Ryu's blushy world

Sharing visual and text fantasies of powerful sultry seductresses dwarfing, subdoing, defeating, draining, mommy-domming their gasping nervous male preys.

[gooniemari]

You want your toy back? Come and get it! :)

[neverendingedge4breasts-deactiv]

So much tit i can't resist

[real-vampire-11235813]

[jayaury]

Marrying the Maid

More archive short stories. Get more on my P*treon. Enjoy! https://www.patreon.com/JayAury

---

Baron Lukas Instaf fell into his office chair with an audible groan.

Yes.

His office.

He had to keep reminding himself of that fact. To think, he would inherit the barony at a mere twenty years of age. It was quite a bit of pressure, he had to admit.

He found himself looking back at the imposing portrait hanging over the mantle of the fireplace. His father’s picture was of a grim, sullen man with dark hair and a face of hard, disapproving lines.

Lukas had inherited the man’s hair, if not his rough features. He was slimmer than his stocky father. Many said handsomer, and certainly younger. He flexed his hands on the arms of the chair uneasily and scanned the study. He didn’t much care for the decor. But that had always been his problem, as his father had frequently berated him. He was indecisive. Weak.

Well, Lukas had best start getting decisive. For this was his home now.

Well, mostly.

The door swung open with a bang. “Good morning master!”

He sat up sharply as a familiar figure bounced into the room. Clarissa, the family’s maid of two years, was a forceful personality in the house. She filled every room she stepped foot in with her presence and somewhat unconventional character. Lukas had no idea why his father had kept the boisterous redhead.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had a good idea. Two of them, actually. Clarissa was bustier than some holstaurs. In fact, there were rumours that she was one of those bovine maidens, but had filed down her horns. Lukas wasn’t sure how much he believed that, but he did know that she did attend that new cow goddess church that was making waves. And she was unbelievably brash and forceful for a servant. Not to mention teasing. He’d often been at the receiving end of her attentions, leaving him flustered and annoyed.

And she was wearing scent again, he noticed with a sigh. Honestly, it seemed like every day she wore a new kind of perfume. The current one was jasmine, and was shockingly potent. Well, at least it was better than the rosemary she used to wear around his father. In fact, it was almost… pleasant.

“Clarissa!” he sighed, forcing himself not to stare at the maid’s impressive bust. “You-”

“Here with your tea!” she said, sliding the tray into place before him with a wink of her long lashes. “Starting off the morning well, as the big, strong baron should!”

“Clarissa, really. You can’t just-”

“Not to worry, my baron! There’s plenty of cream. I know how much you like it,” she added, picking up a pitcher and pouring a generous helping into his cup. “And you’ll need it today! Because we have quite a bit of work to do.”

In the midst of tidying his papers, Lukas paused. “We do?”

“Of course, my lord! Now that you are baron, we must decide on your betrothed.”

“M-my what!”

“And I have them right here!” Clarissa chimed, lifting a folder out from some hidden recess of her scandalously short skirt (it had to be custom. No other maid in the estate had such a revealingly tight uniform). “Shall we take a look, my baron?”

“Wh… Hold on now, I can’t just-”

“My baron!” Clarissa cried in mock horror. “Surely you realize the importance in choosing your bride? The barony cannot be left without a mistress. Not only for the hard work running the estate, but also the vital work of carrying on the family line! Which means we must choose the most ample, breedable, lovely wife for you.”

“B-breedable? Clarissa! That is-”

“Not to worry, my baron. I’m sure you can manage that. Why, any woman would consider herself lucky to be bent over your table as you thrust home, stuffing her full of your droit de seigneur.”

Lukas’s face burned as it always did whenever Clarissa got going like this. Not to say she was wrong, unfortunately. She was absolutely right. He did need to get married, but it still seemed so early to be shopping for a bride. “Clarissa, really. I-”

“Early to start, my baron! We must be. Once word gets out that Baron Instaf is not only single, but such an adorable, impressive, handsome piece of stud meat, why, we’ll be besieged by eligible young ladies looking to have you mount them like a prized mare! And whichever does will be lucky to have you. Take my word for it!”

“Clarissa! This is… that sort of talk is hardly-”

“You’re so right, my baron. Here I am, chattering away, and you haven’t even gotten a chance to look at the choices! Let’s take a look at the candidates, shall we?”

Lukas sighed, finally giving up. It was near impossible to stop Clarissa once she set her mind to something, though by gods he would soon. He’d have to talk to the head butler about firing her. She treated him far too casually. But for now, he supposed the best thing was just to get this business with the portraits over with.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s take a look…”

“How wise, my dear baron,” Clarissa chirped merrily as she opened the folder to the first page, propping it up just underneath her immense bosom.

Lukas cleared his throat, forcing himself to look at the portrait and not the impressive pair of breasts just above it. “And this is…”

“Mirria Mable. Daughter of a lord in the southern country. Quite the pick specimen. An attractive if air headed young thing. Pretty, but not terribly bright. And not nearly as endowed as me, hm?”

“Clarissa! That’s hardly appropriate,” Lukas said, though he had to admit it was true, and his eyes did quickly steal a glance at Clarissa’s chest as if just to make sure of that. Gods, the room felt suffocating in the perfume she wore. He should open a window, though the scent wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, it was a bit… soothing.

Clarissa giggled. “Very true, my baron. We cannot judge a woman less blessed than myself in that respect. Some of us were merely born with a generous bosom. Perfect to lay one’s head upon.”

Lukas rolled his eyes, but felt his cheeks warm at the thought. “I ah… Well, what about the others?”

“The others? Of course, my lord,” Clarissa said, turning the page, her chest bouncing as she did so.

The sight made Lukas realize quite suddenly his mouth was very dry. With haste, he picked up a teacup and took a sip. Mm. Normally he wasn’t a big fan of cream in his tea, but wherever Clarissa got hers, it was delicious.

“Now then,” Clarissa said. “Lady Blumen from the duchy of Clausen seems like a perfect match for you. Nearly as busty as I am, and I know how important that is for you, my baron.”

“Not that important…” he mumbled.

“Ho ho!” Clarissa laughed, the throaty mirth making her breasts bounce most distractingly in her tight top. “How droll you are, my baron! But I know how much you value an impressive pair of breasts. You can barely keep your eyes off mine!”

Lukas flushed again, realizing he had been staring at her chest. He hastily took another sip of tea. Gods, he was feeling a bit light headed. “I ah… What else is there about her?”

“Why, only that she is something of a black widow, my baron. A nasty piece of work. She delights in wedding rich men, then crushing them beneath her heel. Nitpicking them until they don’t dare breathe without her approval. And what a cruel thing, my baron! Why, she cannot understand true love. The love of a good husband willing to do anything for his darling wife. Adore you. Worship her! She’s only in it for the quick cash! No sense of adoring her new spouse like the good boy he is.”

“S-sorry. Good boy?” Lukas said.

Clarissa giggled, her long lashes fluttering again. “Oh yes, my baron. A husband must be assured what a good boy he is. What a good, obedient, lovey dovey dummy he is to his beloved wife. Otherwise, he might get the most silly ideas in his head.”

Lukas felt his cheeks redden at the degrading words, even if they weren’t addressed to him. And he found his eyes looking at Clarissa’s breasts again. Big and soft. The subtle heave as she breathed. Or rather, the not so subtle. Looked like she was as into the discussion as he was.

“Er, right. Sure,” Lukas said, taking another sip of tea, sinking back into his seat with a sigh. “So, not her.”

“Oh no, my baron. You deserve so much better. So much bustier! So much more loving and adoring. A sweet wife who would show you what a good boy you are. Who would let you adore her like the happy, dopey husband you were always meant to be.”

“Er, yes. Yes. But uh… Who is the next one?”

“Oh yes, my baron. That would be the Countess Francesca,” Clarissa said, turning the next page. “But she wouldn’t make an appropriate wife for you either my lord.”

“Hm?” Lukas said, taking another sip, barely paying attention as he watched Clarissa’s breasts bounce. “She wouldn’t? Why… why not?”

“Oh my baron! Why, she does not want children.”

“O-oh,” Lukas said as he took another long drink of his tea. “Yes, that might… might be a problem. Need an heir…”

“Oh no, my baron. Not just one.”

