND, Paul," Sarah suddenly said, very sternly. "I have a 
boyfriend now--so just GO."

Paul looked from Sarah to Timmy with much confusion. "He...?" he began. 
"He's your...?"

"YES," Sarah said, smiling aggressively at him. "HE IS. SO GO."

"But how can someone so little, possibly...? I mean, *I*, a guy like 
me, could--"

"PAUL," Sarah said loudly, stepping up close to Paul--sandwiching Timmy 
between them--and looking down at him derisively. "YOU are not so very 
TALL compared to me anymore, EITHER! IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED."

At that Paul nervously sputtered: "Err, well, y-yes I-I noticed, I... I 
think you look GREAT, Sarah, I--"

"Just get out of here, TWERP!" Sarah said, palming his face and shoving 
him backwards.

"O-okay, Sarah," Paul said. "S-sorry to have o-offended! I-I'll see 
you--"

"Yeahyeahyeah!" Sarah said quickly, shooing him off by making scuttling 
motions with her hands. "I'll see you in school and at the committee. 
Yes. Fine! Go!"

Paul almost tripped over his feet as he hurried away.

"Who was that?" Timmy asked. He had eaten his ice cream then--had eaten 
the WHOLE thing--and was very proud of himself. He was dabbing his 
sticky little hands with the napkins. "Is he a senior, too?"

Sarah snorted. "No. He's a teacher, and also the interim principle."

"Really? But he--"

"Yeah," Sarah said, "I don't really want to talk about it. He is such 
an annoying putz."

"So, uh, is he against the 'Fairness for Females'--?"

"No, he's very much FOR it," Sarah said with some exhaustion, rolling 
her eyes. "He'll say anything women want to hear and is such an 
insincere slimeball that I don't know if HE knows what he really thinks 
about anything. Eventually, some girl is really going to have to take 
him over her knee and spank some sense into him. And I really hope that 
that girl doesn't turn out to be me, but it's looking like it might 
have to be." She thought for a moment. "Maybe I'll bring you in for 
show-and-tell on the day that I do it, after the F-for-Fs act is 
passed. Would you like that, Timmy?"

The idea of going into a school to see a bunch of dominant young girls 
in mandated high heels ruling over every man in sight filled Timmy with 
trepidation, especially if he was being brought in for the express 
purpose of witnessing Sarah teach at least one remaining male authority 
figure a tough lesson. Still, he nodded his head.

They started walking to the mall exit together. Timmy reached for 
Sarah's hand.

"Ew, your hands are all sticky," she told him, pulling away.

"I-I'm sorry, Sarah," he quivered.

"Aw, come here, try it again," she said gently. "I guess I can handle a 
little stickiness from my 'boyfriend'."

Timmy smiled and they gasped hands again.

"Did you have a nice time at the mall, spud?" Sarah asked him.

"Yes."

"What was your favorite part? Seeing my mom dominate and destroy Jason? 
I know that must've made you at least a little hard!"

Timmy blushed. "No, my favorite part was spending time with my best 
friend... my 'girlfriend'!"

Sarah smiled but told him with a critical air: "Okay, but let's not 
joke about that anymore. We're 'just' friends. Good friends, but 'just' 
friends. Do you understand. You are my friend but not my boyfriend. 
Boyfriend stuff is on a different level, and on that level... you're 
not my boyfriend, you're more like my best bitch. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Timmy admitted with slight reluctance. When it came down to it, 
much as he loved her, he really was her bitch too. She had control over 

him and that was how things were supposed to be. They were good 
friends--best friends--but still Sarah was in charge. She ordered Timmy 
around and Timmy took it, accepting that she was above him in the 
hierarchy, but also knowing that every decision Sarah made for him was 
the best and wisest decision for all. Sarah controlled Timmy sometimes 
for his own good. And for the greater good of society. This is how 
things should work. Timmy knew that he was very lucky to have found 
someone like Sarah to order him and make decisions for him sometimes, 
during those hours and days when no other better suited female was 
around to control his life in her stead.

-----

When they got to the car, Timmy noticed that Martha had taken off her 
heeled boots and had pushed her seat back as far as it would go. She 
was simply getting too tall now and could barely fit in the car; she 
had to drive it barefoot and with her plump solid knees bent up on 
either side of the steering wheel. Her massively curvaceous body 
appeared stuffed into the driver's side; it did not look comfortable at 
all.

