**Birthday Wishes**

It wasn't that she was making rainbow confetti cake. It wasn't that she was using creamy frosting with rainbow sprinkles. It wasn't even the way that she had generously let him taste and lick the batter and frosting while sitting in a comfy chair drinking his favorite bourbon. 

It was the fact that she was wearing only panties and a see through, pink lace nighty while she did all those things- And that is what made him very, very, happy. 

Granted, Andrew loved cake more than a fat kid loves, well, cake; and yes, granted, he did have a penchant for pretty girls in very unsubstantial clothing- but honestly, Darcy could have made him Icelandic hákarl for dessert while wearing a Mormon chastity gown and he still would have thought himself the luckiest guy in earth.

Darcy set the bowl she had been mixing down and lighted over to the oven, her bare feet shuffling across the cold tile floor. True to form, her legs were bare as well, and even from sitting at the bar, he could see that they were freshly shaved and, hoping he could confirm this hypothesis later on, silky smooth to the touch. 

Darcy checked the oven as it pre-heated, then opened the swing door- a blast of hot air rushed up and redden Darcy's face, flitting her hair in all directions up. 

"Guess it's ready," she concluded, fanning herself off. "Whew! You're making me work really hard for your birthday, Andrew!" She flashed him a toothy smile that may have indicated that she really didn't mind that fact- not that she would admit that, since she had volunteered to bake the cake anyhow a few days ago.

Andrew grinned right back at her, leaning forward in his chair and swirling his drink. 
"Come on now... You volunteered to do this!" 

She stuck her tongue out at him and started to grease a glass pan with canola. She chuckled and moved it over, grabbing the bowl where the cake mix now resided. 

"Well yeah..." She began pouring the batter in smooth and practiced motion, belying years of experience- which was true- Darcy loved to bake: cookies, cakes, breads- You name it. "Yeah, but I thought you meant a cake for your size!" She laughed, widening her eyes- "a cup cake!" She was highly amused by her own joke, and Andrew couldn't help but chuckle himself.

"But now you're making me make this huge cake that you're gonna eat, what, a hundredth of?" 

Andrew scoffed at the idea, shifting In his seat again. He took another drink and then set the glass, something scaled down that Darcy had found online, down next to the chair he sat on- another found online item, 3-D printed, in fact. 

"I'll, I'll eat a lot of it. So much cake. Like, you won't even know, dude." His voice lilted up and slow like some marijuana fiend. "Soooo much." He knelt out of this chair and reached for the now almost filled pan that Darcy was scraping batter into. 

"So much, huh?" Darcy asked doubtfully, the corner of her mouth twitching up and raising an eyebrow. She set the bowl down, satisfied she wasn't going to get any more sprinkled cake batter out, then tapping the rubber spatula on the side of the pan. She was about to reach over and toss the spatula in the sink when instead she brought it over and stuck it in front of Andrew.

"Here," she offered, smiling at him. 

Andrew reached over, scooping a fingerfull of batter and sucked it into his mouth. He smacked his lips loudly, eliciting a half-disapproving brow furrow from Darcy. 

"So good. You make the best batter, Darc."

She blushed, grinning and leaning over on the counter so she wasn’t extending her arm so much. 

"Yeah? Welllllllll," she drew out, "thank ya very much. Although," she said, retreating the spoon and taking a small lick herself, "I think my cake's better." She smacked her lips as well, unironically. "But that batter is pretty dang good..." 

"See? I told you. You've got the magic touch!" He held out his arms, cocking his head as if to present herself to herself. "Everything you make is delicious. Really." Then, as a cherry on top, "I mean it."

Darcy grinned, still blushing at the charming little suitor. She felt good, the compliments leaving her all warm and fuzzy in both her heart and down south. 

She wasn't one, however, for basking in compliments (for too long, that is)- she set the spoon down and reached over for the little man, plucking him between thumb and fore. 