“S-sorry?”

Clarissa gave him a knowing look. “Why, my dear baron, your wife must bear you many children! A dozen at least. A dozen happy, lovely children. Your wife needs to be very eager to take your virile seed. Because I know, my dear baron, that you’re far too much a stud to be satisfied with just one child. That you would like nothing more than to breed your beloved wife at every opportunity. To make her breasts so big… so heavy… so creamy and soft that you can’t help but play with them and kiss them every night.”

Lukas stared at her breasts. Gods, he could imagine it. Imagine those breasts bouncing. Heaving. Wobbling and Clarissa positively glowing from… from…

But… but no. He… he needed to only think of… of his wife like that. Yes. Only his wife. His beloved wife, whoever… whoever it turned out to be.

“I uh…”

“Oh dear, my baron,” Clarissa sighed, closing the folder dramatically, crossing her arms beneath her jiggling bust. “This just won’t do! It seems like there isn’t a noble woman in the land who can satisfy all your needs. A woman so busty. So loving. So beautiful and fertile to satisfy your very high standards.”

“I… y-yes. No one…”

“Oh!” Clarissa suddenly said, brightening visibly. “But then, of course! How silly of me. I didn’t think of that at all! Why, you don’t need a noblewoman for your wife.”

“I… I don’t?” Lukas said, frowning a little, brow wrinkling in concentration. Didn’t he? He was under the impression that was important…

“Oh no, my beloved baron,” Clarissa cooed as she planted her hands on the table, climbing onto it and crawling towards him, pendulous breasts swaying teasingly, her eyes hot, molten with something that made Lukas’s pulse quicken and pound. “Not at all. Why, if the noble stock isn’t up to the standards, then we must simply find another who is. One who is capable of seeing the greatness in you. The handsomeness. The virile… powerful… studliness in you.”

Lukas found himself instinctively retreating, pressing into the back of his chair, watching his maid move towards him like a she-wolf on the hunt. “Wh-who?”

“Now that is the question, isn’t it, my baron,” Clarissa giggled, straightening so she was kneeling on the desk in front of him, her hands cupping her breasts, fondling and massaging them teasingly. “She’d have to know your domain inside and out. She’d have to have every servant in the house already under her thumb. She’d have to know the ways you love things done. She’d have to be so pretty… so clever… so very… very… busty that you just couldn’t say no to her. Every idea she had would just seem like the bestest idea ever. Oops! Did I say breastest?”

“D-did you?” Lukas said, fairly drooling as he watched her bounce and mold her breasts together.

“Maybe I should have, hmm?” Clarissa said. “Because I know how much my baron loves breasts. Big… bouncy… soft breasts. That’s why I know he’ll make the right choice. I know he’ll decide on exactly the right person to be his baroness. To be his loving wife. His devoted mistress. His gorgeous… bouncy… beautiful bride. But who, my baron? Who is busty and smart and beautiful enough for that.”

“Wh-who?” Lukas gasped.

“Think hard, my baron,” Clarissa crooned.

Lukas tried to. He really did. But his mind just didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Every thought he had swirled and squished and bounced and wobbled like Clarissa’s breasts. He whimpered, biting his lower lip, trembling with need as his maid continued to massage her breasts, her buttons straining against her ample tit flesh until… until…

“Mmmm,” Clarissa moaned, tearing open the front of her uniform, her ample, pale breasts spilling into the open. Bouncing with heavy softness. Nipples dark accents to their creamy slopes.

Lukas gasped, jolting like from a physical blow as her breasts bounced free.

“Whoops!” Clarissa giggled. “Did I do that?”

“Y-you… you…” Lukas stammered.

Clarissa’s smile widened. “Me, my lord?” she said coyly. “You want me to be your gorgeous baroness?”

Lukas blinked blankly, his sloshing thoughts struggling. “I…”

“Well, it is true, my lord,” Clarissa cooed, her leg extending, foot pressing against his chest and pushing him and his chair back with a squeak. “I am so very smart. So very beautiful. So very…” she breathed, sliding off the desk, into his lap, Lukas groaning as her weight settled on the hardness of his tenting cock. “Very…” Clarissa moaned as she leaned forward, her ample titflesh pressing against his face. “...Busty…”

Lukas shuddered, inhaling, breathing in the heady scent of Clarissa’s breasts and body. A scent so potent and strong it made his toes curl. Sweet. Heavy and wonderful. Something so real. So potent. The jasmine stuffing his nose. Suffocating his thoughts. And with… with just a faint hint of cream…

“Oh, but whatever would society say,” Clarissa groaned, her hips rocking, rubbing herself upon his thick cock, making Lukas moan and pant under her as his cock throbbed with need. As her breasts squished his face between them and Clarissa’s weight ground him under her. “They might say such terrible things…”

“Ohhhh,” Lukas groaned.

“You’re so right, my baron,” Clarissa giggled. “True love overcomes all odds. And oh, but you do love me, my baron. You do love my big… soft… breasts. And I love you. Loved you so much I tried all sorts of alraune perfumes before I found the one that just. Makes. You. Melt.”

“Mmmm,” Lukas moaned as he inhaled deeply.

“And you love my wonderful, clever mind, don’t you?” Clarissa cooed as she gave her breasts a bounce, swirling his thoughts again to a lather. “So smart to think of buying that holstaur cream for your tea. So clever to know how malleable it makes a good boy. How needy and aroused by big breasts it makes him. How adoring and dumb. How needy and horny and obedient.

“But there is something bigger than my breasts, my baron,” Clarissa moaned as she squeezed her tits around his head. “Oh yes! Believe it. And that is my warm, adoring heart. Perfectly made for my darling baron. Utterly devoted to him. Because I know, my beloved baron, how haaaaard it is for you to think with me around. How distracted you get from a big… soft… pair of breasts. How hard it is for you to rule. You’re not suited for it, my lord. You’re just suited to be a lovey dovey bimbo. A perfect, obedient stud to your darling wife. And oh, my baron, do you really want me? Do you really need me?”

Lukas whimpered beneath his maid, his mind whirling. Drunk on lust and love and heavenly cream and her body. His hands trembled as they touched her, stroking her hips and rump. Touching her back and causing Clarissa to lean forward and bounce teasingly atop him, his chair creaking.

“Oh my baron. If you begged me, then, well, maybe,” Clarissa giggled. “If you told me how much you loved me, how much you need me, then maybe I’d believe you. Maybe I could be convinced to make you my adoring husband. My sweet, brainless stud of a man who’d do anything his busty wife said. Shall we try, my baron?”

“Mmmm,” Lukas moaned into her breasts.

“Let’s,” Clarissa crooned.

Lukas gasped as her breasts came off his face. He blinked dully as he found Clarissa smiling down at him, gaze smoldering and smirk hot with desire.

“I…” Lukas said.

“I want you, my baron,” Clarissa breathed. “Don’t you want me too?”

The note of hot passion in her tone dashed any effort of resistance from him. Lukas’s mouth trembled and he nodded, the truth escaping him in a panting gasp.

“Y-yes,” he said. “W-want you.”

“Do you, my baron?” Clarissa cooed as her hips rose, her hands teased down his chest and to his crotch, Lukas gasping as her fingers played with his bulge, undoing his zipper. “Do you want to fuck your beautiful bride? Propose to her and fuck her and breed her glorious pussy?”

“Y-yes!” Lukas whimpered, his cock springing into the open, a shock of pure ecstasy surging through him as her fingers wrapped around his length. “C-Clarissa, I… I…”

“Oh my baron,” Clarissa giggled, leaning in closer, her molten eyes hot, her rouged lips soft, enunciating every word as he felt his cock guided under the tickling hem of her skirt, brush the smooth skin of her inner thigh, drawn towards the heat of her naked pussy. “Just say… I do.”

“I… I… d-dooooo!” Lukas groaned, head falling back as Clarissa’s body eased down, his cock swallowed in the warm tightness of her pussy. His face buried again under the buxom softness of her ample tits.

