Timmy's New Life: The Story So Far, part 2
by C.L.T.
A young man is brought to heel by tall dominant women


On the bus back to Aunt Rose's mansion, Timmy stared out the window sullenly. 
His ass still hurt a lot, even after they had put cooling ointment on it, but he 
did his best to put the violent discomfort out of his mind. Brooks was seated 
next to him, determined to see him home safely if only so that she could be sure 
that her responsibility of "babysitting" him was completed and that he didn't 
get lost on the way home. She still wore those thick rectangular glasses that 
Timmy found so attractive on her, and she sore a yellow jacket and purple short-
shorts.

The ride would take about half an hour, and it was packed with church-goers and 
other tourists evidently in town for the weekend.

Timmy stared out at all of the ugly city streets of a dilapidated urban sprawl 
of a declining America. The scenes of course depressed him. It seemed as though 
the country he knew was in inevitable, unstoppable decline; and it seemed as 
though his own life's malaise and arrested development was somehow similar.

Before he could reflect on this lofty and self-important theme too much, 
however, he felt a hand snake down his pants. It was Brooks. What was she doing? 
There was a bus full of people and they were seated in the open back seat in the 
center of the aisle, so everyone could see him. Brooks had placed her big 
leather purse over Timmy's lap, so no one could see that behind it her hand was 
going into Timmy's waistband.

As her fingers began to play with his cock, he looked up at her. She was looking 
off to the side, disinterested, looking out the opposite window. No one could 
tell that she was interacting with the little man sitting next to her at all.

He began to moan softly. He couldn't help it. She was twisting his little 
hardening cock all around her big long strong fingers. His cock was still 
bruised and cut from the night before. It was sore and wounded, but she just 

kept playing with it, tapping it, drumming it with her finger tips, raking it 

relatively softly with her nails, and squeezing it and rubbing it with every 
conceivable technique.

He couldn't stop moaning. He knew that children, families, and elderly people 
were looking at him.

He suddenly remembered what Brooks said about the white panties she had lent 
him: "DON'T COME IN THEM." Now she was purposely trying to get him to ejaculate 
all over them. And the mental torture of this was even greater, since back at 
her apartment he had begged her to get him off then, and she had refused.

He lurched up in his seat and thrust his hips out as he came violently, 
splooging wet sticky come all over this bottoms. His low moaning became a high-
pitched scream. No one said anything, but Timmy felt so embarrassed, sure that 
everyone on the bus thought he was a pervert or a crazy person. A bit later, 
when the moment had passed, he glanced back up at Brooks' face and saw a sly 
smile in the near corner of her mouth. As always, she knew what she was doing to 
him, was in total control, and reveled in making his life an uncomfortable, 
sexually-charged misery

The next stop was near Aunt Rose's mansion, and when Timmy led the way off of 
the bus, everyone could see the stain in the front of his shorts.

"I guess you can keep the panties and shorts," Brooks chuckled as they walked up to 
the mansion door. "Think of them as mementos from what I'm sure was the happiest 
12-hour span in your pathetic life."

He didn't say anything to her. He didn't know what he thought of her now, or how 
to feel about any of this. After his date experience, he knew even less about 
where he was in life or what he thought about the new mode of living that he had 
been placed in. On the one hand, he loved all the attention he had gotten--from 
Brooks, from his aunt, from Martha Thollen. On the other hand, he knew that his 
manhood--his very personhood--was being debased so much. His value as a human being 
was being trampled over, crushed lower and lower into the dirt just as his own 
height, weight, and self-esteem were wasting away as well. 

"I brought him back to you. And he's in one piece," Brooks said to Rose Nordgren 
as she opened the door to let her nephew inside.


"I hope he wasn't too much trouble for you," Aunt Rose said. She was dressed in 
a red kimono-style morning robe. She smelled of strawberries, had a towel 

wrapped around her head, which suggested that she had just taken a shower, and 
was wearing 3-inch open-toed cork sandals. "It certainly LOOKS as though he had 
a good time," she added, noting the pitiful stain on the front of Timmy's 
shorts.
 
He sulked off, not even bothering to greet his aunt or to say goodbye to Brooks. 
The worst part of it all was that he knew when evening came he would creep to 
his bedroom and masturbate like crazy--like the pathetic cowardly pervert that 
he was--while remembering all of the sexy but traumatic experiences of his big 
date night with his big sexy date.



* * * * * * * * * *
 * * * * * * * * * *



Chapter 4: Sarah's Birthday Party

The next week started off with Timmy hopelessly willing to slow or stop the hands 
on the clock. Every hour of every day that went by, Timmy found himself sighing 
and consciously wishing that the safe moments of the present could last forever. 
He did not want to go to Sarah Thollen's Sweet Thirteen party--that statement 
had been in his mind for weeks, and now that the big day was drawing very near, 
his anxiety reached a crescendo. 

Timmy found himself looking with trepidation at arbitrary marks on his doorframe 
and wondering "Is THAT how tall Sarah will be when I see her?" Two weekends 
ago he had seen a mark on the Thollens' wall that suggested twelve-year-old 
Sarah was nearly 5'10", almost a full foot taller than Timmy. He hadn't seen 
Sarah herself since that fateful reunion in the mall, almost a month ago. Her 
skyrocketing height and relatively mature, very confident demeanor had equally 
intimidated Timmy. This was a girl whom he had babysat just a couple of years 
ago. Now she had returned into his life and--more than anything else that had 
happened to him in the last year, more than his aunt dressing him in girly 
clothes, more even than his parents' deaths--Sarah Thollen had made Timmy feel 
scared and inadequate. In the mall that day she had by turns comforted him and 
embarrassed him. She had treated him sweetly and even, amazingly, made him 
feel okay about sitting on her lap; but then just as quickly she would turn 
around and belittle him meanly, or cram his thin little body against her much 
larger, athletic frame, just to prove to him how much bigger and stronger she 
was than him, even though she was less than half his age and not even close to 
being fully developed yet. 

Timmy remembered the cute little dark-haired, brown-eyed girl he used to 
babysit. She was precocious, was quite a handful at times, but back then Timmy 
was at least able to tell himself that he could indeed control a girl and watch 
over her. But now he was 26, hadn't had a girlfriend in several years, and the 
little girl he used to get paid to be in charge of was now back in his life as 
if to prove to him just how far he had fallen behind. He did some quick 
estimating in his mind and realized that Sarah was now much taller and stronger 
than him than he had been taller and stronger than her a few years ago. They 
hadn't just switched places; she was now decidedly MORE superior than him--
proportionately MORE dominant over him--than he had ever been when he knew her 
a few years ago. The thought deflated him. This 12-year-old girl was also mature 
for her age, more mature than he was when he was a teenager. He wondered how he 
would have felt about Sarah if he knew her when he was her age. He wondered how 
he would have felt about her even if he was a senior in high school and he saw 
her, this towering sixth grader who seemed so poised in every social situation. 
On the level of the social, he wasn't even sure that he outranked her now, even 
though he was much older and a holder of a couple degrees in higher education. 
Because she simply exuded  confidence and strength, whereas he found it 
impossible to lose his aura of weakness and nervousness. If somehow their 
respective stats and personality traits could be presented to an objective 
observer, then--barring their ages--it would be a sure thing to say that Sarah 
should be the one babysitting Timmy now. That realization make him feel very 
weird indeed.

Timmy's sullen mood wasn't overlooked by his aunt. Rose Nordgren kept a 
watchful eye on her nephew that week as he moped around her mansion. As she 
expected, there was no "honeymoon" period after the date with Brooks. 
Whatever fun Timmy had had with the maid was soon forgotten, as expected, 
and Timmy returned to his normal furtive, antisocial disposition. Rose knew that 
Timmy's scared little male mind was solely preoccupied with the fears of what 
lay ahead. Even though he could do nothing about it (he WAS going to the party, 
that much had been made very clear to him), he still inevitably chose to fixate 
and worry about the worst that could happen. Just like a man. A Nervous Nelly.

Rose knew she had to nip Timmy's pointless bad mood in the bud before 
Saturday drew too near. On the one hand, though it was obviously good for a 
man to worry and feel intimidated about something regarding dominant women, 
too much of that would simply ruin Timmy and make him too dreadfully neurotic. 
The trick was to make the man fear but also enjoy the prospective of any and all 
socialization with any and all females. Being something of an expert in these 
techniques, Rose Nordgren knew exactly how to manipulate Timmy for his own 
good.

She came to him on Wednesday afternoon when he was sitting alone on the 
veranda. It was a sunny afternoon and it seemed that spring was right around the 
corner. Timmy wore his pink winter coat and matching pink pants. Rose had just 
finished a workout; her black leotard clung to her long fit body, and a white 
sweatband held her moist brown bangs from her moist forehead. She smiled a 
perfect white smile at Timmy as she crotched down before him. He was sitting on 
a tall chair but, even so, his big aunt was eye-level with him when kneeling.

"Hi sweetie," she said.

Not for the first time, Timmy was surprised at how easily it was for Rose to 
brighten his day with just a couple words. He got lost in her brown eyes and 
admired the gorgeous tan skin of her covergirl face.

"Hi Aunty," he said.

"Why are you sitting out here so sad all alone?" she asked innocently. 

"I-I don't know," he said. He knew that she was probing and that they were going 
to have a heart-to-heart now, whether he wanted to or not. His aunt was a source 
of so many heavyhanded "changes" in his life--all designed, it seemed, to 
emasculate him--and yet he began to realize that a heart-to-heart with Aunt Rose 
was just what he needed, just what he had been waiting for all week.

"Why don't you come inside? I'll make you some hot cocoa and you can sit on my 
lap and maybe I'll hug your little body?"

A month ago, hearing his aunt say something like that to him would have been 
unbelievable and sick to him. By now however, Timmy regretfully loved the idea 
and couldn't wait. He still felt guilt about being attracted to his aunt, but 
this too was fading. His position in life being what it was, with his body being 
what it was and Rose's body being was it was, he just couldn't help but want to 
be as intimate with her as possible.


"Okay Aunty," he said stupidly and jumped down from the chair.

She opened the sliding glass door for him and let him enter the house first. His 
eyes were well below Rose's relatively small but pert breasts as he passed her 
and walked inside, but he couldn't help but stare up at her chest. He took his 
coat off and she prepared the hot cocoa. He watched her pour the hot water into 
their mugs, and suddenly he was glad that Brooks was nowhere to be found at the 
moment (probably doing laundry, or scrubbing out the cum-stains in his panties
--many of them put there due to all of the memories that she had given him on 
their recent date night). Timmy wanted it to just be him and Rose, together 
forever, as sappy and insane as that sounded. He was a 26-year-old man with 
something of a high education and, last he checked, a fairly high intelligence. 
Yet here he was being treated like a toddler by a woman who allowed him no real 
agency or control over his own life--and yet he loved it. 

He watched Rose and began to salivate in response to her impossibly tall, 
perfectly sculpted body as it fluttered about the kitchen. She was in perfect 
shape, and her caramel skin and chestnut hair seemed to beckon him towards 
her. Again she looked taller than ever to Timmy, and he suspected that perhaps 
her stretching exercises had something to do with this. Surely she couldn't be
GROWING (could she?) but at the very least it seemed that after each workout her
limbs were stretched to the limit. Timmy wished that he had an excuse to measure
HER on a regular basis, if only in order to get close to her and inspect her.
He imagined that, given enough time, he could make love to every part of Rose's 
body individually, ejaculating all over it, because all of it was sexy, and it 
would all be with a sense of deep affection. When she strode toward him and 
offered him a cup of cocoa he noticed again that she was still sweaty from her 
yoga workout. He prayed to god that she wouldn't change clothes anytime soon.

She didn't. She led him by the hand over to a big overstuffed chair; she sat down, 
and then he sat down on her sweaty lycra-covered lap, against her sweaty lycra-
covered chest. Her wetness and the smell of her wet body overwhelmed him. Her 
musk even overpowered the smell of the cocoa. Both of the smells mixed 
together so nicely, so sexily, that Timmy closed his eyes, leaned back, and 
hoped with all his might that Rose would simply reach down with her long, long 
fingers and begin to masturbate him right then. Because THAT would be the 
greatest ecstasy he could imagine, and he seemed so close to experiencing it.

Rose did reach down, but not to sneak her big hands into Timmy's pants. Rather, 
she reached down to steady his cup of cocoa, which Timmy--lost in his reverie--
nearly dropped.

"Watch out, sweetie!" she warned, her voice having a happy shade to it. "The 
cocoa's really hot. Maybe I should hold it for you? It's a big cup for a little 
boy like you."

Timmy steadied himself and rejoined reality. "No, that's okay. I-I got it now."
He raised the cup to take a long sip.

"Let me at least help you," she said, and enveloped Timmy's hands within her 
own. Her fingers were so much longer than Timmy's that it was almost comical. 
Timmy's little hands couldn't even be seen; Rose's hands completely covered his 
and she did most of the lifting. Her hands were so sexy and soft, with natural 
nails and just the right caramel color to her skin. Timmy's grip went limp. He 
felt weak but his penis sprang to attention. She raised the cup up to his lips.

"Ready?" she asked.

The cocoa tasted so good to Timmy. He never wanted it to end, feeling Aunt Rose's 
big thumbs against his chin. When the drink was finally over she set the mug on a 
coaster next to the chair.

"Oops," she said. "Got a little on your chin and cheeks, Timmy."

She promptly wiped his lips and chin with her long forefinger.

"Wanna lick?" she asked, holding the tip of her cocoa-covered finger before 
Timmy's trembling mouth.

He nervously opened up and began to kiss his aunt's big finger. His erection was 
raging now as he tasted her skin along with the chocolate.

His aunt laughed a bit and then withdrew her finger.

"Ew, I've got Timmy juice on me," she teased, indicating the spit that Timmy had 
slobbered on her, then she raised her finger to her lips, licked it clean, and then 
chuckled just enough to jiggle Timmy as he sat on her lap.

He was almost ready to explode. After what had just happened it was all he could 
do not to ask Rose to please wank him off now--please, please, please. For all 
he knew she would punish him severely for asking such a thing, but it was to the 
point where he could hardly help it.

"Okay Timmy, time to talk about Sarah," his aunt said, instantly changing the 
mood completely.

Until this moment he had actually forgotten about what was going to happen this 
weekend.

"I don't want to go to her party," Timmy said bashfully, putting his head down.

"Why not?"

Timmy thought for a minute before saying, "You know why."

"Yes, I do know why. But I want you to say it."

Timmy was silent again. He didn't like these mindgames that Rose sometimes 
played with him. He felt trapped. He felt like a lab rat--or rather a LAP rat--in 
some sort of experiment.

Finally he said, "It isn't right for a 26-year-old man to go to a 12-year-old 
girl's Sweet Thirteen party."

"Why not?" Rose asked.

"Because it's not. It's too weird."

"But you know Sarah. And you like her as a friend. And you used to babysit for 
her. You have a connection. The Thollens were friends of your parents."

"I know, but--"

"That day in the mall you couldn't get enough of her. I remember you were like a 
little puppy, scampering around her, jumping on her lap, playing with her and--"

"That's NOT how it was exactly."

"Oh?" his aunt said in mock surprise. "Then how was it? You tell me."

"I-I... I didn't want to see her but I made the best of it, I guess." ("And she 
bullied me and demeaned me and--and--and hugged me and made me feel good," Timmy 
added mentally.)

"Timmy," Rose said, putting a long finger beneath his chin and tilting his gaze up 
so that he was looking into her beautiful deep eyes. "You NEED to be around 
Sarah again. You NEED to. You know it will be good for you. And the reason why 
it will be good for you is the exact reason that you're afraid of doing it. Now 
tell me why you are really afraid of going to her party."

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Because all of the girls there will be so much 
bigger than me. A-and that isn't fair because I'm so much older than them."

"Well, LIFE isn't fair, Timmy," Rose said in a sharp tone that made Timmy feel 
even more anxious. He wished she would just be nice to him all the time, rather 
than giving him this tough treatment sometimes.

"I-I know, but--" he started.

"BE QUIET. You need to go to that party simply to get used to your new position 
in this new world. Young girls are going to be taller than you. That's obviously 
going to happen, and you better get used to it. Being a guest of Sarah's will be 
doubly beneficial to you, because it will give you experience at being subordinate 
to a girl who is--"

"What?!" Timmy yelped. "'Subordinate'? What do you--?"

His aunt's body closed around him. She squeezed his sides with her long forearms, 
and closed him in between her thighs and chest by leaning down on him. His little 
legs, which dangled out only a little farther than her knees anyway, started kicking 
in a futile manner.

"I TOLD YOU TO BE QUIET," she said, and when he stopped squirming she 
continued. "Now. You need to get used to obeying any female. No matter how 
young they are, sweety. Before you fuss again, let me simply ask the rhetorical 
question of whether--today--whether Sarah Thollen would be in charge of you, or 
whether you would be in charge of Sarah Thollen? If the two of you were 
stranded on a desert island, how do you think the natural pecking order would 
shape itself? She would obviously be the boss, Timmy, and there'd be nothing 
you could do about it. You'd be cooking her meals, cleaning her house, and 
washing her clothes as per her instructions, while she did the heavy lifting, 
hunted, and planned out how life was going to work for her and for you. Whining 
at her and saying 'No fair, you're only twelve' would not matter. She would just 
laugh at you, pull your little body over her much bigger, much stronger, zero-fat 
thighs, and start happily spanking your bony little butt until you stopped crying 
and inevitably submitted to her authority. To her authority on everything. Plus, 
you and I both know that she would probably be a KIND ruler over you and that it 
would be a nice existence for you. But forget the desert island scenario, Timmy, 
because--hell--at the mall I couldn't leave you two alone in the store together 
for five minutes without her naturally beginning to show her dominance over you 
by picking you up, carrying you around and not letting you down. Remember that?"

"...Yeah," Timmy said, bashful and defeated.

"So do you see why it's so important--for your own sake--for you to get used to 
this position?"

"Yeah," he said again.

"It's for YOUR OWN good, Timmy. You know that. And if you can just let go of 

your obsolete male ego, I think you'll learn to have a much better time with all 
of this. I think there's a good chance you'll have a very fun time at Sarah's 
party. All of the girls there will just love you. I know they will."

"Okay," Timmy said. "I'll try." ("Because... what CHOICE do I have?" he 
wondered silently, a touch of residual spite and resentment still in him.)

"That's my sweetie," Rose said and bent down to give him a loud puckery kiss on 
the cheek. "Now hop down and go see what's in that bag over there." She 
gestured to a brown paper bag that was sitting in a chair on the other side of the 
room.

Puzzled, Timmy slid down his aunts long tan legs, as if they were a playground 
slide, and wandered over to the bag. He furtively peeked inside and saw brown 
leather. He pulled the bag onto the floor and struggled with it a bit to get the 
item, or items, out. From her chair he heard his aunt chuckle and realized that he 
probably did look pretty foolish, fighting with a paper bag.

Finally he pulled out a vintage cowboy boot with a platform and very high heel.

"You'll be 5'4" in these," his aunt said. "These are five-inchers."

Timmy admired them. It seemed perverse, but at this point he firmly believed that 
it would be better to be 5'4" and dressed in heels than 4'11", especially when he 
was going to be surrounded by a lot of young girls who could be looking for any 
excuse to make fun of him. The call of "You're wearing girls shoes!" would wound 
him a lot less deeply than "You're a little pipsqueak midget!"

"Th-thank you," Timmy murmured, genuinely touched, pulling the other boot out. 
"Thank you, Aunt Rose."

"I hope they aren't too big on you. They're mine from when I was ten."

That unexpected bit of information hit Timmy like a fryingpan to the head. Was he 
really about the same size that his aunt was when she was only ten years old? 
Before he could even begin to process this idea, her voice came again:

"I mean, I was taller then than you are now, but I think my feet were kinda small 
for my size back then. Oh! Look in the bag--there's a picture in there."

Timmy's mind swirled as he looked back in the paper sack and, sure enough, 

spied an old photograph.

"That's me and my date. I was a cowgirl for our little elementary school costume 
party!"

Timmy looked at the picture. Sure enough, even though he had never seen a 
picture of his aunt as a kid before, the young girl in the photo was unmistakably 
her. She was dressed in a white button-up shirt, white cowboy hat, jean skirt, and 
she was wearing those same five-inch cowboy boots. She wore that familiar, 
stunning smile and held two toy revolvers. Next to her, coming up only to her 
chest, was the lucky little kid who got to be her date. He was dressed stupidly, 
in a childish Superman costume. Ten-year-old Rose, though trim and slim, looked 
like she outweighed her date by a good deal and towered over him by nine or ten 
inches. What must the little boy have felt to see her wearing these needlessly 
high cowboy boots, just to put her that much more above him?

"Wow," Timmy said. It was all he could say.

"Put them on!" his aunt urged.

He stood the boots up side by side and lowered his sock feet into them. They 
were too big. He knew it. Still, he was so much taller now--he couldn't believe it, 
it was such a change. It felt good and he instantly had some confidence back.

"Are they too big for you, Timmy? They are, aren't they?"

"N-no!" Timmy said. "No, they're fine!"

"You aren't going to have to do any of your old tricks and put silly little tissues 
in them to make them fit, are you?"

"No, Aunt Rose, I promise you! They'll work out fine!"

He clomped around the room. The boots weren't meant to be kneehighs, but on 
his little legs the top of the boots did indeed come up to his knees.

"Okay then," Rose said, putting the matter to rest, "if you say they fit okay, then 
you can wear them. But if you trip or fall, then it's your own fault and I'm taking 
them away from you so you don't hurt yourself. Deal?"

"Deal!" he said eagerly, continuing to clomp around and--maybe--just getting the 
hang of it.

His aunt stood up and approached him.

"Wow!" she said jokingly. "Now you're almost as tall as I am!"

Timmy smiled and clomped over to her. He put his arms around his gorgeous 
aunt, who was still over a foot and a half taller than him, and buried his head into 
the lower portion of her lycra-covered breasts.

"I love you, Aunt Rose. Thank you for these."

"I love you too, Timmy. Tomorrow we can go to the mall and pick out a similar 
pair for you to give Sarah for her birthday."

He froze. "Oh no," he thought.

Feeling his apprehension, his aunt quickly gave him something to look forward to 
again.

"I know you don't understand the reasons why I have you do the things I have 
you do, Timmy. But if it's any consolation--I'll tell you this right now--what I 
have scheduled for us to do on Saturday right before the party will be something 
you'll really like."

"W-what is it?" Timmy asked, looking straight up into his aunt's smiling face.

"Well Timmy," she said, "I know how you felt a few minutes ago, when you were 
on my lap. I know all about that. Okay?"

"...Okay," he said, beginning to feel ashamed.

"I don't feel the same way about you that you're beginning to feel about me..."

His stomach churned.

"...but," she continued, "I know that your poor little manimal mind can't help it. 
And I DO want you to feel good about yourself."

She stared down into his little face so far below hers. She studied his nervous 
little expression and she reached down with a big soft hand and covered his 
cheek and the whole side of his head with it, patting him gently.

"That's why Saturday morning I'm going to give you a handjob, Timmy. I'm going 
to give you release into my hand. It's going to be nice and I'm going to give it to 
you. And I might even kiss you, too."

She smiled. Timmy instinctively hugged her and pushed his erect penis against 
her towering bare legs. His knees went weak and it was all he could do not to fall 
over in his loose, clunky new boots that Aunt Rose had worn when she was ten.

*****

The next few days zoomed by. Any trepidation that Timmy still had about 
Saturday was counteracted by his anticipation of Rose's promise to jerk him off.

On Friday morning they went to the mall and, unlike the previous time, it was not 
a traumatic experience for Timmy. He bravely accepted the fact that he had to do 
what his aunt thought was best. He had to hold her big hand as they walked, he 
had to be dressed in his little pink capris and a ruffled purple shirt, and he had 
to support his aunt's idea to get Sarah some high-heeled boots for a birthday 
present.

They went back to the lingerie store (the one that he had caused such a scene in 
last time), and Aunt Rose asked the clerk if they had any cowboy boots with 
heels.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," said the clerk, a freckle-faced man not much older (or much 
taller) than Timmy, "but the only cowboy boots we carry have platforms on them, 
not heels. We have some with four-inch platforms, if you'd like to see them."

"Hmm," his aunt mused, looking down at Timmy. "The cowboy boots I gave you 
are five-inchers. It wouldn't make much sense to give Sarah four-inchers, would 
it?"

Timmy knew that the question was rhetorical, but it pained him not to blurt out 
some dissent along the lines of "Sarah's already tall! Can't you let me gain even 
in inch on her somehow? Or do I always have to come out on the losing end of 
everything?" But instead he stayed silent and turned his attention to his aunt's 
big left hand, within which his own hand was enveloped. In just 24 hours that hand 
would be touching his penis, he thought, deciding that he could put up with 
anything if that was his reward.

"What about those?" his aunt asked the clerk as she pointed to a daringly tall pair 
of black thigh-high pleather boots.

"Oh, th-those?" the little clerk asked, seemingly afraid to even acknowledge the 
scary looking footwear. "I-I thought you said you were shopping for a 13-year-old 
girl?"

"I am," Rose said, "but 13 is an appropriate age for a young lady to start feeling 
confident and at ease with her dominant femininity. We live in a progressive 
society, and I hope you aren't making the ignorant mistake of assuming that 
anyone who wears such footwear automatically becomes a sex object, whore, or 
'streetwalker'." 

"N-no, of course not, madame!"

"Do not mistake the attire of confidence with the attire of submission."

"N-no, of course not, madame! I have undergone much sensitivity training in school 
and additional training before I could get this job. I am more than aware of the 
attitudes of the past, which were all purely sexist from top to bottom, and I swear 
an oath of denouncement upon them each week in order to receive a paycheck at this 

store, which is owned by women and which serves women as every establishment should."

Rose nodded. "That's good to hear."

The clerk then handed Rose the boots. They looked so tall compared to the clerk 
and Timmy; they were over half as tall as the men were.

"Do you think Sarah would like these, Timmy?" she asked. Not bothering to wait 
for his answer, she inspected them and drew Timmy's attention to the boots' 
heels. "LOOK at how tall those heels are Timmy! Look!"

The black boots had heels and platforms on them, and she pointed the super-
high spiky heels in Timmy's direction. The heels looked as long as his forearm. 
He did everything he could not to imagine Sarah wearing those boots, but finally 
his mental effort failed and the image of a laughing Sarah towering over him, 
nearly two feet taller than him, burst into his mind. He cringed and couldn't help 
giving out a tiny little whimper.

"We'll take them," Aunt Rose announced, smilingly. "This size should fit Sarah. If 
not she can return them. And Timmy can come with her if she needs to return them. 
So either way, it's a win-win. Either she gets to wear them at the party, or Timmy 
and her can go on a little play-date."

She smiled down at Timmy, who instinctively put his head down and tugged on 
her hand a bit, wanting to go.

*****

Saturday morning finally came. Usually it was Brooks who roused Timmy every 9 
o'clock sharp, but this day it was Aunt Rose's big hand that wrapped itself around 
Timmy's shoulder (and most of his upper-arm) and gently shook his little body 
until his eyelids cracked open.

"Hi sweetie," she said. "You know what today is." She sat down on his bed, next 
to his little lying form.

For whatever reason, Timmy instinctively thought that it was the day he had to 
get measured and weighed again. Then he remembered that Brooks already 
measured him last Saturday. As he came out of dreamland it took him a few 
moments to remember what today actually was. As soon as he did, though, he 
smiled up at his aunt, cooed softly, and shot his arms over and hugged the part 
of his aunt's midriff that he could reach.

She was dressed in an open silk robe with an exotic Japanese print on it. 
Beneath the robe Timmy could see that she wore white silk undergarments; her 
dark nipples showed through the thin but expensive fabric. Rose looked down at 
her nephew and her naturally dark lips twisted up into a self-satisfied smirk.

"Baby can't wait for mommy to play with him, huh?" she asked. 

Again Timmy realized that had she said words like that to him even a few weeks 
ago, he would have become indignant, if not outright angry. Now, however, he 
was scarcely even ashamed of desiring Rose to the extent that he did. She could 
call him her baby all she wanted.

"I know you like me treating you this way. I know you want to please me," Rose 
continued. "But the trick for you today is to learn that you should be so willing 
to please ANY woman, no matter how little or young."

Timmy eased his hug and looked up at her, a bit confused. "W-what do you mean? 
What do you expect me t-to do for Sarah?"

"Anything she wants," Rose replied.

"You don't mean--"

"Timmy, Sarah is only thirteen. Of course she's not going to want you to do 
anything bad or naughty or adult with her. The very thought is disgusting, and 
wrong. And in a few minutes you're going to find out just how wrong I think it 
would be for you to have any sexual ideas about Sarah. But right now, I simply 
mean that you need to do what she tells you to do, when she tells you to do 
anything, and that you should generally have an attitude of wanting to please her 
and make her life nice. You should have that same attitude when you're around 
all women, even those you don't know."

A bit dismayed, Timmy dropped his right arm; it landed on the bed just beside her 
curvy ass. His left was still near his aunt's bellybutton so he kept it there, as 
dropping it would land it right in his aunt's crotch.

"I have a few surprises for you, Timmy," she said, breaking the silence and 
reaching back to pull out a white canvas bag.

("It seems like these women, Rose and Brooks, are always coming into my room 
with surprises," Timmy thought, "and so few of them are pleasant surprises.")

"First of all," his aunt said, pulling out a little bottle, "today you need to 
take a different sort of pill."

"Oh god, not another one," Timmy replied. "I'm not sure I--"

"You'll only take this pill today. It's a special pill just for today."

"What does it do?" Timmy asked, taking a red little egg-shaped capsule from 
between his aunt's big fingers.

"You'll find out what it does in just a few minutes."

"It's not going to SHRINK me is it?!" Timmy asked, beginning to panic. "I can't 
afford to be any smaller! I can't! Oh god, Auntie, I can't be any smaller, 
especially not around all the big girls who are sure to be at the party!"

He really was on the verge of tears, all of a sudden. He realized that there was 
nothing he could do if his aunt really demanded that he take this pill. And even 
if she didn't actually demand it, he knew that he would indeed make the trade-off 
and swallow the pill, even if was going to shrink him down to nothing, as long as 
that meant Rose would still touch his penis today.

"It's not going to shrink you, Timmy," she reassured him. "None of the medicine 
I've ever given you as shrunk you."

"That's n-not true!" Timmy said. "I've lost about three or four inches since--"

"The medicine has just burned off the unhealthy cells of your body. Unfortunately 
you had a lot of unhealthy cells."

"I-I know, but..."

"Relax," she said, looking him in the eyes and almost hypnotizing him with her 
beauty. She looked so good to Timmy. She had to be in her mid-30s, but she 
was such an ageless, gorgeous woman. Her high cheekbones and tanned skin 
bewitched him. "This medicine isn't the same as anything I've ever given you 
before. Just trust me, Timmy. Just obey me and take it. And then we can have 
some fun."

"O-okay," Timmy said, spellbound. Still staring into Rose's eyes, he popped the 
pill into his mouth and tried to swallow.

But he couldn't swallow. His mouth was dry, mostly from anxiety and 
nervousness. He kept trying, gulping, but it was no use.

"What's wrong?" his aunt asked.

"Um, I can't--"

"Hurry up and swallow. You don't want the capsule to dissolve and get all that 
nasty tasting medicine in your mouth."

"I-I can't. It's too big and--"

"Just use your spit, Timmy," his aunt sighed, beginning to lose patience.

"P-please get me a glass of water!" he yelped, not liking that this otherwise 
routine act of pill-swallowing was becoming such a big deal.

"I'm not your MAID, Timmy," Rose said, quite annoyed.

"Ooohh," he moaned, as the capsule started to dissolve. "I don't have any cups 
or anything in my bathroom anyway, I--"

"Oh for god's sake," Rose said dismissively, bending down to put her face near 
his.