"We're just going to zip back to my place quick, Timmy," Martha told 
him as he climbed up on Sarah's lap again, "THEN I'll drive you to your 
aunt's."

He wanted to return home sooner than that and didn't see what Martha 
needed to stop at her place for, but he said nothing, not wanting to 
provoke an argument so late in his seemingly never-ending visit with 
the Thollens.

Martha drove even faster on the way home than she did on the way to the 
mall. The air was cold and crisp; riding in a convertible made Timmy 
almost unbearably cold, but luckily Sarah was there to wrap him under 
her coat, hug him and keep him warm. And Martha was driving as fast as 
possible, to ensure that the drive didn't take long. It was clear that 
the car really was annoying for her to sit in. All Timmy could think, 
as they sped down the streets, was how much he hoped that a cop didn't 
pull them over. He didn't think he could handle another scene of a big 
tall woman surely dominating yet another male today. He just wanted to 
crash on his bed, go to sleep, and dream of innocent, old-fashioned 
things.

Before he knew it, however, Martha had pulled into her driveway and 
lurched the car to a screeching stop.

"You can help carry the bags in the house, Timmy," she told him. "Come 
on now. You didn't carry any of them to the car, so it's time you did 
your manly duty for once."

Timmy didn't care how insulting Martha's directive might be, he just 
kept his mouth shut and did what he was told. Anything just to get this 
all over with and be taken home a.s.a.p. Still, he was very much 
annoyed at just how many bags full of clothing Martha had purchased. 
The trunk was jam-packed. It took him ten trips back and forth to lug 
everything inside--he had no coat and the late afternoon really was 

starting to turn cold.

Sarah and Martha had both disappeared into the house as soon as he got 
there and were nowhere to be found once Timmy was finally done with his 
little assigned chore.

"Hello?" Timmy said meekly, trying not to sound impatient. "I'm, uh, 
done, a-and r-ready to go home now? Martha? Sarah?" No answer.

He took his little ballet slippers off--they had snow and slush on them 

and were awfully wet and cold on his little feet--and tentatively 
walked through the house. 

He paused at the chart on the wall showing Sarah's height as she was 
growing up. ("Maybe I can use this to see how tall--er, how short I am 
now," I thought.) He didn't want either of the Thollens to catch him 
doing this, though, lest they dramatically interfere and make a whole 
huge embarrassing scene out of it. So Timmy furtively snuck over close 
to the wall, put his back to it, and raised his hand to scratch his 
head for no reason. But just as he was about to move his hand over to 
the wall, to hold it there as he turned around to see where his current 
height would fall in relation to the various markers of Sarah's--
suddenly Martha burst into the hallway.

She was barefoot and dressed in her big pink bathroom again.

"Come with me, Timmy," she whispered to him quickly, grabbing onto his 
forearm with her large soft hand. "Let's hurry."

She yanked him behind her, his scrambling feet barely touching the 
ground again, as she hurried back down the hall and into her bedroom. 
At the entrance she stopped, spin, and more or less threw Timmy into 
the darkened room. Disoriented, he hurdled forward and tried to stop 
himself, but his little legs could not overcome the momentum that 
Martha had exerted onto his little body. He clumsily crashed into the 
side of Martha's bed and then managed to turn around to look back at 
her just as she was shutting the door and locking it.

The shades were drawn and the room was lit only by a single red 
lightbulb.

"Hi Timmy," Martha said, as she slowly sauntered up to where he was 
lying on the floor.

"Uh... hi?" Timmy said.


"Sarah is going to take you home," she told him, smiling.

"Uh... what?"

Timmy's mind began to race. He knew how mature Sarah was for her age, 
and surely there was no task that she couldn't accomplish, but did 
Martha actually want 13-year-old Sarah to DRIVE him home? Clearly when 
dealing with these daring women, who always seemed to come out on top 
and do anything they put their minds to, there was nothing out of 
bounds. In another split second, however, Timmy had to consider that 
perhaps Martha meant that Sarah was to WALK if not CARRY Timmy all the 
way home to his aunt's mansion, which was a few MILES away.

"She's going to ride her bike," Martha explained, grinning down at him. 
"The roads are bare enough now and she wants the exercise. She wants to 
get really toned this year"--("She already IS pretty toned," Timmy 
thought)--"and she seems to think that you should be able to hold onto 
her well enough to survive the trip in one piece."