The motion was a practiced one- it had been a couple of months since the two had their reckoning and became an item, foregoing handing Andrew over to the care of the state and into, technically, Darcy's custody (though neither of them really called it that). The eleventh hour decision had brought its own myriad of challenges, but both agreed that it was the best decision. Darcy was grateful that they had had no accidents that jeopardized Andrew's safety, so practice had to be put into place to safely transport and manipulate Andrew's person with care- hours and hours of plucking Andrew up (both in practice and in earnest) had left Darcy with a smooth muscle memory action, perfecting her grip pressure and weight distribution to ensure Andrew had a comfortable ride every time he was picked up for transport, talking, or more fun, adult activities. 

None of this actually occurred in Darcy's mind as she brought him up to her house-sized face and billboard smile. She beamed down at him and grinned, pearly whites filling his vision and thoughts with, however briefly, a feeling of vulnerability. 

"You're too kind, Andrew," she spoke, letting her breath wash over him softly, flitting his hair about. "Sometimes, though, I wonder-" she softly kissed him and lighted her tongue tip across his face, "are you just saying that because I'm bigger than you?" A knowing smile crossed her lips and she cocked an eyebrow. 

"No way," Andrew scoffed at the idea, using his hands as if to dismiss the notion. "It's all true. Your stuff is delicious. Why else would I let you make a cake for me?"

"Maybe you didn't want to offend the giant girl who's holding you? I mean, I wouldn't want to offend you if we were in opposite positions."

Andrew grinned and shook his head. 

"Nope. I mean it. Your stuff is delicious."

"Oh really," she asked, putting a finger to her lips and looking up, "I'm not so sure. Then again, I didn’t get as much a taste as you did. I wonder," she started, giggling to herself as she manipulated Andrew to face down, him grabbing at her fingers and tossing his head and torso about, trying in vain to upright himself. 

"I wonder," she said again, "do you want to help me taste a bit more?"

She unceremoniously flipped Andrew and slid him, back first, across cake batter in the pan, coating him in the viscous stuff. Reflexively she held her hand out below him to catch any falling particles lest they hit the floor. 

She brought him swinging to her mouth, and her perceived, rather than felt or saw, a lithe pink tongue licking luscious red lips, already wet in anticipation. He turned his head, and he just saw the tip of her little muscle retreat into behind her, yes, he confirmed, wet lips. 

"You know, my mom always warned me to not eat the batter," she teased. 

"Why?" Andrew hundred her. "For the salmonella or the whole cannibalism thing?"

To answer, Darcy stuck her tongue out and licked a smidgen of the dripping batter off from her morsel's face. She brought it in, swallowed it (making sure she lifted her head so Andrew could see the bolus retreat down down down her throat), and issued a full throated chuckle, one that came from her belly. 

"Well, little guy, you can just call me Darcy Dahmer..."

She might have heard his very nearly concerned yelps of 'no no no not even close to funny dude,' but she was laughing too loudly. In fact, she was still laughing as she stuck her tongue out and dragged it across his back and occasionally sucked the batter off of him. Now a practiced motion, she licked him and lapped up all of it, her tongue finding crevices that might've been previously unexplored prior to their relationship and size disparity. 

She savored the taste of batter and the salty flavor of perspiration as she finished off her meal, catching the last bit from his face with a playful lick. 

"All clean!" She declared, flipping him upright and setting him on the counter. He was busying himself marching over to the towel Darcy had set next to the sink and wiping off while she placed the cake into the steamy oven, setting the timer for how many ever minutes. 
She had wondered if she had gone too far when she saw him shoot her a rueful grin from behind the towel. 

"Two washings on my birthday. I'll be the cleanest, smallest, most cake-loving twenty eight year old ever."

Darcy closed the oven door with a bump of her hip and sauntered back over to the sink, removing the hot gloves from her hands.

"So oooooooooold."

"What? Not at all."

"Ooooold."

"No I-"

"Old. How did I start a relationship with such an old guy?"

