The house was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning fighting the summer heat. Jessica stood in the doorway of what used to be her childhood bedroom, now repurposed as a guest room with a low platform bed built specially for her new height. At 3’6”, everything felt enormous again—like she was a kid playing house in a giant’s world. The shrinking virus had come out of nowhere six months ago. One week she was a confident 5’6” fitness instructor with her own apartment and a string of casual lovers; the next she was barely tall enough to reach the kitchen counters without a step stool. Doctors had no cure. Her parents had insisted she move home until she figured out “next steps.”
What they hadn’t mentioned—what they couldn’t have prepared her for—was how much her stepbrother Chris had changed.
Chris had always been tall, even as a gangly teenager, but the last six years had turned him into something out of a fever dream. At twenty he stood an impossible 7’6”, every inch carved from dense, vascular muscle. Broad shoulders that could block doorways, pecs like armored plates, arms thicker than her waist, and legs like tree trunks wrapped in striated steel. He still lived at home, training full-time for some underground bodybuilding circuit their parents quietly funded. When Jessica had first walked through the front door two weeks ago, suitcase wheels dragging behind her, Chris had been coming down the stairs in nothing but gray compression shorts.
He’d looked down at her—way, way down—and his dark eyes had widened. The size difference was obscene. Her head barely reached the middle of his thigh. One of his legs was literally taller than she was now. She’d felt heat bloom low in her belly, a filthy, immediate rush of want that shocked her. This was Chris. Her stepbrother. The kid she used to ignore while she snuck out to parties. But the kid was gone. In his place was a towering, sweat-glistened god who stared at her like she was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
The tension had only grown since then.
During the day they circled each other like predators. Jessica caught herself staring when he moved through the kitchen, the way his massive quads flexed with every step, the heavy swing of the thick bulge in those gray shorts. Chris, for his part, couldn’t stop touching her—gentle, careful touches that still made her feel tiny and helpless in the best way. He’d lift her onto the counter so she could reach the top shelf. His hands would span her entire ribcage. Once, when she’d tried to climb the stairs on her own, he’d simply scooped her up, cradling her against the warm, hard wall of his chest like she weighed nothing. She’d felt his heartbeat thunder against her cheek and had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.
Tonight the house was empty. Their parents were at some weekend couples’ retreat. The hallway light was off. Jessica sat on the edge of her low bed wearing the same black sports bra and tiny gray booty shorts she’d had on in the photo she’d sent him earlier that day—a deliberate choice. Her blonde ponytail hung down her back, still slightly damp from the shower. She’d left the door cracked open on purpose.
She heard the floorboards creak long before she saw him. Then the door swung wider and there he was.
Chris filled the entire doorway exactly like the image burned into her mind: one massive hand gripping the top of the frame, the other loose at his side, fingers thick as her wrists. He wore nothing but those same low-slung gray shorts that hugged the impossible swell of his quads and the heavy, half-hard outline of his cock. His dark hair was tousled, stubble shadowing his sharp jaw. Sweat already glistened across the deep cuts of his abs and the heavy slabs of his pecs, as if he’d been pacing his room for hours, fighting the same urge she had.
“Jess,” he rumbled, voice low and rough. Even his voice was bigger now. “I… I couldn’t sleep.”
She looked up at him—had to tilt her head all the way back—and smiled, slow and wicked. “I was waiting for you.”
Chris’s breath hitched. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The room seemed to shrink around his massive frame. He crossed to the bed in two strides and dropped to his knees so they were closer to eye level—though she still had to look up. His face was flushed, pupils blown wide.
“You’re so fucking small,” he whispered, almost reverent. One huge hand reached out, hesitating, then cupped her cheek. His palm covered the entire side of her head. “I can’t stop thinking about it. You’re the size of my fucking leg, Jess. My little stepsister… and all I want to do is pick you up and—”
“And what?” she breathed, leaning into his touch. She placed both her small hands on his wrist, feeling the thick cords of muscle and veins pulsing under her fingers. “Tell me, Chris. I want to hear it.”
He groaned, deep in his chest. “I want to explore every inch of you with my hands. I want you to climb me like I’m your personal jungle gym. I want to feel how tiny you are when I’m inside you.”
Jessica’s pussy clenched at his words. She’d been wet since dinner, imagining exactly this. She rose up on her knees on the bed, still barely reaching his collarbone even with him kneeling. “Then do it. I’ve wanted to touch you since the second I saw you. You’re a goddamn giant now, Chris. My giant.”
His hands moved with surprising gentleness for their size. He lifted her easily, setting her on her feet on the mattress so she stood between his spread thighs. Now her face was level with the deep cleft between his pecs. She pressed both palms to the warm, firm muscle and pushed, feeling the impossible density. His nipples were hard little points under her thumbs. She leaned in and dragged her tongue across one, tasting salt and skin.
“Fuck, Jess…” Chris’s hand slid down her back, fingers splaying across her entire ass and lower back at once. He pulled her closer until her body was flush against the hot wall of his abs. She could feel his cock thickening rapidly against her stomach—already longer and thicker than her forearm.