"Oh... okay." ("I GUESS it'll HAVE to be 'okay'!" Timmy thought. "Since 
you aren't giving me any damn choice in the matter!")

"Yesh," Martha said softly. "She is changing her clothes now, checking 
her email, and getting her bike tuned up, readjusting the seat and so 
forth. That means you and I have a FEW minutes to play."

Martha undid her robe then and dropped it to the ground. This revealed 

a new item of clothing that Martha had evidently bought that day. It 
was a full silken bodysuit. It was pink and had elegant swirling 
designs on it. It was stretchy and skin-tight on her, clinging to her 
every violent curve and outlining her stupendous jutting breasts 
perfectly.

"I know it is nearly the end of winter," Martha said, a soft look in 
her eye and a tender tone in her voice, "but I just had to have this. 
It's for sleeping in; silk is great for keeping warm. I thought also 
that you might like it and might even like to climb inside it with me."

Dutifully, Timmy said nothing but slowly managed to climb to his feet 
and stand before the goddess. His boner felt very hard indeed as his 
trembling hands tried to take his shirt and pants off. The funny thing, 
though, was that at the moment he felt light-headed and couldn't quite 
manage to carry out this simple action. Much as he wanted to, he was 
now too weak and distraught to even undress himself. He got his shirt 
almost halfway off, but then it became stuck on his head and he wasn't 
strong enough to force the fabric over. The elastic band around his 
waist had also proven too formidable for him to thrust down below his 
meager hips.

He had no choice but to give off a single pathetic whine, thereby 

admitting defeat and asking big Martha for help.

"There there, Timmy," she said, squatting down to attend to him, "I'm 
here. I will help you."

Martha quickly stripped Timmy of all his clothes and lifted him up.

"Here we are, big boy," she said to him, nuzzling him nose-to-nose and 
hugging him against her big bosom--which by now was far, far bigger 
than he was. "Now let me put the little tadpole down the hole..."

Still holding him under his armpits, she lifted him up higher now, over 
her head. With her arms fully upstretched Timmy's little feet were 
dangling around Martha's neckline. Noting that this meant Martha's arms 
were nearly as long as his entire body now, Timmy throbbed with fearful 
joy. 

She jostled his body around a bit so that his feet went under the 
collar of her silk one-piece. Then she slowly began to lower him down 
into her clothing by way of the collar.

"Isn't it better to get you inside this way, rather than going through 
all the trouble of unzipping me from the back?" Martha asked. "Isn't 
this a lot more fun?"

Timmy made an excited "Mm!" sound, and Martha chuckled.

He felt his thin little bare feet begin to brush against Martha's naked 
boobs. They felt so big and bouncy and warm to him.

"Oo, Timmy! Your feet are freezing!" she told him. "That's okay, 
though--I'll warm you up soon enough..."

She kept lowering him and lowering him. His little hips were not even 
as big around as Martha's neck was, so he continued to slip down inside 
her suit easily.

"What a little pantywaist you are..." Martha teased.

Timmy was shivering and throbbing so much with anticipation now. Once 
he was immersed up to his chest, Martha let go of his armpits and began 
to put pressure on his back, holding him from outside her silk 
clothing. He eagerly put his arms down then and, not without some 

struggling, fit them down through Martha's collar.

"Can you hold onto me now, little friend?" Martha asked, smiling down 
on him.

Timmy nodded his head. He felt so warm and Martha's body was so 
unbelievably big and soft. Almost the entirety of his body, from neck 
to knees, was engulfed by Martha's gigantic chest. Her clingy silk 
garment held him close to her, and the material felt so good against 
the back of his little body--especially in the places where Martha's 
big hands were rubbing him from the outside.

"If I take my hands away, will you fall?" she asked him.

He just moaned. He didn't want her to take her hands away. Whether he 
would fall or not, he liked her hands as they were, holding and rubbing 
him through the silk. Instinctively, he clutched her tighter, his hands 
spread as wide as they would go around her massively expansive breasts, 
and he fingered her soft boob flesh.

Martha chuckled delightfully but then slowly withdrew her hands, 
placing them on her hips. Timmy held her even tighter and put his head 
down against the opening of her collar, right where the top of her 
cleavage began.

"Ready, Timmy?" she asked. "Here we go..."