She leaned down on the counter, aware that the look she was giving him could sour milk. She brought her hands to her chin and laid her head to rest on them, smiling blissfully. 

"You..."

Darcy cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes? I...?"

"You..."

"Mmhmm...?"

She grinned, rather evilly up at her- Darcy got a sinking feeling.

"You young whippersnapper. Hey Darcy guess what."

"...what."

"I was a sophomore while you were still in middle school."

The observation, in Andrew's opinion, had the desired effect- much more so than he expected, which pleased him all the better. If looks could not kill, but maybe, say, convey such discomfort that it caused everyone in the building and surrounding fifty yard radius to experience secondhand awkwardness, Darcy possessed such a look. Such was her internal realization and coping with that particular revelation- in fact, all higher cognitive function had ceased, Werner's and Broca's areas stopped their hectic as complex neurotransmitter flow, and all six of the Big Six distilled into one long drawn out 

"Ewwwwwwwwww."

Andrew didn't mind age right then, he supposed- with it came a ripened and utterly useful cunning.

************************* 

"Happy birthday day, dear andrewwwwwwwwWWWWWwwwwoo woo woo woo woo wooooooo~"

Andrew failed to suppress an amused snort, which Darcy ignored, then, taking a deep breath,

"Happybirthdaytoyou!"

Andrew clapped, amused by the little show- he was in truth flattered, her taking all this time and effort to bake a cake (which did in fact get done, despite her penchant for batter-licking), and her singing- she had a lovely singing voice, though she often kept it to herself (or at least she tried to- apparently she thought the shower was a lot more soundproof than it actually was, making Andrew the sole audience member of many a concerto and solo pieces over his morning coffee). 
He went over to the extra large slice of cake she had cut for him, which wasn't proportioned to his size ("well, it's your birthday- you get all the cake you want!"), and regarded the lit candle. The body of the flame itself was as big as his torso- there was no way he could blow it out himself. 

Still, he tried.

He huffed and he puffed, he jumped but was stumped. 

He raspberried finally, and sat down. 

"I guess I don't get a birthday," he mock pouted, "I can't even blow out the candle."

Darcy, who had been watching all this is a bemused smile, plucked up the little man and gave him a quick peck on the head. 

"Hey, hey, what kind of talk is that? None of that sad stuff in your birthday... See, watch," she brought him and her face close to the flame, close enough for him to feel the get radiating from the candle. 

"On three, okay?" She spoke softly, making the flame flicker and dance. "One, two," 
Andrew blew his lungs out, determined to contribute something to snuff out the candle- he knew, in fact, that he blew slightly before Darcy started, an he saw, with delight, the flame tilt and wobble just a little bit, as if kissed by the wind. Pride swelled in him, something he knew to be ridiculous- even so, the sting was none less when he felt the puff of air pass his back by and cut the flame away. A gray tendril of smoke snaked its way up into the ceiling- Andrew half wondered when the last time he changed the smoke detector batteries. 

"Happy birthday, Andrew," Darcy purred, and she stroked his back with her fingernail, causing him to shiver. He turned to face her, and he kissed her on the lip. She returned the gesture, engulfing his upper body and head in a warm and sensual embrace. It was brief, but it bespoke so much- the tenderness of young and sweet love. 

"So what did you wish for?" She asked, pulling back from the kiss. "Elevator shoes?" 

"Ear plugs," he countered, all the while bracing for the stomach poke he practically asked for with his answer. "No... I dunno. Well, yes, I do know- but I can't tell you!" He chided. "It won't come true if I do."

Darcy gave a face and chuckled at him. 

"Crazy talk. I've never believed that."

"Yeah?" He took the bait.

"Yeah! See, watch-" she reached over for her fork next to her plate (empty, he now realized), and brought it over. She stuck it into the cake, Andrew's actually, and scooped a piece out. She held it to her waiting mouth.