She kissed her way across his chest, nipping at the heavy muscle, then dragged her hands down the ridged eight-pack until her fingers hooked into the waistband of his shorts. “Off,” she ordered, voice husky. “I want to see all of you.”
Chris stood up, towering over her again, and shoved the shorts down. His cock sprang free—thick, veined, and already leaking. It bobbed heavily in front of her face, the head glistening, easily as long as her forearm and thicker than her wrist. Jessica’s mouth watered. She wrapped both hands around the shaft—her fingers didn’t meet—and stroked slowly, marveling at the heat and the way it jumped in her grip.
“Jesus, you’re huge everywhere,” she whispered in awe. She leaned forward and licked a broad stripe up the underside, tasting the salty pre-cum. Chris’s hand tangled gently in her ponytail, not forcing, just holding.
She worshipped him like that for long minutes—kissing, licking, stroking with both arms while he stood there like a statue of raw power, muscles flexing and twitching under her touch. Then he lifted her again, this time cradling her against his chest as he climbed onto her bed. The mattress dipped dangerously under his weight. He laid back, propping himself against the headboard, and settled her straddling his massive thigh.
The muscle under her was rock-hard and warm, easily wider than her hips. She ground down on it instinctively, her tiny shorts already soaked through. Chris’s hands spanned her waist completely.
“Ride my leg, baby,” he growled. “Let me feel how wet you are.”
Jessica moaned and obeyed, rolling her hips, dragging her aching pussy along the thick ridge of his quad. The friction was perfect. She braced her hands on his abs for balance and rocked faster, staring up at his face—his dark eyes locked on her, lips parted, chest heaving. Every time she moved, her whole body shifted against the unyielding muscle. It felt like she was humping a warm marble pillar.
Chris’s thumb slipped under the waistband of her shorts and tugged them down her legs with one easy motion. Then his finger—God, even one finger was thick—parted her folds and circled her clit. She cried out, grinding harder against his thigh while he fingered her with careful, devastating strokes.
“You’re so tight,” he murmured, voice wrecked. “So small and perfect. I don’t know if I’ll even fit, Jess, but I need to try.”
She came suddenly, shuddering and soaking his thigh, a high-pitched whine escaping her throat. He didn’t stop, just kept stroking her through it until she was trembling.
When she finally caught her breath, she looked down at his cock—now fully hard and resting against his abs, the head nearly reaching the bottom of his sternum. She crawled forward on all fours, tiny hands and knees sinking into the grooves of his muscle, until she was straddling his hips. His cock lay between them like a thick, hot bar.
Jessica rose up on her knees, gripped him with both hands, and pressed the fat head against her dripping entrance. “I want it,” she whispered. “I want my giant stepbrother to stretch me open.”
Chris’s hands settled on her hips, steadying her. “Slow, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She sank down anyway, inch by careful inch. The stretch was insane—burning, overwhelming, perfect. Her pussy lips stretched obscenely around his girth. She only managed to take the head and a few inches before she had to pause, panting, sweat sliding down her spine. Chris’s thumbs stroked soothing circles on her waist, but his eyes were glued to where they were joined, pupils blown with lust.
“You’re doing so good,” he praised, voice hoarse. “Look at you… taking my cock like a good little stepsister.”
The dirty words sent another gush of wetness down his shaft. She worked herself lower, taking more, until nearly half of him was buried inside her. The bulge was visible on her lower belly—his cock so big it distorted her tiny frame. She placed one hand over the outline and pressed, feeling him throb inside her.
Chris groaned like he was dying. Then he sat up, curling his massive body around her, and captured her mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue was huge against hers. One arm wrapped around her back, the other slid under her ass, and he began to move—gentle, shallow thrusts that still made her see stars.
They found a rhythm. Jessica rode him as best she could, tiny body bouncing on his enormous cock while he held her steady, guiding her up and down. Every thrust pushed the air from her lungs. She could feel every vein, every ridge dragging along her inner walls. Her clit rubbed against the base of his shaft on every downstroke.
“Chris—fuck—I’m gonna come again,” she gasped against his neck.
“Do it,” he growled. “Come on my cock, Jess. Let me feel it.”
She shattered, clenching hard around him, nails digging uselessly into the thick slabs of his pecs. Chris’s hips stuttered. With a deep, guttural moan he followed her over the edge, flooding her with pulse after pulse of hot cum. There was so much it leaked out around his shaft, dripping down his balls and onto the sheets.
They stayed locked together for a long time afterward, his cock still half-hard inside her, twitching with aftershocks. Chris stroked her back with one huge hand, the other cradling her head against his chest. She felt tiny, protected, and completely owned in the best possible way.
“Stay with me tonight,” she whispered, kissing the center of his sternum.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her entire body. “Baby, I’m never letting you out of my sight again. Not when you fit me this perfectly.”
Outside, the house remained quiet. Inside the little guest room, the giant stepbrother and his shrunken stepsister held each other close, already hungry for round two. The age gap, the virus, the years they’d spent apart—it all melted away under the heat of something far more primal.
They had the whole weekend.
And Chris was just getting started exploring every single inch of his tiny, perfect stepsister.