Timmy didn't know what she meant, but he felt her big body begin to 
walk forward in a straight line. He knew that there wasn't very far for 
her to go, and sure enough, without warning, Timmy felt his back crash 
into the far wall. Martha continued to thrust herself forward, though, 
mashing him harder and harder, his back against the wall and his front 
against her naked boobs and chest. His head was pressed hard against 
her, so hard that even the beginning of her breast cushion gave way and 
he felt Martha's big collar bone. Most of the rest of his body, 
however, was completely sucked into Martha's cleavage so deeply that it 
didn't even feel nearly as much pressure. Martha's boobs completely 
enveloped him, and they were so big that they buffeted him from the 
wall. Still, since the boobs literally wrapped around his body, he did 
feel some force coming back at him as Martha continued to push herself 
against the wall. As for his arms, they instantly folded under the 
pressure, and the force of Martha's boobs against the wall 
inadvertently shoved them down and underneath their massive expanse. 
Lastly, Timmy felt his little toes just come into contact with Martha's 
bellybutton. For a woman of her size, her tummy was surprisingly 
taught, especially when it was pressed hard against a wall.

Timmy just gave a little muffled moan. From high above he heard Martha 
cackle happily. He was so turned on that wanted more than anything to 
buck his hips a bit and try to come, but his body was completely 
encased in Martha and he couldn't move a centimeter anywhere on his 
body.

He felt Martha jostle herself side to side a bit, really making sure 
that Timmy was crushed and smucked good. Then she bucked her own hips a 
few times to bang him against the wall harder.

After another laugh, Martha eased up the pressure some. She pulled her 
head back some, which thankfully eased up the force with which Timmy's 
head was shoved against Martha's collar. His head now rested 
comfortably against the upper region of Martha's generous boobage. She 
drew her feet back some too, which had the effect of easing the 
pressure from Martha's stomach that Timmy had been feeling from his 
knees down.

He was now basically just being held by the pressure of Martha's big 
big boobs against each other and against the wall. She leaned forward a 
bit and then pulled back, again and again, gazing down on him with a 
soft look in her sparkling eyes, watching as her mammaries smushed 
around him more and more, tighter and tighter.

"Your face is getting so red, Timmy," she told him calmly. "And it is 
as if you are disappearing, being eaten by my cleavage."

Next she began to do a sort of swirl motion, getting on her tiptoes and 
leaning to the left a bit, then bringing his body a few inches higher 
in the air as she slowly leaned to the right, dragging his body against 
the wall as she went, then lowering him a bit, squatting her knees 
somewhat and pushing off to the left. She repeated this move several 
times, once changing directions to do the same technique in a 
counterclockwise way.

Totally overwhelmed, Timmy had no choice but to take it. His body was 
broken and limp. His boner was painfully erect but he didn't even have 
the strength to try and dryhump--no doubt Martha would just stop him 

anyway, as soon as he started, by crushing him hard against the wall 
again, so hard that he couldn't move.

Finally Martha stepped back from the wall. Timmy's little body was held 
up simply by Martha's tight cleavage now, which ran all the way from 
about Timmy's mouth to his lower thigh.

"OH YOU ARE SO CUTE!" she told him, not being able to resist putting 
her hands around him and rubbing and hugging him through the silk 
again.

"Just one more thing and then I'll let you squirt," she said, and 
walked over to the full-length mirror. "Look, Timmykins," she told him. 
"I want you to take it all in good, so that you really know what you're 
up against."

Dutifully, he tilted his head--a motion which was not easy for someone 
whose body was still 90% trapped in cleavage--and spied their 
reflection. Martha looked terrifyingly gigantic, and it was good that 
she hadn't stepped close to the mirror, otherwise he couldn't've even 
seen much of her. Her silk bodysuit with the dark pink swirls still 
looked so elegant on her, and it held and showed off the curves of her 
hips and protruding ass to unbelievable effect. As if she knew right 
where his eyes were, Martha pivoted a bit to the side so that Timmy 
could really get an idea of just how big and round her ass looked--
scary big, and profoundly curvy. Every bit of her seemed to get bigger 
and curvier all the time, in fact. Even the way the tight silk sleeves 
looked around her thick solid arms seemed so curvy and supremely 
feminine. And even though an adult male was on her chest, her boobs 
were so big, and her cleavage so deep, that Timmy hardly noticed any 
interruption in the curvy "shelf" of the silk around her chest. Were it 
not for the side of Timmy's little head, poking out from the top of 
Martha's collar, most people wouldn't've thought that this big naked 
woman had anything beneath the silk one-piece. Martha tossed her 
shoulder-length platinum blonde locks, causing her silver hoop earrings 
to bounce around a bit, and smiled down at Timmy with a classic smile.