"I wished for cake," she began. Her mouth opened, and the cake went in without ceremony, a drip of stray rainbow frosting sticking to her lip on the way in. She began to chew, smiling and squinting her eyes at the little man in her other hand. "Fee? Nnd mow I haf cayk.” The way she chewed gave Andrew the funny feeling that maybe this scene was common in Darcy's childhood- the image of a chubby Darcy stuffing down cake amused him to no end. 

Darcy seemed to notice his bemusement and gave a look. 

"Dun mae foon."

"I'm not making fun. Honest." A smile cracked onto his face despite his best efforts. To pad his mistake over, he changed the subject.

"So you got your wish," he said dismissively. "Big whoop. Is that all you wished for?"

Darcy set Andrew down and grabbed her glass of wine that was near where his chair resided. She took a swallow to wash down the confectionary treat. 

"Well," she began, setting the glass down and leaning over, bringing her nose close to him. "I also wished..." She giggled and plucked Andrew up by his chest and set him down on the cake. He bounced slightly upon landing, the sponginess of it a testament to her cooking skill. The fragrance of it wafted up lightly into Andrew's nostrils, and he found himself delighted by the smell. He reached down and grabbed a handful of the stuff and bit into it. 

Divine- a symphony of light and sweet flavors, hinting of vanilla and the smooth buttercream that complimented it. Darcy was a true artist. 

He was so occupied by the culinary deliciousness that that he failed to notice Darcy's fork come up behind him and dig into the soft sponge. Doing so caused him to tip back slightly, and before he knew it, the fork had ascended with both him and a bit of food attached to it. 

"Hey," he perfunctorily barked, grabbing onto the edge of the fork. He was lifted to her mouth, her tongue lolling out and occasionally dragging across a lip. 

"I also wished," she continued, "that I would have some tasty little company while I ate said cake." She grinned at him, wildly, and then in he went. 

It was dark, and, well, smelled like a lot of things. It smelled like the distinct scent of Darcy, followed by a close waft of saliva. It also smelled like cake, and, to top it, it smelled like the remnants of an expensive red wine that Darcy usually reserved for company and special occasions. 

He supposed, absentmindedly, that eating your boyfriend was a special occasion.

Not that he was worried.

He felt the tongue writhe across him, pulling at his shirt and pressing against his legs. He heard a deep and sonorous growl emerge from Darcy's throat, a scarce inch or two away from him. And beyond that, a churning belly just waiting and eager for a little meal.

Well, maybe he was a little worried. Just a little. 

"Mm-mm," she hummed, causing a wave of pleasure to work through him, "best birthday ever," she spoke, the weird pressures of air zipping throughout her opening and closing mouth causing his ears to pop. 

"I don't think you remember who's birthday it is, kid..." 

She churned him around for a bit- careful to pause every little bit to let in air. The experience was not in the least unpleasurable for Andrew- at least, not insofar that it got him pretty wet- and, from the way her tongue playfully poked and prodded between his legs, hard. 

Finally she let him out, pressing him into her hand with a gentle push of her tongue. It was certainly not one of their longer ‘mouthplays,’ as they found the term online to say, but it was enough that both seemed to enjoy themselves. Maybe Darcy a little more so that Andrew, he concluded.

“Well,” he started, sputtering a cough out, “that was certainly not on the agenda for today’s festivities.” 

He had her set him down and walked over to his cake, taking a big handful and biting into it. Still just as good as the last.

“I fink fat…”

He chuckled and swallowed his bite.

“I think that maybe cake should be a one on one thing for the rest of the night, yeah?”

He watched her pout adorably and lean in closer, taking her fork and spooning a bite, sans Andrew, into her mouth. The chewing this time was much less ostentatious than the last, which made him smile. She was sweet, she was, putting on a show just to be playful. Part of him knew that this was her effort to spice things up, let him know that she cared for his activity (hers was generally the only interaction he received at this size, apart from the occasional dinner party with friends or bar hopping).