“Mmmmm!” Clarissa moaned, her hips rocking, riding her atop his cock with slow, passionate motions that sent throbbing ecstasy radiating through his body and manhood. “Ohhhh my baaaaron! Yes! Yes! I will! I’ll be your baroness! I’ll be your gorgeous wife! Your perfect lover! Your loving, breedable bride. Ah. Ah! Oh goddess yes! Fuck me! Fill me with your cock!”

Lukas groaned beneath her, his lips kissing and licking her breasts, lost in the creamy valley of her tits, trapped in the ecstasy of her figure and the seemingly endless ampleness of her bouncy breasts. His cock throbbed in her, squeezed by her adoring inner walls. Heat consumed him. Pleasure subsumed him.

It was so good. So perfect. He couldn’t break free. Couldn’t resist. The need to cum surged within him. Devoured him. Urged him towards the inevitability of climax. He panted, gasping, moaning under her.

“Yes!” Clarissa gasped. “Oh my baron! Oh my husband! Yes! Fuck me! Fill me! Stuff me full of your cum! Ohhhhh my baron! I neeeed it! Need your mnnn! Your cum! Ah. Yes. Yes! Cum in me, Lukas. Cum in your bride! Fuck me! Breed me! Now! Breed me… nooooow!”

Her voice rose, a crescendo of shameless pleasure, her inner walls tightening, flexing, squeezing his cock with the glory of her peak. As her breasts shuddered around his head, Lukas cried out, surrendering to her pleasure, his cock throbbing, his balls tightening.

And he came.

Blessed release seemed to burst within him. Sear him. Devour him. His cock surrendered to her, filling her in sharp bursts of heady pleasure.

Lukas moaned, lost in her breasts. Lost in the pleasure. Floating in a sea of creamy ecstasy and delight, his mind sinking under waves of soft, bouncy bliss.

Atop him, Clarissa cooed, giggling as she felt him sag, lost beneath her breasts. Her arms wrapped around her new husband’s head, pulling him deeper into her bosom as she looked about the study. Ugh. Such depressing decoration. She’d have to get it cleaned out. And the room would make such a lovely nursery too.

She giggled, admiring the dazed expression of her former master as she smothered him beneath her breasts. She couldn’t wait for the wedding. Especially since she promised that holstaur priestess and her alraune friend they could be her bridesmaids. After all, when one was looking for a husband, one needed a foot in the door. And she just knew her beloved betrothed had some friends in need of busty, brainwashing brides.

Clarissa hummed contentedly, lazily rocking her hips, feeling Lukas’s cock stir anew within her, ready for round two.

Mmm.

All too easy for a clever, busty girl like her…

[goon4princess]

Dainty Wilder

[sosmothrd]

I strained to free myself from the firm grip of Monica's thick thighs, which had figuratively swallowed my body and arms whole in her bodyscissor following her attack of me in our dorm hallway. She had flung herself at me, bundling us into Dainty's, her fellow Campus Girl, room.

As we grappled Dainty calmly close the room to offer us some privacy. She then perched herself at the end of the bed to witness my losing battle with her curvy athletic friend.

Once she got her scissorhold locked in, Monica spent a few minutes weakening me further through torturously squeeze the fight out of me. She focussed on restricting my breathing, powering down when I tried to take in air.

I must have been softened up for Dainty's liking as she joined us on the floor as Monica readjusted her hold into a side bodyscissor.

Danity knelt facing before me and wordlessly pulled down my pants. She then took hold of my raging hard on in her soft hands. Danity cooed to herself as she worked my member with growing intensity. Her budding cleavage making itself well known to me as she pushed her tits together with her elbows.

Then she began to countdown, starting from 5. Danity picked up the pace of her hand job with each drawn out number. I shuddered with each stroke trying to hold back the overwhelming arousal knowing that Monica will knock me out if I came.

I didn't stand a chance as Danity hit 1. I blew my load to Dainty's glee. "Mmmmm...that's so good" she whispered, giving Monica a nod. Monica's thighs exploded, the squeeze completely stopping my breath and I silently screamed before passing out in her legs.

I woke up slumped in the hallway. Pantless and with two big comically lipstick kisses on my cheeks. How would I survive the rest of the semester?

[drecma-videos2]

From drecma galleries

[sosmothrd]

"Look. You will go night night soon. You can keep following the sweet sway, back and forth, of my breasts like the good boy you are. Or I can press them ever so firmly on your face in a smother...your choice."

[drecma-videos2]

From drecma galleries

[sosmothrd]

I awoke with the harshest headache. Splitting pains on the sides of my neck too. Turning slowly to my side in the bed I eyed Jasmine humming to herself. She smiled down at me as she pulled up her jeans over her curvy behind.

"Someone decided to return to dreamsville a bit early" she chuckled while buttoning her pants now. "I have to go, but you should get some more shut eye."

Geeze. She must have knocked me out. In between those thick thighs no doubt.

Seeing the recognition of what occurred on my face, Jasmine approached the bed. She leant over and hugged my face into her beefy boobs. I was in no condition to fight back. Smother locked in.

Jasmine kept the hug on for a minute or two until my little fight faded. I wasn't quite out yet when she lifted a bit and planted a deep french kiss on me. Arousal stirred energy back into me but she then pinched closed my nose and pushed her torso on mine - all three moves preventing my breathing in a new way.

I faded until unconsciousness within seconds. A cruel kiss good night.

[breastcandy]

[sosmothrd]

The strong taste of sweat in my lips. Hers or mine? Can't tell. Don't care. All that matters is recovery and escape.

I eye the door behind her. Her. Her and Them. All that matters is recovery and escape.

"It's natural you know...". Her. I shudder.

"To want to get away..." she adds, gathering my head by the ears yet again. She aims my face towards her. Towards Them.

Through half close eyes all I can see are Them.

She yanks me forward. Deep into her cleavage. Deep into the sixth or seventh smother if the evening.

"But it isn't your time yet. To get away, my little pet." Her taunting over. Action now. Smother now.

I no longer fought Them. Just submit. They always won anyways.

[beauty--in--motion]

[sosmothrd]

One breath out. One in. Slap on the face. Knock on door. I am ready.

Ready for my next match in our bed wrestling league against Penny. I hadn't been able to get much intel on her and her style unfortunately beyond the obvious - she was undefeated.

Well I was here to end her streak. Her roommate Samantha opened the door, invited me in and gave me a quick peck on the cheek as she turned to leave Penny and I to our battle. "Oh dear. You are in for a wild ride. Good luck." She promptly shut the door behind her, leaving me to venture inside to find Penny's room.

"Hey, I am in here. Let's get started, now" Penny called me over. I stepped in to see Penny bouncing on her feet . As the host of the match, Penny was entitled to start us off when she wished. I crouched in anticipation of her charging forward. But kept bouncing. Bouncing and playing with her hair. Bouncing and making her tits leap and jump in her top.

I was mesmerized by her breasts in quick order. Stood there simply staring. "Oh that's it Hun, enjoy them" she moaned as she began to add a lean forward to her dance. This created the most delicious cleavage in quick snapshots almost as her bouncing kept everything in motion.

I began to relax, my hands falling to my sides as I let my defenses down. Penny, practice as she was in bed wrestling, approached me now slipping a hand down my shorts and starting to jack me off roughly. This did not stop her breasts from keeping my full attention, Penny making sure to always keep them bouncing and in my field of vision.

It didn't take long for my dam to break, with me climaxing powerfully into my shorts and on Penny's hand. Penny closed in to hug me and gently plop me down to the ground with her on top.

"Well that was another quick win. Now for your real reward" she grinned while inching forward to drop her breasts onto my face. I couldn't breathe. Her smother was in deep and I was worn out by the whole experience.

There was no fight back. Just acceptance that I would be knocked out in her tits.

[fitzlegend]

[sosmothrd]

"Oh you will be far from the first. And definitely not the last." Lindsay goaded me, stepping out of her jeans to reveal her creamy thighs and ass.

Turning to put that ass more on display, she continued. "All of you ultimately succumb to my butt cheeks. Devoured by them." I audibly gulped.

Lindsay's hands moved down to her sides, grabbed just under each ass cheek and bounced them. "That's right, devour. I get a man, down on their knees, like you right now actually." She inched her ass closer and closer to me as she spoke.