"Timmy?" she asked him, cocking her head a bit to the side and with a 
bemused expression examining his face in the mirror.

"Y-yes, Martha?" he asked.

"Do you know just how big I plan on getting?"

Timmy shivered, and at that he felt her soft skin jiggle around him as 
Martha softly laughed at his nervousness.

"Uh, n-no... H-h-how b-big do you plan on g-getting?"

"Big enough to make you squirt your whole balls out just thinking about 
me." She smiled widely and her reflection looked into his eyes 
intensely. "And... I THINK I'm almost there. But don't worry, I 
definitely have more than a little growing left to do. I do hope you'll 
come back soon to visit me and check it all out?"

He whined and trembled a bit again, and again he felt her controlling, 
enveloping body shake again with soft inner laughter.

"Now, however," she continued, "I think it is time for you to have your 
little bit of fun."

Timmy moaned in response and began to buck his knees a bit.

"So get down there," she instructed him, arching her eyebrows a bit. 

Martha put one gigantic soft palm on the top of Timmy's head and pushed 
down slowly but forcefully. The sensation was not entirely pleasurable, 
as Timmy almost felt his body begin to crumple, but eventually the 
force was enough to push him lower, down through the constriction of 
Martha's cleavage.

Lower and lower he went until he felt his little ballsack and ass come 
in contact with the crotch of Martha's one-piece.

"Can you fumble your little paws down there and fit your peeper inside 
me?" Martha asked him, in the same babyish tone an adult might use if 
she were talking to a child about how to tie his shoes.

By now Timmy's face was mashed deep into Martha's cleavage and it 
wasn't easy for him to breathe. Still, he desperately tried to position 
himself so that his arms could move down toward his crotch.

"Here, let me give you some more room and a breathing tunnel," Martha 
said. She then put her hands on her boobs and pried them apart a bit. 
This had the effect of giving Timmy's upturned head a much easier 
supply of air, and he quickly thrust his hands lower while he had the 
chance; but when Martha let go of her boobs they closed back around 
Timmy with a tremendous, pinning force. He could breathe now, but he 
was totally squished from neck to crotch.

Luckily, however, his hands were in the right place and had just enough 
room to work in. He fished around and found his throbbing 3.5-inch 
pecker. It was so erect and sore that it almost hurt to touch it, but 
he did, with one hand. And with the other hand he found Martha's 
gaping, waiting vagina. She had squatted a bit and bent her knees to 
help him, and sure enough, her vagina was already puckered and dripping 
wet, ready for him. He put his tiny penis inside and whined.

"Okay, are your little hands out of the way now?" Martha asked. "I 
don't want to close the clamp on them too. It might break them."

Timmy gave an assenting sound. Martha stood back up and her vagina 
closed surprisingly snugly around Timmy's tiny member.

"Are you ready?" she asked. Her vagina felt so big and loving around 
his little dick. His entire body was encased within her soft but firm, 
smooth woman flesh.

Again he gave a meek assenting "Mmhm!"

Martha chuckled at this of course, considering most of Timmy's 
utterances cute and adorably pathetic.

As he rested against the crotch of her silk one-piece, hanging in mid-
air, facing her, with his little legs now draped a pitifully short way 
down the legs of her silk one-piece, pressing against her big meaty 
soft thighs, Martha began to jiggle as Timmy began to buck. The 
sensation was incredible. He felt so small and little, especially 
because her clothes were about a hundred times too big for him. And his 
little pecker rutted into Martha's tight vagina with an almost painful 
zeal.

He then felt her body start to spin around the room a bit, in motions 
that were slow but very disorienting for him. Martha went high up on 
one foot, twirled a bit, and came back down and spun a different way on 
the other foot. This went on for about half a minute and Timmy was 
getting very dizzy. He closed his eyes, but just has he did so he felt 
Martha's body become more stable. He didn't know where they were in the 
room, but as Martha's body tipped itself backwards, he could guess.

They went hurdling down through the air in a whoosh, eventually 
crashing onto Martha's big sturdy bed with a tremendous bounce before 
they settled, with Timmy on top of her and the force of the impact 
having shoved him hard against her and as deep as possible inside her.