But the other part of him, the very hopeful one, knew (or sincerely hoped, rather) that she was truly into this kind of stuff. You know, sexual stuff. He loved being first her boyfriend, but there was a deeper part of him, a primal part, that enjoyed being that toy, that little bit of food for her. It was like, well, a call from the wilder side of him. Animalistic. More than like it stemmed from size disparity, but there was a very tangible… dare he think it, dominance aspect to it. 

It went back to that whole ‘being a pet’ bit wherein their original conflict stemmed from- not a day after his diminishing, she had jokingly suggested that she be his mistress, and he her pet- the thought offended at first, mostly because the novelty of it all scared the living daylights out him- but, with time, and gentle prodding by a scantily-clad Darcy, he grew fond of it. Now, not months later from her agreement to take guardianship of him, and the commencement of their relationship, he found himself quite… well, not enamored or obsessed with the sexual stuff, but… fond.

Their relationship was paramount- all other auxiliary relationships, secondary. The connection between the two participants most to him. 

But boy howdy, did he love being her little man.

“Well,” she conceded after a few seconds, blowing the stray strands of hair from her face, “I suppose. I can give you your birthday present after cake, right?”

Andrew (very badly) feigned surprise and embarrassment.

“Oh, Darcy, no… you shouldn’t have…”

She grinned and rose up, walking over to the counter and rounded it. She winked at him and started walking to the bedroom, a slight bounce in her step.

“I’ll be right back, little guy.”

A couple of minutes later, she returned, and Andrew had nearly finished his cake. She a-trot-trot-trotted over to him and set down a very tiny, rectangular box in front of him, grinning like mad and setting her hand into a pocket of the red silken night robe he noticed that she had donned. 

“Go ahead! Open it!”

She practically bubbled, encouraging him and biting her lower lip. He heard the faint sound of her bare feet bouncing up and down on the cold tile, thudding and resounding- a giddy dance that told him a lot about what might happen soon.

He tore off the wrapping paper, agonizingly slow much to Darcy’s chagrin. He was almost sorry to do so- it must have taken her a long while to tape, fold, and close the paper around the box- something just a bit bigger than her thumbnail, he reckoned. 

Inside the superhero wrapping was a foldable cardboard box- it had a tiny logo printed on it, a very tiny silhouette of a person standing next to the stylized and printed words ‘Smallwear’- a recent start up, he knew- just local there in Atlanta. 

“Oh? And what’s this…?” he pondered aloud, practically envisioning Darcy biting her lip harder above him. 

Opening the box, he found a shirt, a soft cotton special weave, specifically made for diminished folk. On it was it said ‘Beach Bum.’ Below that was a pair of flip flops, and further below, a pair of 

“Swimming trunks?”

He looked up at Darcy, who fixed at him a pleasant smile. She nodded her head and said,

“Yuh-huh. You’ll be needing that stuff for next month- it’s gonna be a scorcher in Florida!”

Out of her pocket she pulled a piece of paper folded. She unfolded it, beckoned Andrew to stand off to one side, and laid the paper down, the bottom of the text facing him. Once flattened he walked over and onto the paper- on it was a grainy picture of a hotel front and another of a room with two beds. He read the title on top.

“Four days, three nights, riverside, Fernandina Beach…” He glanced up at Darcy who was smiling proudly at, he suspected, herself. “Florida?” He asked inquisitively.

She nodded softly at him and spoke up, pointing to the paper.

“Yep! All bought and paid for. Only five hours away by car, too. Remember, we had talked about going to the beach this summer, but I feel like,” she blushed a little bit, “we’ve gotten so used to our routine and with your, well…” she bobbed her head side to side, almost embarrassed to say it, “your diminishing, I feel like doing this could be really good for you.” Then, snapping her fingers, she started to say while widening her wooden brown eyes, “A-a-and, don’t worry, this didn’t come from our, your cache we talked about- this came from my personal account.” She continued her grin. “A beach road trip on Darcy’s dime!” 

He was flattered- touched, actually- he smiled wide and stood up. 

“Darcy, this…” he tried to find the right words. “This is so much. Too much, even.” He bit his lip, trying not to let his smile get the best of him.