"Plant their face deep...in...my butt, and just chew." Lindsay guided my face to meet the fate she foretold. Now cheek to cheek my face surrounded by flesh it was not long for the panic of the smother began.

She grabbed my hands in a practiced way. They had all reacted the same she muttered to herself. Knowing full well I couldn't hear her word from where I was. Deep in her butt smother.

Entombed her her ass my struggles lessened. My consciousness faded. And Lindsay knocked me out, like so many others.

[jayaury]

Sweet Perfume

How long had it been since he wandered into the greenhouse?

How long had it been since he met the plant girl?

How long had he been breathing in her perfume?

Growing weak?

His thoughts aimless?

Dim?

How long had she been sneaking her vines around his unresisting limbs?

Binding him?

Capturing him?

How long had she been kissing him with those lips that made him feel so giddy and happy and brainlessly content?

How long had her flowers been draining his manhood?

How long had he been under her spell?

Too long to escape.

Too long to resist.

Too long to do anything... but happily... lovingly...

...Give in...

[stevebasiclovestheworld]

Growing into the Job, Post 406: Babysitting, p1

“Now, isn’t that adorable,” Randi said, in her typically acerbic tone, in her typically smoky voice, as I came around the corner downstairs in my typically reticent way.

Let's back up a bit. Melissa had gone to work hours ago, leaving me swaddled in her bedsheets,. We’d ‘agreed’ that  I was too exhausted and would stay home today. It was a little hard to remember honestly. After my time with ‘Mr. Sock’, everything was a blur. I just remember nodding as she wrapped me carefully in her sheets. Either way, my RNs would be able to cover my patients while I was gone. It really seemed like I didn't have much to do these days. I figured, after all the stress I’d been through, I deserved a break. It was good that there were people on which I could rely.

Melissa, on the other hand, was working hard. It was one of our last days before the new wings opened (I hadn’t even set foot in them yet) and there was a lot to do for her and the other girls: new staff to prepare for, press to deal with, all the final preparations. I got the feeling they didn’t want me in the way. 

Anyway, I was peeled myself out of bed just before noon, and immediately I could feel it. As soon as I’d dropped the bra Melissa had left me to cuddle in my sleep, my stomach took a turn. A few more steps away from it and the headache started. Only by picking it back up and taking a breath from one of its enormous cups of firm white satin allowed me to feel better. Jesus! What was in that perfume she wore?? I actually needed to keep the bra near me, hanging it close by the shower as I rinsed myself off. I guess I’d be breathing through it today. 

Thus, the snide ‘adorable’ comment. I’d needed the bra over my mouth and nose to come downstairs, dressed in sweats and a new collared shirt after my shower, and when I turned into the great room I found Randi curled up on the couch with her laptop, looking right at me. I froze, flushing in embarrassment. I was probably quite the sight. 

“You realize you don’t need that, right? Not with me here,” Randi continued, eyeing me with an amused glint that made me feel even smaller than my - man, I didn’t even know how short I was at that point. “But if you want to keep wearing Missy’s bra over your face all day, be my guest.”

I could feel how I wasn’t quite willing to let it go, and I found myself taking another deep breath. I knew this was ridiculous though, so after an awkward moment of staring at Randi with Melissa’s bra covering my face, I tentatively peeled it away and set it down. I took took a new breath. Yes, the familiar perfume that filled the air at the office and followed Melissa in a cloud wherever she went was here, too. Randi must be wearing it. Great, I guess. 

“Thanks,” I muttered, now awkwardly looking for a place to deposit my girlfriend's industrial-grade brassiere. 

“Here, bring it,” Randi bid me, waving me over towards her. Being her typical self, she seemed impatient with me already. 

In little steps I approached, handed it to her. I took note of her outfit: casual lounge wear,  ¾ length pants of soft gray cotton, and a black tank. Her long, racehorse legs were curled beneath her, her feet bare. 

She took the bra and put it aside herself on a side table, next to some paperwork and a glass coffee mug. “Missy wanted me to run a load of laundry, I’ll throw this in.” She looked at me again, up and down, regarding me with a snide smirk on her lips as I stood,  saying nothing. “You can help with that later.”

“s-sure,” I agreed. 

She looked at me, and I at her. Randi really was a gorgeous girl: tall, darkly lean, elegant composure…and now quite busty herself, to which she drew attention by casually adjusting one of the straps of her top .

Finally she spoke again. “So, it’s you and me today,” Randi began, a curl coming to her smile and dimpling her high cheeks, dark eyes sparkling, “I was here all night making sure the morons fixed everything. Which they did, finally. Did you hear them last night?”

Finally called to communicate, I rallied myself. “Uh…uh, no, not really.” I looked around: yeah, the table was back in place, the walls patched with the smell of fresh paint sharing the air with Randi’s perfume. A light fixture or two were missing, but otherwise the place looked normal. “I must have slept through it.”

“Yeah I heard she gave you quite the evening, quite the night,” Randi quipped, “nine times, huh, stud?” Her eyes glittered again at my obvious discomfort as I recalled it all. “I felt each one, down here. You made me finally bust through my old sandals,” she added, “thanks a lot.”

A pair of gray plastic flip-flops sat off to the side, straps popped. 

This can’t be real. 

She saw me looking at them. 

“Anyway,” Randi continued, “between all those nuts of yours and Katarina’s breastmilk I heard you slept like a baby. Not me I-”

“Sh-she told you that?” I sputtered, feeling a new wave of ignominy wash over me, my face flushing anew. 

“Haha yeah she did,” she chuckled, tickled by my discomfort, “she said you sucked it all down and then spent the rest of the night on the nipple.”

“Wh-what?!?” I exclaimed. I have to talk to her! I immediately thought, I don’t want all this sh-

“Hey, relax, at least one of us got some sleep,” Randi added, obviously a bit irritated. “Actually, seeing you sleep so much makes Missy more reluctant to give you more of Katarina’s milk. She used the last one in the fridge last night, but it really knocks you out.” 

“Yeah,” I answered, not knowing what to say but skin squirming as I pictured the two of these women talking about me like this, making decisions for me, trying to adjust my behavior. Discussing my diet of breastmilk, for god’s sake. 

“I thought maybe I’d be able to sleep but I have all this social media stuff to handle,” Randi lamented, using outstretched hands to demonstrate the laptop, the tablet and the piles of paper she had surrounding her. It looked like a lot, I guess. “Your girlfriend’s made quite the stir, with her tv interview last night. I’m trying to handle all the new attention she’s getting today. Her accounts, the office’s - even mine and the other girls’. They’re all suddenly very popular. Yours too.“

“Wait, what? Mine?” Without a phone since this past weekend, I really hadn’t seen my accounts for days. Not that I ever really paid them much attention. 

“Yeah, even yours,” Randi answered, “Missy asked me to start running your IG too, handling all the attention since Amelia’s video dropped. So, I’ve been replying to all your new ‘fans’, posting a few things for you and-”

“B-b-b-but that’s..that’s-“ Gah! That’s private! What could these girls find out about me if..if…? “How’d you get my passwords??”

“Hey you should be happy,” Randi said - obviously ignoring my question - “you’ve got like more than twelve thousand followers now. Everyone wants a piece of Mr. Vulni, of Melissssy’s scrawny little boyfriend.”

“Jeez,” I offered, running a hand through my hair, scratching my scalp and aware of the dark little thrill of narcissistic pride that gave me Am I popular now? (and why am I not bothered by the ‘scrawny’ jab?). Plus, despite the invasion of privacy - was she actually pretending to be me online? - this was Randi’s job, I guess, handling our social media. I realize now that I was trying to rationalize. I used to do that a lot. “The news thing, Melissa’s interview was good? For getting some, uh, followers? For, y’know, the office. I haven’t see-“

“‘Good?’” Randi snorted, “It’s insane. Another part of it’s coming tonight at 6:30. And - they’re talking about broadcasting the whole profile piece nationally on MSIT.  Fuck. I think I’m busy with these accounts after last night? If that happens, she’s gonna be huge. I’m going to need fifteen of me.”