He was so turned on now, so thrilled that she had let him be on top and 
in a traditional missionary position, that he literally could hardly 
contain himself. He looked up, began to buck, and saw her pretty face 
with its sparkling blue eyes, fair skin, distinctively Jewish nose, and 
wide pink lips looking down at him.

"Go wild, my little one," she told him. "I command you to squirt for 
all you're worth into your big goddess now."

He felt her hands come up and cuddle his naked backside through the 
silk. Her entire smooth naked body felt like a giant bouncy wonderland 
beneath him. Her hand stroked his back and against the silk it felt so 
good. Her other hand gently spanked his little butt as he fucked her, 
and her soft hand was so big that it easily covered both of his little 
butt cheeks with plenty of room to spare.

He strained and moaned and humped and humped and humped. It didn't last 
long because he couldn't hold out long. But it felt perfect. Soon 
enough he felt a joyful liquid sensation rising in him, and he moaned 
louder as the cum began to pump out of him--squirt, squirt, squirt--
into the vagina of the biggest, sexist, most wonderful woman in the 
world. He wanted more than anything to serve her, honor her and obey 
her, and that is just what he was doing now, coming into her just as 
she had graciously ordered him to do. Squirt, squirt, squirt, squirt, 
squirt, squirt, squirt, for all he was worth--just like she told him.

When it was over his entire body was a limp, exhausted wet noodle. 
Though he could barely open his eyes, he felt Martha lifting him out 
through the opening of the collar. She had total control over his body, 
and like a mother might do to a toddler, she lovingly dressed him--good 
thing, too, for he felt too weak to do so. She put Sarah's old Wonder 
Woman shirt back on him, complete with the vanilla ice cream stain that 
silly Timmy had gotten on it earlier.

Then Martha paused a bit and thought. Timmy was regaining consciousness 
a bit more now, just enough to notice that there was something 
different about the underwear Martha was putting on him. This was not 
the pair of Sarah's old panties that he was wearing earlier. It felt 
different, and bigger.

He opened his eyes wider to notice that onto his haunches Martha was 
hiking up the thong bikini bottom that she was wearing earlier. It 
looked so impossibly small on her earlier, but he remembered how 
earlier the front of it had seemed to fit Jason's ass quite easily, and 
now it was fitting over Timmy's frontside with plenty of room to spare.

"There are brown stains in the panties you WERE wearing," Martha told 
him. "You really need to learn how to wipe yourself better. Anyway, as 
you might have noticed, this thong doesn't really fit me very well 
anymore, so you may as well have it--to remember our special day--don't 
you think? Here, turn around."

He did so and felt Martha taking the slack out of the thong and waist 
straps, then tying them together in a smart little knot so that the 
bottoms fit better.

Timmy shivered and put his head down. He already knew how Brooks would 
react to seeing him dressed in the Wonder Woman shirt, but now she was 
sure to get even more of a domineering kick out of seeing him in 
Martha's bikini bottoms. There was no way that he could avoid Brooks 
seeing these; she was due to undress him and get him ready for bed, and 

there was no way he could be able to muster enough strength to take off 
these clothes by himself anyway.

Suddenly he felt Martha's big hand give him a quick sharp spank across 
his entire butt. Evidently she had noticed how sad and annoyed he was 
getting.

"DON'T be NAUGHTY!" she told him. "You have been such a good boy almost 
all day long. Don't ruin it now, or I will be VERY angry and 
disappointed with you. And I know you don't want that."

Timmy put his head down and looked a bit ashamed of himself.

"I really have been very proud of you today," Martha continued, now 
lifting him a bit to fit his legs into Sarah's old pink pants and hike 
them up. "You are becoming such a proper man, Timmy, getting better 
every day and learning and accomplishing so much. I don't even see you 
all that often--I WISH we could spend so much time together EVERY day--
but even I can tell that this is true. And despite all the help and 
guidance that I know you have had in all this, from wise women like me 
and Sarah and your aunt and her maid--and even from the girls at the 
party last night, I noticed, even from little Stephanie!--you should 
still be very proud of YOURSELF for bettering yourself and rising to 
the challenge in such a manly way!"

Timmy didn't feel like he was learning or accomplishing anything or 
bettering himself. It felt more like he was being constantly 
overwhelmed, more and more, and being sucked back into a childish 
existence of uncertainty and dependency, all at the whim, mercy and 
malevolence of increasingly strong (and increasingly good-looking) 
women. They were too good-looking and too strong now. Nothing could 
stop them. It was already way too late. And truth be told, if he got to 
hang out with women like Martha, he would gladly sell himself into 
abject slavery anyway. 