"Thank you. Thank you so, so much. This is wonderful!"

She leaned over and smooched his head, stroking his back while she did so. 

"You are so very welcome, little man. I'm looking forward to it as well!"

He grinned at her and then scooped up another bit of cake. He was about to bite into it when he stopped short, suddenly realizing something. 

"You know," he began, taking only a small nibble at the baked good, "I really shouldn't eat this. We're going to the beach in a short month and I've got to maintain my beach body." Negating what he said, he took another bite of the cake. 

Darcy nodded, making a face that apparently conceded that point.

"Well, that is true... But you know, my basketball coach always told me that I could eat whatever I wanted as long as I got enough aerobic exercise in. Running, swimming... Y'know, stuff that really gets your heart rate up to burn fat."

"I fee wit you min," Andrew said through a mouthful of rainbow confetti. 

"Yep. So, you can go ahead and eat all the cake you want, Andrew..."

Her hands snaked down to the ties silk ribbons that held the red robe closed and undid them- the robe slid off with a whisper of sound onto the ground, revealing a new pair of panties and bra that Darcy had bought- royally purple lace, a small metal clasp on the front of the bra, meant to be opened as such. On her crotch and each breast was a blue blue bow stuck to the lace.

"Because I've got a great idea for cardio tonight to burn off all those calories."

She plucked him up and held him to her sternum, chest level with the bra clasp. Swallowing what was left of the cake, he reached over and tugged at the clasp- it shot undone, and the bra split open and fell to the floor also, exposing two dark and firm breasts with nipples erect, goose flesh tantalized by the sudden onrush of air. 

He looked up at her, she was biting her lip, that old savage look in her eyes gleaming at him- playful, yet predatory. Wild, yet tender. 

"Well well," Andrew said to her, looking from her eyes to each breast and back up to her face, "my wish came true also."

 

**King Me**

 

Smug. 

Not self-righteous, no- not conceited, self-satisfied, or even vainglorious (too archaic). 

Just smug. 

Smug was the best word for that look he sported. 

Just look at it plastered all over his stupid, hot face, she thought morosely, biting her lip out of habit.
The worst part about this look was that the game of strip checkers had originally been her idea- she thought it'd be fun; it might spice things up a little bit and deviate them from their normal routine of nightly activities. Maybe have a little hee hee ho ho while each of them, mutually she believed, took their clothing off piece by piece in such a fashion as to create playful lewdness. But now, one removed pair of sneakers, pair of socks, pair of pants, and hair tie later, and with only a tiny shoe (not a pair, mind you, but one solitary size .000010 shoe) in her possession, Darcy wasn't so sure this was one of her best ideas.

"Okay," she said, chewing her tongue while doing so. It was a habit she had picked up from Andrew. Her fingers reached out, hovered slightly, and wiggled ever so gently, as if they were doing the thinking for her. Carefully, watching Andrew's handsome stupidface occasionally for signs of interest, she palmed one of her pieces and moved it diagonally up into a relatively empty area. The piece was one of we six, opposite of his eleven. 

She kept her hand on the piece for a full ten seconds, then finally released it and leaned back, taking a cautious satisfaction in her move, something she hoped was strategic enough. 

It proved to be not, sadly. A quick turnaround by one of Andrew's 'kinged' pieces, and Darcy's ambitious plan was dashed, and her piece was captured. 

Slowly, and not without very real irritation, Darcy tossed her discarded piece in a pile and waited for instruction.
She thought it might be physically impossible for Andrew to get any more smug, but, to her chagrin, somehow he did- his lips curled up even more, eyes turned to slits, and his eyebrows looks like they were about to rocket off his face. His stupid, pretty face.

"Well now," he crooned, leaning over and grinning like a wolf, "panties or shirt?"