I had the feeling that, despite her tone, Randi maybe didn’t mind her new responsibilities as much as she let on. “Wow,” was all I could manage, “Huge, huh..?” Was my girlfriend actually getting famous? Big, tall girls are in, I guess, and for that Melissa definitely qualifies. How many men were out there following her? Should I haha be jealous? I didn’t really know what I was feeling, aside from a weird, sudden buildup of pressure in my balls. “...Th-that’s great I guess.”

“Yeah, just more work for me. Plus, I now have you to babysit,” she finished, picking her laptop up off her lap and setting it aside. She took a deep breath, sitting up straight, and looked at me. “So, what do you want to do? Are you hungry?”

Babysit? I’d barely heard her question, still shocked by and stuck on that word. Melissa had used ‘babysit’ this morning, before she left me to sleep. She was, of course, joking (right?) but with my condition making me sensitive I bristled at it then, and I did it again now. “Hey Randi I know Melissa left you here t-“

“Oh shut it, I’m babysitting you,” she said, as she prepared to stand, “Just count yourself lucky she didn’t ask little Jenny from down the street to do it.”

“Who’s ’Jenny’?”

“Omigod you’re sooo clueless. C’mere-“

At that, Randi stood from the couch, hand outstretched toward me. She smiled, her lips taking on an extra curl and eyes sparking as she saw me take in her height, and then she took a step back allowing me to appreciate the scale of us.

 I was, oh my god, barely up to her breasts. 

“WOW you’re short,” she exclaimed, “Shorter than yesterday for sure.” She cocked her head at me, obviously enjoying this. “What are things like for you down there,” she chuckled, “having to look up at us ladies all the time?” 

I didn’t say anything.

“Now, you missed breakfast, it’s already lunchtime, and she wanted me to make sure you ate. But first I want to check something.” She took a step toward the kitchen and waggled her hand at me, beckoning me to her. “Come.”

I didn’t move, still astounded. I did feel shorter. 

“Come. Here.”

At that, Randi grabbed my hand and yanked me toward her. Dragging me with strides longer than my own, she started marching me towards the kitchen, where there was milk in the fridge and - fuck me - a measuring tape in the drawer. 

“I want to check this out,” she said, voice alive with excitement as she stood me against the wall and pulled open the tape, ”Let’s see just how much you’ve lost...”

…

Twenty minutes later I was sitting, sullen in front of the tv, on the opposite end of the couch from where Randi was working with her laptop. My lunch was on the coffee table in front of me: PB&J on toast, a glass of whole milk that I made sure to watch Randi pour from a regular milk carton, thank you very much, and some veggie chips. I was leaning forward with my chin in my hands, ignoring my lunch and half-watching this show Randi had put on for me to keep me occupied while she worked.

I really wasn’t hungry, and every bite was bland and tasteless. Likewise, I could barely concentrate on the tv as those numbers just kept going through my head:

Fifty-five inches. I was 4’7”. I’d shrunk five inches in less than a week! I should be freaking out, I should be terrified. I was diminishing, in so many ways, more  than just vertically, and I should’ve been putting every ounce of my energy into figuring  out what was going on. But, instead, there I was, with a little-kid’s lunch I’d picked over, watching some daytime tv while one of my new employees babysat me and did all the work. I was at a complete loss of what to do. Five inches! In less than a week! I couldn’t stop lamenting it. At least Melissa will be happy to hear this. She likes me short.

I took a bite of my sandwich, sweet and chewy. Yuck. 

Randi had plunked me down in front of the television so she could get back to work. She’d run through a few options with the remote and settled on MSIT, this new men’s network, which was running a marathon of some apparently popular retro sitcom. The first season released just recently, but done in a style from yesteryear. The special effects (they had to be special effects, right?) were pretty impressive...

I don’t know how it was lost on me, the similarities between “Harry”, the hapless breadwinner main character and myself. His wife - all wives, all women in fact, had grown two feet - and of course the male population of suburban 1964 was just trying to keep up appearances, living in various stages of denial. Hilarity, of course, ensues. Like in this episode where Harry starts to realize his business suits are all seeming a little too big on him. “Did you put this in the wash, honey?” he asked his towering wife. He’d interrupted her morning coffee with the girls from the neighborhood. 

“Darling, you know that would shrink your suit,” she replied patiently, looking down at her blunderbuss husband, “if anything you should be asking if I threw you in there…”

I hate sitcoms with laugh tracks. 

Anyway, once that episode was over, and then six more, I’d reached to grab the remote and - under Randi’s watchful eye - started flipping around the channels. I hadn’t seen a lot of midafternoon TV recently, but it certainly hadn’t improved in quality. Talk shows, mainly. ‘The View’, ‘Judge Judy’, stuff like that. It wasn’t too different from normal as long as you didn’t pay attention to the details.  For a moment, I settled on ‘The Kathleen O’Connor Show’, a talk show which had several female executives from some big company in the studio. Nexifem, it looked like. 

“Welcome back!” announced the pretty blonde host in a smooth and cheerful voice, “Today we’re talking about exciting radical futures and just how far the fempowerment movement can take us toward a better world. What is the next level? Where can women make helpful changes to push toward a better future? We’ve got some big surprises for you today, including something that may shock many of you.”

The host’s smile was ebullient, inviting me to keep watching, but there was something ominously disturbing about the applause that rose from the all-woman audience in response to her words. 

“How many of you have wondered or speculated just what might happen if the vulni-chic movement went even further?” she continued, the camera pulling back to reveal that she was standing behind a table upon which lay a large metal platter, covered by a large metal dome with a handle.

The sound of clapping and voiced affirmations rose like a wave. There was definitely excitement in the audience. They wanted to see what was under that dome, on that platter. 

“And how many of you have noticed just how many young men are choosing supplements and lifestyles that seem to limit their size, so they can appeal to potential girlfriends, their wives, or just fit in more with the trends - even to get jobs?”

Again, the applause rose in response to the host’s question.

“Well ladies, let me show you something that will blow your minds!” the host continued, big hoop earrings jangling as her right hand came to the handle of the shiny metal dome, “Today we have some special guests, incl-“

Suddenly, the channel changed. Randi had grabbed the remote and changed the channel. 

Did she not want me to see that?

“One of the girls just texted me,” she said, pointing it at the television, “Channel 5’s replaying Missy’s interview from last night, for the afternoon news.”

“Cool.” I hadn’t seen this yet. I’d wanted to- 

Yikes. 

Onscreen: Melissa. Melissa in an oh-my-god plunging pink top and a camera angle that put her biggest assets front and center. Jesus christ look at her! She was in the backseat of some car, maybe a limo, and the reporter was interviewing her.

“What is she wearing…?” I muttered. 

“She chose that pink top to flex on all the little men watching,” Randi commented, as I stared wide-eyed at the screen. The news piece was supposed to be a story about FHMA, our grand re-opening/expansion, but this seemed more like a study in idolatry, a fetishistic focus on our amazonic Office Manager…and my girlfriend.  “Meager male minds are melting everywhere, I’m sure,” Randi finished. There was a strange tone to her voice, but that was entirely lost on me. Rather, I was getting more consumed by a strange, unusual feeling for me. 

She chose to wear that? On tv? I silently seethed, imagining all the men plastered to their sets at home leering at her. Even with me, feeling this - let’s face it - jealousy, I found there was no way to take my eyes off her. I became immediately hard just watching. I felt hypnotized and another sudden swelling in my balls. I had a load, ready, pent up, growing. I wanted to show her. I needed to release for her.

All the others do too, don’t they?

Randi, to my side, was watching me more than she was watching the screen. She saw me enraptured, and my brow furrowing. Slowly, she inched over towards me on the couch, and - remote still in hand - rewound the interview to the beginning as it came near its conclusion. The whole thing ran maybe three minutes and we were going to watch it again, from the beginning.

Staring at the screen, watching Melissa’s breasts jiggle and sway as she laughed and joked with the reporter, I was barely aware of Randi getting down in front of me where I sat and kneeling. “Look at her, dude, look at how amazing Missy is,” I only half-heard what she said, my eyes glued to the screen. She slowly and gently pushed my knees apart and - looking up at me to make sure I was still watching, she pulled the waistband of my sweatpants down over my steel pole of an erection that had sprung in my pants without me even noticing. 