Next she yanked his head with a big hand and turned it towards hers so that their 
lips were touching. Her lips forced his open, then sealed themselves around his 
mouth. The next thing Timmy knew, his aunt was forcing a stream of her own 
saliva into his mouth. The spit kept coming, filling his little mouth almost 
entirely. Timmy wiggled his tongue around in it, instinctively relishing any 
liquid that had been in his personal goddess's body.

Finally Aunt Rose pulled away from him but still held the back of his head in her 
large palm.

"Now swallow," she instructed him.

He gulped and nearly choked a couple times, but finally Timmy swallowed the 
mouthful of Rose's spit that she had given him, and along with it he felt the red 
pill go down his throat.

"W-what happens now?" Timmy asked in a meek voice, sitting up in bed for the 
first time that morning.

"We have a few minutes before it kicks in. We'll have our fun in just a bit, but 
first I want to show you what else I got you. This will be your dress for the party."

From the canvas bag Rose pulled out an old-fashioned pink puffy dress and 
petticoat. They looked like something Shirley Temple would have worn in an old 
movie. Next she pulled out a makeup kit and began to tell Timmy how cute he 
would look with red blush,  red lipstick, and maybe some light shadows around 
his eyes. She then pulled out a blonde wig, with the hair tied in two pigtails, 
and a brown miniature cowboy hat that would match his boots.

"I think you'll be adorable. Like a little showgirl from an old Western!"

Timmy was, again, dismayed. "This isn't supposed to be a costume party. It's just 
a birthday party."

"Nonsense, Timmy. All the other little girls will be dressing up. And I'm sure that 
a few of Sarah's friends who have boyfriends will be dressing them up as well." 
She paused, sighed, and gave him a downcast glare. "I worked hard to pick out 
the right outfit for you. I was hoping you'd appreciate it. Instead it seems that all 
you want from me is my big hands to rub your peeper."

"N-no, Aunty!" Timmy pleaded. "Aunty, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I just... I still have 
some transitioning left to do, is all."

Rose twisted her dark lips at him, then gave a slight smile.

"Okay, Timmy. That's my boy. That's what I wanted to hear. I know you still have 
a ways to go yet, but I AM very proud of you."

"Th-thank you, Aunty," he said, relieved that his guardian was neither mad at him 
nor sad about him.

"You WILL look so cute in all this," she said, putting the items back in the canvas 
bag. "Let's hope that Brooks can contain herself and doesn't molest you on the 
way to the party."

"O-oh?" Timmy replied nervously. "I thought you were--"

"No, no. Brooks is driving you. I'm just joking, though. Don't worry. I'll tell her 
not to mess up your makeup or rip your petticoat." 

She winked, then sat the bag down next to the bed.

"So..." Timmy began uncertainly, "what should we do next?"

Rose just smiled at him silently. Finally she reached her long, outstretched arms 
towards him, which he took as a cue to get out from under the bedcovers.

His little nearly naked body was so thin and so pale in comparison with his aunt's 
supple, tan form. She nonchalantly reached her hands around his waist--they 
wrapped all the way around him, since he was so thin and her fingers were so 
long--and lifted him sideways onto her lap.

Still sitting on his bed, Rose leaned back lazily until she rested against the wall. 
Timmy was smiling up at her, his butt sitting in her crotch and his legs wiggling in 
anticipation.

Rose walked her long fingers down Timmy's naked chest and then used her index finger 
to pull up the waist band of his little white cotton panties.

"Hm," she mused. "What could there be under this little tent here? Hm. What is in 
here, Timmy? What's that little bump making this little white tent?"

Timmy just cooed and giggled. He loved how she was treating him. His erection 
was rock hard.

"I wonder if there's a little peeper in there that I could play with?" Rose asked. 
"My big hand is awfully lonely and would like a little sidekick to play with. Is there 
a little friend in this tent for my big hand to play with?"


"Yesss," Timmy said, his eyes closing momentarily and his head leaning back to 
the side. "Oh god yes."

"Well maybe I should pull this tent down and see what's inside then," Rose 
continued.

She expertly removed Timmy's panties as unobtrusively as possible, lifting him 
up with one hand and sliding the panties down with the other. Timmy's erection 
bobbed up at her; it had one visible vein in it, which was throbbing in anticipation.

"Hmmm," Rose said. "I don't know if my big hand should touch it. Would that be 
okay?"

"Yessss yes yes," Timmy replied, looking up at the scene before him. His penis 
was so erect and throbbing that it felt bigger than ever to him, but next to Rose's 
hand it appeared tiny, not even as long as her thumb, not even as thick around 
as her elegant pinky.

"I don't know..." Rose considered. "I think that little fellow might be too tiny to 
play with. He might get hurt."

"No, n-no..." Timmy moaned, unable to take the anticipation any longer. He 
arched his back, trying to touch his little dick to the big feminine hand that was 
hovering inches above it. 

"Well... Maybe if these five big sisters"--she wiggled her long fingers--"play easy 
with their little brother"--she winked at him mysteriously--"then everything will be 
okay."

With that she lowered her open palm and Timmy felt overpowering ecstasy as 
soon as he felt her smooth skin against his penis. Her insanely long fingers 
wrapped around his cock and stroked him gently. She drummed his shaft and 
ran the back of her clean trimmed nails along his modest length, chuckling as 
she did so.

"Aw, isn't this nice? Little brother and his big sisters just frolicking together and 
having fun. I think the big sisters just want to give their little brother some nice 
hugs and maybe a massage."

She squeezed his dick slowly and carefully, not wanting to cause pain. Then she 
began fingering him between her thumb, forefinger and middle finger, rubbing his 
penis in circular motions. He gave a high-pitched moan.

Next she enveloped his whole penis in her hand and simply began to pump him 
rhythmically, because he was now more than ready to be milked. She did not 
accompany this action with any more euphemistic sayings. Rather she simply 
bore down and jerked him in a straightforward, professional manner.

Before too long Timmy's little body began to squirm and buck and spasm. Rose 
quickly leaned down and through half-closed eyes he saw her own half-closed 
eyes approach his. As she kissed him long and tenderly, he shot blast after blast 
of hot semen out of his penis, but none leaked from Rose's cocoon-like hand.

When he was finally done he sighed and seemed to couch himself deeper into 
Rose's lap. He felt heavy as he weighed against her supple thighs, though really 
Rose hardly felt his weight at all. She smiled down at him as she removed her 
hand from his now shrinking penis.

"You're going to have to take a shower, Timmy."

"Hm? I know," he said glancing up just in time to see Rose's hand come down on 
his chest. She smeared his come all over his belly, wiping it clean from her palm 
and fingers. Rose laughed.

He looked up again and saw that his penis was still shrinking. He did have a 
small penis normally, but something was wrong. It was shrinking too much, too 
fast.

His confusion was perceptible, but he was also still feeling the residual pleasure 
of just having ejaculated, and with one eye he still couldn't help admiring his 
aunt's form, draped as it was in the elegant Japanese robe, her dark nipples still 
showing through the white silk bra. And there was another sensation too; he felt 
that the pill she had made him take was somehow working, doing something. He 
almost lost himself in all this, overwhelmed by too much, but finally managed to 
speak.

"What did you do to me?"

"Why, Timmy," Rose smirked. "That's not the first orgasm you've ever had, is it?"

"I don't mean that, I mean..."

"I know what you mean, sweetie. I was just joking."

"Then what--what's happening to me?" He looked down at his penis again, which 
was now shriveling down into an embarrassingly small little button.

Rose reached her hands under him and lifted him up into her arms as she rose 
from the bed.

"Babydoll, you're going to be around a lot of excited girls today. These girls are 
much stronger than you, but also much younger than you. And they can be very 
curious. I don't want them to do anything to you, whether innocent or malicious, 
that might cause you any troubles."

Timmy curled himself up into a ball. "But that isn't fair, Auntie, to punish me for 
what THEY MIGHT do."

"It isn't a punishment, babydoll," she said to him tenderly, smiling at him. "It's for 
your own protection--from them and, perhaps most of all, from yourself."

"W-what do you mean?"

"Timmy," Rose said, her voice suddenly serious and her grip on him suddenly 
quite firm, "to put it simply, I know that you can't control yourself or your bodily 
drives. Not when a female body, much larger than yours, may be putting you in 
an uncompromising position. These girls, though young, are significantly 
developed and post-pubescent. These aren't the malnourished, stunted little girls 
of centuries past, when men impeded girls' growth by feeding them their own 
horrid, stupid idea of what human diet was supposed to be. Nor are they forced 
to wear repressive garb that hid and therefore made them feel ashamed of their 
bodies. No, these girls are modern, strong, confident young women whose 
natural instinct is to test and prove their superiority over men, which may well 
mean physical contact that might give your confused manimal mind the wrong 
idea, though perhaps only subconsciously, through no fault of your own. Either 
way, for your own sake, I think we should remove the possibility that you might 
get an erection at the party."


So that was it. Timmy began to say that under no circumstances would he find 
Sarah or any other of her other little friends desirable in that way, but then he 
realized that no matter what he said it wouldn't matter, for the decision had 
already been made for him, he had already taken the pill, and the pill had done 
it's work.

"It'll only last for twenty-four hours or so," Rose explained. "Maybe this time 
tomorrow when Brooks wakes you up she can give you a nice wank if you were a 
good boy at the party. It's so good for you and your little penis to put up with 
this--it really is for your own good."

He couldn't argue. She set him down on the floor, his little naked form barely 
coming up to her midriff. He put his arms around her and buried his eyes in her 
taunt tan stomach. She put her hands on the back of his head, and on his 
shoulder, and squeezed him into her.

"I love you, little Timmy," she said. "I'm so proud of you for being so bravely 
compliant. And I know you're not a naughty man who would ever want to get an 
erection when you shouldn't. But at the party you aren't going to be in control of 
things, and Sarah in particular will be able to do anything she wants to do with 
you, and it is after all your duty to submit to her. I'm sure she won't abuse you, 
but she may want to play with you in a way that might inevitably cause you to feel 
naughty thoughts, which we wouldn't want. So this precaution was for your own 
good."

She was right. In a way, Timmy actually felt relieved that the possibility of getting 
a boner was now out of the question. He would now be free to enjoy himself--or 
at least try to enjoy himself--along with all of the other party guests.

"Now go take a shower and wash your dried come off of your stomach, Timmy. 
Then we'll get you some brunch and dress you as cute as can be for Sarah."

*****

"Oh my god I want to rape you," Brooks said in an awed, hushed tone as she 
looked at little Timmy, dressed to go out to the birthday party.

He was wearing the pink puffy dress with matching petticoat, the blonde pigtail 
wig with the little brown cowboy hat sitting upon it, and lastly the clunky 
five-inch-heeled brown cowboy boots that Rose gave him. He wore red rouge on his 
cheeks, which his aunt had applied liberally, along with a touch of blue eye 
shadow and some red lipstick. He stumbled a bit as he stepped towards Brooks 
and the door.

"Whoa there, cowboy," Brooks said, catching his shoulder. "You know what your 
aunt said. If you fall, then off come your precious boots. Though frankly I think 
it's kind of PATHETIC for a 26-year-old guy to be clinging to a pair of high heels 
because he's so worried about being shown up at a kids' party. Heh. Then again, 
it isn't only PATHETIC, it's also ADORABLE, Timmy. I mean that."

She touched his chin with a white gloved hand and tilted his gaze up into her 
green eyes. The memory of their date returned to him. For a moment he mentally 
flashbacked to the time in the backseat of the limo, when he was trapped 
beneath Brooks' big body and she was grinding him beneath her, her hot scantily 
clad body bouncing and crashing down hard on top of him. And then he 
remembered what his aunt said about Brooks maybe giving him a handjob 
tomorrow morning, once his penis returned to normal, IF he was a "good little 
boy" at the party.

"Ready to go, munchkin?" she asked.

Timmy nodded.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked.

"Um..."

"Like, your little girlfriend's BIRTHDAY PRESENT, maybe?"

"Oh yeah," Timmy said. Damn his luck. He had almost gotten out of the house 
without bringing those horribly tall boots. Another image flashed in his mind: 
Sarah towering over him more than usual, wearing the scary dominatrix heels.


"The present's already in the car, spud," Brooks replied. "I carried it out while 
you were getting all pretty with your new makeup."

"Oh," Timmy said.

"So I was just testing you. And as usual you failed," Brooks said, giving him a 
provocative look. "What would you men do without us women around to clean up 
your mistakes and plan for your oversights even before you make them?"

Not waiting for him to respond, she took his little hand in her big glove and led 

him out to the car. It was one of his aunt's sportscars, a convertible with the top 
down, red and relatively new. Brooks opened the passenger's side door for Timmy, 
helped him in, then walked around and hopped into the driver's seat without even 
opening the door. She adjusted the seat up some, because even though she was 
basically six and a half feet tall (including her black high heels) she still 
wasn't nearly as tall as Rose Nordgren.

"Buckle up, little baby," she said to him. "Too bad we don't have a car seat to put 
you in. I swear, it seems like you get smaller and shrimpier every day. I wish we 
had time to measure you this Saturday."

Timmy blushed, though one could hardly notice since his cheeks were already 
rosy red from the makeup. After this day was over--the day he had mostly 
feared for a month now--he already knew what his NEXT upcoming day of dread 
would be: whenever Brooks had to measure him next. But, honestly, he did not 
feel any smaller than he had been last weekend, when he checked in at 4'11". 
He supposed that the pills his aunt gave him really were working; he had hit the 
bottom and was going to come back up. After all, he remembered again, look 
what those same pills did for Martha Thollen.

Brooks drove fast from the grounds of the mansion all the way into town. She 
had sunglasses on, and when Timmy turned to look at her as she drove he 
couldn't help but feel drawn to her--totally in awe, really. She seemed so cool, 
totally in command and in charge. Her short black hair fluttered in the breeze; her 
powerful gloved hands gripped the wheel; and her pretty mouth seemed always 
on the verge of a domineering sneer. He found himself wishing that Brooks really 
would pull the car over and rape him. He imagined her muscular arms reaching 
over and yanking him out of the seatbelt, her hands then ripping apart his clothes 
if not his body itself as she would dominate and molest him to meet her 
satisfaction.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Brooks turned towards him and stared at 
him from behind her dark shades. She smiled at him wickedly, showing her 
perfect white teeth, then brought a gloved hand over to begin stroking his upper 

thigh.

Now going over 80 miles an hour, the engine humming loudly, she continued to 
make all of the turns perfectly, even though her focus and gaze was on Timmy, 
not on the road. She started playing with his crotch, eventually snaking her hand 
into his panties.

"Oh god," she snorted. Timmy couldn't even feel what she was doing, but he 
knew she must be fingering his shriveled, button-like penis. It didn't have any 
sensitivity, as if the medicine had completely numbed it. He just didn't feel 
anything at all. And at the moment, even though he could objectively say that he 
wanted Brooks with all his heart and soul, on another level he realized that he 
just wasn't turned on at all. Not really. The drug his aunt had given him was 
doing its job.

"I'm sorry, Brooks, I..." he began, uncertainly.

"I know all about it, pipsqueak. I just wanted to see and feel for myself."

She had turned her attention back to the road and withdrawn her hand.

"I-It will wear off by tomorrow morning, so maybe we could--"

"Now you really ARE like a little doll," she said, interrupting his words and 
ignoring his feelings, "because you don't really have any genitals anymore. Just 
like a little doll doesn't."

He put his head down. He hated it when Brooks did this to him. He felt frozen in 
shame, worthless, and also totally submissive to her will. He took on the role of a 
punching bag for her to hammer away at until her sadism was exhausted.

"You're lucky you weren't really a doll of mine when I was younger," she 
continued. "No genitals? I would have gotten frustrated with that real quick. I was 
a girl who used to like to BREAK my dolls, you know. Maybe I'll break YOU 
someday. But I kind of already HAVE broken you MANY times, haven't I? . . . I 
said, HAVEN'T I?"

"Yes, Brooks," he replied meekly. He felt lower than dirt, but at the same time he 
was very aware of the fact that, had his aunt not given him that pill, right now he'd 
certainly have a throbbing erection.

*****

They walked up to the Thollen's doorstep hand in hand. Brooks still wore the 
sunglasses that Timmy, in a quite childish way, thought were "so cool", and in 
her free arm she carried the big box with a bow on it that contained Sarah's thigh-
highs.

Brooks rang the doorbell and as they waited for it to open she crouched down so 
she was level with Timmy. Though he couldn't see her eyes, he could tell that her 
expression was suddenly tender and honest.

"Timmy," she said. "I'm being serious now. If you need help, or if something 
upsets you, or you get scared, or confused, and want to leave early... just call 
me, okay? Call your aunt's house; I'll answer, and then I'll drive as fast as I can to 
come get you. Okay?"

"Okay, Brooks," Timmy said, genuinely touched.

"I really do care about you, you know," Brooks continued. "I had a lot of fun on 
our date last weekend. I liked doing all those things to you. I hope you'll be happy 
with me doing them to you again sometime."

"Yes," Timmy said. He was so appreciative of Brooks talking this way to him. It 
almost made him want to cry. It felt as if a dam was releasing pent up water 
pressure.

"You're my special little pipsqueak dollman who I can molest as much as I want," 
Brooks said in the sweetest tone. "And no one gets to molest you more than I do-
-or they have to go through me first." She raised her right arm and flexed, her 
sleeveless maid outfit allowing her bare bicep to explode in full view.

"I know, Brooks, maybe we--"

"Now give me a kiss, Timmy, and tell me that no one crushes your cock as hard 
as I do."

He was going to say "maybe we could run away together and leave all this crazy 
bullshit behind, if you'd still like me if I could go back to being a normal man 
again"--but instead he just gave her a quick, obedient, close-mouthed kiss on the 

lips and told her:

"Brooks, no one crushes my cock as hard as you do."

She stood back up and smiled down at him. Even with his cowboy boots, which 
had higher heels than her shoes did, he was still at least a foot shorter than her.


At that moment the door opened. Martha Thollen stood there, a toothy Mad-
Hatterish smile on her face, and her dirty blonde hair teased into a lioness's 
mane that seemed slightly wet or gelled. She was dressed all in bright red--bright 
red dress that ended mid-thigh, bright red elbow-length gloves, bright red knee-
high boots--but all Timmy noticed was her cleavage. Her boobs were spilling out 
of her low-cut dress, and it seemed almost comical for the thin spaghetti straps to 
try to hold them up; they stared Timmy straight in the face and he couldn't look 
away.

"Timmy!" Martha said brightly. "How good it is to see you again!"

"...You too," he murmured, his eyes still magnetically focused on her gigantic 
cleavage. Her breasts looked bigger than ever, but also more shapely. They 
hardly drooped much at all, quite an accomplishment for a woman in her forties. 
It must be the fitting of the dress, Timmy supposed.

"And you must be Brooks, Rose's maid!" Martha said happily.

Brooks gave her a dismissive smile and handed her Sarah's present. The two 
women's personalities were totally opposite, Timmy realized. He caught Brooks' 
glance as she looked down at Martha's cleavage, evidently jealous--since 
Brooks, despite her otherwise perfect toned body, had relatively small boobs--but 
also disapproving of Martha's showiness and friendliness.

"I'll see you in three or four hours, Timmy," Brooks said, turning to walk away.

Timmy finally found a way to tilt his head up to look Martha in the face. She was 
still smiling down at him.

"See something you like?" she asked playfully, in a breathy voice. "There may be 
time for us to have some fun later. But for now let's go inside and see Sarah. All 
the other children are here--we were just waiting on you to have cake and then 
really get the party going. And I DO so love your little outfit Timmy!"

"Thanks, Martha," he said. He wasn't sure how this could possibly work out, but 
he was glad to have an opening with Martha. It would be good to get away from 
Sarah and the other kids if things got too annoying; and getting away to go have 
sex with Martha was an added bonus.

"Now," Martha said, putting Sarah's present down, "give me a hug already, and 
then let's go inside."

Timmy again became mesmerized by her cleavage as he stared straight ahead 
and took a step towards her. He had forgotten that he was wearing the oversized 
cowboy boots, however, and on his first step he tripped over his own feet and fell 
forward, straight towards the soft balloons on Martha's chest.

It all might have been okay--or actually much MORE than okay--if he hadn't let 
out a loud yelp as he was falling. Brooks was almost out of sight, but she heard 
his cry. She then turned around and came thundering back up the driveway.

"AH-HA! You tripped, Timmy! You tripped!" she called teasingly. "You know what that 
means! You tripped in those boots just like I thought you would! So you don't get 
to wear them!"

Timmy heard Brooks' bitchy voice even though his entire head was submerged in 
Martha's boobage. Martha herself could not stop laughing. She shook with 
laughter, which only jiggled Timmy's head further into her cleavage. Finally she 
pried her breasts apart with her red silken gloves, then coaxed Timmy's head 
free. Still laughing, she bent down, hugged Timmy, and gave him a kiss on the 
nose.

"Oh Timmy," Martha said, "you're such a clown sometimes. I miss having you 
around."

"I-I tripped, but I-I-I'm sorry," he explained, turning back and forth to Martha and 
Brooks. The latter just stood there with her brawny bare arms folded across her 
chest, smirking down at him. Martha was still giggling.

"I-I-I promise not to let it happen again, and--"

"It's too late, Timmy," Brooks said. "You know what your aunt's rules were. If you 
trip in those boots, you can't wear them. At least not until you grow into them."

Martha laughed loudly at Brooks' last remark. Timmy sulked and sat down on the 
ground, half out of protest, half because if he really was going to remove his 
high-heeled cowboy boots, he would need to sit down to do so anyway.

"As fun as that was," Martha said, "we don't want you tripping and hurting 
yourself, Timmy."

"No we don't," said Brooks. "And we don't want to have to hurt and spank you 
just to get you to take off those boots, either."

"And I'm sure Sarah has a pair of old shoes that will fit you," Martha offered. "She 
has a lot of pretty little shoes from when she was younger."

Mournfully, Timmy slipped his little stocking feet out of the cowboy boots. Gritting 
his teeth, he handed the boots up to Brooks' waiting hands. And then he stood up 
again and suddenly felt tinier than ever. He had already grown used to seeing 
Brooks and Martha with those five-inchers on. Now most of Martha's fleshy 
globes were quite above his head, and he found himself eye-level with Brooks' 
stomach.

"Bye Timmy," Brooks said again dismissively as she walked away.

Martha gave Timmy a sad little smile as if to say "I feel your pain" and then took 
his hand to lead him into the house.

******

Once they were inside he was greeted with a cacophony of noise: loud pop 
music, the noise of a video game somewhere, and all sorts of girly chattering and 
laughter. Through it all, Timmy put his head down and suddenly noticed--or 
thought he noticed--that Martha's red boots didn't have any significant heel on 
them. "But she can't really be THIS tall," Timmy thought. "She would have to be--"

Before he could calculate Martha's approximate height or make sense of 
anything, from somewhere on the other end of the large room he heard a loud, 
unmistakable voice:

"TIMMY!"

A swirl of bodies dashed this way and that. Martha had let go of his hand and 
had taken his hat from him. She then set his present to Sarah aside and began to 
tell different kids--and the room as a whole--to be quiet, turn off the music, and 
the television, and calm down and get ready to have cake.

"TIMMY!"

He heard the voice again and as other kids got out of the way finally he saw her. 
It was Sarah the birthday girl. She looked stunning, cute as could be. She wore a 
simple but elegant little black dress, which Timmy recognized from when she 
tried it on in front of him that day in the mall, and open-toe black pumps with 
about a three-inch heel on them. On top of her cascading dark brown hair she 
had a silver party tiara; and she wore silver teardrop earrings, a simple silver 
bracelet, and a simple silver necklace.

What impressed Timmy most, of course, was her height. As she approached 
Timmy she only got bigger and bigger. Momentarily he turned away, wishing that 
Martha hadn't left him, forcing him to greet the birthday girl alone. She 
approached him with a wry, knowing smile on her face. Standing there in his 
stocking feet, he knew that the top of his head wouldn't even touch the five-foot 
mark. Sarah, on the other hand, easily stood over six feet tall, and he had no 
idea how tall she would be barefoot. Timmy was totally overwhelmed and felt 
trapped. He was literally backed up against a wall and had no escape. He had 
dreaded this moment in particular for weeks now. Here was the little girl he used 
to babysit only a few years ago, and now she absolutely dwarfed him. He had 
actually gotten a bit smaller and thinner even than when he saw her last, a few 
weeks ago, but on the other hand her lithe dancer's body looked more toned and 
shapely than ever. He could not help thinking to himself that Sarah Thollen 
looked to be the apex of a genuinely good and innocent girl on the cusp of 
glorious womanhood. She had excellent genes and what they used to call 
"breeding", and it was evident that she worked out a lot. There was nothing dirty 
in these thoughts of admiration, no lust. To Timmy she simply looked like an 
angel. At the very least, Sarah seemed to be objectively the finest human 
specimen in her age group: perfectly healthy, fit, tall, and witty. In comparison, 
he looked like a malnourished little fairyboy, an impish barefoot elf in the 
presence of a flowering princess--or better yet, a young queen.

First Sarah wrapped her long bare arms around his cringing form, lifted him up 
high off the ground and spun him around. "Timmy!" she said again.

When the embarrassing hug was over, she set him down and squatted before 
him, put her hands on her knees expectantly, brought her button nose and big 
brown eyes down to his level, and gave him a smile and then a kiss right on his 
nose.

"Thank you for coming to my party, Timmy," she said. "You look so cute in your 
dress, and your makeup makes you look very pretty!"

"Th-thanks, Sarah," Timmy said nervously. "You look nice as well."

He noticed that she wasn't wearing makeup. Her nails were also trimmed and 
had no polish on them. For some reason, this natural look reassured Timmy a bit. 
On one level, it was enough of a shock to see her so tall and looking so nice in a 
dress fit for a fullgrown amazon woman; he didn't need to see Sarah all dolled up 
with lipstick and eye makeup, too. Even though, he realized, he himself was 
wearing makeup, and it was obviously more ridiculous for a 26-year-old man to 
wear makeup than it was for a teenage girl to do so.

"Sarah," Martha called, "go take Timmy to your room and get him some nice 
shoes to wear! Then come back so we can have cake!"

The rush of bodies continued around them as chairs were brought from all over 
the house so that everyone could have cake at the same table. Sarah stood, 
reached down for Timmy's hand, which he promptly gave her, and then 
navigated the two of them through the sea of bodies and into a long empty 
hallway.

"Wow it's loud out there," Timmy said.

"Yeah, a lot of them are my stupid cousins," Sarah said. "They'll be gone after we 
have cake. Then the real party begins, with just my friends."

"Oh," Timmy said, somewhat glad that most people would be leaving soon. He 
didn't like crowds. But on the other hand, he thought, in some sense there was 
safety in numbers.

"Yeah, there's a whole HIERARCHY to this party thing," Sarah continued, 
obviously proud of knowing the word "hierarchy". "There's my family, then my 
friends, and then you. And the higher you are on the hierarchy, the longer you 
get to stay."

"W-what do you mean?" Timmy asked. 

They had reached her bedroom. She led him inside and flicked on a lightbulb, 
which was red and gave the room a dim, weird aura.

"I mean, silly, that all my cousins leave first, after cake. Then the six friends I 
invited get to stay, and we can play games, and then they leave a while later. 
And then you get to stay overnight, so we can have a slumber party."

"What? No, Sarah, I can't do that. I have to get back to--"

"No you don't," Sarah said, letting go of his hand and whirling around to face him, 
a quizzical grin on her face. "My mom called your aunt just before you got here. 
You're allowed to stay overnight."

"But--"

"It'll be just like how you used to stay over when you babysat for me," Sarah 
continued. "My mom said I could pick one person to stay overnight after my 
party, and I picked YOU." With that she poked Timmy hard in the chest with an 
index finger. "Besides, I wasn't really born until 11:58PM, which means that my 
REAL birthday isn't till then anyway. You don't want me to be all alone on my 
birthday, do you?"

"Um," Timmy said. He looked up and down the length of the towering female 
form before him. It was insane that she was still technically twelve years old. It 
made him feel smaller than ever, but also in less of a position to argue.

"Plleeease, Timmy?" Sarah begged, her girlishness showing through as she 
clasped her hands together and bounced up and down a bit. "It'll be fun--I 
promise! We can watch scary movies and have popcorn and you can sit on my 
lap just like I used to sit on yours, and we can tell stories and play dress-up and I 
can show you my ballet moves and--"


"Okay, okay," Timmy said.

"OKAY??" Sarah said hopefully, her eyes almost as wide as her mouth was.

"Okay, I'll have to talk to your mother," Timmy concluded.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "O-kay, Timmy. You talk to my mother then," she said in a 
sarcastic, subdued tone. "I just want to know one thing."

"What?"


"Are you still... ticklish?"

All of a sudden Sarah lunged at him, taking him with her as they bounced onto 
her bed, her on top of him, and her long, dancing fingers began to tickle him all 
over. Timmy squirmed and squirmed, but couldn't get away. He was laughing the 
whole time, choking out "Stop! Stop!" as often as he could.

Finally Sarah stopped. He was trapped beneath her. Her voluminous, feathery 
dark hair fell down making a canopy over his head. She just smiled down at him, 
totally pleased with herself, her size, strength, humor, and ability to control her 
tiny older male friend.

"Sarah," he said.

"Mmmm... What?"

"Please get off of me."

"Hm..." she murmured. "Hm..."

"Please. Get off me."

"Or... what?"

"Sarah. Stop this." He tried to take a serious tone.

"Hm... Any second I could just start to tickle you again."

"Sarah. Please don't. Just get off of me."

"Why?"

"So I can get up."

"Hm. Well why can't you just get up now?"

"Because you're on top of me."

"So?"


"So S-Sarah--"

"'S-S-Sarah'," she mocked.

"S-Sarah please--"

"Oh 'S-S-Sarah please!'" she giggled.

"Get off of me. This isn't funny." But even as he said that he started to giggle.

"Mmmm," she said, and then brought her head down gently against his so their 
foreheads were touching. "See this is why I wanted you to stay over. Because I 
can have fun with you, and play with you sort of like the way you used to play 
with me, when I was the little one."

"Okay, Sarah, but that's enough. Please let me up."

"Heh. Why do I have to let you up? Why can't you just get up?"

"Because I can't get out because--"

"Because why?"

"Because you're so much bigger than me."

"Bingo," she said. "That's what I wanted to hear you say."

She shifted her weight off of him and rolled over on the bed. Timmy breathed 
deep, exhaled, and sat up.

"We better hurry up and get back to the party," he said.

"Yeah..." Sarah mused. Then she got up and pulled a box of old shoes out from 
under her bed. "You have really tiny feet, don't you?"

"Well," Timmy began, nervously, "not that tiny, I mean--"

"Let me see."

She turned to him and guided his body down so that he was sitting in her lap. 
Before he really knew what she was doing she had grasped one of his ankles 
and brought his foot up against the palm of her other hand.

"Look at that!" she said brightly. "Look! My hand's longer than your foot! Quite a 
bit longer, too!" 

She curled the tip of her fingers around Timmy's toes. He was so embarrassed.

"Aw! Don't be sad!" She gave him a quick hug and set him back on his feet. 
"Here, I'll find something cool for you to wear."

After digging through the box she eventually handed him a pair of black little 
Mary Janes.

"These will look adorable on you, Timmy. I had these a few years ago, not that 
long after the good old days when you were my babysitter."

Timmy took the extremely girly shoes, which had very little heel, and put them 
on. They were a perfect fit. Knowing that Sarah must've already had feet nearly 
as big as his when he was babysitting her was a horrific fact he didn't need to 
become aware of.

He stood up, thanked Sarah, and let her walk him back to the party.