Darcy found herself grateful that it was a warmer week his July. The Georgian rains had all but come and gone, but stray storm occasionally crashed through thanks to weather brought by their southern neighbors past the Florida-Georgia. Such a visitor had passed through just yesterday, leaving the air not unlike a sauna. The apartment's windows had remained open throughout the night and day (but the curtains prudently drawn prior to their game), leaving the air fresh and wet and positively warm. Were it not for the complete and utter backfire she experienced, Darcy might've relished at the prospect of taking off all her clothes. 

"How about," he mulled. 

Her hands snaked down to the borders of her tight shirt, anticipating that her panties would be last. Andrew was like that, she found. 

"... Hmm... The bra."

Now that was unexpected. Still, Darcy's hands found themselves shifting and groping for the clasp just below her shoulders (all the while grumbling), and then finally letting the bra fall to the floor. She pushed the discarded underwear over to her pile of shame (or rather, Andrew's spoils) with her toes, barely making any difference in the pile of clothes anyhow. To him, it was enormous mountain of cloth and canvas sails, easily able to swallow him whole and get him very lost within.

How could she let him win like this? It was absurd. Sure, it was technically a competition and yes, deeply and only to herself, she'd admit that Andrew was cute when he gloated...

But whyyyyy?

There was something she could do, something. She scanned the board diligently for options with her pieces. With only her five pieces left, she had to at least account for two pieces each when making a move. The board, thanks for her lack of pieces, remained relatively open, so she had room maneuver. But then again, that would into get her so far. 

She thought she saw, then... An opportunity. A long shot, perhaps, but an opportunity to reach his end of the board. It would require distraction, se knew- possibly the sacrifice of another piece. Still, if she could get to the end, one of her pieces at least could've with impunity across the board as needed. 

While she thought away, a rivulet of sweat that had beaded on her forehead dropped and fell onto her arm, shocking the girl from her reverie. Lord almighty, it was hot- and it wasn't even the hottest month yet. She fanned herself off, thinking she could get up and get a glass of water or some of lemonade. In fact, she decided to do so- her hands set on her knees and she looked over at Andrew.

"Hey, Andrew. I'm gonna get some lemonade. Would you..." Her words faded away and she could only stare at her little boyfriend. At first, she thought something had been wrong- he looked almost transfixedly at ahead of him. 

"...would you like some?"

No response, but he continued to stare. She... Thought she saw what he was staring at. At least, she thought she did. 

She called him by name again. 

"I'm sorry, what?" He practically jumped out of his seat. "Say that again?"

She swallowed at repeated the question, this time watching his eyes scan her face. 

"Yes," he said after a time, apparently wiping his own brow as well. She noticed just then the faint glisten of sweat on his skin as well. "I would like some please." 

She got up, first leaning over to purse her lips and blow a bit of cool air on him. As she did, his hair flipped about his face and she saw him look up and smile at her- the rush of air was a small but very appreciated gesture, and both of them knew it. 

Her feet padded into the kitchen, the afternoon sun gleaming into the closed blinds and creating shafts of light throughout the whole room. The effect was magical, and Darcy walking into the kitchen with only her scant clothing reminded her of post-coitus thirst. This was something similar, she supposed. 

She about fainted when the blast of cool air hit her as she opened the fridge to retrieve the lemonade- it was almost painfully cold, especially on her chest. In fact, almost abnormally so. She looked down, opening the shirt and peering down, hoping she didn't have any raw skin. She did not- however, she was surprised to find that the front of her shirt was sopping wet. 

No wonder Andrew was staring!

Heck, she thought, a smile creeping on her face, I'd be distracted too. He probably wasn't even able to pay much attention to the game while looking...

She chuckled and grabbed two mugs, one normal sized and one proportioned to folks of diminished size. She grabbed also an eye dropper.

She got a couple of drips for Andrew, and then set that aside. Then, as she was pouring herself a draft, she stopped midway through. 

"That's it," she concluded to herself.

She continued to pour, smiling to herself. 