She gave me the remote,  told me to pause and rewind whenever I wanted. When she placed it in my hand I felt my small fingers curl around it as I continued to watch the jiggly display in front of me, becoming glassy eyed. 

I didn’t see Randi flex her jaw, opening her mouth up much wider than should be humanly possible. 

“She’s so beautiful, isn’t she?” she then purred in a voice thick with portent, watching how my eyes had completely glazed over.

She’d begun to lightly stroke me, as I stared. 

“Look at her,” Randi purred, “You can’t help it, she’s fucking magnetic. Everyone wants to look at her, to watch her, to listen to what she says.” <Stroke, stroke, stroke> came her attentions on my cock, though still I don’t think I was barely registering it, or what she was saying to me. “And this is just the beginning, buddy. I was on social media all night, and that’s what I’ve been doing today. Pushing her out everywhere. This interview is going to explode and she’s going to get huge. Are you ready for that? Are you ready to live completely in your girlfriend's shadow?”

Into the otherwise empty house, to the replay of Melissa giggling and smiling on the big screen tv, I groaned aloud. 

“Because this interview, the piece they’re doing on the grand opening?” Randi continued, as precum had begun to drool out of me, “It’s not really about the practice, or some new women’s health center, no. It’s all about her. She’s going to be a bigger deal than “Far Horizons” ever could be.”

“Oh god…yes…” I moaned to Melissa when she casually shifted her enormous breasts toward the camera, nearly filling the screen. Randi was right. Melissa had said it to me last night - hadn’t she? - that she was going to be the biggest. Had she said it out loud? Had I just imagined it? But that's what she wanted, and Melissa tends to get what Melissa wants. And not just big and famous. But, like, big and BIG. Taller, stronger, bigger than anyone else, ever. Some impossible goal that you'd hear on a playground. Something fantastical that would need the laws of biology and physics to be bent out of shape, which, by god, had already begun to happen.

I hadn't taken her seriously, thinking it to be hyperbole, but, watching her on television I was starting to realize that she might just turn that ridiculous goal into a reality. She was getting exactly what she'd said she would, but what I didn’t know then was that the seeds for this were all planted long, long before I even knew her.

“You know it, don’t you?” Randi continued, “It’s all about her.”

Once again, with Melissa’s tits on the tv I was barely listening to Randi. I did feel it, though, and moaned in assent when finally she put her lips onto me, over me, sliding me head, shaft and -oh my god - balls into her huge, warm mouth. My entire manhood, tip-to-root, was inside Randi and - with just a little shift forward - fully between her teeth. It didn’t even cross my mind at the time: how is she doing that? I was too enraptured in watching Melissa on screen, laughing and posing and broadcasting her magnificence to the world…

=====================================================================================

Big thanks to longtime reader Jack for some dialogue help, and also thanks again to Horuvex for allowing the universe of GITJ overlap his, in this chapter with ‘The Kathleen O’Connor Show’. Want to - spoiler alert -  know what was on that platter? Read his “Nexifem”. 

GITJ Post 407: Babysitting, p2 (Breakroom Interlude One) | steveBasic

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Growing into the Job, Post 406: Babysitting, p1

“Now, isn’t that adorable,” Randi said, in her typically acerbic tone, in her typically smoky voice, as I came around the corner downstairs in my typically reticent way.

Let's back up a bit. Melissa had gone to work hours ago, leaving me swaddled in her bedsheets,. We’d ‘agreed’ that  I was too exhausted and would stay home today. It was a little hard to remember honestly. After my time with ‘Mr. Sock’, everything was a blur. I just remember nodding as she wrapped me carefully in her sheets. Either way, my RNs would be able to cover my patients while I was gone. It really seemed like I didn't have much to do these days. I figured, after all the stress I’d been through, I deserved a break. It was good that there were people on which I could rely.

Melissa, on the other hand, was working hard. It was one of our last days before the new wings opened (I hadn’t even set foot in them yet) and there was a lot to do for her and the other girls: new staff to prepare for, press to deal with, all the final preparations. I got the feeling they didn’t want me in the way. 

Anyway, I was peeled myself out of bed just before noon, and immediately I could feel it. As soon as I’d dropped the bra Melissa had left me to cuddle in my sleep, my stomach took a turn. A few more steps away from it and the headache started. Only by picking it back up and taking a breath from one of its enormous cups of firm white satin allowed me to feel better. Jesus! What was in that perfume she wore?? I actually needed to keep the bra near me, hanging it close by the shower as I rinsed myself off. I guess I’d be breathing through it today. 

Thus, the snide ‘adorable’ comment. I’d needed the bra over my mouth and nose to come downstairs, dressed in sweats and a new collared shirt after my shower, and when I turned into the great room I found Randi curled up on the couch with her laptop, looking right at me. I froze, flushing in embarrassment. I was probably quite the sight. 

“You realize you don’t need that, right? Not with me here,” Randi continued, eyeing me with an amused glint that made me feel even smaller than my - man, I didn’t even know how short I was at that point. “But if you want to keep wearing Missy’s bra over your face all day, be my guest.”

I could feel how I wasn’t quite willing to let it go, and I found myself taking another deep breath. I knew this was ridiculous though, so after an awkward moment of staring at Randi with Melissa’s bra covering my face, I tentatively peeled it away and set it down. I took took a new breath. Yes, the familiar perfume that filled the air at the office and followed Melissa in a cloud wherever she went was here, too. Randi must be wearing it. Great, I guess. 

“Thanks,” I muttered, now awkwardly looking for a place to deposit my girlfriend's industrial-grade brassiere. 

“Here, bring it,” Randi bid me, waving me over towards her. Being her typical self, she seemed impatient with me already. 

In little steps I approached, handed it to her. I took note of her outfit: casual lounge wear,  ¾ length pants of soft gray cotton, and a black tank. Her long, racehorse legs were curled beneath her, her feet bare. 

She took the bra and put it aside herself on a side table, next to some paperwork and a glass coffee mug. “Missy wanted me to run a load of laundry, I’ll throw this in.” She looked at me again, up and down, regarding me with a snide smirk on her lips as I stood,  saying nothing. “You can help with that later.”

“s-sure,” I agreed. 

She looked at me, and I at her. Randi really was a gorgeous girl: tall, darkly lean, elegant composure…and now quite busty herself, to which she drew attention by casually adjusting one of the straps of her top .

Finally she spoke again. “So, it’s you and me today,” Randi began, a curl coming to her smile and dimpling her high cheeks, dark eyes sparkling, “I was here all night making sure the morons fixed everything. Which they did, finally. Did you hear them last night?”

Finally called to communicate, I rallied myself. “Uh…uh, no, not really.” I looked around: yeah, the table was back in place, the walls patched with the smell of fresh paint sharing the air with Randi’s perfume. A light fixture or two were missing, but otherwise the place looked normal. “I must have slept through it.”

“Yeah I heard she gave you quite the evening, quite the night,” Randi quipped, “nine times, huh, stud?” Her eyes glittered again at my obvious discomfort as I recalled it all. “I felt each one, down here. You made me finally bust through my old sandals,” she added, “thanks a lot.”

A pair of gray plastic flip-flops sat off to the side, straps popped. 

This can’t be real. 

She saw me looking at them. 

“Anyway,” Randi continued, “between all those nuts of yours and Katarina’s breastmilk I heard you slept like a baby. Not me I-”

“Sh-she told you that?” I sputtered, feeling a new wave of ignominy wash over me, my face flushing anew. 

“Haha yeah she did,” she chuckled, tickled by my discomfort, “she said you sucked it all down and then spent the rest of the night on the nipple.”

“Wh-what?!?” I exclaimed. I have to talk to her! I immediately thought, I don’t want all this sh-

“Hey, relax, at least one of us got some sleep,” Randi added, obviously a bit irritated. “Actually, seeing you sleep so much makes Missy more reluctant to give you more of Katarina’s milk. She used the last one in the fridge last night, but it really knocks you out.” 

“Yeah,” I answered, not knowing what to say but skin squirming as I pictured the two of these women talking about me like this, making decisions for me, trying to adjust my behavior. Discussing my diet of breastmilk, for god’s sake. 