*****

Dozens of people, mostly children and teenagers, were crowded around four 
long tables that Martha had pushed together. Timmy was glad that most of these 
strangers would be leaving after cake, and even more glad that he didn't have to 
formally meet all of them. Timmy, who was typically shy anyway, always hated 
meeting new people, and the present circumstances made him especially 
nervous about doing so. What would he say he was doing here? Who was he to 
Sarah? Her former babysitter? Dressed like THAT now? And the ironic disparity 
between his physique vs. Sarah's would surely be too tempting for any number of 
people not to comment on. As Sarah's big soft hand led him towards the table, the 
butterflies in his stomach didn't all go to sleep, but for the moment he felt 
somewhat confident that he was relatively safe from embarrassment.

"Oh Timmy, you are going to sit on my lap!"

It was Martha, calling from the far side of the room, as she was dishing out cake. 
She indicated that Sarah herself, the birthday girl, would sit at the end of the 
table, and that Martha would sit immediately to her right, with Timmy on her lap.

"I'm sorry about this, Timmy," she continued, fluttering this way and that, handing 
out plates of cake, "but I didn't expect this many people and there aren't enough 
chairs for all of us, so some of us will have to double up. If it's any consolation, 
Sarah wanted her favorite people sitting next to her--so at least you're a guest of 
honor, even if you don't get your own seat! Just hang on a minute and I'll be with 
you and we can sit down!"

Timmy stood there, feeling useless and awkward, waiting for the general disorder 
to calm down so that Martha could take her seat. Finally he got tired of standing 
and decided to sit down even though Martha had sort of told him not to.

Just as most of the cake had been cut, and things were growing relatively quiet, 
Timmy was startled to notice a face that looked familiar. It was a gorgeous 
platinum blond who looked to be in her early twenties. She was seated on 
Sarah's immediate right, but even sitting down Timmy could tell that she was 
quite tall. Suddenly it hit him: She was the girl who had come in the public 
bathroom that day in the mall, when he peed all over himself and Aunt Rose had 
to strip him naked and wash him in the sink. She was the towering girl who had 
wrapped him in a towel and then given him her cherry red sucker. Timmy 
suddenly felt so embarrassed. There was no doubt that this was the same girl. 
She even looked to be wearing the same low-cut, entirely-too-short, clingy black 
dress.

Who was she? Timmy eyed her nervously, then averted his eyes as soon as she 
caught him staring. She couldn't be a friend of Sarah's, could she? Then again, 
Sarah was so tall and mature herself--so could this possibly be a girl in Sarah's 
grade?! Timmy began to feel so ashamed of himself for admiring her body that 
day. He couldn't help it; she was a fully developed female. And while he had no 
idea how young she might be, but still, it wasn't exactly right, and--

"Timmy," Sarah interrupted his panicked thought process. "This is Stephanie. 
She's ten."

"WHAT?!" Timmy yelped in disbelief. As soon as he turned to face Sarah, 
though, he realized his mistake. Sarah wasn't indicating the pretty girl across the 
table from him; rather she was referring to another blond girl--a much, much 
younger and pudgier blond girl--who had just walked up to them. "O-oh!" Timmy 
corrected himself. "Sorry, I thought you meant..." He gestured to the older blond, 
who by now was chuckling softly at him and covering her mouth with a big, well-
manicured hand.

"That's VICTORIA," Sarah said, with a quizzical, knowing smile. "She's 
Stephanie's older sister. I babysit for Stephanie because VICTORIA is a big girl 
now who has her driver's license." At this Sarah jokingly stuck her tongue out at 
the older girl to her right, and Victoria pouted her lips back at Sarah.

"Yer jus jealous," Victoria remarked, and Timmy instantly recognized the lazy 
teenage voice. He still didn't know how old she was, but it did relieve him quite a 
bit to know that she wasn't as young as Sarah and was at least old enough to 
drive.

"Yeah," Sarah admitted. "I actually am jealous."

Little Stephanie had been studying Timmy this whole time. "What's your name 
again?" she asked.

Panic seized Timmy. He didn't know why. But he knew that this was one of those 
painful moments of revelation. At least he was sitting down, so as not to invite 
any height comparisons.

"This is Timmy," Sarah said, because Timmy was just frozen with his mouth 
open. "He used to be MY babysitter back when I was your age, Stephanie."

"Woow," the chubby ten-year-old said. Timmy couldn't read her expression, didn't 
know whether she was in some way mocking him or not.

"Okay, okay," Martha said as she rushed into view. "Up!" she instructed him. 
"And you go sit down on your sister's lap, Stephanie. It's time for cake, finally."

Not thinking about it and not wanting to process any height comparisons, Timmy 
quickly slid off the chair and just sort of crouched there in place, waiting for 
Martha to sit down. He tried not to but couldn't help noticing that Stephanie--of 
course--seemed tall for her age. ("Why couldn't she have walked away quicker?" 
Timmy thought to himself. "Dammit, I hate having all of these nagging thoughts 
and concerns all the time...")

Eventually Martha settled into the chair and then gave her big left thigh a couple 
hard pats. Timmy hopped on her lap. He remembered the last time he had sat on 
Martha's lap. She wasn't dressed in a Santa suit this time, but her red dress was 
just as sexy. Her creamy bare thighs turned him on very much--as much as he 
could be turned on under the circumstances--and he had no doubt that he'd 
already be growing a boner, if Aunt Rose's special medicine wasn't still 
preventing him from doing so. Martha's lap seemed firmer and shapelier than 
before, but no less comfortable. He still needed to ask her about her apparent, 
rapid body changes. And he still needed to ask her about the after-party slumber 
party, which he was not sure he wanted to attend. There were so many questions 
and concerns swirling around in his little head that he could barely keep track of 
them; ultimately, he had no choice but to resign himself to the present and "go 
with the flow", as they say.

A man Timmy faintly recognized quickly scurried over to Sarah and handed her a 
plate with a piece of cake with thirteen burning candles on it.

After "Happy Birthday" was sung, a smiling Sarah with shining doe-eyes craned 
her swanlike neck down and blew out the candles easily. There was applause 
and then the clatter of silverware as everyone dug in.

It was an oddly plain cake. Everything Martha Thollen did, she usually did big 
and elegantly, priding herself on her housekeeping skills and loving to plan out 
extravagant social affairs for no reason at all. But all Sarah's Sweet Thirteen cake 

amounted to was regular, store-bought yellow cake with classic, typical chocolate 
frosting. Timmy thought that odd.

Not as odd as the arrangement of his end of the table, though. He was sitting on 
Martha's lap and across from him little Stephanie was sitting on Victoria's. He 
had a tiny little plate next to Martha's big one, and Stephanie had an equally 
small saucer next to Victoria's super-sized one. In other words, Timmy was in the 
same position that a little ten-year-old girl was in.

It did help, however, that behind him as a headrest was Martha's big left boob. It 
was larger than his head in fact, and pressed around it on all sides once Martha 
scooched their chair closer to the table. As they were eating Martha gently 
bounced Timmy up and down on her knee. And she laughed often, which caused 
her whole body to jiggle and him along with it. Sometimes when she leaned down 
a bit to take a bite of cake off her fork, her boob mashed into the back of Timmy's 
head quite thrillingly, and after a while he thought he could even feel a hardening 
nipple. He began to like the idea of staying the night here, if he could somehow 
lose Sarah and spend more time with her mother. But then again he realized that 
the penis-shriveling pill his aunt gave him wouldn't wear off till tomorrow morning.

Considering his predicament, he spaced out a bit and his gaze fell on Sarah. He 
watched the pretty girl as she laughed with her friends and took ladylike bites of 
cake from her fork. He watched her long feminine fingers as they picked the 
candles out of her cake, getting chocolate frosting on her clean trim nails as she 
did so. This was a weird position to be in, Timmy thought. It was weird to be the 
guest of honor at Sarah Thollen's birthday party.

"Not hungry? Stephanie ate alla hers."

"Hm?" Timmy was startled back to reality. It was Victoria. She smirked down at 
him and her little lapsitting sister did the same.

"Can I have the rest of your cake if your belly can't fit it?" Stephanie asked with a 
wry expression.

"Oooh!" Martha said in a hushed tone. "It's not that his belly can't fit it! Let's not 
be mean to our little man here." She bounced Timmy on her knee once and 
hugged him by wrapping her right hand around his waist under the table ands 
squeezing him into her.

Timmy suddenly realized that he WAS full, even though he had eaten only about 
half of his small portion. He knew what was coming, and he knew that he 
wouldn't be able to go through with it. He was already stuffed, and besides that, 
all the attention was making him too nervous.

"Uh, if he rilly CAN eat it," Victoria began, with a lazy smile, "then let's see him 
do it. I personly think he's tew lil ta eat anymore."

"I'm giving the rest of my cake to Sarah," Timmy said hurriedly.

Sarah gave him a silent smile and reached over to take his little plate away and 
put it on top of her own, which by that time was empty.

"Thank you, Timmy," she said. "You're a sweetheart."

When the kids left, a few minutes later, to help clear the plates away, Martha 
gave Timmy another squeeze under the table. Her hand began inching its way 
toward his crotch.

"You are going to stay overnight, I hope," she said. It didn't sound like a question.

"Yeah, Martha, it's just..."

"Don't worry about it. I know, but it's fine."

"Y-you know? What do you know?"

Before she could answer, Sarah bounded up to her, told her "Mom!" and pointed 
toward the door.

"Excuse me, Timmy."

She pushed the chair back and lifted him off of her lap. Timmy noticed that Sarah 
was talking to a middle-aged man by the door. He had a coat on and was 
evidently getting ready to leave. It was the same man who brought Sarah's piece 
of cake over to her, the man who looked vaguely familiar to Timmy. He was not 
tall. The tip-top of his head only came up to Sarah's shoulder. He seemed 
somewhat sad as he talked to Sarah, but Sarah seemed to have a caring, loving 

expression on her face as she talked to him. She was bending down a bit and 
cocking her ear towards him, in order to hear him better and perhaps be more on 
his level. A few times he put his hands up in a resigned, exhausted expression. 
Sarah nodded at what he was saying, and would casually brush a few locks of 
her long dark hair back over her ear as she listened. Timmy wished that he could 
hear what they were saying.

Martha had walked over to them by now. Her body language was much different 
from Sarah's; Martha approached the man with visible anger and frustration. 
Timmy finally had a good view of Martha and Sarah's respective heights and was 
shocked to see that Martha was only three or four inches shorter than her 
daughter, even though Martha's boots were flat and Sarah was wearing sizable. 
Sarah had obviously kept growing, which was normal for a girl her age, but 40-
something Martha seemed almost to be keeping pace with her, remaining only a 
couple inches shorter, at most.

The man they were talking with, however, was smaller than both of them, and it 
was almost comical to see Sarah as she seemed to be defending the little man 
from her mother. A young girl still not quite thirteen defending a much smaller 
middle-aged man from a middle-aged woman. And the girl was the tallest of the 
three of them, and the woman seemed so much taller and bigger than the man 
that were it not for her daughter she would bowl him over. Timmy admired 
Martha's full figure again. She was nowhere near fat now; still voluptuous, but 
now her body was almost toned in certain places. She must be working out, he 
thought. These days it seemed like so many girls and women were working out 
and getting so toned and strong, but retaining their feminine shape--even 
augmenting it somehow.

Suddenly he saw Martha poke the man hard in the chest and then throw him 
against the wall. Sarah quickly intervened, pushing her mother away. At this, 
Martha shot the man a final dirty glance and then walked off. The man appeared 
shocked and frazzled now. He looked up at Sarah, started to say something, but 
then Sarah put two fingers to the man's lips to quiet him. She looked down on 
him thoughtfully, bent to give him a kiss on the forehead, and then opened the 
door so he could leave.

"That was my ex-husband," Martha said ruefully as she reapproached Timmy.

Of course. Timmy recognized the man now. Martha had divorced him years and 
years ago, but Timmy had seen pictures and had met him once or twice. He 
remembered him as being relatively tall, about 5'10" or 5'11". He only looked 
about 5'6" now. He recalled that Martha was definitely much 
smaller than him, even though he also remembered that Martha tended to 
dominate him in conversations all the time. The comparison he had just seen, 
however, showed Martha looming over his thin form and dominating him 
physically as well. It must have been quite a shock for this man to see the recent 
changes in his ex-wife's body. And, for that matter, to have seen the changes in 
his "little" daughter Sarah.

"I wish it were just you and me here, Timmy," Martha said, sitting in the chair 
next to him now rather than putting him on her lap. She leaned down, put her 
elbow on the table, rested her head in her palm, and just looked at him dreamily.

Most everyone else had left the table and were getting their coats to leave.

"When they go, things will quiet down here a lot, I promise. But I hope you'll do 
me a favor and be the adult watching Sarah's friends for me. This party has just 
exhausted me and I feel pooped. Do you realize that that jerk ex of mine couldn't 
even bring a decent cake for his daughter? That's all I asked him to do and he 
couldn't even do that! He's lucky I didn't eat HIM for dessert."

"I-I thought the cake was okay," Timmy offered, trying to navigate his way in all 
this, "but I know what you mean about it being kind of plain in comparison with--"

"With everything else here," Martha finished for him. "I know. And he wouldn't 
even stay to help watch Sarah and her friends because he 'Didn't think he could 
handle it,' whatever that means."

Timmy didn't think he could handle it either, though he didn't want to admit it. If 
Sarah's own father, who was bigger than Timmy and a more natural authority 
figure, couldn't handle it, then how could he?

"Anyway," Martha concluded, picking her head up, "I have to say goodbye to 

family. I'd appreciate it if you could take all of the presents into the den and 
put them next to the fireplace."

"Sure, Martha, I would be--"

"Well, I say 'all' of the presents but there are only about eight of them. Family 
doesn't give my daughter and me presents, which is why family isn't staying for 
the unwrapping."

Timmy thought all this family stuff sounded messy and he was glad he didn't 
have to go through much of it.

*****

Timmy enjoyed being on his own for a few minutes. He had moved the presents 
into the den and could only hear faint sounds coming from the other room. There 
was a roaring fire in the fireplace, which made the room feel so nice and warm. If 
only it could stay this peaceful and quiet for the rest of the day, then he'd be 
able to get through it with no problem.

He heard the clock tick on the wall, and suddenly he had an idea. He realized 
that he really didn't want to give Sarah those boots. Or rather, he didn't want her 
to know that the boots came from him. It would be too awkward, and he wasn't 
sure if the gift was even appropriate. He quickly dashed over to the present he 
had brought and quickly ripped off the "To/From" tag and threw it into the fire.

"What are you doing?"

It was Victoria and Stephanie, walking into the room hand in hand. He wasn't 
sure who had spoken, because even though Victoria was much older and much 
bigger, both girls seemed to have almost the same stupid voice.

"Um. Nothing," he replied, unsure of how much they had seen.

"I didn't know they let little boys in here on their own," Stephanie said, letting 
go of her older sister's hand and bounding toward Timmy.

He instinctively sat down on the brickwork near the fireplace. He didn't want to 
have a height comparison event with Stephanie. He was pretty sure he was taller 
than her--she was only 10, for god's sake--but he didn't want her to even have a 
reason to mention his vertically challenged status.

"Hmmph," Stephanie said as she stood before his seated form, looking down at 
him. "Sarah's told me a lot about you."

"Really," Timmy said nonchalantly. "She hasn't mentioned YOU to me at all." He 
actually thought it was funny to have some sort of contest with this little girl 
regarding who was closer to Sarah.

"Well Sarah says I'm her PROTEGE and she tells me everything. And my SISTER told 
me a lot about you too!"

Stephanie smiled a toothy grin and by that time Victoria had stepped up beside 
her. The older girl was indeed wearing that same clingy, scandalously short dress 
that she had been wearing that day in the mall bathroom. Her long, long legs 
looked just as good to Timmy, and again she wore those same calf-high red 
booties with four-inch heels. Timmy tried not to lust after her, which actually 
wasn't that difficult to refrain from thanks to the impediment of his aunt's 
medicine.

"Yeah I know lots about yew," Victoria said. "Sarah showed us a pic of you last 
weekend, when I got back from volleyball practice and she was watchin Steph, 
and I knew who yew were. From that day in the bathroom, 'member?"

"Yeah," Timmy said, putting his head down. "I remember."

Both girls giggled.

"Look, Victoria... Stephanie, let's just have a good time today, okay? Let's be 
friends and not be weird to each other."

"Oh we're gonna have a good time, don't worry!" Victoria said through her 
giggling. "I wasn't sure I wanted ta bring my sister ta a party for lil kids, cuz 
I'm not rilly friends with middle-schoolers like Sarah--but now that yer here I 
think this party could get pretty kickin!"

"You're not teasing my boyfriend, are you?!" Sarah rushed up with a silly, 
sarcastic expression on her face.

Timmy felt like he was rapidly plunging down in quicksand, almost over his head.

"I'm not your boy--" he began.

"Oh, re-LAX, Timmy!" Sarah said, tussling his hair (or rather his blonde wig). "I'm 
just joking! I want you to meet my friend Ting and HER boyfriend, though."

Timmy looked up and saw a very tall Chinese girl approaching. She had very 
long legs, which were clad in black tights that ran under rolled-up jean shorts. 
She also had a beautiful white sparkling button-up short-sleeved shirt on. She 
looked like she was probably in Sarah's grade, and also in her ballet troop, and 
she was holding the hand of a boy who was much shorter but looked much older. 
He had blonde hair and a thin blonde beard.

"Nice to meet you!" the Chinese girl Ting said brightly reaching a hand way down 
so that Timmy could shake it. The girl's nails were very long, pointy, and covered 
with silver and gold glitter. Timmy touched her hand--which seemed both delicate 
and dangerous--with his own and shook it carefully, which caused Ting to laugh.

"And this is my boyfriend, Hans," she said.

The blonde boy seemed just as nervous as Timmy was. They exchanged a 
simultaneous "Hi" and gave each other a look that seemed to say "We're in this 
together."

"He's 17," Sarah announced.

"Yeah he's in MY grade," said Victoria, stepping next to them. 

The contrast between Hans and Victoria was startling. She was so much bigger, 
more socially comfortable and confident than he was, towering over him by a foot 
and a half or more. And they were apparently the same age, and sometime soon-
-if not already--they would be vying for college scholarships: the choice between 
the two would be easy to make for any bureaucrat looking to decide which of 
them had a better likelihood to become one of the leaders of tomorrow.

Ting and Sarah were only slightly shorter than Victoria. Timmy looked down to 
check but couldn't tell if Ting's footwear--open-toed zip-up flush-heeled booties--
were higher than Sarah's heels or not.

"Ting's in my pilates class, and my ballet class," Sarah told him.

"And I'm in your ballet class too!" Stephanie chirped. "I'm a lot more graceful than 
I look!" she said, putting her hand on her chubby hip.

They laughed and then for some reason everyone's glance fell on Timmy, who 
was the only one still sitting down.

"Uh, y-you're not in ballet too, Victoria?" he asked, trying to take the group's 
focus off him.

"Nah," she said. "I do other things for fun."

The girls laughed, and for whatever reason Hans exchanged a nervous look with 
Timmy that seemed to say "Get me out of here." Ting's long nails and fingers 
were massaging his neck in a way that almost seemed threatening--though 
perhaps Timmy was just paranoid. He noticed that Hans' clothes were quite frilly 
and that he too was wearing some makeup--not as much as Timmy, but still...

"Wow I thought your cousins would never leave!"

The voice came from a redheaded girl who had just entered the room. She was 
dragging something behind her, and that something turned out to be her 
boyfriend.

"Timmy, this is Hannah and Dewey," Sarah informed him.

"'Hannah and LITTLE Dewey'," the redhead corrected her, hoisting her male 
companion up into the air by his arm, as if he were a prize fish that she had 
caught. The boy seemed familiar to Timmy, but he didn't know why.

"Hannah, please put me down," he murmured.

"Uh-uh!" Hannah said. "And what did I tell you about WHINING!?"

The boy whimpered and then said "Sorry."

"You want me to let you down?" Hannah asked.

"Yes please."

"Okay then!"

She suddenly let go of him and he dropped the floor in a heap. The drop wasn't 
so very far, but he wasn't expecting it and he shrieked and collapsed on impact. 
All the girls laughed.

"Hi," Hannah said, turning to Timmy. "Nice to meet you!"

She extended a hand for Timmy to shake, which Timmy did. When he tried to 
pull back, however, Hannah wouldn't let him go and then pulled him towards her. 
She lifted him up out of his sitting position and yanked him towards her. Just 
before he would have collided with Hannah, she let go of his hand. He awkwardly 
stumbled but then caught his balance. The girls all giggled and Timmy felt self-
conscious.

Hannah was dressed in tight jeans that were a bit worn (he couldn't tell if they 
came that way new from the store, or if she was just that much of a tomboy). She 
also had on a red tanktop that perfectly complimented her red hair and showed 
off her solid arms. She wasn't as dropdead gorgeous as Victoria, or as cute-as-a-
button as Sarah, but she was still nice-looking and had a face that was genuinely 
interesting and seemed to hint at a spunky girl with a style all her own. And her 
deep red hair was really stunning. She wasn't as tall as the other girls--"only" 
about 5'9"--and she wore Converse sneakers.

Timmy reflected that if he wasn't who he was--if he wasn't in the position he was-
-then looking down on this group of kids he would have felt that they were all 
good, relatively innocent youngsters (with only the possible exception of Victoria). 
But as it was, he felt that some sort of personal catastrophe was right around the 
corner.

"Hannah and Ting and I are all in the same grade," Sarah said, putting her arms 
around them.

"And so is Dewey!" Hannah added. At that moment the little boy had just 
recovered from his fall and gotten back up on his feet--just in time for Hannah to 
give him a bump with her hip into his chest that sent him back down to the floor 
again. Lucky for Dewey, the floor was carpeted and the fall couldn't've really hurt 
him.


"Okay, everybody, okay!" Martha called as she entered. "Let's get a group picture 
and then open presents and then I've got to go lie down!"

She held up her camera and all of the girls instinctively formed a line. Sarah was 
in the center, with Ting and Hannah on either side of her. Hans was in front of 
Ting and Little Dewey was in front of Hannah. The tops of both boys' heads only 
came up to the mid-chests of their girlfriends; Ting was a good measure taller 
than Hannah, and Hans was a good margin taller than Dewey. Timmy was glad 
to note that he was the tallest male there, just a bit taller than Hans. Being 
taller than two boys much younger than him wasn't something to be so proud of, he 
realized, and his head didn't come up any higher against Sarah, relatively 
speaking. Still, he stood in front of her proudly and started to smile.

Then he was nudged a bit to the side. It was Stephanie, who wanted to stand in 
front of Sarah too. Timmy noted that he was, thankfully, three or four inches taller 
than Stephanie, who wore flats. With trepidation, however, he noted that the 
pudgy ten-year-old girl was taller than Little Dewey, who had to be twelve or 
thirteen, and was only an inch or two shorter than 17-year-old Hans.

"You don't want to get in the picture?" Martha asked Victoria. The older girl had 
walked to the side and perched herself on a stool that caused her to show off an 
indecent amount of skin as she crossed her legs and bounced her feet 
lackadaisically.

"Nah," she said. "No offense, but I only came here t'bring Steph. And the pic 
should just be Sarah's real friends, y'know?"

"I understand," Martha said. "No offense taken. Now--SMILE!"

Everyone smiled and the flash blinded them for a few seconds.

*****

They all gathered round the fireplace so Sarah could open her presents. Timmy 
put up no resistance when Martha suggested that he hop back on her lap. They 
sat in the same chair they were in that day two weeks ago. Martha rocked him 
gently and squeezed him a bit when the kids weren't looking. Hans sat on Ting's 
lap and Little Dewey sat on Hannah's. (Timmy still thought that he recognized the 
latter boy, but couldn't place him). Stephanie had the job of handing Sarah 
presents. Lastly, Victoria lounged out on the floor and played with her cellphone, 
her short dress still revealing far too much skin for Timmy's comfort.

Sarah smiled and gave happy exclamations as she unwrapped everything from 
chic shirts and jeans to makeup, jewelry, and a few Disney DVDs starring teen 
stars ("Oh I'll watch those with you!" said Martha, who liked anything Disney).

The final unwrapped present was the one Timmy brought her. He hoped that 
Martha wouldn't remember that.

"It says..." Stephanie said, looking for the tag, "...Hm. It doesn't say who it's 
from."

"Well," Martha said, "not everyone could bring a present, so maybe someone 
brought an extra to make up for that."

The explanation sounded weak, and Timmy wasn't sure why Martha said it, but it 
had the effect of convincing everyone that the present was in fact from Martha to 
her daughter.

Sarah shrugged and began to unwrap the big box.

"Oh COOL!" she yelled as she pulled out one of the black pleather thigh-high 
boots.

"Whoa," Victoria said, paying attention for once. "Those're like hot."

"They almost match YOURS, mom!" Sarah said.

"Well," Martha considered, "mine have spikes on them. And those looks like they 
have taller heels."

Timmy still thought this was a bad idea, for a number of reasons.

"Try 'em on!" said Stephanie.

"Eh," Sarah said. "We were going to play some games, and--"

"Try-'em-on! Try-'em-on!" Stephanie chanted, and Ting and Hannah joined in.

"Okay, but I gotta put all this other stuff in my room anyway."

She scooped all her presents up and started walking out of the den. Just as she 
passed Timmy and Martha, who were sitting closest to the exit, one of the boots 
fell.

"Oops," Sarah said. "Timmy, grab that and bring it."

He was frozen, not really wanting to have anything to do with this. Then Martha 
bucked her knee a bit, which bounced him up in the air, and he came down hard 
on her kneecap.

"Ow," he said.

"Hurry up please, Timmy," Martha said. "Get going so we can get this over with 
and I can take a nap."

With that Timmy climbed down Martha's solid, shapely leg and crouched to pick 
up the big heeled boot he had gotten Sarah. It was pretty big even compared to 
his entire body. He took it and scampered after the birthday girl, but she was 
already out of the room. He ran after her but found the long hallway empty by the 
time he had gotten there. Which room was hers again? He didn't remember, and 
all the doors were closed.

Though he was lost, he still liked this quiet aloneness. He had half a mind to 
simply hide in one of the empty rooms here, or even bolt for the exit and make 
his way home. But he liked the idea of spending the night if he got to spend some 
intimate time with Martha. Her body looked so big, powerful, curvy and hot to 
him. Even if he couldn't get an erection, maybe she would understand, and he 
could still get somewhat turned on if he really put his mind to it. 

He tried one of the doors and found that it was Martha's room. He looked on the 
bed and saw a mess of lingerie and several tubes which, upon closer inspection, 
proved to be lotions and lubricants of all sorts. He imagined him laying belly-up 
on the bed before him, with Martha's heaving naked body bouncing on top of 
him, his hands rubbing masses of lotion onto her bouncing goliath breasts.

"Timmy, where are you?" came Sarah's faint voice from somewhere.

He quickly pranced out of Martha's room and back out into the hallway.

"I'm right here," he said, wandering further down the hall and passing several 
more closed doors. "Where are--?"

Suddenly he realized that a door had opened behind him and a big hand had 
closed around the scruff of his neck. He was pulled backwards into Sarah's 
bedroom and then the door was shut behind him.

Sarah giggled as she hugged Timmy and spun him around in the air.

"YOU got me those boots, didn't you?"

"Huh? Sarah, please put me down, I--"

"Thank you, Timmy!" She stopped spinning around but still hugged him tight and 

held him high off the floor.

"Sarah, please--I think your mom got them for you, and--"

She gently lowered him and then looked down at him skeptically, her hands 
kneading his shoulders.

"That's funny," she said. "Because I have a policy of snooping in my mom's 
room, and those boots weren't with the other presents her got me. AND I had 
already asked my mom for a pair of boots like these and she told me I couldn't 
have them."

"Err, well, maybe your mom's right and you shouldn't have them. For a girl your 
age they might be a bit too--"

"NO, Timmy," Sarah tilted her head back and rolled her eyes. "Mom said I 
couldn't have them because they were too expensive, not for any other reason. 
Although she probably thinks I'm tall enough as it is."

"Actually, Sarah," he said, gently trying to brush one of her big hands off his 
shoulder, "I kinda think you're tall enough as it is too, and I'd appreciate it if 
you didn't wear those boots back out there."

"Really?" Sarah said seriously, a look of genuine concern on her face. "It'd make 
me too much taller than you, huh?"

"Well..." Timmy pondered. "I'd just be too uncomfortable, I think, and--"

"No problem," Sarah said matter-of-factly, straightening up all her gifts, which she 
had dumped on her bed, and setting the two thigh-high boots upright next to her 

bed. "You're worried that the other kids will make fun of you. Fine. But can I wear 
them later, after they leave, when it's just you and me?"

"Um. Sure. I guess."

Sarah gave him a smirk. "So if you didn't get me the boots then what DID you get 
me? Don't tell me that my best little buddy in the whole wide world didn't get me 
a birthday present." She gave him a gentle, pretend punch in the shoulder. "Ol' 
buddy, ol' pal."

He  squirmed beside her.

"I did get you the boots, Sarah," he admitted, looking down.

"Ha! I knew it!" she placed a long index finger under his cheek and tilted his head 
up. "WHY did you get them for me?"

"I guess I thought you'd look nice in them," Timmy said. "It seems that girls like 
those kinds of boots."

"Yeah, we sure do," Sarah said. "And I think there's something else to all this," 
she added.

"Err... what?"

"I think you LIKE me being taller than you!"

She stepped even closer to him, so that their bodies were touching. She still had 
her finger under his chin, and she stood on her tiptoes.

"I think you LIKE it in some way! DON'T YOU?"

"Uhm... S-S-Sarah..."

"'S-S-S-Sarah' what?" She smiled down at him. "Don't you think I'm awesomer 
now that I'm tall? C'mon--aside from how embarrassing it might be, because of 
your stupid little male ego, don't you think I'm pretty cool because I'm so tall?"

"...Yes, Sarah," Timmy admitted.

"HA! I knew it! Right again about you!"

"But, Sarah," Timmy began again, "please don't get the wrong idea. I... I'm... I 
only like you as a friend."

She squealed and playfully backhanded his shoulder. "I know that!" she said. "I'm 
not some silly little schoolgirl, you know! And, no offense, but the thought of you 
really coming on to me, like for real, would really freak me out."

"Okay. Good. I mean--" Timmy paused and she laughed at him again. "You know 
what I mean."

"I do," she said. Then she bent way down and gave him a kiss on the forehead, 
exactly as she had done to her father earlier. 

"It's like I told you once before, Timmy," she said, playfully putting him in a 
headlock and messing up his hair a bit, "I think of you more like a LITTLE 
BROTHER. Or maybe even a little SISTER. THAT's how close I think we should 
be. You understand that, right?"

"Y-yeah, I guess so," Timmy said, trying to straighten his hair after Sarah let him 
go.

"Good," she said. Then she pinched his nose between the knuckles of her index 
and middle finger, made a beeping sound, and said, "Now c'mon, let's go back 
out to the party. I promise not to tower over you any more than I already do."

Timmy took her hand and she guided him back out into the hallway. He was 
actually happy and proud to be walking beside this tall young girl--she in her 3-
inch pumps that made her well over a foot taller than him, and he in the little old 
Mary Janes that he had borrowed from her.

As they got to the end of the hallway Martha greeted them coming the other way.

"I can't take it anymore," she said as she passed them. "I'm too pooped and must 
take a nap. I'll be up again later to give you guys snacks."

"Oh, Martha, wait!" Timmy said, turning back the other way and attempting to 
free his hand from Sarah's grip.

"What is it, Timmy? I--Oh. Sarah. You aren't wearing the boots?"


"No," Sarah said. "They didn't fit."

"Oh well," Martha said. "Maybe you and Timmy can go to the mall tomorrow and 
exchange them." 

Timmy really didn't like that idea, but he had more immediate concerns.

"Martha, I need to talk to you," he said. "Quick."

"It better be quick," she said in a sharp tone that Timmy hadn't heard her direct 
his way in quite a while.