"I'm so proud of you and I LOVE you, Timmy," Martha told him at last, 
bending down to capture his little face in her wide pink lips. "Now 
let's hurry and have Sarah take you home, finally. Your aunt will be 
worried sick and probably think we kidnapped you, or sold you to the 
Chinese women for slave-raping!"

-----

It should have come as no surprise to him, but Timmy's mouth still 
dropped open when he saw what Sarah had chosen to wear for their bike 
ride: A tight black and gray sports bra, which ended only an inch or so 
below her breasts, and matching black and gray lycra shorts, which only 
came down about three inches over her strong thighs. She also had 
shades on, as well as sporty fingerless black leather exercise gloves, 
and cool-looking white, gray and blue sneakers. Her dark hair was drawn 
back in a ponytail again, and her exposed midriff allowed Timmy to 
admire her pearl teardrop bellyring once again.

"Are you ready already?" she asked him with a smile, her perfect white 
teeth shining under her sunglasses.

Timmy nodded and turned to say farewell to Martha. The giantess had put 
her big pink robe back on and bent low so that Timmy could give her a 
goodbye kiss on the cheek. Of course, Martha took care not to bend too 
low--not quite low enough really--so Timmy needed to stand on his 
tiptoes and really stretch for his lips to be able to reach Martha's 
soft cheek.

Sarah had a very professional looking bike that was far bigger than 
anything Timmy himself could ride comfortably. He felt butterflies in 
his stomach as Sarah led him by the hand out into the cold late 
afternoon air and down the driveway.

"At first I thought you might somehow ride behind me and wrap your 
little arms around my abs," Sarah told him, "but I don't think the seat 

is long enough to accommodate the both of us. So, really I think it'd 
be best if you just sort of sit facing me, in my lap so to speak, and 
hug me the whole time until we get there. Agreed?"

Timmy nodded his head nervously.

"I'll try to ride as quick as possible, and I know it's a little chilly 
out, but all in all I think this'll really be fun and bring us closer 
together--don't you think?"

She put a gloved hand on Timmy's shoulder and squeezed him into her 
side.

Timmy watched as Sarah threw one of her very long, nearly bare legs 
over the bike, sat on it, and with the toe of her sneaker lifted up the 
kickstand.

"Okay, little guy," she told him, bending down a bit and stretching her 
arms down toward him.

He approached shyly and she noticed his trepidation as soon as she put 

her hands on him. She paused after she scooped him up, holding him 
easily with her two hands clamped entirely around his thin tummy.

"Don't be nervous, Timmy," she instructed. "Be good."

Then she drew him close to her and he wrapped his little legs around 
her taut defined stomach. He also snaked his arms around her and hugged 
her as tight as he could, his little hands on the small of her nearly 
naked back.

"You're like a little baby monkey clinging to his mother as she swings 
through the jungle!" Sarah told him.

Then she put her arms forward, allowing Timmy to notice how smooth 
strong they looked, and grabbed the bike handles.

"Ready?" she asked.

Timmy hugged her tightly and moved his head toward her. As she lifted 
her feet off of the ground and onto the peddles, she leaned forward as 
the bike began to roll. Her sizeable chest, covered in the black and 
gray sportsbra, smushed down into Timmy's head in a way that made him 
feel a sense of safety and protection. 

The bike ride was pleasurable, especially once Timmy closed his eyes. 
He knew that Sarah was going far faster than he felt comfortable 
traveling in this way, but any reservations were just products of his 
stupid cowardly male ego; Sarah was in total control and was more than 
capable of performing this task at this speed. So Timmy simply lowered 
his eyelids, held himself close to Sarah--soaking up some of her 
bodyheat--rested his head against her breast-pillows, and was rocked 
nearly to sleep by her big thighs as they came up and down beneath him, 
jostling him rhythmically as she peddled.

He was so drowsy by the time they arrived at his aunt's that he hardly 
even noticed when Sarah got off the bike and took him to the door, 
carrying him in the same position, in her arms.

Only after she rang the doorbell did Timmy really take stock of what 
was happening.

"Oh God!" he suddenly said, his eyes wide open now. "Y-you should've 
just dropped me o-off! You d-didn't--y-you don't--need to b-bring me to 
the door! I-I-I can--"

But it was too late. Brooks had been summoned and she was already 
opening the door. Timmy had hoped to slip into the house without 
attracting anyone's knowledge, but now he was going to have to deal 
with a meeting between Sarah and Brooks--and maybe his aunt as well.