“I thought maybe I’d be able to sleep but I have all this social media stuff to handle,” Randi lamented, using outstretched hands to demonstrate the laptop, the tablet and the piles of paper she had surrounding her. It looked like a lot, I guess. “Your girlfriend’s made quite the stir, with her tv interview last night. I’m trying to handle all the new attention she’s getting today. Her accounts, the office’s - even mine and the other girls’. They’re all suddenly very popular. Yours too.“

“Wait, what? Mine?” Without a phone since this past weekend, I really hadn’t seen my accounts for days. Not that I ever really paid them much attention. 

“Yeah, even yours,” Randi answered, “Missy asked me to start running your IG too, handling all the attention since Amelia’s video dropped. So, I’ve been replying to all your new ‘fans’, posting a few things for you and-”

“B-b-b-but that’s..that’s-“ Gah! That’s private! What could these girls find out about me if..if…? “How’d you get my passwords??”

“Hey you should be happy,” Randi said - obviously ignoring my question - “you’ve got like more than twelve thousand followers now. Everyone wants a piece of Mr. Vulni, of Melissssy’s scrawny little boyfriend.”

“Jeez,” I offered, running a hand through my hair, scratching my scalp and aware of the dark little thrill of narcissistic pride that gave me Am I popular now? (and why am I not bothered by the ‘scrawny’ jab?). Plus, despite the invasion of privacy - was she actually pretending to be me online? - this was Randi’s job, I guess, handling our social media. I realize now that I was trying to rationalize. I used to do that a lot. “The news thing, Melissa’s interview was good? For getting some, uh, followers? For, y’know, the office. I haven’t see-“

“‘Good?’” Randi snorted, “It’s insane. Another part of it’s coming tonight at 6:30. And - they’re talking about broadcasting the whole profile piece nationally on MSIT.  Fuck. I think I’m busy with these accounts after last night? If that happens, she’s gonna be huge. I’m going to need fifteen of me.”

I had the feeling that, despite her tone, Randi maybe didn’t mind her new responsibilities as much as she let on. “Wow,” was all I could manage, “Huge, huh..?” Was my girlfriend actually getting famous? Big, tall girls are in, I guess, and for that Melissa definitely qualifies. How many men were out there following her? Should I haha be jealous? I didn’t really know what I was feeling, aside from a weird, sudden buildup of pressure in my balls. “...Th-that’s great I guess.”

“Yeah, just more work for me. Plus, I now have you to babysit,” she finished, picking her laptop up off her lap and setting it aside. She took a deep breath, sitting up straight, and looked at me. “So, what do you want to do? Are you hungry?”

Babysit? I’d barely heard her question, still shocked by and stuck on that word. Melissa had used ‘babysit’ this morning, before she left me to sleep. She was, of course, joking (right?) but with my condition making me sensitive I bristled at it then, and I did it again now. “Hey Randi I know Melissa left you here t-“

“Oh shut it, I’m babysitting you,” she said, as she prepared to stand, “Just count yourself lucky she didn’t ask little Jenny from down the street to do it.”

“Who’s ’Jenny’?”

“Omigod you’re sooo clueless. C’mere-“

At that, Randi stood from the couch, hand outstretched toward me. She smiled, her lips taking on an extra curl and eyes sparking as she saw me take in her height, and then she took a step back allowing me to appreciate the scale of us.

 I was, oh my god, barely up to her breasts. 

“WOW you’re short,” she exclaimed, “Shorter than yesterday for sure.” She cocked her head at me, obviously enjoying this. “What are things like for you down there,” she chuckled, “having to look up at us ladies all the time?” 

I didn’t say anything.

“Now, you missed breakfast, it’s already lunchtime, and she wanted me to make sure you ate. But first I want to check something.” She took a step toward the kitchen and waggled her hand at me, beckoning me to her. “Come.”

I didn’t move, still astounded. I did feel shorter. 

“Come. Here.”

At that, Randi grabbed my hand and yanked me toward her. Dragging me with strides longer than my own, she started marching me towards the kitchen, where there was milk in the fridge and - fuck me - a measuring tape in the drawer. 

“I want to check this out,” she said, voice alive with excitement as she stood me against the wall and pulled open the tape, ”Let’s see just how much you’ve lost...”

…

Twenty minutes later I was sitting, sullen in front of the tv, on the opposite end of the couch from where Randi was working with her laptop. My lunch was on the coffee table in front of me: PB&J on toast, a glass of whole milk that I made sure to watch Randi pour from a regular milk carton, thank you very much, and some veggie chips. I was leaning forward with my chin in my hands, ignoring my lunch and half-watching this show Randi had put on for me to keep me occupied while she worked.

I really wasn’t hungry, and every bite was bland and tasteless. Likewise, I could barely concentrate on the tv as those numbers just kept going through my head:

Fifty-five inches. I was 4’7”. I’d shrunk five inches in less than a week! I should be freaking out, I should be terrified. I was diminishing, in so many ways, more  than just vertically, and I should’ve been putting every ounce of my energy into figuring  out what was going on. But, instead, there I was, with a little-kid’s lunch I’d picked over, watching some daytime tv while one of my new employees babysat me and did all the work. I was at a complete loss of what to do. Five inches! In less than a week! I couldn’t stop lamenting it. At least Melissa will be happy to hear this. She likes me short.

I took a bite of my sandwich, sweet and chewy. Yuck. 

Randi had plunked me down in front of the television so she could get back to work. She’d run through a few options with the remote and settled on MSIT, this new men’s network, which was running a marathon of some apparently popular retro sitcom. The first season released just recently, but done in a style from yesteryear. The special effects (they had to be special effects, right?) were pretty impressive...

I don’t know how it was lost on me, the similarities between “Harry”, the hapless breadwinner main character and myself. His wife - all wives, all women in fact, had grown two feet - and of course the male population of suburban 1964 was just trying to keep up appearances, living in various stages of denial. Hilarity, of course, ensues. Like in this episode where Harry starts to realize his business suits are all seeming a little too big on him. “Did you put this in the wash, honey?” he asked his towering wife. He’d interrupted her morning coffee with the girls from the neighborhood. 

“Darling, you know that would shrink your suit,” she replied patiently, looking down at her blunderbuss husband, “if anything you should be asking if I threw you in there…”

I hate sitcoms with laugh tracks. 

Anyway, once that episode was over, and then six more, I’d reached to grab the remote and - under Randi’s watchful eye - started flipping around the channels. I hadn’t seen a lot of midafternoon TV recently, but it certainly hadn’t improved in quality. Talk shows, mainly. ‘The View’, ‘Judge Judy’, stuff like that. It wasn’t too different from normal as long as you didn’t pay attention to the details.  For a moment, I settled on ‘The Kathleen O’Connor Show’, a talk show which had several female executives from some big company in the studio. Nexifem, it looked like. 

“Welcome back!” announced the pretty blonde host in a smooth and cheerful voice, “Today we’re talking about exciting radical futures and just how far the fempowerment movement can take us toward a better world. What is the next level? Where can women make helpful changes to push toward a better future? We’ve got some big surprises for you today, including something that may shock many of you.”

The host’s smile was ebullient, inviting me to keep watching, but there was something ominously disturbing about the applause that rose from the all-woman audience in response to her words. 

“How many of you have wondered or speculated just what might happen if the vulni-chic movement went even further?” she continued, the camera pulling back to reveal that she was standing behind a table upon which lay a large metal platter, covered by a large metal dome with a handle.

The sound of clapping and voiced affirmations rose like a wave. There was definitely excitement in the audience. They wanted to see what was under that dome, on that platter. 

“And how many of you have noticed just how many young men are choosing supplements and lifestyles that seem to limit their size, so they can appeal to potential girlfriends, their wives, or just fit in more with the trends - even to get jobs?”

Again, the applause rose in response to the host’s question.

“Well ladies, let me show you something that will blow your minds!” the host continued, big hoop earrings jangling as her right hand came to the handle of the shiny metal dome, “Today we have some special guests, incl-“

Suddenly, the channel changed. Randi had grabbed the remote and changed the channel. 

Did she not want me to see that?

“One of the girls just texted me,” she said, pointing it at the television, “Channel 5’s replaying Missy’s interview from last night, for the afternoon news.”