Sarah let go of his hand and he followed Martha into her room. Before he passed 
through the door he heard a loud collective grown from elsewhere in the house. 
Probably, he thought, that was the other kids--or at least the girls--reacting in 
disappointment when Sarah returned wearing heels that kept her closer to the 6' 
mark rather than the 7' mark.

Inside the room, he turned back to see Martha undressing before his eyes. Her 
breasts were gigantic, and they were facing him held only in a lacy pink and 
black bra.

"Okay. Now what is it, Timmy?"

"I... I was just..." 

He had forgotten what he was going to say and could only stare in amazement at 
her cleavage. Not knowing what else to do, he began to approach the two more-
than-basketball-sized objects, which were roughly eye-level with him, and began 
automatically reaching his hands up towards them.

Suddenly Martha shoved him away.

"I didn't invite you in here for THAT!" she said, but then seemed to soften as he 
flew back onto the floor a little harder than she expected. "Sorry about that," she 
said, reaching down to pick him up. "Sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, too. I was 
just tired and wanted to undress."


"Martha," he said, coming back to his senses. "About this idea of my staying here 
tonight--"

"I told you, I already talked with your aunt."

"I know, but... Sarah thinks I'm going to have a sleepover with her, and--"

"And you are. Right?"

"Yes, but--"

"And when Sawah fawls asweep yew can come cwimb into bed with wittle old 
mee," she said in a babyish voice, giving him a seductive smile and placing one 
of her hands on her boob. "And then I get tew pway wif your widdle body as 
much as I want, and I pwomise not tew bweak it."

"Yes, but--Do you really think it's okay for me to have a sleepover with Sarah? I 
mean, the way she talks, I get the impression that--"

"Well why wouldn't it be 'okay'?" Martha said in a voice that was nearly angry, 
taking her hand off her breast and thrusting it onto her hip.

"I'm a 26-year-old man, and Sarah says that at the slumber party she wants to 
snuggle and play with me on her lap, and--and aren't you a bit, I don't know, 
worried? About all that?"

Martha gave him a confused look. He wasn't sure what she was thinking but had 
the distinct impression that it could go either way. There was a 50% chance that 
Martha was going to backhand him into next week, if not throw him out of the 
house right now by picking him up and tossing him through a window. He had no 
idea what her perception of all this was, but he knew that Martha Thollen was an 
easily insulted woman.

"Am I worried?" Martha repeated, openmouthed. "About what? About you, 
perhaps, taking advantage of Sarah?"

"Um. Well. Yeah. A-aren't you at least worried about something like th-that? I 
mean, I WOULDN'T, but--Aren't you at least, um, not wanting her to be in a 
situation like that, that could lead to, um, any guy, um... taking advantage of her? 
Not that I would."

Martha gave Timmy a long blank expression. Then suddenly she burst into the 
loudest, longest laughing fit he had ever seen her come down with.

"Worried about--! AHAHAHA! Worried about you--? AHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!"

Timmy stood there stupidly, not getting the joke.

"Worried--!" Martha continued, laughing all the while. "A-and then he says--
HAHAHAAAA!--'Not that I would'! HAHAHAHAAA!"

Timmy was getting annoyed. "Martha, what are you--"

"Not that you would? More like 'not that you COULD', you mean? HAHAHAHA!"

Timmy was on the verge of leaving the room altogether when finally Martha 
calmed down, grabbed Timmy and clutched him to her, bending down a bit so 
that his little head pressed deep into her cleavage.

"Oh you are ADORABLE, Timmy!" she said. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? 
Do you have some sort of eye condition or depth-perception problems? I don't 
worry at all about you 'taking advantage' of Sarah! You couldn't, even if you 
tried. I doubt you could have 'taken advantage' of Sarah anytime in the last two 
years, actually. If anything, I might have to remind Sarah not to play rough with 
you--but I think she knows her own strength by now. And I can also assure you that 
she is a polite young lady who will not be 'taking advantage' of YOU in any 
improper ways."

"Okay," Timmy said, a bit embarrassed but enjoying the breast flesh that his 
head was enveloped within.

"But I do think it's VERY sweet of you to show such concern," Martha said, 
pulling back, popping his head out of her cleavage. "And I want you to--
HAHAHAHA--to promise me that tomorrow at the mall you'll be a chivalrous 
gentleman and defend poor defenseless Sarah as she accompanies you in heels 
that make her two feet taller than you. If anyone tries to bully her, which 
happens quite often to girls of her meager defenseless build, make sure you 
rush to her defense, Timmy!"

"We'll do," Timmy said, unamused by Martha's sarcasm.

"Good! Now, run back to the party. I need to rest. For you. For later. I'll be 
back out in a while to fix you guys snacks. Until then, please watch the kids 
for me, Timmy."


"I'll try," he said nervously, stepping out her door.

"Thank you," Martha called after him. "And thanks for giving me a good laugh! I 
needed that!"

*****

When he returned to the den he saw the two boyfriends being carried piggyback 
by their respective girlfriends. Ting held Hans so high that his head came within 
a hair's breadth of the ceiling. And though Hannah, in her Converse sneakers, was 
over half a foot shorter than Ting, she made up for that with an excessive amount 
of rambunctiousness, running poor Dewey all over the room in circles, spinning 
him around so fast that the diminutive lad had to hold on tight to his girlfriend's 
shoulders.

"Chickenfight!" Stephanie called, and Ting and Hannah turned to face each 
other.

"Oh wow," Victoria said, sprawled out on the sofa and putting down her cellphone. 
"This could be good."

"Who do you think's gonna win?" Sarah asked Timmy as she sidled up next to 
him and put her arm around his back.

"Um, I don't know. Your friend Ting has the height advantage, and Hans is older 
and bigger than Dewey. But Hannah is kind of a fireball."

"Heh," Sarah chuckled. "Yeah she is."

At first the two girls seemed content to just stand next to each other and let their 
boyfriends go at it. It was a rather pathetic slapping fight, Timmy thought. Both 
Dewey and Hans behaved quite like sissies, so afraid of getting hurt that all they 
could do was turn their face away from their opponent and throw blind, wimpy 
slaps in the other direction. Stephanie shrieked with laughter at this, and Victoria 
murmured a few phrases like "OMG that's so cute... so damn cute" under her 
breath.

"Okay, that's enough of that!" Hannah decided, stepping back and shifting Dewey 
into a different position. "It's time to play ram-man!" she announced, and started 
to run directly at Ting, aiming Dewey's head right at Hans' chest.

Ting herself was giggling at all of this and couldn't stop. She did her best to get 
out of Hannah's way but couldn't avoid her path entirely. Dewey the human 
battering ram hit Hans on the side--not enough to send him flying or knock him 
out, but not a light blow for a small man to take.

"Owie!" both boys said simultaneously on impact. 

Though Hans was four formative years older than Dewey, they both acted very 
similarly. When Timmy was in school, which wasn't so long ago, a 17-year-old 
boy would make short work of a 13-year-old. And neither one of them would fight 
by playing slappy games and hiding their heads. But times were changing.

Ting spun around and told Hans, "Come on! Suck it up! Next time yank him off!"

"Okay, okay!" Hans said. Timmy thought that Ting's strict tone seemed like kind 
of a put-on, like she was just pretending to sound like a tough person should 
sound. But evidently Hans took her seriously.

"Hey Dewey," Hannah said, "if you don't knock him off next time... you know 
what's going to happen, right?"

Dewey didn't say anything but Timmy saw the little fellow wince a bit.

The two girls both ran towards each other. They were both looking at each other 
and smiling. When they came near each other, Dewey just took his hands off of 
Hannah's shoulders and put them over his face, as if he didn't want to see what 
was going to happen. Hans took that opportunity to grab onto one of Dewey's 
arms and then twist him around enough so that he could get a grip around his 
waist. It all happened so fast. With his little face under his blond hair turning 
red with effort, Hans strained and pried Dewey off balance enough to send him 
falling off of Hannah's shoulders. The little guy dropped down but just a few 
feet before hitting the floor, he landed in Hannah's arms as the quick, athletic 
girl squatted to catch him. And while this was all going on, all Timmy could hear 
was Stephanie squealing at the top of her lungs.

"And the winner is Ting!" Sarah announced to the room as she squeezed Timmy 
tighter against her.

("Not Ting AND HANS?" Timmy thought. "Hans did all the work.")

As Stephanie clapped and approached them, Hans slid down Ting's body and 
seemed relieved to set his feet on the floor again. Ting looked down at him and 
winked. Then she bent and scooped him up in her arms again and gave him a 
deep long kiss. Timmy could tell that Hans was a bit annoyed to be off his feet 
again so soon, but the little man made the best of it and made out with his giant 
Asian girlfriend.

Meanwhile an annoyed Hannah was leading a crying Dewey over to a chair. The 
redhead kept a tight grip on her boyfriend as she sat down and then patted her 
jean-covered thigh.

"Come on up, Dewey. You know what's comin'."

The boy was still crying but was doing so silently now. He had some trouble 
climbing up on his girlfriend's lap, and Hannah used that as an opportunity to 
roll her eyes and take off her shirt, revealing tight muscular shoulders, 
defined abs, and a black sports-bra underneath. She started stretching her arms 
and spinning them around in wide circles, warming them up for what was to come.

"You're just lucky WE didn't compete," Sarah whispered to Timmy. "Because I 
wouldn't like having to discipline you if we lost."

Timmy was beginning to feel more than a creeping sense of dread again. Was he 
really about to see Dewey get spanked by his girlfriend? Wasn't that domestic 
abuse?

"You know what they say," Hannah said to no one in particular as Dewey finally 
made his way up onto her lap, "'Spare the palm and spoil the boyfriend!'" All the 
girls laughed.

Dewey draped himself over Hannah's thighs and the girl raised her hand.

"Wait!" little Stephanie yelled. "Aren't you gonna do bare-butt? I always give MY 
little dolls bare-butt spankin's!"

Hannah chuckled and brushed a long lock of her silky dark red hair behind her 
ear. "Well maybe we'll put that to a vote," she said. "Who wants me to give 
Dewey a bare-butt spanking? Raise your hand."

Stephanie eagerly raised both of her hands and started jumping back and forth 
from one foot to the other. Victoria gave a snorty laugh and also raised her big 
manicured hand.

Timmy looked up at Sarah and found that she was already looking down at him, 
expectantly.

"I don't think this should be a democracy," Sarah said.

"Yeah I don't either," Stephanie said. "Oh! Wait! Are you voting for bare-butt?" 
She turned to Ting, who had just raised her hand. Ting nodded.

"Well, I wasn't going to vote," Hannah said, "because I don't think that'd be fair 
since I'm the one doing the spanking and was just going to spank him over-pants. 
But if it's a tie then I'll vote for bare-butt."

"So that gives us..." Stephanie tried to count and figure out if they had a 
majority.

"I think Timmy should decide for all of us," Sarah said. "He's the oldest."

"And the cutest!" Stephanie added, laughing so much that Timmy didn't know if 
she was serious.

"I didn't think males had the right to vote in things like this," said Hans. Timmy 
couldn't tell if he was being serious either, or making some kind of ironic joke.

"Um," Timmy said. His instinct was just to defer power to Sarah, but that wouldn't 
make any sense since she had just given him the decision. "I say... I say he 
shouldn't be spanked at all--" A collective gasp began to emerge from all of the 
women in the room, including Sarah, so he quickly added "But if he has to be 
spanked then it should be up to his girlfriend, and she already was just going to 
spank him with his pants on. So I say leave his pants on. That-that will at least 
give him something more to f-fear later, because if he does anything wrong 
again, then next time it'll be bare-butt."

Stephanie gave him a stink face. It was her idea to have a bare-butt spanking in 
the first place, and Timmy had ruined it.

The general disappointment didn't last long, however, for just a second later they 
all heard a loud slap as Hannah's strong hand came down hard against her 
boyfriend's backside. Timmy noticed that Dewey just had on thin purple tights 
anyway, so it wasn't like his ass was getting much protection. But he was 
probably grateful in that he wasn't deprived of that last little bit of decency 
that he had while being spanked by his girlfriend.

Timmy lost track of the number of times that Hannah's hand came down. He 
noticed that she was a very athletic girl, especially for a 13-year-old. She had 
defined abs and knotty arms. Though she was a tomboy now, he looked like she 
might develop into a real knockout in a few years, especially with that gorgeous 
dark red feathery hair.

Finally she was done and Dewey had stopped crying.

"What should we do now?" Hannah asked, sending Dewey off her knee by 
bouncing him up into the air. He landed hard on the carpet, tumbling in a little 
pile, but did not cry.

"I know," Sarah said quickly, "Let's have a measuring contest. I KNOW that 

Timmy has been wanting to find out just how tall I am now."

"Measuring time! Measuring tiiiime!" the girls chanted.

He hated this idea, but had somehow known that it was coming. The girls got 
excited and starting pushing chairs out of the way to make room. They got a 
blank piece of paper and started recording everyone's name on it. Sarah ran to 
get a tape measure.

While this commotion was going on, Dewey walked up to Timmy.

"Hi," he said. "Thanks for that back there. Thanks for helping me."

"No problem," Timmy said. "Besides, it didn't really seem like leaving your pants 
on could have helped that much."

"It did," Dewey said. "So thanks."

"Um," Timmy said. "Does she hit you a lot?"


"Not a lot," Dewey said. "Only when I'm stupid or do something wrong. Like I did 
back there. I just panicked and we lost the game because of it."

"It seemed like the spanking hurt an awful lot," Timmy said.

"Not really," Dewey said. "Believe me, if Hannah wanted to, she can hit a lot 
harder than that. She's beaten up bullies for me at school, and she hits them lots 
harder. I just cry around her sometimes because I'm a wimp. It's my fault."

Timmy just looked at him, a bit puzzled. Hans walked up and put his arm around 
Dewey.

"Sorry for that back there," Hans said. "I wasn't trying to hurt you or get you in 
trouble."

"It's okay," Dewey said. "I'm just a wimp."

He wasn't wrong.

"Hey," Hans said, putting his other arm around Timmy. "Your girlfriend is the 
hottest one here."

"Huh?" Timmy asked. "What do you mean?! Sarah isn't my--"


"Well, whatever she is, you're a lucky guy to be so close to her," Hans said. 

"Sarah is hot. The way she looks in that black dress is awesome. I wish Ting 
would dress up like that more instead of just wearing jean shorts and stuff--"

"I like the blond girl," Dewey said. "I think her name is Victoria."

"Yeah!" Hans said hurriedly. "Oh my god I wish I could be spanked by her, laying 
across those thighs! I changed my mind, Timmy, sorry but I think Victoria is 
probably hotter than Sarah. But she's also older, so Sarah has a few years to 
catch up."

"Yeah, when I was introduced to Victoria I almost started humping her leg right 
there," Dewey said, laughing. "I'm just lucky that Hannah didn't catch me acting 
that way. The last time she thought I was looking at another girl, she pinched my 
peeper until it turned purple."

"Ting puts me between her legs and squeezes when she catches me being bad 
like that."

Timmy thought this was too weird for him, but these boys seemed used to 
conversations like this. What could Timmy say? Should he tell them how Brooks 
spanked him or squeezed his dick out of shape when she wanted to?

Suddenly he remembered where he had seen Dewey before.

"YOU were at that restaurant!" he blurted out, pointing at Dewey. A second later 
he wished he had kept the knowledge to himself.

"Restaurant?" Dewey said, and then it dawned on him. "Oh. Y-you were that guy. 

Last weekend when... when that hot girl did that to my dad."

"Yeah, I was... that girl's date," Timmy looked down, feeling sorry for Dewey.

"My dad started crying when we left the restaurant. My mom had to drive on the 
way home because he was too shaken up. That girl really did a number on him, 
just with her words."

"I'm sorry," Timmy said.

"It's not your fault. Even my little sister can make my dad cry sometimes, if she 
teases him enough. Did you have a nice date with that girl, at least? Once you 
got our table?"

"Um. Yeah I did. It was a special night. You said even your sister makes your dad 
cry?"

"Y-yeah. And now her and my mom tease him a lot. Whenever he's being a pain 
in the but they just ask him 'Remember that girl at the restaurant?' and he clams 
up and acts good again."

When Sarah returned with the tape measure they all had to line up. Stephanie 
was the official bookkeeper.

"O-kay!" she announced. "First up is Dewey! State your age!"

"That's LITTLE Dewey," Hannah corrected, squeezing her boyfriend to her.

"Right!" Stephanie said, writing in the extra word on the official score sheet. 
"LITTLE Dewey! State your age and go over by Sarah to be measured!"

Hannah flung him forward, and Timmy again admired the athletic nature of the 
girl. Her upper body looked so trim and chiseled in her black sports-bra.

Dewey wobbled forward, lost his balance, and collided hard into Sarah's leg, 
which he grabbed onto to keep from falling down.

"Well, hel-lo there," she said sweetly, chuckling and peeling Dewey's arms off of 
her leg, which was bare from mid-thigh down. "Now how old are you, little boy?"

"Thirteen," Dewey said. "I had my birthday last weekend."

"Oh, so you are older than I am?!" Sarah chirped quizzically looking way down at 
him.

"Yep, and his best birthday present was his first French kiss from me!" Hannah 
chimed, which caused the other girls to laugh.

"O-kay," Stephanie said as she wrote, "Thirt-teen."

"Now take your slippers off--and stand up straight, Little Dewey," Sarah told him. 
"That may make all the difference in the world."

"But if you stand on your tiptoes then Sarah gets to spank you," Hannah added. 

"Bare-butt this time. And she spanks hard."

"That's right I do," Sarah said playfully, nodding down at him, her eyes wide as 
she stared into Dewey's cautious upward gaze. 

She then put her palm on the top of Dewey's head, which only came up to her 
upper belly.

"How tall is he?!" Stephanie squealed.

Sarah measured the mark she had made and announced: "Four foot . . . four."

"Four foot FOUR!" Stephanie said as she wrote. "And next up is... ME!"

Stephanie slipped off her shoes and bounded towards Sarah, knocking Dewey 
out of the way and giving Sarah's leg a big sarcastic hug in order to mock Dewey 
even more.


"I guess everyone who comes up here has to give my leg a hug for good luck!" 
Sarah laughed.

"Yeah," Stephanie said, "especially Timmy!"

Everyone laughed.

"I'm ten years old," she said. "And how tall am I, Sarah?"

Sarah put a light pencil mark where the bottom of her hand was and then 
measured: "Four foot . . . seven!"

"Four-foot-sev-en!" Stephanie chanted merrily, singing her stats as if they were a 
song while she marched back to her seat to record the information: "Four-foot-
sev-en! I'm NOT-the short-est one-one!"

"Hans next!" Ting said as she lifted her boyfriend up under the armpits, walked 
over, and handed him to Sarah.

"Ooops," Sarah said, lifting him up higher. "Take his little shoes off, Ting."

Hans' girlfriend took his shoes off--her long fingers with the long sparkling nails 
looking almost twice as long as Hans' little feet--and then she walked back to 
where she was sitting before.

Sarah set Hans down and scrutinized the little blond boy for a moment. "Ting, is 
he allowed to give my leg a good-luck hug?"

Ting laughed. "No, but he's allowed to give your leg a goodluck kiss. NO 
TONGUE, though!" More laughter.

Sarah raised the bottom of her dress a bit and then Hans politely bent forward 
and gave her thigh a peck. All the girls clapped and whistled.

"He's seventeen, by the way," Ting told Stephanie.

"And he is..." Sarah said, measuring him, "Four foot eight."

"Only one less than me-ee!" Stephanie said merrily as she wrote, clearly very proud 
of herself for being nearly as tall as a boy seven years older than her.

Timmy knew his turn was next. He already prepared himself by taking off Sarah's 
old Mary Jane shoes, and was preparing himself mentally by trying to think brave 
thoughts.

"I'm twenty-six," he said, serious as could be as he marched up toward Sarah 
and the measuring tape.

"What are you, Tim, five-two?" Sarah asked him in a low, serious tone once he 
reached her.

"Good-luck leg-hug!" Stephanie yelled from the back.

Sarah smiled and raised her big shapely leg provocatively so that it crossed 
Timmy's chest. He wrapped his little arms and hands around it as best he could, 
and suddenly there was a click. He looked to see that Victoria had 
taken a picture of them with her camera/phone. The older girl smirked and 
snorted, looking at the picture on the tiny screen.

The next thing he knew, he felt Sarah's hand coming down on top of his hair. At 
least the extra poof of the pigtail wig might give him a bit of extra height. The 
last he knew, when Brooks measured him last weekend, he was 4'11".

"He's... Four foot ten," Sarah announced, audible disappointment in her voice.

"WOW, only four ten!" Stephanie said as she wrote. "Now why don't you have 
Timmy measure you, Sarah?"

"I guess that's a good idea," Sarah said softly, kicking off her heels. She looked 
down at Timmy, squatted a bit and then put her hands under his armpits and 
lifted. The rest of the room cheered as she hoisted him up in the air, but she used 
the opportunity to whisper to him, "Don't worry, Tim. I still like you even if 
you're shorter than I thought."


"Thanks, Sarah," he said, and he really did appreciate it.

He put his palm on top of Sarah's soft brown hair and held it there.

"Can you make a mark?" Sarah asked. "The pencil is behind my ear there."

"Um," Timmy said, fishing for the pencil and eventually dropping it to the floor.

"Here--I got one." 

It was Victoria. She seemingly came out of nowhere and held a pencil out toward 

Timmy. He took it and tried to make a little mark on the wall, but it was hard to 
do so being held up like he was. He felt another set of very long hands--Victoria's
--come to steady him by wrapping themselves around his waist.

"I gotcha," she said in her dumb teenager voice. 

Timmy finally made the mark and both girls gently lowered him to the ground.

Victoria moved off and, placing a hand on his shoulder, seemed to want Timmy 
to leave with her. But Sarah casually reached over and held his hand tight, so he 
stayed right there with her.


"What does it say, Timmy?" She asked him, once she held the measuring tape 
up. "Surely you can at least see up that high."

"It says..." Timmy found it hard to believe his eyes. "It says... Wow. Six feet."

The girls in the audience clapped and whooped it up a bit. Sarah turned to face 
them and her brown doe-eyes sparkled. She smiled and took a bow. Hannah 
whistled at her. Sarah blew kisses into the audience and then bent down to give 
Timmy a quick smooch.

"Sarah Thollen," Stephanie said, "Thirteen years and SIX! FEET! TALL!"

Timmy couldn't get over it. He was still losing height--though certainly his decline 
was leveling out--and meanwhile little Sarah had reached the six-foot threshold.

"Wow, what a special day for you," Ting called. "If this wasn't already your Sweet 
Thirteen, it could have been your Happy Six Feet party!"

"Yeah!" Sarah said. "I guess I really missed out on getting another party! Only 
one party now instead of two!"

"Well maybe we can have joint parties when I have mine," Ting said, stepping up. 
"If I haven't already hit it already without realizing it, like YOU, silly girl!"

Sarah chuckled. Timmy started to walk away but had to get past Ting first, and 
she playfully moved right when he moved left, left when he switched tacts to 
move past her to the right. With her long, hosed legs feeding up into her short 
jean shorts, the Asian girl looked like a big praying mantis to Timmy. She smiled 
down at him, then grasped him with her long hands, shuttling him to the side of 
her so she could get past. Shaken, Timmy went back to sit down.

Sarah then measured Ting, who was thirteen years old and:

"Five eleven and THREE QUARTERS," Sarah announced, to more clapping.


"And now the RUNT of the litter!" Hannah said sarcastically, as she walked up. 
Though she was noticeably the shortest of the three classmates, she made up 
for that by flexing her muscles in front of everyone, which did illicit some clapping, 
and a whistle from Ting.

"Hannah is..." Sarah said as she measured. "A hair over five nine. Not bad."

"Not bad considering I'm only seven!" Hannah joked as she went back to her seat 
and pulled Dewey on her lap. (Everyone knew that she was thirteen.)

"Save the best fer last?" Victoria said, walking up.

"Oh you want to be measured along with everyone else?" Sarah asked, a 
strange tone in her voice. "I thought we weren't friends."

"I guess we are friends," Victoria said. "Even though you're more my sister's 
friend than mine."

"Then I GUESS we're sort of friends," Sarah said.

"Well, you're closer to my sister's age than you are to my age," Victoria reasoned. 
"Cuz I'm seventeen." She was beginning to sound quite conceited, like she was 
above everyone else. Which, one had to admit, was true.

"Whatever," Sarah said. "I'm closer to your sister's age, but I'm closer to your 
height. And when I'm your age I'll probably be taller than--"

"Hey," Victoria interrupted, "I don't mean to sound like a bitch, but you aren't 
going to be able to see the top of my head, so maybe I should lift up one of the 
boys. Timmy?"

He didn't want to move, but he felt it would be more awkward if he refused to. So 
Timmy crept up to the two girls again and, once again, Victoria wrapped her long 
pink-nailed hands around his waist and lifted him up.

"Hi," she said as he reached eye-level with her, and then she raised him higher.

He put his little hand on top of Victoria's platinum blond head and made a mark.

"Holy shit," he said as Sarah immediately placed the measuring tape next to 
them. "Six ten!"

"She's got her heels on--DUH!" Stephanie screamed. All the girls laughed.

"Oh Timmy!" Sarah exclaimed, in a good mood again. "You should have seen 
your little face!"

"Yeh, I'm not THAT tall," Victoria said, "YET!" At that her eyes got big and she 
looked into Timmy's eyes as she still held him aloft. "I AM still a growing girl."

He felt her kicking her booties off and then they tried it again.

"Six six," Timmy announced. That was still really tall.

Victoria set him down before her and stepped back into her booties. She gave 
him a little squeeze on the shoulder and said "Thanks for measuring me, 
smallfry. I REALLY appreciated it."

Stephanie pounded her hands on the little table she was at. "Attention please!" 
she barked. "The tallest male--since it's 'males first' rules--is Timmy at a 
WHOPPING Four feet and TEN BIG inches! The tallest female is my lovely sister 
Victoria, who is six feet and six inches--even though from Timmy's 
perspective he believes she might as well be about seven feet tall!"--Everyone 
laughed--"The tallest thirteen-year-old girl is our wonderful friend Sarah, who is 
an amazing six feet tall. Our SMALLEST boy is the lovely Dewey--excuse me, 
LITTLE Dewey--who earns that name by being only four-foot four. And our shortest 
girl is yours truly--at four-foot seven--though I'm already much taller than a boy 
who is three years older than me, and I'll probably pass our other two resident 
menchkins sometime in the next year. And I bet I will be taller even than Victoria. 
Eventually."

Stephanie gave a self-satisfied nod and dropped her pencil to the table, to signal 
the end of the proceedings.

"What's next?" Hannah asked.

"I think maybe we should have some more contests," said Sarah. "There's still a 
lot of fun stuff we could do if we clear the furniture out and roll out the mats.

"What about your mother?" Ting asked.

"Oh that's right," Sarah reflected. "We'll have to wait till she goes away again 
after snacks."

"We shouldn't wrestle on a full stomach," Hannah said. "Well, I guess we could 
just not eat much."

"What kind of 'contests' are you talking about?" Timmy asked, beginning to get 
nervous again.

He looked up at all three girls before him--Sarah and Ting and Hannah--and they 
all towered over him so much and looked down at him as if he were an amusing 
little pest.

"Oh don't worry about it, Timmy," Sarah said, pulling his blond wig down over his 
face. "But you might want to take those pigtails off so that your opponent doesn't 
pull on them and have an advantage over you."

Timmy grabbed the wig and pulled it up again, then pulled it off his head entirely. 
As soon as his hands were out of the way, Sarah snuck in again and pinched his 
nose between her index and middle finger, making a honking noise as she did 
so. Ting and Hannah laughed.


"He loves it when I do that to him. He used to do that to me when I was his 
height."

"Awww!" the other two girls cooed.

"That's not true!" Timmy squeaked. "You weren't my height when I did that to 
you. When I babysat you, you were shorter than me!"

"Hmmm," Sarah said. "That's true, but you've lost a few inches since then, 
Timmy. I think if you went back in time, you'd find that when I was ten I was an 
inch or two taller than you are now. You wouldn't've been able to babysit me."

That thought was scary to Timmy, to say the least.

"Who wants snacks?" Martha asked, stepping into the room.

"Right on cue," Sarah muttered.

Dewey and Hans were the first ones to race up to Martha, who was dressed only 
in her bra and panties and a see-thru nightgown. Timmy couldn't get over how 
good she looked. Her breasts and ass-cheeks were busting out of her frilly pink 
and black lingerie, and her slinky nightgown added a gossamer glow to her entire 
form. Even with so many other people around, and even with his penis shriveled 
up into the shape of a little pea, he had to fight the temptation to jump on top 
of Martha and start dry-humping. Dewey and Hans looked so small next to her. He 
saw that she had on purple slippers with slight heels on them, and suddenly he 
had an idea.

"Sarah," he said. "Measure your mom."


"Oh! Gooood idea, Timmy!" she said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Mrs. Thollen, Mrs. Thollen," Dewey was saying to Martha, bouncing up and down in 
front of her. Timmy noticed that about two Deweys could fit inside one of Martha's 
thighs.

"What is it, Dewey? What is it? Calm down, sweetie."

"Mrs. Thollen, Hannah spanked me."

"Oh? Just now she did?"

"A-a little while ago," Dewey said, suddenly a bit uncertain of himself.

"Hannah, is that true?"

The redhead walked up with her hands behind her back, inadvertently thrusting 
her sports-bra out at Martha, as if unwisely challenging the big-breasted woman 
to a contest that no one with boobs smaller than basketballs had any chance of 
even competing in respectably.

"Yeah, I spanked him," Hannah said.

"In front of everyone?"

"Yup. I didn't spank him real hard, though."

"And have you been instructed in how to spank a boyfriend?" Martha asked.

"Yes. They taught us in school."

"Did they also teach you how to spank one real hard?"

"Um, not real-real hard."

"Well then it's good that you didn't try to spank him real hard until you've had the 
proper training. But you, Dewey"--she turned to the little boy in front of her, who 
seemed to shrink down as she put her hand on his shoulder--"you shouldn't be 
such a little whiner or a tattler. So Hannah spanked you--Girls will be girls, after 
all. Don't come to me with these silly problems ever again, or else you'll find 
yourself draped over MY thigh. And I promise you, I spank very, very, very, very 
hard. Just ask my ex-husband."


Martha then sent a trembling Dewey back into the care of his girlfriend by 
shoving him into Hannah's muscly arms.

"What did I TELL you about tattling?" Hannah asked Dewey rhetorically, pulling 
him along by his head, which she had put in a headlock. "You're gonna get a 
REAL-REAL hard spanking when we get you home."

After Martha had handed out the snacks, which turned out to be candies shaped 
like little purple pills, Martha smiled and laughed and, a bit self-consciously, 
put her back to the wall while Sarah measured her. When she had her slippers on 
she seemed taller than her daughter, but when she kicked them off Timmy could 
see that there was a notable heel on them.

Martha looked into Timmy's eyes and gave him a big Mad Hatter-ish grin as 
Sarah announced:

"Five... ten, or... Wow, mom! Five eleven! Actually, a smidgen over that."

Timmy couldn't believe how tall Mrs. Thollen was getting. This was someone 
who used to be a very diminutive woman who was very much "on his level". 
Now she had lapped him by more than a thirteen inches.

As she walked out of the room, Timmy reached toward her bag of candies.

"Oh those aren't for you, Timmy," she said in a hushed voice. "You didn't have 
any, did you?"

"No, I didn't. Why?"

"You're already on big person formula, from what I understand."

"What do you mean?" Suddenly it hit him. "Oh that's why they're shaped like 
pills?"

"They're just standard youth formula. They get them at school in homeroom 
anyway, but these are just mixed with extra sugars and such."