Brooks smiled radiantly as she saw Timmy clutched tight to Sarah's 
chest.

"Aw! Isn't that just fucking so adorable it makes me want to come," she 
said.

Timmy turned to look at the maid. All this time with Martha had made 
him forget how hot she was. Brooks Fraser, the perfect badgirl. She was 
dressed in skin-tight leather pants, and had black leather pumps on as 
well. She wore a skimpy dark red velvet tubetop that showed off most of 
her modest cleavage. She had dangly silver cross earrings on and her 
short hair was gelled and styled.

"Rose!" she called, turning her pretty head back into the mansion. 
"Your little nephew is back! Come take a look at him before his 
girlfriend leaves!"

Brooks then turned back to Sarah and both females laughed.

"Nice to meet you," Sarah said brightly, holding out her hand.

"Nice to meet you as well," Brooks replied. "Timmy doesn't stop talking 
about how much he loves you, so it's great that I finally get to see 
the girl he's so obsessed with. Well, the other girl besides myself."

Sarah laughed.


Timmy blushed and buried his head in Sarah's chest.

"Hello, Sarah!" Rose said, stepping into the wide doorway. "I hope our 
little one wasn't much trouble for you?"

"No," Sarah smiled. "He was a good boy almost the whole time."

"Almost," Rose and Brooks said in unison, raising their eyebrows a bit.

"Almost," Sarah repeated.

"Did you have a nice Sweet Thirteen, then?" Rose asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Sarah said, pleased with herself. "We played games and 
did height measurements and even some wrestling."

"I bet Timmy liked that," Brooks added.

"And then today we went to the mall," Sarah concluded. "And we had a 
nice time there, too. Didn't we, Timmy?"

She looked down at him expectantly and had to somewhat forcefully 
reposition him so that he wasn't hiding his head anymore.

"Y-yeah," he said furtively, looking over and up toward his aunt.

Even though he had been hanging out with a heeled Martha Thollen and a 
super-heeled Sarah Thollen almost all day long, Rose still looked so 
indomitably tall to him. She wore a very expensive looking purple sash 
about her. It was thrown over one side, exposing so much of her perfect 
caramel-colored skin. It clung to her tall aerobic body very tightly in 
some places and ended at mid-thigh, exposing her long tan legs that 
went on forever. For footwear she wore brown leather boots with golden 
buckles and heels that must have been at least 6 inches. She also had 
on several silver bracelets and dangly silver earrings. Her supermodel-
like face looked down at Timmy with bemusement, and her chestnut hair 
was styled in a very sexy layered bob.

"It sounds like you had a WONDERFUL time, Timmy," his aunt said to him, 

holding out her long bare arms. Sarah took the hint and handed Timmy 
over.

Once again, even though he had been in the arms of two very tall women 
many times that day, it was nothing to the thrill he got of being in 
his young aunt's arms. Rose just seemed so much more capable and sure 
of herself--more so than Sarah, even. And Timmy instantly thrilled to 
Rose's scent as well; whether it was perfume or her natural feminist 
odor, he didn't know--but he loved it. She pulled him in to her chest 
and he instantly took to it, hugging her and putting his little cheek 
against her bare shoulder.

"It's quite a coincidence," Rose said. "Because Brooks and I were just 
heading out for an adventure to the mall as well. So, lucky that you 
arrived before we had left, Sarah. And lucky for Timmy that he gets to 
have another fun trip at the mall with two OTHER wonderful women now!"


Timmy thrust his head back and his little eyes betrayed a feeling of 
anguish, shock, pain and injustice. The three women laughed.

"Thanks for taking care of him for us," Rose said to Sarah as the 
latter returned to her bike and Brooks and Rose walked with her.

"No problem," she said, then added: "Catch you later, 'lover'!" as she 
bent over toward Timmy and gave him a peck on the cheek. Rose had to 
lower her arms a bit for Sarah to be able to reach her little captive.

"Bye, Sarah," Timmy squeaked sadly, and the three women laughed at him 
again.


======

Next time: A few little dates with a few Emilys... and a few large 
fights with Brooks, i.e. Timmy's new roommate.

Don't forget to discuss and vote for your TWO favorite female 
characters here:
http://www.amazonlove.org/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=6&t=5708&hilit=