“Cool.” I hadn’t seen this yet. I’d wanted to- 

Yikes. 

Onscreen: Melissa. Melissa in an oh-my-god plunging pink top and a camera angle that put her biggest assets front and center. Jesus christ look at her! She was in the backseat of some car, maybe a limo, and the reporter was interviewing her.

“What is she wearing…?” I muttered. 

“She chose that pink top to flex on all the little men watching,” Randi commented, as I stared wide-eyed at the screen. The news piece was supposed to be a story about FHMA, our grand re-opening/expansion, but this seemed more like a study in idolatry, a fetishistic focus on our amazonic Office Manager…and my girlfriend.  “Meager male minds are melting everywhere, I’m sure,” Randi finished. There was a strange tone to her voice, but that was entirely lost on me. Rather, I was getting more consumed by a strange, unusual feeling for me. 

She chose to wear that? On tv? I silently seethed, imagining all the men plastered to their sets at home leering at her. Even with me, feeling this - let’s face it - jealousy, I found there was no way to take my eyes off her. I became immediately hard just watching. I felt hypnotized and another sudden swelling in my balls. I had a load, ready, pent up, growing. I wanted to show her. I needed to release for her.

All the others do too, don’t they?

Randi, to my side, was watching me more than she was watching the screen. She saw me enraptured, and my brow furrowing. Slowly, she inched over towards me on the couch, and - remote still in hand - rewound the interview to the beginning as it came near its conclusion. The whole thing ran maybe three minutes and we were going to watch it again, from the beginning.

Staring at the screen, watching Melissa’s breasts jiggle and sway as she laughed and joked with the reporter, I was barely aware of Randi getting down in front of me where I sat and kneeling. “Look at her, dude, look at how amazing Missy is,” I only half-heard what she said, my eyes glued to the screen. She slowly and gently pushed my knees apart and - looking up at me to make sure I was still watching, she pulled the waistband of my sweatpants down over my steel pole of an erection that had sprung in my pants without me even noticing. 

She gave me the remote,  told me to pause and rewind whenever I wanted. When she placed it in my hand I felt my small fingers curl around it as I continued to watch the jiggly display in front of me, becoming glassy eyed. 

I didn’t see Randi flex her jaw, opening her mouth up much wider than should be humanly possible. 

“She’s so beautiful, isn’t she?” she then purred in a voice thick with portent, watching how my eyes had completely glazed over.

She’d begun to lightly stroke me, as I stared. 

“Look at her,” Randi purred, “You can’t help it, she’s fucking magnetic. Everyone wants to look at her, to watch her, to listen to what she says.” <Stroke, stroke, stroke> came her attentions on my cock, though still I don’t think I was barely registering it, or what she was saying to me. “And this is just the beginning, buddy. I was on social media all night, and that’s what I’ve been doing today. Pushing her out everywhere. This interview is going to explode and she’s going to get huge. Are you ready for that? Are you ready to live completely in your girlfriend's shadow?”

Into the otherwise empty house, to the replay of Melissa giggling and smiling on the big screen tv, I groaned aloud. 

“Because this interview, the piece they’re doing on the grand opening?” Randi continued, as precum had begun to drool out of me, “It’s not really about the practice, or some new women’s health center, no. It’s all about her. She’s going to be a bigger deal than “Far Horizons” ever could be.”

“Oh god…yes…” I moaned to Melissa when she casually shifted her enormous breasts toward the camera, nearly filling the screen. Randi was right. Melissa had said it to me last night - hadn’t she? - that she was going to be the biggest. Had she said it out loud? Had I just imagined it? But that's what she wanted, and Melissa tends to get what Melissa wants. And not just big and famous. But, like, big and BIG. Taller, stronger, bigger than anyone else, ever. Some impossible goal that you'd hear on a playground. Something fantastical that would need the laws of biology and physics to be bent out of shape, which, by god, had already begun to happen.

I hadn't taken her seriously, thinking it to be hyperbole, but, watching her on television I was starting to realize that she might just turn that ridiculous goal into a reality. She was getting exactly what she'd said she would, but what I didn’t know then was that the seeds for this were all planted long, long before I even knew her.

“You know it, don’t you?” Randi continued, “It’s all about her.”

Once again, with Melissa’s tits on the tv I was barely listening to Randi. I did feel it, though, and moaned in assent when finally she put her lips onto me, over me, sliding me head, shaft and -oh my god - balls into her huge, warm mouth. My entire manhood, tip-to-root, was inside Randi and - with just a little shift forward - fully between her teeth. It didn’t even cross my mind at the time: how is she doing that? I was too enraptured in watching Melissa on screen, laughing and posing and broadcasting her magnificence to the world…

=====================================================================================

Big thanks to longtime reader Jack for some dialogue help, and also thanks again to Horuvex for allowing the universe of GITJ overlap his, in this chapter with ‘The Kathleen O’Connor Show’. Want to - spoiler alert -  know what was on that platter? Read his “Nexifem”. 

GITJ Post 407: Babysitting, p2 (Breakroom Interlude One) | steveBasic

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[or-fi-s]

Wing-it for Xhyra

Posted using PostyBirb

[marshmallowoz]

😍No chance of getting out of such tight squeeze🤤

[onlyinsurance]

[sosmothrd]

In my moment of respite, I gathered the strength to struggle against the ropes (well, bras) that bound me to a chair. My struggle however proved limp. All energy had been drained from me in the hours since my capture.

I had returned to my hometown from college, a surprise visit to my parents which they would enioy. Our next door neighbour, Alicia, hollered out a cheerily hello as she eyed me from her window while I unpacked my stuff from the car. I waved back and we briefly chatted about why I was back. "Oh you are such a lovely boy" she added, smile growing wide.

An hour later and that smile returned at my door step. Alicia asked me to help with moving some furniture before an afternoon party with some friends. "Of course" I agreed and tagged along with Alicia back to her home. On passing through her door way, a rag smelling deeply of unknown chemicals was shoved into my face. Almost immediately I lost consciousness...

When I awoke I found myself bound to a wooden chair and surrounded by a bikini clad Alicia and two of her busty friends. My neighbour pressed a finger to my lips to indicate for me to be quiet. I obeyed and she smiled again, sitting in my lap and then leaning forward. She hugged my face to her heaving chest.

I didn't know what to do. I was in shock. Why was she burying me in her breasts? My inquiry was halted by the growing need to breathe. I began to fight for air, pushing against Alicia's body to get space to take a breath. Alicia hugged me tighter to cancel out my effort. "It's not fair l, I know" she noted while combing my hair with her hand as I weakened from the smother.

I eventually succumbed to her hold. I groggily awoke to one of her friends now perched on top of me, somehow equally as busty as Alicia, and it was rinse and repeat. Hug. Smother. Knockout. Hug. Smother. Knockout.

Now. Back to the present. Hours of torture. And yet again, Alicia plops down. Grips my ears. And reassures me, wiping away my flowing tears. "It's not fair, I know."

[curated-babes]

[sosmothrd]

Gina proved to be a more than formidable bed wrestling opponent. In our league she had a near perfect record. Dominating men through her mix of size, strength, speed and guile.

And here I was. Her latest victim. She had wrestled me all around the room over the last ten minutes. And now I was huffing and puffing for air. Laid out on my back on the bed.

I felt that I had recovered enough to tie up with her again when she made her presence known again by gentle pushing me back down. "It's been fun, my love for the evening" she smiled down at me. "But, it's over for you. Good game..." she lifted her two breasts over my face, "GG."

With that she slopped her tit meat on my head. The blunt force trauma of being smacked by her heavy boobs shook me for a second. But that feeling was quickly replaced with the growing fear of drowning. Of suffocating. Of smothering.

My hands shot up to lift up a breast or two for air. But Gina simply slapped away my feeble attempts, and leant forward more. Completing the smother even more.

I lasted maybe minute before I began to fade and ultimately pass out. A lost on my record as I awoke. Gina calmly offered me a towel and a glass of water. "So, rematch tomorrow?"

[boobsperv01]

[unhealthyfetish]

Double trouble

[marshmallowoz]

😍So get ready for double the fun🤤