Timmy really didn't understand any of this, but it didn't really bother him. 
Health care was more of a woman's thing anyway; men just didn't have the mind 
for it, and he knew it was better to defer to women in all of these regards. 
The alternative, to deny any woman anything she wanted in the field of health 
and medicine, was to be sexist and barbaric and old-fashioned.

"You're sure growing a lot," he remarked.

"Ye-ess!" Martha said, so happy that he noticed. She turned to the side, squatted 
up and down a few times, showing off her extreme curviness and flexing her 
gams. Then she arched her back and thrust out her spectacular cleavage.

"This is all from those same pills, like the ones I'm on?"

"That's right," she said. "We're both becoming such sexy people, aren't we?"

"I sure hope I start to fill out a bit. YOU sure have!"

She just smiled at him.

"Uhm..." he stalled. "W-when Sarah falls asleep, I'll..."

"You'll climb into my bedroom and you will fuck me in the ass longer and harder 
than anyone's ever fucked me in the ass, little boy, or else I'm going to swallow 
you up into my ass and grind down on you until your skull's nailing my colon."

With that she walked away and crossed her steps so that her gigantic globular 
ass-cheeks swayed side to side, flexed and danced.

*****

When he returned to the rest of the group, he saw that Hannah had now 
removed her jeans, revealing tight black shorts that matched her sports-bra. 
Sarah was rolling out an 8x10 foam mat, and Stephanie was leaning her hand on 
Little Dewey's shoulder, no doubt trying to bully him into fighting her.

Before he knew quite what was happening, he noticed a long hand with long 
fingers with chunky pink nails on them slithering down his right shoulder.

"Yew get to wressle me or wressle my sister. It's yer choice." It was Victoria; 
he pun around to face her. "And if yew lose, then u get spanked. Bare-butt. And 
I can't wait."

He instinctively made to step back away from her but she scooped his butt with 
her other hand and gave him a sharp little pinch.

"Ow," he whined. "I-I don't want to wrestle either of you."

"Then yew jus forfeited and I get ta spank yew anyway," she chuckled.

"No!" he said.

"Yew know lots of guys would like to wressle with me. I'm the hottest girl here, 
too. So yew should feel lucky that me and Steph picked yew ta wressle with. But 
yew don't wanna wressle her, so yew should choose me."

"No, Victoria," Timmy said, trying to extricate himself from the situation again. 
She had backed him up against a wall. He couldn't believe how tall and 
domineering she looked, especially with that clingy black dress that was way too 
small for her. It barely reached down below her butt cheeks.

"Just c'MONNN," Victoria whispered, putting her pretty face down to Timmy's 
level. "Those other two little boys can't keep their eyes off me. I bet they'd 
lose it if I asked one a-them ta wressle with me. I bet they wish their dinky 
little girlfriends were as big and hot and tall as I am. Whatta YEW think, 
Timmy-Tim-Tim?"

"Victoria, please--"

"Don't you wish I was your girlfriend? I 'member how you looked at me that day in 
the bathroom when your aunt was washing you up. 'Member when I gave you my 
red sucker? I saw yer little dinky dick, too. Yer little boner. 'Member that?"

"Vicki, please--"

"VICKI?" She stood back up to her full height and glared down at him. "What did 
yew jus call me? I HATE bein called Vicki!"

"I-I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"I oughta whip yer ass right here, lil boy," she hissed. "Yer on my shit list now."

She stormed off, her four-inch booties thundering against the floor. Timmy turned 
and went back further into the den, only to see Hannah pinning her boyfriend 
Dewey to the mat. Her compact, muscular physique rippled as she stretched on 
top of Dewey and yanked one of his legs up with her arm for leverage.

"1... 2..." Stephanie counted. And just then Hannah let him go on purpose. "Only 
2 again!" Stephanie squealed.

Dewey was drenched in sweat and had been stripped down to just his pink 
panties. The little boy was totally overwhelmed, but his girlfriend wouldn't stop 
pouring it on. She lifted him in all sorts of carries, yanked his body this way and 
that. Her already dark red hair was also drenched in sweat, which only made it 
more striking in Timmy's mind. 

Suddenly Hannah seemed to go into a sumo style of combat. She clutched Dewey to her 
chest, lifted him a half a foot off the ground, carried him forward a few feet and 
then dropped him. Next she picked him back up and threw him over her shoulder, 
jumping and slamming him into the mat. Timmy was amazed that Dewey wasn't crying, 
although maybe he was simply all cried out. Hannah bashed him again and again, 
inventing new ways to show her absolute dominance.

Finally Hannah got a smirk on her face, made a show of putting her right hand 
behind her back and then attacked Dewey only with her left. Even trying to fight 
her off two hands against one, Dewey proved unsuccessful. Simply with the 
power of her left hand, Hannah forced Dewey to the mat by putting pressure on 
his chest. She had laid him out on his back, and it was clear that the little guy 
had had it.

"You better struggle as hard as you can!" Hannah warned, keeping him down 
with just her left hand. "You know what will happen if I think you're faking it or 
giving up!"

Dewey strained and strained but couldn't budge Hannah's hand a bit. 

"1...2...3!" Stephanie called. "And Timmy's the next victim!"

Hannah giggled and kissed Dewey on the nose before letting him up.

Timmy stepped forward toward the mat, not sure what choice he had. Hannah 
had exhausted herself but still seemed so formidable and scary to him. She 
walked up to Timmy, looked down at him from her 11-inch height advantage and 
snickered. Her chest was heaving and her black sports-bra was drenched in 
sweat.

"You actually want to fight me, little man?" the girl asked.

"No, Timmy, you're wrestling me," came a voice over his shoulder.

It was Sarah. She pulled her black dress off, revealing a black pushup bra and 
black panties. Timmy actually recognized them from the time he had spent in the 
changing room with her at the mall.

Hannah walked past him and gave a snort as she did so, knocking his shoulder a 
bit with her hip.

Timmy turned to face Sarah.

"Take your clothes off, Timmy" she said. "If you want to have any chance at all."

Timmy did as she instructed. He faced her in just his little panties. A 26-year-
old man, who was 4'10", against a 13-year-old girl (actually still 12 for a few 
more hours), who was 6'0".

"Hm," Sarah considered. "I think we should arm wrestle first."

Timmy was still in shock about seven different things, so this next trial didn't 
surprise him much. They walked over to the table and Sarah put out her big right 
hand. Timmy looked at her bicep. It looked so solid. He put his own arm up, and 
all of the girls in the room tee-heed, except Sarah.

"I want you to TRY, Timmy," she said in a very serious tone. "I'll know if you're 
not trying as hard as you can, and I WILL spank you afterwards if I need to. It 
would actually be my duty as a female to discipline you in that case. So will you 
try as hard as you can?"

Timmy didn't like Sarah talking to him this way. It was scary. He had been 
thinking of her as a "safe" person. But here she was treating him almost like 
Hannah treated Dewey.

"Okay," he said. He had to agree; he didn't have any other choice.

He put his thin little hand against her big smooth soft hand. Her strong fingers 
closed around his and he admired not for the first time Sarah's clean trim nails. 
Even her pinky nail looked bigger than his thumb nail.

"Are you ready?" Sarah asked.

"...No..." Timmy said in a tiny voice.

"TIMMY," Sarah said. "I will spank you very, very hard. I won't like doing it, but I 
will do it. Now I want you to try as hard as you can, with every bit of strength 
you've got left, so that you know just how you match up against me. On the count 
of three, you just push. Okay?"

"...Okay, Sarah."

"One. Two. Three."

He pushed with all his might. Instantly he knew two things: one, Sarah was not 
pushing back, and two, he was not even strong enough to move her arm an inch 
from a natural fixed position. Sarah had flexed her arm and steadied it slightly, 
but was not pushing back in his direction at all; she was merely holding it there 
rather listlessly, and Timmy couldn't even overcome this modicum of inertia. 
She had a calm but determined look on her face, and her doe eyes bore into 
Timmy as she watched him struggling.

"I want you to understand what is happening, Timmy," she said. "I want you to try 
as hard as you can, and I want you to KNOW that you tried as hard as you can. 
And I want you to realize that it did nothing."

Timmy was choking air and grunting hard as he pushed pointlessly against 
Sarah's big hand. He felt so weak, and felt also like his hand and arm were going 
to break.

Then just as he was about to give up entirely and fall to the table in exhaustion, 
he felt Sarah's hand come down as if it were a ten-ton mechanical press. She 
slammed his hand against the table hard enough to make a loud bang, and she 
kept it there for several seconds, just squeezing it hard.

He looked down at her big hand, the back of which completely covered his own 
hand, and he looked at her bare arm and bicep, which was really only slightly 
toned, but very solid.

"Ow," he said as she steadily crushed his hand. It was an understatement. Sarah 
just continued to stare at him.

Slowly there was a round of applause from everyone else. Hans leaned over to 
Timmy and whispered "I told you you were lucky; she--is--HOT" in his ear.

When the clapping died down, Sarah, who had not stopped staring at him, said in 
a very matter-of-fact tone: "Okay Timmy, now let's go back to the wrestling mat 
so I can show you just how weak you are compared to me in other ways."

He followed her over to the mat, admiring her tall fit form and knowing beyond a 
shadow of a doubt that this girl was superior to him in every way. When they 
were in position she turned to face him and looked him up and down. Without 
any expression on her face, she said, "Timmy, I am probably going to make you 
cry quite a lot, but I promise that you won't be hurt permanently, and maybe ten 
minutes later you'll be ready to go again and will have to wrestle another girl. So 
at the very least you should use this opportunity to try to gain some experience 
for your next fight. Because the next girl you wrestle may NOT promise not to 
hurt you permanently."

"Okay," Timmy said.

The next thing he knew, Sarah had grabbed his shoulders, raised a knee, and was 
pressing him down hard against her thigh--just cramming him against it bluntly, 
without any technique. Next she let him fall to the floor, dazed, and did an 
acrobatic bellyflop on top of him. She grinded against him, chest to chest, doing 
makeshift pushups and letting herself drop down on top of him every time, 
dropping her whole weight on him again and again and knocking the wind out of 
his little lungs.

"Try to push me off of you," she said, baring down harder, arching her back and 
thrusting her taut stomach into Timmy.

"I c-can't!" Timmy said, choking.

"TRY!" she commanded. She had intertwined her legs with Timmy's and was 
spreading them outwards. Timmy's legs couldn't bend as far as hers could, but 
she was forcing them to bend that far anyway.

"OWW!" he yelled, tears welling in his eyes.

"What if some girl was raping you? What would you do?"

"OWw! I don't know, Sarah, p-please stop! WAAAAH! WAAAH!" He began crying 
openly, like a baby blatting.

"NO, I won't stop!"

"P-please, Sarah," he tried again, reining in his crying and whispering this time. 
"Please stop hurting me."


"I have to do this, Timmy," she whispered back. "You have to learn your natural 
place in all this. You may be older than me, and you may be a man who was 

once put in charge of me when I was a LOT littler than I am now--" She began to 
talk louder, which embarrassed Timmy because he knew everyone in the room 
could hear, and she began squeezing him hard beneath her and flexing her 
muscles with every word she emphasized--"But now I'm STRONGER than you... 
FASTER than you... maybe even SMARTER than you... and I'm NOT holding 
back anymore just out of consideration for your poor little fragile MALE EGO! 
With all due respect, Timmy, you are UNDER ME!"

She squeezed him really hard then, pushing him into the floor simply by sticking 
her chest out, and straining his legs to the breaking point by stretching them 
along with her own. 

Timmy screamed and started to cry again.

"P-please, Sarah! Waaaaah! Stop being so m-m-mean to m-me!"

"Being 'mean' to you?" Sarah asked in a harsh tone. "You're lucky I don't want to 
start being mean to you for REAL, because this is my party and I can play with 
you ANY WAY I WANT! If I wanted to be 'mean' to you, Timmy--you little fucking 
baby--I would be REALLY fucking mean and you'd know it!"

Timmy hated it when Sarah used the "F" word. It scared him.

But with that, she flexed, squeezed and stretched Timmy one more time--a good, 
hard flex--then got off of him. But it wasn't to let him go, as he had hoped. 
Rather she speedily flipped around and now laid down on top of him the other way, 
with her backside to him as his back was still against the mat. He instinctively 
put his hands up against her back, but there was no way he could lift her up or 
even budge her enough so he could wiggle out from beneath her.

She then began bouncing up and down, raising herself slightly off the ground and 
then dropping her full body weight, butt first, onto Timmy's small exhausted form. 
Again and again she dropped her butt right against his stomach, and again and 
again he chocked air out when her body collided with his.

After a few minutes of this, which greatly entertained the rest of the girls, Sarah 
simply leaned back on top of Timmy, stretched out and rested. She made 
sarcastic noises as if she were getting sleepy, and then she closed her eyes and 
pretended to be snoring. The peanut gallery laughed but Timmy didn't think it 
was very funny. He grunted and tried to get out from under her, but still he 
couldn't manage it. He reflected that he wasn't exactly hurt or injured in any way, 
but Sarah had really humiliated and knocked the wind out of him, though 
somehow she seemed to know exactly how much he could take and how much 
breathing room to allow him. It was clear that she was so dominant over him that 
she could even fine-tune her level of control. She knew his meager limits better 
than he himself did and adjusted her domination accordingly, so as to deliver the 
exact sort of message she deemed necessary for him to learn.

"Sarah," he whispered politely. "Please get off of me."

Sarah, still with eyes closed, yawned dramatically and licked her chops as if she 
were asleep. Timmy continued to try to rouse her, putting his little hands against 
her strong shoulders and tapping her with his fingers, but she kept the game up, 
yawning again and wriggling her body a bit as if she were tossing in her sleep.

Eventually she decided to toss in her "sleep" so much that she rolled over and 
was now face down on top of him again.

"I'm dreaming of a beautiful prince," she said, with her eyes still closed. "Oh 
hello, beautiful prince! What a wonderful dream to meet you in! Can I have a kiss, 
beautiful prince?"

Timmy looked at her incredulously.

"Oh sorry, beautiful prince! I didn't realize you were so short and couldn't kiss 
me without my letting you!"

With that Sarah scooched down a bit so that her face was even with Timmy's.

"I hope that's better, beautiful prince! NOW may I have my kiss?"

Timmy obediently gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh what a timid kisser you are!" Sarah said. "The least you could do is give me 
a peck on the lips! I promise not to get mad or beat you up or spank you if you do 
that! And I also promise not to be sneaky and capture your little lips between my 
own much stronger lips and suck on you without letting go!"

Timmy nervously gave Sarah, whose smile was very broad by now, a light kiss 
on the lips.

"Whuh...? Huh?" Sarah opened her eyes and pretended to come out of her 
dreaming state. "Why, Timmy! It was just YOU kissing me while I was asleep? 
Oh you dirty boy! You 'took advantage' of me, didn't you?"

With that the room erupted into laughter. Even the other boys laughed--everyone 
did except Timmy.

Sarah rolled off of him but quickly took hold of his body and draped him across 
her lap.

"I ought to spank you for doing that, you know!"

She began patting his bottom and rubbing it in a light, circular motion, as if 
warming up for a spanking session.

"Sarah, no, I--"

"But instead I think I'll just play with you some more! Maybe... with a... 
little... TICKLE-TIME!"

With that Sarah began tickling the little man in her lap. She tickled Timmy all 
over and he squirmed this way and that, tossing around in her lap like a fish out 
of water and giggling and laughing wildly.

Finally Sarah took him in her arms and squeezed him to her in a big hug that was 
hard but not too hard. Timmy found himself hugging her back and burying his 
head in her shoulder. Then she pulled him back and gave him a little kiss on the 
forehead.

"How are you, Timmy? I hope wrestling with me didn't hurt you much?"

"N-no," Timmy admitted. "It just felt like it did sometimes."

"That's just because you're a little wimp," Sarah said matter-of-factly, no hint 
of meanness or derision in her voice. "As a male, it's natural for you to get 
nervous about everything and assume that your body, which IS delicate, is likely 
to be injured even when it isn't."

Stephanie's voice came from the peanut gallery: "We want to see more wrestling 
and less kissing and hugging!"

Sarah laughed at that and gave Timmy a cocked smile. "I think I'm done wrestling 
with him, but before I let someone else take a crack at him, I guess I could do a 
few other things with him on the mat."

She then carefully, almost lovingly lifted him off her lap and sat him next to her. 
She skillfully moved his body around so that he was facing into the mat and his 
feet were free for her to play with. She held both of his ankles in one of her 
hands, and with the other hand began to tickle the soles of his feet lightly, 
which brought a very manly, high-pitched shriek from Timmy.

"LOOK AT HIS LITTLE FEET!" Stephanie yelled, and the rest of the peanut 
gallery gave an "Awwwww!"

"Hey guys, my hand is longer than his foot," Sarah told the room, placing her 
long hand against his right sole for comparison.

"Compare your feet to his!" one of the other girls called.

Sarah twisted Timmy's body around and then moved her own so that the bottom 
of her right foot could be placed against the bottom of Timmy's left. It was no 
contest: her foot was much, much bigger and much, much longer. She held the 
feet together so that everyone could come up and get a close look.

"Dewey and me play these kinds of games all the time," Hannah said. "Don't we, 
Dewey?"

"Yeah..." the little boy said quietly.

Finally Sarah had had almost enough satisfaction on the mat, and she told 
Timmy, "Okay, you can go, as long as you can get away from my feet."

With that she clamped her feet against Timmy, her right sole against his tummy 
and her left sole against his back. Her feet hit him before he knew what was 
happening. He tried to get away, but Sarah wouldn't let him. Leaning back 
against the mat, she threw her legs up in the air and took Timmy along with 
them. She held him in mid-air using only her feet and then began raising him 
up and down as if she were lifting weights with her legs.

Through all of this Timmy's body was quite limp and placid. He knew he had no 
way to escape unless Sarah let him. Finally she lowered him to the mat, let go 
momentarily, and then slammed her right foot down against his chest.

"Try to pry my foot off, Timmy," she instructed, sprawling out on her back to 
appear as casual and leisurely as possible. "At least TRY or else I WILL spank 
you."

His back against the mat, Timmy had no choice. He put his little hands up and 
started working on Sarah's toes. They were elegant feet; her nails were close 
trimmed and unpainted. He worked on them but could barely even budge her 
pinky toe.

"It's more like a foot massage than anything else," Sarah said, and the whole 
room laughed.

Next she walked her foot up to Timmy's neck, held it there for a moment but did 
not press too hard against his windpipe.

"Here it comes," she said. "I want you to kiss my foot and suck my big toe."

She then raised her foot up to Timmy's face. Her big toe proved to be a full 
mouthful for Timmy. He sucked it and licked it readily. He wasn't sure what was 
happening to him. He got no real satisfaction from this humiliating behavior, 
but he felt an acquiescence. He accepted the fact that he had to do whatever 
Sarah said. It was as simple as that.

He then kissed her foot all over, rubbing it with his hands as he did so.

"Very good, Timmy!" Sarah said, withdrawing her foot, which was now wet with 
Timmy's slobber, and placing it back against his throat, putting a little pressure 
on it this time. "Now comes the final test. I hope you pass this one. Though at 
this point I think it's out of your control. But if you fail this, I really am 
going to have to punish you for being so naughty."

She slowly dragged her foot back down Timmy's body, first pressing it hard 
against his throat, then against his chest and stomach. As she drew near his 
crotch, everyone's attention focused on Timmy's little panties. Was there a little 
tent in there or not? It was hard to say. 

Sarah's big foot slowly dragged lower, her heel coming in contact with his crotch 
area first. She arched her eyebrows, but no one knew what she meant by that. Then 
the arch of her foot passed down over the contested area. Finally the ball of her 
foot passed and then her toes made a final drag across Timmy's panty-covered 
private area.

"Hm," Sarah said when it was over. "I guess you really are a gentleman, Timmy. 
Thank god."

She helped him up to his feet, gave him a quick hug, a kiss on the cheek, and 
then she started to put her black dress back on.

"I wanna wressle next!" someone yelled. It was Victoria.

"Well, Timmy gets to choose," Sarah said, her head popping out of the collar of 
her dress as she fitted it back in place. "He gets to choose between wrestling you 
or wrestling Stephanie. We already established that, and--"

"Well I wanna wressle next no matter if he picks me or not," Victoria said. "I want 

some action here already!"

With that the older blond made a show of whipping her super-tight dress off, 
revealing what could only be described as a banging body, partially concealed 
only by a red velvet bra and matching panties. There was a collective gasp and it 
was clear that more than one of the girls present was quite jealous.

"Um," Timmy said.

"Pick me!" Stephanie yelled. "I wanna beat you!"

"Who..." Timmy began nervously, "who else gets to wrestle?"

"We don't have all night," Sarah said, putting her heels back on. "Dewey already 
wrestled Hannah and-- Ting, do you want to wrestle?"

"Ah," the Asian girl said, partially embarrassed at the idea, looking at 
Victoria's fully loaded 6'6" body. "No, definitely not. I don't want to wrestle 
her."

Then a small voice said: "Can I?"

It was Hans. He was sitting on Ting's lap and looking up at her warily, half 
expecting her to slap him for even asking.

"Uh," Ting stalled. "Sure, I guess."

"Oh this is gonna be good," Stephanie said, giggling. "Battle of the seventeen-
year-old blondes."

"Okay," Sarah said hurriedly. "So you two wrestle and then I guess it's gonna be 
Timmy vs. Steph?" She looked at Timmy for confirmation.

He had no time to think. He was sure he could beat Stephanie, who was not only 
younger but also--thank god--shorter than him. But he really hated the idea of 
wrestling again anyway--not that what he had just done with Sarah, or rather 
what she had done to him, could really be called proper "wrestling", but still...

"Sure," he said finally. "I guess. Sure."

In the back Stephanie pumped her fist and hissed "Yesss!"

Facing each other on the mat, Victoria towered over Hans by 22 inches. While he 
was scrawny, she was in perfect shape and looked like she probably weighed 
over twice as much as him. He looked so thin, standing there in just his little 
pink panties, which were loose on him, while Victoria exuded confidence in her 
form-fitting red velvet lingerie, smiling and seeming in every way a natural 
winner. Hans' scruffy blond hair and light beard made him look like a little 
dog--one of the yippy ones--while Victoria's long smooth platinum blond tresses 
made her look like a cross between a purebred, best-in-show specimen and a regal 
lioness. The contrast was immense.

Timmy couldn't understand why Hans would volunteer to face her. Actually, on 
one level he could certainly understand it. He would bet anything and everything 
that Hans wouldn't pass the same "crotch test" if Victoria administered it to him 
after their match. But wasn't Hans nonetheless afraid of getting hurt? Victoria's 
body might be very attractive to him, but it could also damage him greatly. Timmy 
didn't understand how Hans' girlfriend Ting could let this match happen. And he 
wasn't sure he understood everyone else's interest in it, either. Of course Victoria 
was going to win; it was plain to see on first glance that she could easily 
devastate him.

At the moment, however, Victoria was just standing there in the middle of the 
mat, letting Hans put his arms around her waist and legs, trying to bring her down 
with all his strength but getting nowhere. If Hans was using this match as an 
excuse to feel up Victoria's body--and Timmy couldn't imagine that he WASN'T 
doing that--then he was at least hiding it quite well. He seemed to be a great 
actor. He strained his little twiglike arms and gritted his teeth and grunted as he 
yanked on each of Victoria's thighs in turn. It was like watching a little lumberjack, 
with no ax, trying to bring down a tree by pulling on its trunk.

"Oh yer so cute," Victoria remarked from high above him. "Too bad you already 
have a girlfriend."

She nonchalantly grabbed each of his hands with each of hers, and they began 
to struggle that way. Though "struggle" might not be appropriate for such a one-
sided affair. It was so comical and pathetic, to see Hans' tiny fists disappear 
entirely within Victoria's long-fingered clutches. Hans' arms seemed pumped to 
the breaking point: their musculature was in fact fairly well defined, but only 
because the boy had no fat whatsoever on his body. His little wiry chicken arms 
stood out and strained as he struggled, hopelessly, against Victoria, whose long 
womanly arms were scarcely defined or flexed at all. Though hardly making any 
effort at all, she easily forced Hans' down to the mat again and again, bending at 
her waist, only to lift him up again each time, swing him in the air, still 
clutching his hands within her own, and then set him back down on his feet so they 
could have another arm-struggle. Each go-round Hans appeared weaker and weaker, 
shaking on his feet, his arms wobbling ever more. Before long it looked as 
though Victoria had to manage a difficult process of holding Hans' weak-kneed 
body up just well enough that she could put on enough of a show of forcing it back 
down. It was as if he was already so spent that she had to do his work for him, 
just to make the match seem semi-interesting.

Eventually she let him go, but then reached down again with just her right hand. 
Her fingers and long pink nails with the square chunky ends wrapped halfway 
around Hans' waist and hoisted him into the air.

"Let me show ya a new way to spank," Victoria said, holding Hans sideways at 
the level of her taunt stomach.

With her other hand she pulled down the back of his panties so that his bare, 
hairless butt was showing. Then she rubbed his butt lightly in a circular motion 
with her free hand. And then--

WAPP!

WAPP!!

WAPP!!!

She spanked him three times, each harder than the last. She didn't wind up to 
strike him at all, but only held her hand three or four inches away from his ass 
before giving him short, succinct slaps. The sight was incredible; she held him 
aloft with one hand, very easily, while spanking him with the other.

WAPP!

WAPP!!

WAPP!!!

By this time Hans' lips had twisted and he was beginning to cry. Victoria smirked.

"What a baby," she said. "I'm not even hittin him hard. He's like all guys. So 
scared that they start cryin no matter what. Yew bad lil boy. I wouldn't spank yew 
so much if you took it like a woman instead of like a baby. But I guess all men are 
rilly more like babies anyway." 

WAPP!

WAPP!!

WAPP!!!

Hans was outright balling now. Victoria calmly lowered him to the mat and then 
sat down Indian-style beside him. She pulled his little body between her big 
smooth legs and put his waist behind her left knee. Then she pulled her left foot 
towards her so as to squeeze Hans between her calf and thigh. He balled louder 
now when she squeezed. It was like she could turn an ambulance siren or police 
horn on louder or softer just by pulling on her left foot or letting it go.

"Hans!" Ting shouted. "Hans!" For a moment Timmy hoped that Ting was going 
to rescue her man, but Ting's next words dashed that idea: "Stop being such a 
little wussy! She isn't squeezing you that bad! I squeeze you harder than that and 
you like it!"

Victoria chuckled. "Yeah but I have hotter legs so it makes him more nervous ta 
be scwushed by them."

Ting didn't reply. Obviously Victoria's comment had shut her up and in a sense 
put her in her place. Victoria was clearly the dominant female here, especially if 
Sarah was being quiet.

Hans' whining and crying continued unabated as Victoria decided to flip him 
upside down and hold him above her with one large hand placed on his chest. 
She raised him high above her head and then carefully stood up while still 
holding him. She was so tall that she could push him hard against the ceiling. 
Hans' yelled for help but to no avail.

To be honest, Timmy was starting to think that the girls were right. It didn't seem 
like Victoria was REALLY being so rough with Hans. He wondered if it had been 
the same case when he cried when wrestling Sarah. Maybe most of this IS just in 
our minds, Timmy said. It seemed pretty obvious that guys were far more 
cowardly and less confident than girls. Most every guy he had seen in quite a 
while now could be described as a scaredy cat in some way.

Still, that didn't make it right. And when Victoria dropped Hans from the ceiling 
all the way down to her raised knee, which collided with his freefalling groin, 
Timmy had cause for concern. Hans' limp body was draped over Victoria's gigantic, 
flexed thigh, and when she lowered it Hans dropped again to the mat, landing in 
a little heap at her feet. Then Victoria reached down, wrapped a manicured hand 
around his neck, and repeated the process: she lifted him up with her big palm 
spread over his entire chest, pressed him against the ceiling, raised a big athletic 
knee, dropped him from the ceiling so that his groin and lower stomach collided 
with her waiting thigh, and then lowered her leg so Hans would tumble the rest of 
the way and crash to the floor. 

"Yew wanted to wressle me," Victoria said to Hans, "so why aren't ya wresslin? 
Looks like yew'd rather feel my legs. Well how many times yew gonna let me do 
this just so yew can feel my big thigh each time? Huh? Or maybe yew really can't 
stop me from doin this even if yew wanted tew! But YEW wanted ta wressle me! 
Yer playin with fire, little boy! If yew rilly want yer body to feel mine, it's def 
gonna HURT, duh, cuz I'm so much STRONGER then yew are!"

Then Victoria pulled the dropping maneuver again. The fourth time she did it, 
Timmy stood up and took a half-step forward. The fifth time she did it--every 
successive time to increased laughter from all the girls, even Ting--he thought 
about trying to get Sarah to do something to stop it, but she was on the other 
side of the room, wide-eyed and her mouth open in amused awe at what Victoria 
was doing. Maybe he should run to go get Martha, but he knew that she wouldn't 
want to get up just to put a stop to something like this, which she would no doubt 
just consider "girls being girls", and, besides, she had already told Timmy that it 
was HIS job to watch the kids at the party.

As Victoria's smiling, red-lipsticked face looked up at Hans for a sixth time, and 
as her big palm spread itself across Hans' naked stomach, pushing his back against 
the ceiling--Timmy finally said something:

"Hey, don't," his little voice came. "Don't. You're hurting him."

Everyone looked at Timmy then. For all he knew, he was about to be yanked 
across any number of teenage knees and his bottom would be blistered. But 
instead Victoria simply lowered Hans back to his feet, steadied his wobbling 
little legs, crouched down in front of him and asked, "Are yew okay, lil guy?"

"Y-y-y-yeah," Hans said, tears in his eyes.

"Oh," Victoria said. "I'm jus so sorry. I jus kinda got carried away. It was jus 
too much fun ta dominate yer cute lil bod that way. But I din mean fer it ta get 
so outta control."

She reached for him with open arms and he collapsed into her, limp and 
powerless. She hugged him hard--but not too hard--and kissed his cheeks as 
they shared the special bond that can only be forged by dominating woman and 
dominated man. She stood up, taking him in her arms, and began walking him 
back over to Ting. Timmy noticed Hans' little hands rubbing Victoria's naked 
shoulders and then making their way down to her chest. She then pressed him 
tighter to her so no one could see what might have happened next.

"I hope I didn't break him," Victoria said to Ting, handing her Hans' little form, 
which her arms had moved into the fetal position.

"Oh it's okay," Ting said to the taller, older girl.

"Yer a very lucky girl ta have a man so cute and tiny," Victoria told Ting. "I 
hope someday you learn to dominate him as good as I just did. Cuz he rilly 
deserves it." And then she turned and walked away, her gorgeous face wearing a 
wide white smile. Still dressed in nothing but her red velvet lingerie, she 
walked out of the room, presumably to go to the bathroom, and as she passed 
Timmy she gave his ass a very sharp pinch.


*****

Stephanie seemed decidedly larger in her blue leotard than she did in her party 
dress. As he faced her across the mat, Timmy still enjoyed the fact that he 
towered over the 10-year-old girl by a whopping three inches, but he was no 
longer as confident as he once was. His heart sank when Sarah brought a scale 
out and declared at it was "Time for the weigh-in!"

Suddenly Timmy wished that he had eaten more cake earlier. He shivered in his 
tight panties as Sarah helped him step onto the scale.

"78 pounds!" Victoria read with glee. The super-tall teen then looked over at 
Stephanie and said "I think you got it in the bag, sis!"

"Jeez, Tim," Sarah said softly as she led him down and walked him over to his 
side of the mat. "I thought you weighed more than THAT."

"I'm sorry," Timmy told her, as if it was his fault.

Stephanie smiled at Timmy smugly as she got onto the scale, one small step that 
made her eye-to-eye with the 26-year-old man. She patted her gut, which had 
not looked quite so big and hearty when she was wearing her dress, and in a 
bold voice asked her sister "HOW MUCH?"

"100 pounds on the dot!" Victoria announced happily.

"I knew it!" Stephanie yelled. Then she looked across the mat at Timmy, squatted 
slightly, flexed her muscles and made a noise that was somewhere between a 
grunt and a growl.

Timmy looked up at Sarah's tall form standing next to him.

"Sarah?" he whispered.

"What, Timmy?" she said, a trace of annoyance in her voice.

"C-can I--can I NOT do this? P-p-please can you stop this?"

"NO, Timmy," Sarah said in a strict voice that was loud enough for others to hear. 
"I COULD stop this but I won't. You need to be a big boy and try your hardest. No 
one will blame you if you lose--it's expected--but you need to try. The only 
alternative is just to concede and let Stephanie spank you NOW instead of after 
the match if you lose."

The other girls were giggling. Hannah was enjoying it especially as she sat 
crosslegged on the floor and hugged Little Dewey close on her lap. Ting sat next 
to her, smiling as she held Hans, her long fingers encircling his tiny thighs.

Timmy couldn't believe that it was "expected" for him to lose the match. Even 
though he didn't want to do it now, he still thought he had a chance. He suddenly 
realized that, finally, this was his opportunity to exceed expectations and prove 
himself a man again. All he had to do was outwrestle a ten-year-old girl whom he 
WAS taller than. And even though she weighed twenty-two pounds more than 
him, that wasn't such a clear advantage as, to an extent, it simply spoke to 
Stephanie being husky and NOT in perfect shape like the other girls.

With renewed, mad confidence, Timmy surprised everyone by stalking towards 
Stephanie and almost instantly overpowering her, throwing her chubby body to 
the mat. The little girl squealed with rage as Timmy added insult to injury by 
putting his foot against her shoulder and shoving it down to the mat.

Just as he was about to crouch down for the pin, however, Stephanie just 
managed to scramble away on all fours, barely eluding his clutches. Her body 
was faster than it looked. No matter, he felt that he had her on the ropes, so to 
speak, even though there were no ropes in his makeshift ring.

Timmy used the excuse of an escaping Stephanie to plant his foot on her butt as 
she crawled away, shoving her violently. His foot actually up-ended the little girl, 
causing her own momentum to drive her face into the mat.

"HA!" laughed Little Dewey. Then Hannah shot him a warning look and he 
clammed up.

"Wow," remarked Victoria. Timmy couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or just 
her usual, dismissive teenage self. And at the moment, he didn't really care.

As Stephanie, still on all fours, finally recovered and turned around to face him, 
Timmy was upon her again. He flew toward her head and knocked her down with 
his right thigh. She grunted and gagged as Timmy found himself plopped on top 
of her, her face under his butt. "If only I could fart right now," Timmy thought, 
"and give this little brat a taste of her just desserts."

"Get OFFA me!" Stephanie screamed in total frustration as she put everything 
she had into bouncing Timmy just high enough so she could wiggle out from 

under him. Again she had escaped an early pin, but Timmy didn't mind; he hadn't 
expected things to go so easy for him and was happy at the results of his efforts 
so far.

When he turned to face her again he was somewhat surprised to find Stephanie 
on her feet already. Breathing through her mouth, the young blond was heaving 
her shoulders and looking at him with menace.

They grappled in the upright position for the next minute or so. Again and again 
Stephanie just barely twisted out of Timmy's grip. Once she flailed her arms and 
wrapped them around Timmy, but his slim form simply ducked and spun and got 
away very easily. Finally when they locked hands, after a five-second stalemate 
Timmy's arms began to slowly force Stephanie's downward. 

When he had almost lowered her to the mat again, she suddenly headbutted him 
in the stomach. It wasn't a hard blow but it shocked him and he let go of her 
hands. Stephanie rolled backwards to get away from him and catch her breath. 
Before long Timmy was striding towards her confidently, a smirk of amusement 
on his face.

"Jus GIT HIM!" Victoria yelled. "Omigod, Steph, hurry up, you're embarrassin 
me."

Stephanie suddenly looked nervous and desperate--two emotions Timmy had not 
seen any trace of on the brat's face all evening. She practically ran away from 
him when he got close--ran off of the mat and circled back around.

"Omigod, stop RUNNIN, Stephanie!" her sister called. "Yew don't have ta be 
afraid--he's ONLY a guy!"

With that, a light seemed to come on in Stephanie's head. It wasn't a spotlight or 
even a flashlight, but rather a tiny blinking light. 

Without thinking, she quickly shoved Timmy in the chest with both hands. He 
went flying and landed with his back to the mat.

A cheer went up from the crowd--or at least from all the girls, including Sarah, to 
Timmy's dismay. "GIT HIM! QUICK!" Victoria yelled.

A disoriented Stephanie bounded towards Timmy with much uncertainty. Before 
she could reach him, however, Timmy had sprung back up to his feet and, not 
sure of what else to do, shoved Stephanie with both hands in her flat chest just 
as she had done to him. 

The shove caused her to teeter and eventually stumble to one knee. Timmy 
reflected that he had been standing confidently when she shoved him, and he 
went flying, whereas Stephanie had already been somewhat disoriented when he 
shoved her, and she barely even went down.

Still, she was in a vulnerable position and Timmy wasn't going to let it go to 
waste. He shoved one of her shoulders, throwing her further off-balance and 
causing her to do a bellyflop against the mat. He then climbed on top of her, 
wrapped one of his arms around her neck in a choke hold and hissed "Give!" in 
her ear.

"No! N-n-no, Timmy, stop! Please," Stephanie sniveled.

"Omigod, Steph, you are embarrassin!" Victoria called. "Why don't yew jus agree 
ta be his slave er somethin? Yew DO realize it aint 1800 anymore, right? Yew 
CAN fight back, ya know?"

"GIVE!" Timmy said louder and more authoritatively, tightening his grip around 
her neck and using his other hand to pull one of her arms behind her back.

Stephanie winced and she closed her eyes, in fear more than in pain.

"Stephanie!" Sarah called. "Just STAND UP, Stephanie!"

Timmy didn't like it that Sarah was saying this. He thought the birthday girl should 

remain neutral, especially since Timmy was her special friend who was going to 
spend the night with her. His grip thus loosened out of annoyance and 
disappointment, he was unprepared for Stephanie's effort to stand up. She was 
still quite lacking in confidence, and couldn't make it all the way to her feet, but 

her male burden was thrown free from shock over the very fact that the female 

mountain beneath him was starting to move.

Just as Timmy rolled off of Stephanie, so did she roll over to the other side of the 
mat. Both fallen competitors glanced at each other, each thankful that the other 
one was on the opposite end of the "ring", and each glad that the other wasn't 
standing up.

Timmy needed something to make him feel like he could win again, and that 
something came from Hans:

"Timmy! Go after her!" the boy yelled. "Don't let up! You're winning! It's amazing!"

"Hans!" Ting said in a shocked voice. "How can you be so rude!" 

From the corner of his eye Timmy saw Ting lower Hans between her long hosed 
legs and begin to squeeze his body as she continued to watch the show.

Before Timmy knew what was happening, Stephanie was almost upon him again. 
He deftly sidestepped her attack, however, and spun around to catch her arm 
and throw her to the mat. The elegance at which he did this surprised even 
himself. He began, for the first time in quite a while, to take some pride his 
physicality and performance. He hadn't felt this way since he had playfully bullied 
two of his little cousins years and years and years ago.

"YE-AH!" called Dewey. "You GOT her, man! Show her what BOY POWER's all 
about!"

"DEWEY," Hannah said in the most acrimonious voice Timmy had heard that 
night. He then saw her lower her boyfriend in between her legs and give him the 
same rough treatment Ting was giving Hans.

As he watched Stephanie's broad form struggle to her feet, Timmy realized that 
he was fighting for more than himself. He was fighting for every male in this room 
tonight. He was the oldest male and he was wrestling the youngest female. It 
was a Woman's World, true, but if he could just beat Stephanie then it would 
mean that his sex had some glimmer of respect and dignity left.

Stephanie lunged at him awkwardly and without even thinking he simply 
sidestepped her again, turned, and guided her clumsy form back down into the 
mat. It was like dodging a big stupid bull, he thought. Child's play.

She was totally limp now, and Timmy climbed upon her, rolling her onto her back 
relatively easily, since she was already on her side. He lay upon her and put his 
hands on her shoulders.

"Somebody COUNT!" he shouted.

"1..." said Sarah. "2..."

Stephanie jerked one of her shoulders up.

"YAY Stephanie!" Sarah chimed.

Timmy hated this. He shoved Stephanie's shoulder back down and again 
assumed the pinning position.

"1..." Sarah said again. "2..."


Again Stephanie jerked her shoulder up and again Timmy shoved it back down.

"I can keep this up longer than you can, little girl!" he hissed. It was the meanest 
he had sounded in quite a while. Stephanie's baby blue eyes looked up at him 
quizzically.

"1... 2..."

This time Stephanie suddenly threw Timmy off of her entirely. Without him 
noticing it she had snaked both of her hands up between their chests and was 
waiting for the right opportunity to shove him off.

Timmy was a bit dazed, but he shook it off in seconds. Both on their knees now, 
Timmy and Stephanie locked arms again and again Timmy began to force her 
down, although slower than last time and with slightly more difficulty.

Then, before he knew what was happening, he found himself between 
Stephanie's legs. She had kicked them outwards, one on each side of Timmy's 
little waist, and suddenly he was between her big baby-fat thighs.

"Good, Steph!" Sarah chirped.

"Roll him over!" said Victoria. "Then yew can rilly do a number on him!"

That's just what Stephanie did. She simply twisted, turned her lower body to the 
side, and Timmy rolled over with them.

"Squeeze him squeeze him squeeze him!" chanted Ting and Hannah, the two 
girls still squeezing their boyfriends between their legs.

"I'll t-try..." grunted Stephanie, still lacking confidence.

"Don't TRY," Sarah insisted. "You're a girl--so just DO it!"

Timmy was outraged by these recent developments, but still he wasn't that 
bothered. Stephanie's "squeezing" seemed more like she was just stretching her 
legs. He began to slowly work his way out from between her thick thighs.

"He's gettin away!" yelled Victoria. "Shove him back down, Steph!"

Stephanie hurriedly clamped both hands on Timmy's shoulders and forced him 
back down so low that his chest was between the meatiest part of her thighs.

"Good!" said Sarah brightly. "Now cross your ankles when you squeeze him! It'll 
be a lot more effective!"

Stephanie did as she was told and Timmy felt an excruciating, rib-cracking 

amount of pain. He let out a scream so loud he was sure it'd wake Martha.

The girls all cheered at this.

"Ya got him now, Steph!" Victoria said happily. "Yer beatin up a guy like over 
twice her age! That's my sister!"

"That's my prot'g'!" said Sarah.

Timmy grunted in disgust and pounded his little fists futilely against Stephanie's 
thighs. His ten-year-old tormentor laughed at this and squeezed him again, just 
as hard as the first time.

"Timmy, don't give up!" squeaked Dewey.

"Yeah, c'mon," said Hans. "Get out of there and just give that big bully one more 
push and she'll topple!"

Both boys were instantly reprimanded by their girlfriends.

"On the count of three," Sarah announced, "all three girls squeeze! 1... 2... 3!"

Then, all at the same time, 13-year-old Hannah squeezed 13-year-old Dewey, 
and 13-year-old Ting squeezed 17-year-old Hans, and 10-year-old Stephanie 
squeezed 26-year-old Timmy. Three pairs of relatively large female thighs 
crushed three skinny males, and three male screams were heard as one.

Timmy was nearly out of breath and knew he didn't have much fight left in him. 
While everyone was still laughing over the group squeeze, Timmy used the 
opportunity to reach up and simply sock Stephanie in the mouth. He hoped that 
no one else saw this, and based on the continuing revelry from the peanut-
gallery he believed he had indeed gotten away with a cheap shot.

The sneaky tactic worked to his advantage. Stephanie gasped, shot her hands to 
her face (she had been laying back on her elbows) and instinctively loosened her 
thighs around Timmy. He threw his weight against the temporarily off-balance girl 
and nearly wiggled free before her feet caught him at the last moment.

Stephanie roared and pressed his waist between the sides of her feet. Though 
Timmy feared her anger now immensely, he also knew that she wasn't thinking 
and wouldn't be able to formulate a sentence coherently anytime soon. He curled 
down into the fetal position, his head down against Stephanie's feet. To everyone 
else, it probably looked as if he were doubling over in pain, but Timmy had other 
ideas. 

He had to time it just right so that no one else was the wiser. He began to voice a 
confident scream and started to flail his arms about. A second later he chomped 
down on Stephanie's big toe, which no one else could see. The big girl instantly 
spread her feet apart and shrieked in pain, but her yelling bled into his, and his 
still-flailing arms made it seem as if he had thrust her feet apart himself.

Stephanie was now lying on her back in pain and all Timmy had to do was 
scramble upon her and go for the pin. A second later he was walking on all fours 
across the mat. He decided to position himself sideways across the girl's chest 
and shoulders.

"1... 2--"

Suddenly Timmy was flying head over heels as Stephanie hoisted her shoulder 
upwards and followed him down so that she was now on top of him.

He had an instant sensation of desperation and claustrophobia; Stephanie held 
him down with one hand and began positioning her body length-wise on top of 
his. He knew he couldn't lift her off of him; she weighed more than he did and he 
couldn't even lift his own weight. He tried with both hands to push her one hand 
off of his chest, but it was no use. She was too strong. Stephanie, though much 
exhausted, smiled down at him sadistically.

"Well well, little boy. Looks like you're fucked."

She lowered her body face-down against his. At the last moment she wrapped 
one of her forearms behind his shoulders and propped him up so that this 
couldn't count as a pin. It was clear that she wanted there to be a little torture 
before she let him lose.

"She hasn't won yet, Timmy!" yelled Hans. "Wiggle out! Try something! Don't give 
up! You can't just give up!"

"Oh SHUT UP!" Ting yelled, slapping him violently with a backhand.

Timmy strained and squeezed but couldn't budge Stephanie or himself even a 
centimeter in any direction. She was too much for him. At this point, no strategy 
was necessary or even possible: Stephanie weighed much more than Timmy, 
and much much much more than Timmy could lift.

"How does it feel to be trapped, little boy?" Stephanie asked him.

He closed his eyes and grunted and strained again to no avail.

"I said--LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!" Stephanie yelled. "Or I'll 
REALLY start hurting you!" She bucked her body a bit, causing it to crush down 
on him.

Fearful of what more she could do, Timmy cracked his nervous eyes open and 
stared upwards. Stephanie's proud face gazed down at him. She shoved herself 
down against him hard, then raised her head again to look at him.

"How does it feel to be such a wimp?" she asked, and she expected a response.

"Shut up!" Timmy yelled, and attempted a meager shove against her, at which 
she just laughed.

"You should have beat me when you had the chance!"

She was right: he DID have a chance. And in a sense, this was worse than losing 
to her outright. He had a chance to win--more than one chance, in fact--but he 
blew it. At first he had been in charge of the contest, and as he proceedings wore 
on it became apparent that he and Stephanie were more or less evenly matched. 
It really came down to stamina, endurance, and--more than anything else--
willpower. He simply didn't have the willpower that a ten-year-old girl had--at 
least, not the kind of willpower a girl would have in this environment and this 
society.

Moreover, as the match neared its conclusion it became apparent that what 
really mattered now was size and strength. He was still a little taller than 
Stephanie--though she'd probably pass him in a few months--but she weighed 
more, and it was her sheer, natural bulk that he couldn't overcome. As far as 
strength went, it was clear that Stephanie's muscles were more durable. Timmy 
strained his little chicken arms against Stephanie's sturdy forearms, to no effect.


It was almost as if he could sense Stephanie surpassing him, not only physically 
but mentally and socially.

"Just pin me!" Timmy squealed from beneath her. 

"NO!" Stephanie said. She shook him a bit, gripping his body tight between her 
left forearm, behind his back, and her right forearm, across his chest.

"You want me to give? Fine, I give!"

"NO!" Stephanie said again, giggling.

Timmy moaned in frustration.

"Tell them what you did," Stephanie said.

"W-what?"

"Tell them how you CHEATED!" With that final word she squeezed Timmy 
against her, removing her right forearm and pressing him directly into her chest. 
She also stretched his thin legs outward with her thick, intertwined thighs.

"OW! O-okay! I-I cheated! I-I bit her toe when no one was looking! A-and I 
punched her in the mouth!"

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT, TIMMY?"

"B-because I was scared a-and couldn't win any other way a-at that point."

"You couldn't even win even WITH cheating!" Stephanie squeezed him again and 
he screamed. "So how does it feel to be such a little wimp?"

Timmy moaned. "It feels bad," he said.

"How does it feel to be so much wimpier than me?"

"Baaad," he said, totally defeated.

"WRONG ANSWERS!" she bellowed. "TRY AGAIN! HOW DOES IT FEEL TO 
BE SO WIMPY?!"

She squeezed him hard.

"G-good! I-it f-feels g-good!" he stuttered.

"Now ask me!" she sang. "Now ask me!"

"H-how does i-it feel to be so strong?"

"IT FEELS GREAT! Now ask the other way!"

"Huh? O-oh, o-oh. H-how does i-it feel to be so much stronger than me?"

"IT FEELS REEEEEALLY REEEAALLY AWESOME!"

With that Stephanie slid her forearm out from behind Timmy's back, smacked him 
flat against the mat, and brought her face down so low that their noses were 
touching as Sarah counted:

"1... 2... 3! The winner is Stephanie!"

Timmy stared up into the face of the ten-year-old girl who had beaten him. Her 
big blue eyes were staring back and she held him in this pose for another half-
minute or so, smiling down at him while the girls cheered, whistled and clapped.

When he finally was allowed to make it back to his feet, he turned to see Sarah 
paying complete attention to Stephanie. She was hugging the younger girl and 
telling her how proud she was of her.

Meanwhile Hans and Dewey looked as morose as if their pet dog had died. Both 
Ting and Hannah looked down with bemused grins at their boyfriends.

Suddenly a long familiar hand with chunky pink nails slithered down Timmy's 
naked shoulder.

"Don't worry, Timmy" Victoria said leaning down, her long platinum blond tresses 
falling against Timmy's vision. "Yew did the bes yew could, right?"

"Y-yeah," Timmy said, overcome with embarrassment and emotion.

"I beat my dad at wresslin when I was like 12. An he's not THAT much bigger'n 
yew, so..."

Suddenly Timmy could take it no longer. He turned himself towards Victoria and 
started to cry. 

"Shhh, shhh," she said, delicately placing her long hands around his shoulders 
and pulling him into her embrace. 

He cried long and hard, wetting the front of Victoria's black dress with his tears.

When it was over he felt another long female hand on him, and he knew it was 
Sarah.

"Okay, Timmy," she said. "We're going to put some music on and do dancing 
before everyone has to go. But first--you know what comes next."

He actually didn't, he was so traumatized. He pulled himself away from Victoria 
with regret. The older girl fingered his little hand as long as she could before 
Sarah led him away from her. Stephanie was sitting on a little chair, patting her 
thigh expectantly and looking at him with a big grin.

"N-n-no!" Timmy shrieked, and he tried to scramble away from Sarah like a cat 
avoiding a bath.

"TIMMY," Sarah said in a strong tone. "You lost and now Stephanie gets her 
reward. You're lucky I don't spank you myself since you CHEATED in the match."

He knew she was right. She was always right. All women were always right, and 
he had to admit that he knew this was the deal and it was fair. Sarah lifted him 
into the air and positioned him across Stephanie's thick lap.

"Can I do bare-butt?" the young girl asked Sarah.

"You can do it HOWEVER YOU LIKE, Stephanie."

Stephanie giggled and then paused.

"Timmy?" she asked.

"Yes, Stephanie," said the downcast 26-year-old man who was strewn across her 
lap.

"I'm going to leave your panties on while I spank you."

He was too pathetically overjoyed to speak.


"Do you know why I'm leaving them on you, Timmy?"

"W-why, Stephanie?"

"Because I am a young woman and sometimes it is good of us to be kind to little 
men. Even bad little men who don't deserve it."

"O-oh, th-thank you, Stephanie."

"You are WELCOME, my adorable little Timmy. And now I am going to spank 
you as hard as I possibly can."

*****

Sarah had told him her mother kept painkillers on the bottom shelf in the 
bathroom medicine cabinet. He eagerly gulped two of the pills down and gingerly 
touched his ass through his panties. It was very sore.

Stephanie had slammed her pudgy palm against his backside more times than 
he could count. When she was done, when Sarah had carried him away crying, 
he had turned to see Stephanie's red face still heaving with sadistic rage, 
breathing heavily and gnashing her teeth. If a ten-year-old girl could do all that 
to him, it was clear that Timmy really did need protection in this world. He hoped 
that one day he would find it, maybe from a girl as kind as Sarah.

Unfortunately, however, Sarah herself was in no mood to be that soft touch at the 
moment. She set him down and then sent him on his way to the bathroom to find 
the painkillers himself. 

"Hurry back," she had send to him sternly. "We're going to play some music and 
dance. Don't wimp out and hide in the bathroom or anywhere else. You're too old 
for hide-and-seek, and you won't like it if I have to come looking for you."

Looking at his anxious little face in the bathroom mirror, Timmy imagined what 
would happen if he did try to hide from Sarah. He imagined her massive body 
thrusting its way under a bed to fish him out. He imagined the trepidation he 
would feel were he to hide in a closet as she searched the room outside, getting 
closer and closer to his hiding place. For some reason, these hypothetical 
scenarios both terrified and thrilled Timmy. He was of half a mind to disobey 
Sarah and really hide from her. Sure, she would no doubt punish him for doing 
so, but in a way--in a way he couldn't understand--he was actually beginning to 
like the idea of her punishing him. Besides, he knew that Sarah had such control 
that she would never hurt or break him permanently.

In the distance he could hear the thumping of pop music. The dance had 
evidently started. He had always hated dancing; even in high school he always 
skipped the prom. Suddenly all he wanted was to be home, back at his Aunt's 
mansion, curled up in his little bed with the covers over his head. He felt his penis 
and found that it was still in the pathetic button-shape; Aunt Rose's medicine had 
lost none of its potency in the 12+ hours since he digested it. 

Still, boner or no boner, enflamed ass or not, at the moment the best option 
seemed to be Martha's room. Maybe he could sneak in there and curl up in her 
husky-but-shapely arms without even waking her from her beauty sleep. Surely 
Sarah wouldn't take him away from her mother's bed. Maybe he could sleep like 
that, in her tender embrace, all through the night and into the morning, when his 
penis would be back to normal. 

Yes, going to Martha's room now would definitely be the best course of action, he 
thought to himself, as he opened the bathroom door and stepped through it--his 
head bouncing right into Victoria's proud chest.

The towering teen giggled as a shocked Timmy jumped back a step or two. 
Evidently she had been posed, waiting for him there with her knees somewhat 
bent so that his face would be level with her boobs.

"I came ta see if yew were okay," she said, standing up to her full, very imposing 
height now, advancing into the bathroom and closing the door behind them.


"I-I'm fine, V-Victoria," he said nervously, still stepping backwards and almost 
tripping over the toilet seat. ("If only this bathroom had two exits," he thought.)

"Yew can call me Vicki if ya want," she said, smiling down at him. "I've decided 
that'd be okay, if ya want."

"Um," he said.

"Actually, do ya think I'm more of a Vicki or a Victoria?"

"Uh," he said, staring up at her towering, confident form, her straight blonde 
tresses flowing over her broad, bare shoulders, her breasts almost bursting out of 
her clingy black dress, which ended almost before her thighs even began. 
"Definitely a Victoria."

She gave a smug, self-satisfied look.

"Lemme see it," she said.

"Uh... W-what?"

"Lemme see it," she said again, advancing closer.

"Uh, s-see what?"

"What my sister did ta yew. Lemme see how red yer ass is."

"Uh, Vicki--Victoria, um, I don't really want t-to..."

"What, are yew embarrassed?"

"Well, y-y-yeah," he sputtered, now crouching down almost behind the toilet.

"What're yew so scared of, Timmy?" she asked, sitting down on the toilet and 
crossing her long smooth legs. "I'm not gonna hurt ya. I came ta see how ya 
were doin. If ya wanna cry any more, I can sit ya on my lap and ya can cry. I'll 
hold ya if ya want."

Without waiting for him to respond, Victoria stretched her arms out to Timmy and 
wrapped him up in them. She curled him up, sat his still-stinging bottom against 
her lap, and held him like a baby. He started to fuss and form a protest.

"Shhh..." she said, bringing her head down and nuzzling his.


Timmy had to admit that Victoria sure did know how to calm him down. He felt 
very much like he did when he was much younger and his mother would gather 
him up into her arms and hush him when he was upset about something. This 
night had certainly taken a toll on Timmy, and he found that he was suddenly 
grateful for Victoria's uninvited presence. He put his arms around her as best he 
could and buried his head in her shoulder. He just needed someone to hug, 
someone to hug him back.

"I could rape yew right now," Victoria purred, "an' no one would be able ta stop 
me. Least of all yew."

"PLEASE don't," Timmy said, closing his eyes and wishing that this conversation 
wasn't happening.

"So yew admit that I'm in charge a yew right now?" Victoria asked. "An' ya know 
that ya couldn't stop me no matter what?"

"Yes, Victoria," Timmy said. "I know that you're over me. But please don't treat 
me mean."

"Aw, Timmy, yew are SO cute," she said, and she tilted Timmy's head up with 
her fingers and gave him a wet kiss on the tip of his nose. "Don't worry, I'm not 
gonna rape ya, or hurt ya."

"Thanks, Victoria."

"Yew--are--welcome," she said, giving him another wet kiss on the nose. And 
then she bounced him on her lap again and stared down at him with a broad, 
ominous smile.

"Uh..." Timmy said, after about half a minute of silence had passed. "Don't you 
think we should be getting back to the party?" She didn't respond, so he added: 
"Instead of... sitting here on the toilet?"

"Um... Timmy?" she said in a strange, almost nervous tone that he had never 
heard from her before. "Can I ask yew a question?"

"Uh, s-sure, Victoria."

"Would you go out with me?"

"Uh, w-what do you mean? I... I don't really think that..." He began to try to 
extricate himself from her lap, but he found that though Victoria's arms weren't 
holding him fast they were still too big and long for him to get out of without more 
effort than he felt safe exerting against her. He did not want to provoke the large 
girl's rage.

"We could go out onna date?" Victoria added, hopefully.

"Um, I d-don't really think that would be--"

"It would be FUN!" Victoria said, her voice rising in an almost childish manner. "I 
could drive to yer house an' pick ya up in my car an' drive us t'go see a movie or 
somethin' an' then go out ta eat an' then, well, we-we-We could do whatever ya 
WANT, Timmy, I mean we don't have t'see a movie or anythin' but we could just 
sorta hang out if that would be okay, an'--"

"Victoria!" he squeaked. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"W-why not?" she said weakly.

"Because you're only 17, right? And I'm 26 and, anyway, I kinda have--"

"Well when I'm 18 it'll be different!" Victoria announced, an air of arrogance and 
snottiness returning to her voice in a way that intimidated Timmy.

"Well, I mean, that would be--"

"Becuz when I'm 18 I could just TAKE YOU if I wanted to!"

"V-victoria--"

"HUH?" she said loudly, wrapping her long hands around his shoulders and 
shaking him in her lap. He looked up at her with eyes wide with fear. "When I'm 
18 I could just throw myself atcha an' yew couldn't stop me even if ya wanted ta. 
Which yew won't. Becuz I know ya like me rilly."

"Please, Victoria--"

"Or do you already have a girlfriend?!"

"Well, not really."

"Who was that buff chick who brought yew here?" Victoria asked. "We saw her 
from the window. When ya hugged her ta say goodbye yew looked like yew were 
gonna take yer panties off right there an' beg her ta finger-fuck yew."

"Um," Timmy said nervously. "That was Brooks."

"Is she yer girlfriend? I think I'm prolly a couple inches taller'n her. RIGHT?"


"U-u-uh, s-she's not my girlfriend really, but, uh--"

"'But uh' WHAT?"

"But, uh, we went on a date o-once, a-and she, uh, she-she p-protects me 
sometimes."

"Protects yew?" Suddenly her voice dropped and she began to sound desperate 
and childlike again. "I-I could protect yew, Timmy."

"I know you could, Victoria, but I don't need to you right now. I-I am really 
flattered, though, that you would--"

"Yew make me sooo hot, Timmy," she said in the most girly teenager voice he 
had ever heard. "When I saw my lil sis beat yew in wresslin I wanted ta just run 
over ta yer lil body an' start makin' out with yew."

"Um, I don't really know what to say to that."

"Who would you rather make out with," she asked him, "me or that Brooks bitch?"

He didn't know how to play this. Victoria looked down at him nervously now, 
brushing a few strands of her long blond hair behind her ear with her hand, then 
absentmindedly biting on one of her long pink nails. She was a very pretty girl, 
Timmy thought, and she would be 18 soon. He did sort of enjoy sitting on her lap; 
her long supple thighs made a nice cushion for his still-tender ass. Then in his 
mind he thought of Brooks' cruel, indomitable face and how her lips twisted into a 
sneer whenever she dished out punishment to him or ground his cock between 
her fingers. Whenever he was with her, he always wanted her to ravish him. And 
sometimes he even found himself hopelessly wanting nothing more than for 
Brooks to allow him the pleasure to kissing her like a real man used to kiss a 
supplicant woman.


"Um, I wish I could make out with Brooks," he said.

Victoria looked like she was going to cry. She turned her face away from him as 
her hands gently lowered him onto the floor.

"I'm sorry," he said, and reached over to put one of his little hands on her smooth 
bare shoulder. "I do LIKE you, Victoria, it's just--"

"I'm okay," she said shyly, still sitting on the toilet seat, her face half turned 
away and hidden by her long platinum tresses. "I'm just not used ta guys turnin me 
down."

She looked up at him then, her baby blue eyes watering slightly.

"I'm going back to the party, Victoria," he said. "But... maybe after you turn 18 we 
can go out on a date."

As soon as he said that he regretted it. But he wanted to comfort the girl and 
please her, as if it were his duty.

"Thank yew, Timmy," she said. "I'm promise ya won't regret me takin ya out for a 
night. I'm gonna have so much fun witchoo. Now give me a kiss."

He leaned over and gave her a polite peck on the cheek.

"I'll see you back at the party?" he said, leaving the bathroom finally.

"Yeah. I just need some time alone in here," Victoria said. "Sorry for acting so 
silly and manly about this."

"I-i-it's okay."

*****

Approaching the main room, Timmy saw that the lights were dimmed. A soft 
melodramatic pop ballad was playing and the couples were slow dancing. 
Dewey's tiny form was pressed into Hannah's hard body, and Hans' feet were 
actually placed on top of Ting's high-heels as she slowly danced for both of them.

"Where have you been?!" Sarah said, striding up to Timmy and looking both 
annoyed and concerned.

"Um, I was just in the bathroom."

"Did Victoria go in there? Did she try anything with you?!"

"N-no, no. She's in there now but everything's fine."

"Are you SURE?" Sarah asked with much concern. She bent down, looked into 
his face with her deep brown doe-eyes, and wrapped her strong feminine fingers 
around his little bony male shoulders.

"Y-yeah, Sarah."

"Okay. Now c'mon. I get to slow-dance with you. Finally. Hop up."

He hated dancing and didn't know what she meant. He soon got the idea, 
however, when she extended her hands toward him, palm upturned.

"Hop up," she said again. "I'm not gonna dance with you if you're way down 
there."

Timmy stepped closer to her and she lifted him up with her left hand under his 
butt and her right hand around his back.

"Your buns don't still sting too much from what Steph did to you, do they?"

"Uh, n-no. They don't hurt that bad."

"So it's okay if you 'sit in the palm of my hand' while we dance?" Sarah asked 
brightly.

"Yeah. That's okay."

"Good," she said. "Now put your head on my shoulder so we can dance like 
you're my little baby."

He did as he was told, and Sarah spun him around the room, slowly and 
rhythmically, in time with the slow pop music that was playing. Glancing over, he 
noted that Ting had bent down low enough so that she and Hans could make out 
while they danced. Meanwhile, Hannah was making Dewey cling to her by 
putting his arms around her neck and holding him a foot and a half off the 
ground.

"Thanks for coming to my party, Timmy," Sarah said. "You made it really special. 
I can't imagine it without you. Are you having a good time?"

"Yeah," Timmy said, feeling a little loopy as the painkillers started to kick in. He 
hugged Sarah as best he could.

"Are you still looking forward to our alone time once everyone else leaves? Our 
slumber party?"

"Um. Sure?"

"Heh. You don't sound very confident," Sarah said hugging him to her a bit 
harder.

"W-well..."

"Don't worry," she said warmly. "I'm not gonna hurt you or do anything weird with 
you. You trust me, don't you?"

"Yes," Timmy said.

"Good. I like that you trust me. And I like having a little male friend whom I can 
hug and play with without the danger of it getting weird. Do you know what I 
mean?"

"I think so," Timmy said.

She scooched him up higher by raising the hand that was under his butt. She 
held him even tighter and snaked her other hand across his shoulder, wrapping 
him close to her.

"Do you understand why I had to discipline you earlier?" Sarah asked, looking 
him right in the eyes. "I know it must have been hard for you, and a little scary, 
but I had to do that. Does it make sense for you to be shown your place like that? 
I hope you don't hate me for it."


Timmy looked up at her pretty face. "I don't hate you, Sarah" was all he could 
say.

"I'm really glad we've gotten to know each other again, Timmy," she said. "I just 
love the idea of holding my little old babysitter in my arms like this on my 
thirteenth birthday. It makes me really happy to be able to do this. It feels so 
good to do this. YOU'RE my favorite birthday present, Timmy. My little doll-man 
that I can carry around and play with. It makes me so happy."

"I... I'm glad, Sarah."

"Good. How does it feel to be so little and wrapped in my arms like this?"

"Um. Honestly. It feels nice."

"Heh," she said, and then bent down a bit to kiss his forehead. "You like being 
the little boy in my arms? Just think what it'll be like in a few years when you're 
like 30 and I'm way taller than I am even now. Would you still like me to dance 
this way with you then?"

"Yes, Sarah."

He looked over to see that the other two couples had stopped dancing and were 
more or less just making out with each other on the floor. Stephanie was sleeping 
on one of the couches, and Victoria had just returned from the bathroom. She 
gave Timmy a look and then took out her cellphone and pretended to be 
answering a text.

Just then the doorbell rang.

"Shit," Hannah said, lifting her head up, a stream of drool linking her mouth with 
Dewey's.

Sarah lowered Timmy to the floor, whispered "To be continued" in his ear, and 
then flicked on the regular lights, which brightened the room considerably, so 
much so that they all winced a bit and Stephanie woke up.

Timmy watched as Sarah in her little black dress and black high heels glided 
across the room. Her tall, admirable form then opened the front door and towered 
over the shlubby middle-aged man who entered. 

Timmy recognized him. It was the bearded father whom Brooks had successfully 
challenged at the restaurant. It was the patriarch whose table she took so she 
and Timmy could have a place to eat. Timmy had remembered him as a fairly tall 
man--maybe 5'11"--but the form in the doorway could scarcely be 5'8" or so. 
Dressed in corduroy khakis and a tight grey vest, he looked quite puny and dorky 
standing next to Sarah, who stood upwards of 6'3" in her heels.

"Can I help you?" she said.

"Yes. I'm Benjamin, Dewey's father, and it's past time for him to leave, so--"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Sarah said, putting her palm against the man's chest as he 
attempted to walk in farther. "I wasn't aware that you would be picking him up." 
She gave the shorter man a skeptical look, then guided a long arm over and 
around Ben's head so she could push the door shut behind him.

"W-well," Ben began nervously. "Yes. Well, i-it's time for him to come home."

"O Hannah," Sarah called, "could you please come here?"

Timmy noted a wide smile on Hannah's face as she bounded up from her seat. 
"Stay here," she told Dewey before she raced over to the doorway.

"Hannah," Sarah said to her once she arrived on the scene, still grinning from ear 
to ear, "do you know this man?"

"Why yes I do, Sarah. It's Little Dewey's Little Daddy!"

Hannah then ruffled Ben's hair playfully. Timmy noticed with only mild surprise 
that the 13-year-old Hannah, who was wearing Converse sneakers, was taller 
than her boyfriend's father by a couple inches.

"Hi Hannah," Ben said in a low voice. "I-it's time for Dewey to go."

"Hmmm..." Hannah mused. "Who says?"

"Does it MATTER who says?" Ben asked, his tone still quite low, but Timmy 
could sense the unhelpful male ego starting to rise, as if Ben couldn't help 
himself and  didn't know what was good for him.

"I think it DOES matter," Sarah remarked, folding her arms across her chest and 
stepping over to Hannah so that they stood in a united front opposing Ben.

"Pleeease, girls," Ben said again, his words somewhere between annoyance and 
pleading. "If you must know, Dewey's mother sent me to retrieve my son, and--"

"Where is SHE?" Hannah and Sarah said in unison. Timmy noticed that they 
nearly started giggling over their unplanned synchronicity, but they caught 
themselves and then resumed their stern gazes.

"Um, she is out with her friends tonight, but she gave me a call a few minutes 
ago and told me to come get Dewey."

"How does it feel for your wife to be out on a Saturday night?" Sarah asked.

"Well, uhm--"

"And how does it feel for your wife to give you little bitch-boy orders like that?" 
Hannah added.

"Well--Now, now look here, young lady," Ben said, feigning some authority, then 
quickly catching himself: "Hannah, please don't cause any trouble. It's getting late 
and--"

"It IS getting late," Sarah said. "Especially for men to be out alone. I don't think 
I can let you and Dewey leave here."

"WHAT?" Ben guffawed. "Now look here--Who is in CHARGE of this party 
anyway?"

"I AM," Sarah said boldly, stepping up closer to Ben and looking down on him. 
She was over a half-foot taller. He instinctively cringed and backed away.

"I think you should stay here, Ben," Hannah added. "We already did some 
wrestling, but maybe we can get the mats back out so you and I can have a 
rematch."

"Uhm..."

"REMATCH?" little Stephanie squealed from the couch. She had perked her 
head up, and indeed by this time everyone in the room was paying rapt attention 
to Ben, Sarah, and Hannah. "Whadda ya mean?"

"Do you want to tell them or should I?" Hannah asked Ben with a smirk. She had 
saddled up to him, put one of her sinewy arms around him waist, and was pulling 
him deeper into the house.

"U-u-uhm..." was all Ben could say.

"Dewey!" Hannah called. "Get up here and tell everybody what happened when I 
wrestled your Daddy a couple nights ago!"

Dewey dutifully stood up and waddled over to his girlfriend and his father. It was 
quite a sight to see how dominant Hannah looked in every way--from her height 
to her physicality to her posture to her confident tone--as she stood proudly in her 
tight jeans and sports-bra.

"Two nights ago Hannah beat my dad in wrestling," Dewey said in an 
expressionless tone.

"And?" Hannah asked him. "AND? What else?"

"And then me and dad teamed up but she beat us combined, two against one."


"That's right!" Hannah said brightly, raising a muscular arm and flexing it right in 
Ben's face. "Feel it!" she commanded.

The man did as he was told.

"What do you think?" she asked him.

"You're quite a strong girl," Ben replied.

"Quite a strong PERSON," Hannah corrected him. "Not just 'strong for a girl' or 
whatever sexist thing you were implying."

"I was not!" Ben pouted, throwing his arms down.

"Yes you were," Hannah told him. "Even if you don't realize it, you are a sexist, 
Ben. Your wife and I had a little discussion about it a couple nights ago."

"Leave her out of this!" Ben hissed.

"Dewey," Hannah called. "Where was your mommy when you and your daddy 
and me were wrestling?"

"She was sitting and watching it," the little boy replied blankly.

"And what did she think?"

"She liked it. She was laughing."

Hannah smiled.

"Okay, look," Ben said, stepping towards Dewey. "I don't know what you kids 
have been doing here, but it's time for us to go, so--"

"I already TOLD you," Sarah said, placing her hands firmly on her hips and 
striking a dominant pose, "I can't let you two leave here alone."

"Hey, who are YOU to tell me when and where I can go?" Ben asked acridly, 
showing his true colors in full for the first time and stepping up to Sarah, 
pointing an index finger at her.

"I'm the BIRTHDAY GIRL, buddy," Sarah shot back, pushing one of her own, 
longer index fingers into Ben's chest and nearly knocking him over in the 
process. "That means I get to do whatever I want. And you're LUCKY that I don't 
put you over my thigh and give you a spanking. I'm sure that's what my mother 
would have already done with you if she were out here."

"YOU'RE the birthday girl?" Ben said skeptically. "You aren't thirteen."

"You're RIGHT," Sarah said. "I'm still really only twelve for another few hours."

"I don't believe that," Ben said.

"Well the world is changing," Sarah replied, "whether small-brained little men like 
you are ready for it or not."

"I'm not small-brained!" Ben whined. "I'm a professor, I--"

"Ben!" Hannah broke in. "I don't appreciate what you said just a minute ago, 
about how you 'don't know what you kids have been doing here'. Just what are 
you implying?"

"We-ell," Ben sputtered, caught off-guard. "You know, I just think it's a little 
weird, with you dressed in your underwear and talking about wrestling and--"

"We're not dressed in our UNDERWEAR, you stupid man!" Hannah scolded. 
"This is a sports-bra, Sarah's in a dress, and--and the only reason you think any 
of this is inappropriate is just because you're a stupid old-fashioned man. If you 
were in charge you'd probably have us barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen all 
day, making you food while wearing big sack-dresses that cover us neck to 
ankle!"

"That is UN-TRUE!" Ben protested. "I-I-I respect women! I don't think the way 
you--!"

"You might as well!" Hannah said smirking, clearly enjoying how easy it was for 
her to rile Ben up and manipulate his emotions. "If this was 200 years ago you'd 
probably try to take charge of all of us girls in this room, ordering us around and 
having your way with us! Well--it ain't like that anymore! Just the OPPOSITE, in 
fact!"

"NO!" Ben yelled indignantly. "That-that is not true! That's just not true!"

"WHAT isn't true, Ben?" Hannah said, getting right in his face. "That's all how it 
was in history. I thought you were a smart professor?"

"He's more like a SMALL professor," Sarah remarked with a snort.

"You're lucky WE don't take advantage of YOU, Ben," Hannah added. "I've 
already given your son a spanking tonight. Maybe I should give you one as well, 
so you don't feel left out. You know what they say--A spanking a day makes a 
man act okay!"

Ben just looked down, speechless and helpless and embarrassed.

"I'll give you a fighting chance, Ben," Hannah resumed, putting a hand on his 
shoulder. "If you wrestle with me first, and you win, or even LAST for sixty 
seconds without letting me pin you, then I'll let you go and you can run along 
home with Dewey. But if not, then I get to play the bongos with your little buns, 
and--"

Timmy could see the proud, stupid male anger rising in Ben's face. He had to 
step in and do something, for Ben's sake, before this got out of control.

"Hey!" he shouted, quickly walking up to where they were standing. "I know you!"

Ben looked at him, puzzled.

"From last weekend!" Timmy said brightly. "At the restaurant!"

"Oh... oh, god," Ben murmured as recognition dawned on him.

"You were so nice to give my date your table. Thanks!"

"Uh..." Ben said. "Sure. Don't mention it. Actually, PLEASE don't mention it."

"Yeah, Brooks couldn't stop talking about you! She should actually be along soon 
to pick me up to go home, so it'd be cool if you could stick around and see her 
again."

"Oh god," Ben whispered. "I have to get out of here. PLEASE! I have to get out of 
here!"

"Yeah," Timmy continued, undaunted. "She kept saying that if she ever saw you 
again she was going to 'finger' you. Whatever that means."

Totally overwhelmed now, Ben gave a loud wordless moan.

"Ben!" Sarah said, putting a large smooth hand on his shoulder. "I'll let you leave 
if Hannah goes with you and you agree that she's in charge."

"Uhm, uhm, okay. Okay."

"You agree that I'm in charge, Ben?" Hannah asked him.

"S-sure, Hannah."

"Not just for tonight," Sarah said. "You agree that she's in charge whenever she's 
around you, when your wife isn't there at least."

"O-okay."

"Good," Sarah said.

"Awesome," Hannah said, and the two girls gave each other a high-five over Ben 
and Dewey's heads.

Sarah walked the three of them to the door.

"Your wife will be home relatively soon, I hope?" she asked Ben.

"Uhm, in about a half-hour, I think."

"That's not too late," Hannah said, her voice trailing away as they walked outside. 
"Maybe when she drives me home I can talk to her about how important it will be 
to start training Hailey to out-wrestle you for her 12th birthday. The first guy I 
'destroyed' was MY dad when I turned twelve, and..."

"Hailey is Dewey's little sister," Hans told Timmy, leaning over and whispering in 
his ear.

"Oh," Timmy said. "Yeah I saw her at the restaurant last weekend too. She didn't 
seem anywhere close to twelve."

"No," Hans replied. "But they say it's a good idea to start training early."

"I don't understand any of this," Timmy said in a low voice. "When I saw them last 
weekend, Ben looked about three inches taller than he is now."

"Yeah," Hans said. "I haven't seen him in a month or so. His beard is a lot thinner 
too."

"Is it..." Timmy whispered, "the drugs?"

"Yeah," Hans said. "Even my beard is falling out. I'm 17 now, and when I was 15 
I had a thicker beard than I do now."

Timmy wanted to hear more from Hans, but from out of nowhere Ting's long 
pointy fingers plucked him off the ground and hugged him to her.

"Time to go, Hans!" she said. "My mama's here to drive us."

Timmy turned to see another Asian female standing in the doorway. She was 
impossibly tall--taller than his Aunt Rose--the tallest person he had ever seen, 
with the top of her head nearly scraping the high ceiling. Then Timmy looked 
down to see that she was wearing very tall black platform heels. Still, he couldn't 
help but be impressed by this woman and found himself drawn towards her. She 
was the spitting image of Ting, though about a foot and a half taller. She had on 
very tight, form-fitting blue jeans and a sleeveless white button-up vest. Her long 
black hair was pulled into a ponytail. When Timmy got closer he saw that she 
was in fact accompanied by a small Chinese man, ostensibly her husband, Ting's 
father. He was very tiny, even shorter than Dewey. He was dressed in a 
comically over-sized suit, and his neck was at his wife's thigh-line.

"My my!" Ting's mother said. "Who do we have here?"

She was looking way down at Timmy with a cheshire-cat smile. Timmy hadn't 
even really been aware of walking over to the woman, but he felt compelled to 
stand next to her.

"This is Timmy, Mama," Ting said brightly. "He is a friend of Sarah's."

"Ah, I see," Ting's mother said. "He is an older man who is comfortable around so 
many big girls?"

Though she spoke of him in the third-person, the question was directed at 
Timmy.

"Um, yes," he said.

"Very good," the tall woman replied. "I wish my husband would be the same." 
With this she thrust her hip against the little man. Even though the blow was 
gentle, it had the effect of bouncing him off of the nearby wall. "I have to drag him 
everywhere with me and he's no fun."

"Oh Papa!" Ting said, helping the tiny man up to his feet, then picking him up in 
her arms. He was like a toddler in his tall daughter's grasp--though in reality he 
wasn't much larger than a real-life toddler anyway. Hans just stared up at them.

"I think little Hans is feeling left out, Ting," the mother said. "Here we go. Hehe." 
She squatted and picked him up to carry him the same way her daughter was 
carrying her husband.

"Thanks for inviting us, Sarah," Ting said, opening the door to leave.

"No problem," Sarah replied, stepping up to put a reassuring hand on Timmy's 

shoulder.

"Goodbye Sarah, and goodbye Timmy," Ting's mother called. "Maybe when I 
have a party I will have Ting invite you--Timmy, I mean. The sorts of parties I 
have are too adult for Sarah. Hehe."

Timmy admired the mother's tight, jean-covered ass as they turned to leave. The ass
was level with his neck.


When Ting's family had left, Timmy and Sarah turned to find that Victoria and 
Stephanie were about to depart as well.

"Thanx fer the party," Victoria mumbled. "Sorry if I wuz a bitch earlier."

"It's okay," Sarah said. "You aren't a bitch."

Stephanie looked at Timmy with a smirk.

"The next time we meet I'll be taller than you!" she said. "What do you think of 
that?"

Both Sarah and Victoria chuckled at the pudgy little ten-year-old. She only had to 
look up a couple inches to meet the 26-year-old Timmy's eyes.

"Um, you're probably right," he said.

"Do you think it'd be worth having a rematch then? I'll give you a rematch if you 
want."

"Uh, no Stephanie. I don't want a rematch."

"Admit I'd win, no matter what?"

"Yeah..." Timmy said sadly. He knew that the point of no return had been 
passed. From this point on Stephanie was only going to get bigger and stronger, 
and he was probably going to lose a few more inches and pounds. If he ever 
gained any weight or height in the future--if the drugs actually, eventually helped 
him in that way--then it would surely be too late, as he'd never catch up with 
Steph. If he couldn't beat her now--and he couldn't--then he'd never be able to 
beat her. She was already too strong and getting stronger every day. Timmy just 
couldn't hope to compete.

"Awwww!" Sarah and Victoria said in unison.

"Poor Timmy!" Sarah said, rubbing his shoulder.

"Yew are so cute, yew know?" Victoria said, leaning way down to give him a kiss 
on the cheek. 

"Thanks, Victoria," he said.

"Gimme a goodbye hug!" Stephanie squealed, then wrapped her arms around 
Timmy in a painful squeeze, lifting him a few inches off the floor.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Sarah said congenially, gently pulling Stephanie off 
of a completely overwhelmed Timmy.

"I'll jus shake yer hand instead," Victoria said, holding her long, soft, chunky pink-
nailed hand out to Timmy.

He touched her hand and instantly felt a thrill. Victoria winked at him. He was 
looking forward to her turning 18.

"Bye, my prot'g'!" Sarah said, hugging Stephanie.

"Bye, my rolemodel!" Stephanie replied.

When they left, Sarah closed the door, spun around and exhaled.

"Whew," she said to Timmy. "Alone at last."

"...Yeah," he said, unsure of what would happen next.

"I hope you've had a good time so far. Now the slumber party can begin."

"Um..." he said, feeling a little awkward just standing there. "What happens first."

"We-ell," Sarah said, walking back into the house, Timmy following at her heels, 
"first I'm gonna take a shower, and then maybe we can have popcorn and watch 
a scary movie. Sound fun?"


"Sure," Timmy said, following her into her bedroom.

Sarah paused in the middle of the floor, then turned around to face him.

"Okay, so I'm going to go take a shower. I'll be like five-ten minutes. So... there 
are Kleenex over there on the nightstand, and if you want you can dry-hump my 
clothes while I'm gone--if you need release or whatever."

"What?!"

"Timmy," she said, striding up to him. "I know that you're a guy. And you probably 
have a lot of anxiety and stress from the party to work off. So, you can just get 
some of my dirty clothes or underwear out of the hamper over there, and you can 
dry-hump them on my bed if you need to ejaculate. Just use tissues."

"Um, Sarah," he said, shocked that she would even propose such a thing, and 
also recalling that his penis was currently shriveled to the size of a pea. "That 
won't be necessary."

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking down at him skeptically, crossing her arms 
and wrapping one high-heeled foot around the other. "If we're gonna have a 
slumber party, I don't wanna wake up in the middle of the night and find sticky 
stuff all over me."

"Ugh! Sarah, NO, I wouldn't--!"

"Timmy--if that happens--you're my best friend, but you're still a man and I will 
discipline you if I have to. I know you wouldn't mean to do something like that, but 
in school they tell us about how men can't control their desires, especially not 
when they're sleeping."

"Sarah," he said calmly. "I know my own body, and I don't need to ejaculate 
tonight."

"Okay, Timmy," she said, ruffling his hair, "I trust you." Then she put her fingers 
around his nose and made a beeping sound.

She made her way to the door, then stopped and tossed her head back.

"While I'm gone why don't you take that costume off and put on some of my old 
ballet clothes? They'll be much more comfortable. They're in that bottom drawer 
over there."

"Oh. Um. Okay, Sarah," he said in a low voice, remembering how Martha had 
dressed him in some of Sarah's old ballet clothes for sex the last time he was in 
this house.

"'Kay," she said, suddenly stripping her black dress off to reveal the black push-up 
bra and matching black bikini panties. "I'm gonna take a shower. If you change 
your mind and want to dry-hump some of my clothes--just don't hump my new 
dress, 'kay?"

*****

Timmy didn't do any dry-humping, but he did find himself trying on a pair of soft, 
well-worn jeans that he found lying on Sarah's floor. The legs were so long that 
Timmy's feet only made it down to where the knees were supposed to be. There 
was a fashionable rip in one of the knees and Timmy imagined how the creamy 
skin of Sarah's kneecap might look beneath it. Instead, his little toes were 
peeking out that hole.

It was still unbelievable to him how much Sarah had grown. Looking around her 
room, it seemed a mish-mash of different stages of a girl's development. There 
will still childish things like stuffed animals and old finger-paintings hung on the 
wall. There was the odd poster from a teen idol whose height of popularity was a 
couple years past. Then there were the fashion magazines, high-heels, and 
makeup kits that a girl in her mid-to-late teens would be more interested in. It 
looked as if three girls of different ages were sharing this room. But really, Timmy 
noted, it was just that Sarah was growing up so fast, literally, that there was 
hardly enough time to remove the vestiges of her childhood and tween years 
before she entered the next stage of development. She was a teenager now--or 
she would be in a few hours--and was mature beyond her years. 

Sitting on her bed, he looked down at the long, long jeans of hers that he was 
clumsily wearing. While his feet dangled in mid-air, the bottoms of the jeans were 
dragging on the floor. He felt a bit pathetic, but also derived a morose relish from 
this. He knew he better take the jeans off soon, before Sarah came back, but part 
of him wished that she could see him now, in this pathetic position. He knew that 
Sarah would find it adorable, and would probably take him up into her arms, give 
him a kiss, and then maybe sit him on her lap and call him a good boy. She might 
even put the jeans on herself before sitting him upon her lap. The thought of that 
made him feel strange--but good. He suddenly realized that, had his Aunt Rose 
not given him that blasted anti-erection pill that morning, then he sure as hell 
WOULD like to dry hump these jeans right now. Though he wasn't sure which 
female he would think about while doing the humping--certainly not Sarah, but 
maybe Brooks or Rose or Martha, or maybe no one in particular at all. There was 
something about large women's clothes that turned him on.

Right now, however, he knew that he had better do what Sarah had told him. He 
took the jeans off, tossed them back where they had been, and then scampered 
over to the drawer where Sarah's old ballet clothes were kept.

"I better make sure not to wear the same outfit Martha put me in last time," 
Timmy thought. "That would be too weird: hanging out with Sarah while dressed 
in old clothes of hers that I fucked her mother in a few weeks ago. Although, I 
feel more like Martha fucked ME."

He settled on a purple leotard with pink leggings. There were also little purple 
socks that fit him just fine. He carefully set his party dress over in the corner, and 
returned the little Mary Jane shoes, which he borrowed from Sarah earlier, back 
to their box under her bed.

Glancing over at a clock, he saw that it was 10:20PM. He wondered what time 
Sarah planned to go to sleep. It would be after midnight, surely. But hopefully not 
long after midnight. Even if he couldn't get a hardon, he still liked the idea of 
creeping into Martha's room and snuggling up to her under the covers, maybe 
wedging himself in between her boobs or between her chest and one of her nice 
feminine arms. That would be a nice way to catch a few hours sleep, and then 
maybe he'd wake up first thing in the morning with an erection and a horny 
Martha lying next to him.

Just then the door opened. Timmy stood there in the middle of the bedroom floor, 
dressed in the little ballerina costume, and as Sarah re-emerged from her shower 
he was stuck again by how tall she looked, even though she was barefoot. She 
had a single white towel wrapped around her from chest to mid-thigh, and her 
long dark hair was still wet. He hadn't seen her with wet hair in years, and it 
made her look different to him: older but somehow slightly vulnerable.

"Oh Timmy," she said, stopping in her tracks and glancing down at him. "You 
look so cute. You know that was the outfit I took first-place in at a competition a 
few years ago."

"H-how old were you when you wore it?" Timmy asked. It used to be that he was 
afraid of the answer to such questions. Not anymore. He was beginning to 
anxiously anticipate them, though he could not say why.

"Mmm," Sarah thought, tilting her head and teasing her hair a bit. "I was around 
ten and a half."

Yet here he was, a 26-year-old man, and the outfit of a 10-year-old girl fit him 
perfectly. If anything the leggings were a couple inches too long.

"So..." Timmy began, "that was about, what, 6-8 months after I last saw you then. 
You must've really started growing after I stopped babysitting for you. Almost-
almost like I was holding you back; after I stopped seeing you, you took off like a 
rocket."

Sarah giggled, walked up to him, leaned down and put her hands on his upper 
arms.

"Don't be silly. You didn't hold me back. I know you're just joking, though."

"Yeah," Timmy said furtively.

"Stand up on the bed," she told him, turning away then. "I want you to get up 
there so you can reach, and then dry my hair."

Timmy did as she said. Again he admired her wet black hair as he faced the back 
of her head almost directly now. Standing on the bed he was almost as tall as 
Sarah.

"Err, do you have a hair-dryer?" he asked.

"No, silly," she replied. "You're going to use this towel once I take it off."

Timmy gulped. He didn't want the added stress of this. Not if Sarah was naked 
under that towel and--

Without warning she suddenly dropped the towel and revealed a form-fitting gray 
mesh bodysuit that covered her almost exactly where the towel had been. Timmy 
could tell that she had planned things this way, and knew that he would be 

nervous about the idea of maybe seeing her naked. Even though he couldn't see 

her face, he knew that Sarah was smiling. And even though Sarah couldn't see 
him at the moment, he knew that she accurately guessed the brief spell of 
nervousness and confusion she'd just put him through.

"Go ahead then," she said, handing him the towel back with one hand.

Timmy took the big towel and then lovingly dried her hair as if she were his own 
daughter. He wondered if he ever would have any children. At this point, that 
prospect didn't seem likely. If he did have a daughter--and he would prefer a 
daughter to a son, because life was so hard for boys now--he hoped she would 
be like Sarah.

"Sarah," he said, still fluffing her head with the towel, "what was Hannah saying 
just before she left? Something about getting that Ben guy's daughter to 'destroy' 
him?"


"Heh. Oh," Sarah chuckled. "Yeah, I guess they didn't have that when you were 
our age, did they?"

"'Destroying?'" Timmy asked, puzzled. Sarah laughed.

"Some people call it 'breaking'. That's what my mom calls it. It's when a girl 
shows a man who's boss for the first time. It's like her chance to prove that she's 
in charge. I guess it only became a big thing in the last few years. It's sorta a 
mother-daughter thing."

"W-what do you mean?" Timmy asked, though he was starting to get the picture 
all too well. He smoothed Sarah's hair with the towel one final time.

"Well, when I was like 11 and a half or so, my mom started encouraging me to 
train and workout and stuff," Sarah continued. "Not just ballet exercises, but 
exercises for strength. And it was understood that when I turned twelve I was 
gonna try to 'break' my dad. And I did."

Timmy found that he was absent-mindedly stroking Sarah's hair and the back of 
her head with his hands. He paused now, a bit disturbed.

"Don't stop," Sarah said. "That felt good. Anyway, yeah, so a few days after my 
twelfth birthday I just randomly went over to my dad's place one morning and told 
him how it was going to be."

"Wait," Timmy said. "Did you tell him about this beforehand? Did he agree to be--"

"Uh, yes and no. I told him--actually my mom told him. And he didn't agree to it 
but it was understood that it was going to happen anyway."

"So... what happened?" Timmy asked. Only a small, old-fashioned part of him 
didn't want to know the answer.

"I told him that he had to do whatever I said now, and that I wasn't going to be a 
cruel boss or anything, but I had to do things to prove that I had control over him. 
Like, I told him that we were going to go shopping and he was going to let me 
spend a lot of his money on stupid stuff--on stuff I knew was stupid and didn't 
even want, but it would all be to show that I could make him do whatever I said, 
even if it was stupid. But..."

Sarah paused, and from behind her Timmy could see her hands go up to her 
face. Then it almost sounded like she sobbed.

"Oh, hey," Timmy said tenderly, putting a hand on her big bare shoulder. "It's 
okay; you don't have to tell me anymore."

"No, no, I'm fine," Sarah said, getting to grips and turning around to face Timmy 
with her big brown eyes. "I want to tell you about this."

Timmy still had his hand on her shoulder. Now she wrapped one of her long arms 
around Timmy's back and bent her head down a bit so that their foreheads were 
touching. It was almost as if they were in the proper pose for a slow dance.

"Anyway," she said. "What happened was that if he resisted me--if he was a 
'resistor' as they say--then I would have to fight him or wrestle him or whatever 
until he gave up and agreed that I was over him. So, I explained all this to my 
dad that day, just like my mom had explained it to him a few weeks before. But 
he still resisted, so I had to prove myself physically against him--'break' or 
'destroy' him. And... and it was the hardest thing I ever had to do."


"Well..." Timmy was unsure of what to say. "How tall were you then when--"


"I don't mean it was hard because I wasn't as big then. I mean it was hard 
because he was my dad. Still, it was the best thing I ever did and it helped me a 
lot on my path to becoming a real woman."

"D-did you h-h-hurt him?" Timmy asked nervously.

"My dad?" Sarah replied. "Not that bad. 'Destroying' or 'breaking' is just a figure 
of speech, Timmy. Normally, at least. Though I did see a report on the news 
where one girl accidently did break her dad's ribs when she was 'breaking' him. 
But in that case her mom should have known better, because you don't let a girl 
be in charge of a man until she knows her own strength."

"I... I think that was your dad earlier, right? At the party?"

"Yeah," Sarah said. "That was him. He's so sweet and nice to me now, and he 
tries so hard."

"Your mom looked like she wanted to break and destroy him right here tonight."

"Yeah. She's always that way with him now. So aggressive. I think she wishes 
they were still married if only so she had the right to dominate him every day and 
night. Especially now that her diet's got her so pumped up, and meanwhile my 
dad has some health problems. In the last year or so I've had to intervene a few 
times when my parents were in the same room together, otherwise I'm sure my 
mom would have thrown my dad to the floor and just pounced on him like a cat 
on a rat."

"Do YOU think he's a rat?"

"Hm," Sarah considered. "No. I think my mom was right to divorce him back then, 
but she shouldn't keep blaming him now. He is just a run-of-the-mill male and he 
can't help it. On the other hand, he still thinks that my mom's controlling me, 
when she isn't. But he's got that in his head. Even when I 'broke' him--he thinks 
that my mom put me up to that. But she didn't. She liked what I was doing, but it 
was something all of my friends were doing anyway."

"Did-did all of your friends 'break' their dads too?"

"Not all of them. Although dads are a popular choice for that sort of thing. Ting 
broke our math teacher, Mr. Spiff. He's a little tiny guy who kinda looks like a 
slightly older version of Dewey. Ting was his star student, so in her case it was 
like she wanted to experience the mental toughness necessary to do that to a 
man who was someone she respected intellectually and professionally as a 
student or whatever."

"Who did Hannah choose?" Timmy asked.

"Heh. Hannah chose one of her uncles. A real tough guy. Shaved head. Veteran. 
Always wore one of those old-fashioned 'wife-beaters' or whatever they used to 
be called. He isn't a bad guy, but he's way too macho and chauvinistic. So 
Hannah trained for six months, got in shape, and kicked his ass. It was 
awesome."

Timmy found himself laughing at this.

"Sarah," he said.

"What, Timmy?" She furrowed her brow and looked in his eyes, faux-serious all 
of a sudden.

"Can we have popcorn and watch a movie? You said we could."


"Yes, baby," she said. Then she lifted him off her bed, kissed him on the 
forehead in mid-air, then set him on the floor before her.

He instinctively wrapped his arms around her nearest leg and pushed his head 
into her taut stomach.

*****

Timmy followed Sarah like a little puppydog as she went out to the kitchen and 
prepared some microwave popcorn. As soon as the microwave started she told 
Timmy to wait there while she went to change into something more comfortable.

"Be careful when it's done, Timmy. The bag is going to be very hot. When it cools 
a bit, pour it into that bowl there and bring it back to my room."

With that she left.

As the corn started popping, Timmy suddenly wished he had more time alone. 
This night--this whole day, really--had already been so overwhelming for him, 
and it wasn't done yet. He had half a mind to simply forego any erotic attempts 
with Martha this time around, simply because he was already exhausted. Not 
tired, not ready for bed--but just not up for "performing" in the bedroom. He was 
too tuckered out. And, anyway, his penis was still the size of a pea.

The microwave turned off and Timmy opened the door. The bag was indeed hot, 
so he left it alone for a while.

He wished he had more time to reflect on the events of the day. There was so 
much to process, and he needed to figure out how he felt about all of it: about his 
aunt giving him that medicine, about Brooks and how he almost wanted to run 
away and elope with her, about Martha, all of the different kids at the party, and 
last but certainly not least about Sarah and his unique friendship with her.

Finally he opened the hot bag and poured the popcorn into the big bowl. As he 
took it in his arms and marched his way back to Sarah's room he suddenly felt a 
sense of pride at having accomplished this meager task quite punctually and 
successfully.


When he opened the door, he saw Sarah sitting in the middle of her bedroom 
floor, going through DVDs. She had pulled out a relatively small TV and set it on 
a few boxes. She was wearing boxer shorts and a tight t-shirt whose sleeves had 
been cut off.

"You don't mind a scary movie, do you?" she asked him.


"No."

"You're not going to get too scared and have nightmares?"

"No!" he said, a bit indignant. He couldn't tell if she was joking with him or if she 
genuinely considered him so delicate that a horror movie might bother him more 
than it would her, even though he was twice her age.

"Okay. Have you ever seen 'Brides of Frankenstein'?"

"Uh...I've seen 'BRIDE of Frankenstein'."

"Yeah, that one's okay, but this one's a lot better," Sarah said, sliding a DVD into 
the player. "Oh, hey, I forgot--Do you like the shirt?"

She turned toward him and pinched the bottom of her shirt to make it stand out 
better. The dark blue shirt looked very small on her and didn't reach anywhere 
near her bellybutton, even. Timmy thought it looked familiar.

"Um..." he said.

"What about these?" Sarah asked, turning toward a pile of clothes, picking up a 
little pair of boxer shorts and flinging them at Timmy."

"These... these are mine," he said, turning the old boxers over in his hand.

"Yeah, you LEFT them here, a long time ago. And the shirt, too. One time when 
you babysat me you had to stay most of the night and you brought a spare set of 
clothes because my mom didn't know if she'd be back late that night or the next 
morning."

"I... kinda remember that, I think," Timmy said.

"Anyway, you left them here and I snatched 'em up before my mom could find 
'em. I used to wear 'em all the time when I went to bed. I grew out of the boxers a 
long time ago, though. My thighs just got too big to even slide 'em on."

Timmy looked at the old pair of boxers in his hand. They would be big on him 
now. He was bigger three years ago, when he was babysitting Sarah, than he 
was now.

"The shirt looks awfully tight on you," he said. "Are you sure it's comfortable."

"Yeah," Sarah smirked. "Yeah, it is comfortable, actually. Sorry about the 
sleeves, but I had to cut 'em off." She struck a double-bicep pose. "When you 
leave tomorrow you can take 'em with you. Then you can wear them to bed again 
if you want. We can have a clothing exchange if you'd like. I only took them in the 
first place because back then I sort of had a crush on you."

She smiled and Timmy felt both flattered and nervous.

"Okay, c'mon," she said, patting her thigh. "Turn off the lights and sit on my lap."

She sat Indian-style on the floor and leaned back against her bed. Timmy fit 
cozily between her legs, and on his lap was the bowl of popcorn, which they 
shared. Sarah reached back and dragged out a fluffy blanket from her bed, which 
she wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl. This created a nice little cocoon 
for Timmy.

As she pushed the play button, Sarah told him, "Now, don't eat too much 
popcorn, Timmy. We don't want you to ruin your reedy little manly figure."

Timmy blushed.

The film wasn't a very old one, but it was in black and white. It was made to look 
like an old horror movie in the classic Hollywood tradition. The story was set in an 
old European village of two and a half centuries past. The mad scientist Viktor 
Frankenstein had already created two or three horrific creatures that had done 
damage to the town, but he was being given a chance at redemption. Most of the 
townspeople weren't happy about it, but Viktor had been freed from jail thanks to 
the combined efforts of a politician/nobleman, a merchant/businessman, and a 
hypocritical union boss/intellectual. These three gentlemen worked together 
behind the people's backs to ensure that the gears of justice would set Viktor free 
and return him to his laboratory. In return for his freedom, Viktor had promised to 
create a perfect bride for each of the three gentlemen. 

Soon, six of the town's pretty young maidens were mysteriously murdered by 
poison. A few weeks later, Igor the servant dug up the corpses and Frankenstein 
worked on each of them, expertly cutting, sewing, and recombining the six 
regular-sized girls into three giant-sized women.

Interspersed throughout the movie were cut scenes of a mad old witch who lived 
in the woods. Early on she had sent the three gentlemen visions of gigantic sexy 
women. Each night they dreamed of these large, tall, strong females until they 
could no longer be content with the normal, smallish, servile women they were 
accustomed to having their way with. It is revealed that this is why they went to 
Viktor Frankenstein to begin with, because they were driven mad by lust for 
gigantic females and knew that he was the only one who could bring such 
fantasies to life. When the three conglomerate corpses are finally animated, 
during a lightning storm, the witch in the woods cackles madly with delight.

At first everything goes smoothly. Each of the gentleman are very pleased and 
quite taken with their respective brides. The politician/nobleman enjoys the 
presence of a towering gorgeous woman with long wavy blond hair. The 
merchant/businessman is smitten with his giant-sized brunette, who is quite 
plump and has extremely large breasts. And the union leader/intellectual falls 
madly in love with an unbelievably tall, fit young black woman with short feathery 
hair and a penchant for leather lingerie.

Timmy was very impressed with the special effects in this movie and he wasn't 
sure how they made it. The women legitimately looked like they were indeed 
about 8ft tall. Perhaps they hired very small men and simply sized everything 
down that way. Perhaps if the leading men were only Timmy or Dewey's height--
even though they appeared to be about 6ft tall, judging by the surroundings on 
the sets--then a woman who was "only" 6'2" or so might seem a good two feet 
taller than that.


The movie's tone changed entirely about halfway through. Prompted by a spell 
cast by the witch in the woods, the three reanimated women suddenly cast off 

the chains of male oppression. At first the three gentleman assume that their 

brides are simply playing a bit rough or being more like dominatrixes, but soon 
they realize that the women are serious in their revolt. The horror comes when 
the men realize that these super-women are nearly invincible and could perhaps 
take over the town--or even the whole country--if they are not stopped at once.

Timmy was quite frightened by this part of the movie. Wave after wave of men 
are called upon to stop the women, and they all fail. The three super-women 
smirk at tiny men with torches and pitchforks rush them only to be soundly 
beaten and thrown aside. The three gentleman, after having used all their power 
to send other men to die for their mistakes, eventually flee to Viktor 
Frankenstein's lab. The three women track them there, break down the door, and 
confront the male quartet who has been responsible for so much murder, 
injustice, and carnage.

As the towering shadows of the three women fell upon the cowering men, Timmy 
yelped and trembled. Sarah held him tight and rubbed his shoulders.

"It's almost over, Timmy," she said in a hushed tone. "Close your eyes if you 
want. I'm sorry; I should have realized this might be too scary for you."

Timmy did close his eyes. When he opened them, he saw that the three women, 
now accompanied by the witch from the woods, were dictating terms to a beaten 
Viktor Frankenstein. He was to use his science to give all women the size and 
strength advantages--but he was to do so without killing them first or combining 
any bodies. The movie ended with a montage of what the near future would be 
like in the village, with tall women taking their little husbands by the hand as they 
walked the streets, and with female politicians, merchants, and leaders of the 
people all working together harmoniously, for the good of everyone and 
everything.

"See, at least it had a happy ending," Sarah said, flicking off the TV and bouncing 
Timmy in her lap.

"I'm sorry I got scared," Timmy said. "I just got r-really involved in the plot."

"I know. It's a good movie. But... look at what time it is."

Timmy glanced at the clock.

"Quarter to midnight. Almost your real birthday."

"Nnnoooooo..." Sarah said. "That wasn't what I was referring to."

"Um," Timmy said. "What, then?"

"Well..." Sarah replied coyly. "It's time for something."

"...What?"

"Time for something that starts with a 'T'."

"Uh..."

"Time for something that starts with a 'T' that we did earlier."

"Um... Oh. Oh, Sarah, please no."

"Yep. I think it's tickle time," she said, squeezing him a bit in anticipation.

"No, Sarah. Please."

"Yep. It's tickle time and I know one boy who is going to get tickled."

"Please don't!" Timmy said, wincing in anticipation.

"Yes, I know one little boy who is way overdue for another tickling," Sarah said 
smilingly.

With that she struck, tickling Timmy's sides like mad. He wiggled all around, but 
there was no escape; still sitting Indian-style, she had spread her legs just 
enough for him to fall through to the floor, then she tightened her crossed legs 
just enough to trap him. He giggled and laughed and screamed and squealed. 

Happy tears were running down his face when Sarah leaned over to her left and 
rolled onto her side, taking Timmy with her.

"Try to get out," she said, wrapping her legs around his little body in a tight--but 
not too tight--scissor embrace.

Timmy breathed heavily, still recovering from her tickle attack.


"I can't," he said.

"TRY."

He tried with all his strength but it was no use. Her legs were too big and strong. 
What leverage he had was not enough. He grabbed onto her knee, then onto her 
thigh, but no matter what he couldn't pull himself out.

"I can't," he said again, deflated.

"Aw," she said, and reached a long arm down to ruffle his hair a bit. "Tired?"

"Yeah."

"Want to go to sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

She spread her legs and set him free. After they had stood up, they embraced 
each other, Sarah patting Timmy's shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her 
waist lovingly.

"Go pee, then we'll get out the sleeping bag, so it'll be just like a real slumber 
party."

Like the good little boy he was, Timmy did as he was told.

He went into the bathroom and let loose a long forceful stream of urine from his 
button-sized cock. He remembered the last time he was in this room, with 
Victoria. Part of him couldn't wait till that girl turned 18. Another part of him hoped 
he never had to see her again, because seeing her again would mean that little 
Stephanie might not be far behind.

In the hall he noticed that a light was on in Martha's room. There was no sound, 
though. For all he knew, Martha had fallen asleep with the light on. He didn't want 
to go in there anyway. Not yet. not while he was still so puny in the penis 
department.

When he stepped back in Sarah's room he was greeted with one of the most 
awesome sights of his life: There Sarah was, standing in the middle of the floor 
again, only now she was wearing the black thigh-high pleather boots that Timmy 
had gotten her for a birthday present. The heels were so high that Timmy knew 
she was closer to the 7-foot mark than the 6. She looked so tall that he 
couldn't believe it. She stood there, smiling down at him with one hand leisurely 
placed on her hip. She was still wearing the boxer shorts and the absurdly small 
sleeveless t-shirt that used to belong to him.

"Come say hello to the birthday girl," she told him.

Timmy carefully put one foot in front of the other and slowly approached her. It 
was not so much that he was nervous or afraid; he was simply so awestruck by 
her immense stature that it rendered him shaky and dumb.

"Well?" she asked. "What do you think?"

He found that he couldn't speak. The thigh-high boots themselves were so tall 
that the tops of them reached up to his chest. He looked way, way up at Sarah's 
smiling face.

"Cat got your tongue, huh? Just think, I'm gonna be wearing these around the 
mall tomorrow when we go."

"Uh... Huh?" was all Timmy could manage to murmur.

"Remember?" Sarah said. "My mom thinks the boots were the wrong size. I told 
her that lie because you didn't want me to wear them next to you out there when 
my friends were here. Remember?"

"Oh," Timmy said stupidly. "Right."

"Yeah. But now we have to go to the mall tomorrow and pretend to exchange 
them. So we get a free trip to the mall. Win-win." She smirked down at him.

An awkward silence began to set in, from Timmy's perspective anyway.

"Gee Sarah," he said, "you sure are tall."

She laughed loudly.

"Well, give me a birthday hug already, Timmy. Unless you're still too scare of me 
in these heels, even though we're alone."

He tentatively placed his arms around her pleather-covered thighs, because it 
would have been a stretch to reach up to her waist. He began to hug her but then 
she stopped him by palming the top of his head with a large hand.

"Step up on the front of my boots to make yourself taller. Then hug me. I'm 13 
now."

He did as he was told, carefully climbing up one big step and placing each of his 
little bare feet on the toes of Sarah's boots. Now it was easier for him to lean in, 
hug Sarah around the waist, and push his head against her chest, just below her 
boobs.

"Happy Birthday, Sarah," he said.

"It's getting pretty late," she said, cupping the back of his head with one of her 
hands. "Do you think we have time to play one more game?"

At her prompt, he jumped back down to floor level. Gosh he felt small again.

"What game?" he asked.

"How about I be your Frankenbride? Like in the movie?"

She loomed over him and got a wild look in her eye.

"Uh..."

"We could reenact the end of the movie. I could chase you all over the house, and 
act like a big monster, and--"

"Oh no, Sarah. Please," he said in an adorably meek voice.

"You wouldn't like that? You could hide from me and I could hunt for you. wearing 
these big boots, you'd hear my big footsteps getting closer and closer!"

She bent one of her legs across the other one so that she could reach down with 
one hand and pull on the heel. With her other hand she brushed a long strand of 
her dark hair behind her ear, then bit her thumbnail.

"No, Sarah. Please. Let's just go to sleep," Timmy whimpered.

"Mmmm. Okay. I guess." Sarah sauntered over close to him and ruffled his hair.

"Thanks," he said, very appreciative.

"You know I wasn't being serious," she said. "I was just teasing. I wouldn't really 
treat you so mean, like a Frankenbride. Although I could, if I wanted to. And it 
would be kinda fun."

"For me," Timmy said, "it would be kinda scary."

"Aw. You don't think I'm scary, do you?" the towering 13-year-old asked.

"You CAN be," Timmy admitted.


"Like earlier when I wrestled with you."

"Yes. And like when you tickle me, sort of."

Timmy looked down bashfully and shuffled his feet.

"Well, however I act and however you feel about it, I do it for your own good. You 
know that, right?"

"...Yeah."

"Good boy. Now, c'mon, time for sleep. I can't wait to curl up with my little Timmy-
bear."

*****

Sarah's sleeping bag was giant-sized. She got them some pillows from her bed 
and they laid down in the sleeping bag next to the far window. It had begun to 
rain outside, which created a pleasant mood for rest.

Timmy, however, was in no mood for sleep. He lay there impatiently, wrapped in 
Sarah's arms, waiting for the big girl to go to dreamland so that he could sneak 
out of the room. Comfortable as his current position was--and it was VERY 
comfortable--he had become obsessed with the idea of sleeping with Martha.

In part, this current id'e fixe of his was due to simply spending too much time 
with Sarah. It wasn't that he resented her hold on him--indeed, he loved that they 
had grown so close--but he didn't want his entire experience centered around 
her. After all, he had had sex with her mother, recently, and was due to do so 
again soon. Surely that sort of relationship and opportunity must count for 
something more than a platonic friendship with a 13-year-old girl.

Sarah clutched him closer and closer to her as the minutes wore on. Was she 
sleeping? Timmy doubted it. Or, if she were asleep, it was so light a slumber that 
the struggle it would take to remove himself from her grasp would surely wake 
her up.

The ticking of a clock only added to Timmy's annoyance. He could never sleep in 
a room with a loudly ticking clock like that. And even though he wasn't trying to 
fall asleep right now, the steady sound still infuriated him, wasted second after 
wasted second.

Though he had enjoyed the events of the day far more than he ever expected to, 
he began to hate certain aspects of his position. For one: here he was, a 26-
year-old man, and yet he was having to tiptoe around things. It would have been 
much easier simply to tell Sarah that he did not want to sleep as her teddybear 
when he could sleep with her mother as a sextoy. He didn't really even know why 
Martha herself did not simply tell her daughter outright that Timmy would be 
sleeping in the bed of the queenly mistress of the house, not in the sleeping bag 
of the princess.

Still, he supposed that Martha had her reasons. Truth be told, he didn't 
particularly want Sarah knowing about his sexual relations with Martha. And, on 
another level, he liked the air of secrecy that Martha tried to cultivate when it 
came to their trysts.

Was his aunt's anti-erection medicine wearing off AT ALL yet, he wondered? He 
wanted to feel himself to find out, but his arms were trapped, pinned by the large 
body next to him.

Just then, Sarah gave a long, wide, cat-like yawn... and decided to roll over on 
her stomach. As he was still held in her arms, this maneuver absolutely crushed 
him. He was trapped beneath her and could hardly breathe. The not unpleasant 
smell of Sarah's body infused his lungs. Her weight pressed down heavy against 
him, and the carpeted floor at his back felt harder than ever. Sarah's belly--
though he knew it appeared trim and taught in relation to the rest of her--felt huge 
and wide to him as it spread over his body from his upper thighs to mid-chest.

His only chance was to tickle her. As his air was running out, he desperately 
wiggled his fingers against whatever part of her he could reach. Luckily, in her 
sleep Sarah chuckled a bit and started wiggling. Timmy eagerly gulped in the air 
that her movement afforded him, then continued tickling. All of a sudden she 
pulled her arms off of him and turned on her side, with her back to him. He was 
free.

"Hehe, stop it, Timmy," she murmured as his fingers left her side. Clearly she 
was still mostly asleep, however.


He wasn't going to wait for her to toss and turn again. He slid out of the sleeping 
bag, and his feet were soon pattering down the hallway outside.

Martha's light was off now, which was no surprise. It was very, very late.

He crept into her room, closed the door behind him soundlessly, and moved 
toward her bed. The moonlight guided him, and he suddenly felt like something 
between a burglar and a Casanova. He tried to be as quiet as possible, but then 
he realized that Martha was sleeping with a white noise machine on anyway, so 
there was little need.

Martha was turned away from him and covered up to her torso. She slept on her 
side  facing the far wall, and he could see the back bra-strap of some very 
expensive, dark lingerie, however. And her hair seemed somehow darker, too. 
He crawled on her large soft bed and gave her big shoulder a light kiss. Then he 
pulled the blanket down and slipped inside, behind her. He pressed his 
disappointingly still shriveled dick against Martha's butt, which was barely 
covered at all by a thong, put his arms around her as best he could, and then 
began kissing her back. Throughout all of his she made no movement or sound 
whatsoever.

After a few minutes, Timmy stopped kissing and simply nuzzled his face down 
against her back. And then he fell asleep.

*****

He shook himself awake in response to a very sharp burning sensation on his 
chest. He realized that he was completed naked, lying on his back, and Martha 
had just poured a few drops of hot candle wax onto his little belly.

"Yeow!" he said.

The bedroom was dimly lit by only four or five long white candles. Martha was 
looming over him, sitting on her knees and smiling softly. She was wearing bright 
red vinyl lingerie, complete with matching knee-high red vinyl boots. Timmy 
noticed that something else was red too.

"You dyed your hair," he remarked.

"Yes. You like it?" 

Martha tossed her head from side to side. She had most of her dark red hair 
clipped up on top of her head, held by a pearl-encrusted berette, but a few loose, 
stylishly curled locks danced across her cheeks.

"It looks really sexy, Martha," Timmy said, admiring her face, which seemed 
prettier to him than it ever had. He was really pleased to be spending some time 
now with a woman, not a girl. "You look really sexy."

"Yes," she said. "I decided I may as well go all out and dye my hair once it 
became clear to me that you wouldn't make your scheduled appointment with me 
this evening on time."

"I-I'm sorry," Timmy said, looking up at her. "I-I wanted to, but--"

"But you were too busy acting like a child with Sarah. I know."

"No, I--"

"You wouldn't believe how many times I peeked in at you two--probably three 
times an hour between 10 and 12--and every time, Timmy, I couldn't believe how 
silly you were acting. Needing her to hold you. Getting scared and needing her to 
comfort you. Acting so delicate and fragile whenever she teased you in the 
slightest. Looking up at her--literally and figuratively--in total awe. A 26-year-old 
man looking up to a 13-year-old girl like that. I really thought that one time when I 
peeked in you would probably be sucking on a pacifier and having her change 
your diaper."

Martha said all this without the slightest tinge of severity in her voice. She was 
not making fun of Timmy, or insulting him--she was simply remarking on her 
honest impressions of what she had witnessed in his behavior with her daughter.

"But--" Timmy began to protest.

"Oh don't misunderstand me," Martha hastened to add, "don't get the wrong 
impression. Seeing you act that way really turned me on." She smiled and 
showed her teeth. Timmy noticed that she had red lipstick on as well. "It's just 
that you had an appointment with me and you didn't keep it."

"Martha, I was--I am--afraid that I can't perform very well because of..." 

He glanced down to see that his pee-sized penis was no longer pee-sized. A 
modest erection was pointing upward as he lay on Martha's bed.

"You men are so funny," Martha said. "And so insecure. A few minutes ago when 
I stripped you I saw the tiny little peeper"--here Martha made a size-
measurement between her forefinger and thumb and placed them up to her eye--
"that your aunt had presumably blessed you with for the night. Then I simply 
used some medicinal rubs of my own. It was easy, Timmy. I guess it's true what 
they say about men simply being dummies when it comes to science."

"So--so you got rid of it?" Timmy asked, still a little drowsy and slow on the 
uptake. "My aunt gave me a pill this morning--yesterday morning, now--and..."

"Yes, Timmy. I inferred as much. You should have heard the soft little cooing you 
made when I put the counteracting salve on your little peeper and started to rub it 
in. It was like watching a little worm grow and grow and grow."

Timmy felt foolish. Of course they would have some sort of medicine that would 
counteract the erection-suppressant his aunt had given him.

He stared up at Martha, admiring how great her red hair, red lingerie and red 
boots looked in contrast against her pale skin. Moreover, her continually 
augmented size turned him on. A lot. And finally, for the first time in almost 
twenty-four hours, he could enjoy the rush of his hormones. His penis stiffened.

"You must have had to buy a lot more clothes lately," he said.

"Yesh," she said, in that weirdly sexy babytalk voice she sometimes liked to use. 
"I have been getting bigger and bigger. Bigger and bigger and bigger."

She leaned over him and began to play with his cock.

"A-are you nearly done, um, changing?" he asked.

"Noooo..." she said huskily, leaning over him on the bed and giving him a 
tremendous view of her cleavage.

"H-how tall do you think you'll get?"

"Oh," she mused, pausing to bend down low and lick the length of his rod, 
"possibly seven feet."

"WHAT?!" Timmy squawked, and just as he did so Martha gulped his entire 
manhood inside her mouth and started to suck it loudly.

Next she opened wide again, reached down with her hand, and guided Timmy's 
balls past her lips as well. With his entire testicles inside her mouth, Martha 
sucked and sucked and sucked, making loud slurping noises and drooling all 
over Timmy's crotch.

He moaned and moaned. Just as he was getting ready to come, he felt Martha's 
hands reach under him--one under his shoulders and one under his ass--and she 
lifted him up into the air. Still slurping away at him, she turned and began to 
slowly lower herself onto the bed, onto her back. During this dizzying process 
Timmy started ejaculating. He kept pumping out semen during the precious 
seconds while Martha guided him down in a freefall motion, and his last blasts 
were made as he came to rest on all fours on the bed, with his crotch resting on 
Martha's face.

She popped his testicles out of her mouth and licked them clean, then she asked 
Timmy if he'd like to fuck her the old-fashioned way.

"Oh god Martha yeah," he said, exhausted but scrambling over her broad 
voluptuous form in order to get in the missionary position. "But...what were you 
saying, about getting seven feet tall?"

"Oh I don't know, darling," she said in a breathy tone. "It's just that I'm not slowing 
down any. Unfortunately I'm not losing any weight. Though I think the weight I do 
have is being better distributed, don't you?"

Still on all fours, he literally crawled over Martha's basketball-plus-sized breasts.

"Yeeeah," he said.

Once he had finally turned himself around, he eagerly slipped his hand in 
Martha's panties and pulled them down a bit. His little willy was still hard, and he 
slipped it into Martha's wet, greedy vagina.

"Now fuck me like a big man," Martha said to him. "Fuck me like it's the 1800s 
and neither of us knows any better."

As his haunches began to give little Timmy-sized thrusts, Timmy wondered what 
it would have been like if they had met in the 1800s. He could easily imagine 
Martha wearing petticoats and other such fashions of that era. But what if Martha 
was really somewhere between six and seven feet tall? Wouldn't that have been 
the talk of the town in those days? Still, back then, no matter how large, strong, 
and mentally tough she was, and no matter how tiny, wimpy, and mentally fragile 
he was, at that time the man was expected to be in charge no matter what. In 
those days Timmy could have had Martha when he wanted and how he wanted, 
and it did not matter if Martha even enjoyed herself in the process.

"I'll fuck you," Timmy said in a grunting but playful voice. "I'll fuck you and you'll 
like it, you itty bitty woman."

His little feet bounced off of Martha's big thighs. His head was wedging itself 
deeper and deeper between her boobs, each of which dwarfed his head to a 
comical extent.

"Oh please don't INJURE me, big man!" Martha teased. "Why, you are so rough 
and commanding."

Martha put her weight into it, bouncing herself in time, making it seem as if little 
Timmy's humping was causing the bed to rock.

Next she reached down and put her hands on Timmy's ass cheeks. She spread 
her legs wider and then pushed him in as far as he could go. He felt as if the 
opening of her vagina almost spread from one of his hips to the other, and her 
vaginal muscles were sucking his cock--and his body--with an almost alarming 
force.

He grunted and grunted, then began to moan as Martha took charge.

She then crossed her ankles, trapping Timmy's body between her thick but curvy 
legs. Each of her thighs was much larger around than Timmy thin waist. She 
scissored him a bit with her legs, gently at first. His constant moans turned into 
yelps whenever she applied even the slightest bit of pressure.

He reached his hands up to grip her breasts. Once he found the nipples he hung 
on to them and squeezed right as he climaxed. Martha orgasmed at the same 
time, and then she fell back, sinking into the bed. He lay limply atop her, his 
reedy little body all sweat, catching his breath and hoping that he could stay in 
this position for the rest of his life.

"One more time," Martha said, sitting up and prying his head out from her 
cleavage.

"Oh Martha," he said, "I'm so spent. Just-just give me five minutes and then I'll be 
able to--"

"You've come twice," she said, "while I've only just had my first orgasm. So it 
won't be necessary for you to get off again tonight."

She peeled him off of her, plopped his little form on the bed next to her, then 
stood up and went over to her vanity. She took out one lotion bottle that looked 
like it came with a prescription, and rubbed some of the ooze onto her hands.

"Stand up, Timmy," she instructed. "Get over here, bring that little stool, and hold 
your dick out for me."

Timmy's dick, at the moment, was flaccid and spent and looking almost as pea-
sized as it had looked all day long--even without any of his aunt's medicine this 
time.

He crept over to Martha looking and feeling like a childlike weakling. In her bright 
red boots with their chunky heels, Martha towered over Timmy as she had never 
done before.

("She must weight over three times as much as me," Timmy thought. 
"Goodness I feel tiny. Her knees are at the level of my crotch, and I could fit 
inside one of her legs with lots of room to spare.")

"Hold your little dick out, Timmy. I'm not going to go fishing for it."

He held out all two inches of it. Martha bent down and dabbed a big hunk of 
ointment on its tip. It stung, but not that bad.

"Tell me something, Timmy," she said, pinching the end of his penis and 
beginning to rub in the lotion. "At the party did the girls began to show their 
natural dominance over males?"

"Yes," he said in a straining voice. Martha was kneading his member quite hard, 
and the stinging sensation persisted.

"I thought they would. They're at the right age. Personally, I had to excuse myself 
from the party like I did because, in those circumstances, I don't think I could 
have held myself back. I didn't want to spoil Sarah's Sweet Thirteen by leaping 
on top of you right then and there, Timmy, ripping your clothes off in front of 
everyone and demanding that you fuck me up the ass."

Timmy gulped, not knowing if Martha was serious. Was this really why she 
retired to her room early instead of watching the kids in her house?

"Yesh," she said, in response to nothing in particular. "But that IS what I'm going 
to demand of you now. You're to fuck me until you and I are both unconscious."

"Oh Martha, I don't know if I have it in me, I--"

Suddenly the stinging of his penis stopped. He looked down and observed the 
biggest erection he had ever seen on himself, and yet it was insensate and 
numb. He couldn't feel his penis, couldn't feel Martha's massaging hand on it, 
and yet there it was.

"Take that stool there," Martha instructed, taking her hand away and turning 
around, "and climb up on it. And that SHOULD give you enough height to put 
your penis inside my big fat bum. If it isn't, you can fit your little baby feet into a 
pair of my high heels, and try it again."

Luckily, Timmy could reach with just the stool. He had to stand on his tiptoes, 
however.

Martha leaned down and spread her ass cheeks apart with her hands. Timmy 
thrust himself in as deep as he could go.

"Give me your little hands," she said, turning her head to the side to see him out 
of one eye and reaching back with her own hands. "Good. Now put them around 
the reins HERE"--she led his hands to grip the sides of her bra straps--"and I'll 
keep my hands around yours like THIS"--she squeezed him--"and maybe 
together we'll have enough PULL to get you up my ass nice and deep and far". 

Tired as he was, he began to wiggle and bounce up and down on his tiptoes, 
squirming his way playfully into Martha's ass.

Before very long he didn't even know why the stool was really necessary. He was 
off his feet anyway, flopping in the air. Martha had seized his hands in hers, and 
she began yanking him rhythmically forward against her backside.

"I want to keep hearing those little thighs of yours slapping against my butt 
cheeks, Timmy!" she said brightly, grinding him against her big body while 
writhing before him. "I can barely feel your little pecker, so you're going to have to 
cram yourself in there harder than you are!"

Timmy knew that he would pass out before too much longer, well before Martha 
reached orgasm. And he also knew that Martha would continue to dominate his 
body after he passed out, not stopping until she had gotten satisfaction.

"Feel free to go to sleep anytime, Timmy," Martha told him as she grunted and 
yanked and slammed him again and again, harder and harder, into her bulbous 
ass. "We don't want little boys like you staying up too late, anyway. (grunt grunt) 
You've got another big day tomorrow. (grunt) We're going to the mall right after 
breakfast. My new convertible is only a two-seater. (grunt grunt) So you can sit 
on Sarah's lap."



* * * * * * * * * *
 * * * * * * * * * *



COMING ATTRACTIONS:

-Martha the Giant Bikini Queen!
-Brooks the Giant Intergender Fighting Champion!
-Rose the Giant UN Diplomat/Dictator!
-Sarah the . . . Girlfriend of Timmy?!
-And which one will be Timmy's Giant Babysitter?!?!

STAY TUNED!

Comments and suggestions welcome!: eslepov@yahoo.com