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

Darcy had sauntered back into the room with a bit more bounce in her step than might've been in such humidity. She hovered over Andrew for a split second, who was currently mulling over the board, likely planning his next few moves that would secure him victory. When he did notice her, he almost looked surprised at finding the amazing colossal woman standing next to him. 

When she had his attention, Darcy bent over at the waist, making sure that her shirt, a white low cut, hung down as she set the drink on the table next to his seat. 

"Here you go, little guy." She said, putting a little sultriness in her voice. It apparently did the trick; Andrew took his sweet time looking up to her face, making several 'pit stops' at her stomach, chest, neck, and lips. Darcy bit her lip, half suppressing a laugh and half getting ready engine revved- it was working, for the both of them!

She rose back up and sat down to her chair, taking a quick sip of lemonade, setting it to the side after, and they resumed their little game. 

Some posturing, moving pieces into position. Andrew fiddled with his thumbs as he tried to think ahead and plan for better moves. Darcy was a decent player, so he knew he couldn't really let his guard down, despite his imminent (he felt) victory. 

Still, that resolve didn't help when he heard something like a boot in mud somewhere above the game board- confused, he looked up and over at Darcy.

Where she got a banana from (he didn't even remember putting that on the grocery list), he did not know. All the same, there it was. It passed in into her mouth. Then, bewilderingly, it passed back out. Then in. Again. 
Darcy's brown eyes locked with his, and he saw a faint smile wrap itself round her lips and round the banana. 

"Oh, sorry," she said, blushing slightly, "it's just... So good."

She let the fruit slide past her lips out and then flicked the tip with her tongue. 

"I love the taste of banana. I love,"

She said, leaning closer to the edge of her seat, "the way it feels in my throat. I could just, just..."

She thrust it once more into her mouth, and, Andrew noted with a profound sense of both disbelief and excitement, saw it bulge down at the very top of her throat.

Bringing it back out, she smacked her lips.

"Just... Do this forever..."

To say that Andrew was enraptured (willfully or not) was... An understatement. Hot and bothered. He dreamed then, of soft chocolate breasts. Caramel lips. Sugar eyes and long luscious legs. Bronze dreams and cinnamon toes. Have you dug the spill?

"Are dogie skiffs aid figures softer?"

Andrew blinked and shook his head.

"Wait, what?"

Darcy sighed and cocked her head, blowing air through her nose and giving him a look as only a lover can. 

"I said," she began, swallowing the last bit of banana, "aren't you going to move a piece? You've been staring off into space for the past thirty seconds..."

"Oh," Andrew said, blinking and returning his eyes to the board. What was he doing? There was... Something... He just...

"Um..." He pointed to one of this pieces that was closer to him. "Put that one... No, the other one... Yeah. Can you move that one up and to your left? Thanks."

Darcy countered in kind, setting her piece in a flanking position and blocking him from advancing without putting several pieces at risk. A good parry.

The game continued just so, save for one variation- every time Andrew had a turn, Darcy did something overtly distracting- moaning, stretching and arching back like a cat, in one case spilling lemonade on her shirt, causing her nipples to harden through.

Andrew did his best, but unfortunately, he couldn't deny his evolutionary imperative. Still, he was able to capture one more piece from Darcy, but that made matters only worse- he forgot that she was bare under that shirt, and when he asked her to remove it, he found himself in the sweetest, most sensual regret and sorrow. Her nipples were erect, her face flush, and Andrew, god help him, couldn't account for one of Darcy's hands that lay under the table- only the occasional sharp breath. 

Finally, it happened- Andrew made a fatal mistake and placed a piece that opened up a huge string of vulnerable pieces.

"Shit shit, noooo!"

"Yessss~"

Click click click click click click click click aaaand click! Darcy slammed her piece down, which happened to be the last row opposite of her.

"King me, baby!" She clapped her hands and laughed, a sweet melodious doom spell. She reeled back and ten forward, leaning in and pressing her face not a few inches away from her boyfriend. "Or is it queen me?" She giggled at her own joke, leaning back. 

Andrew was dumbstruck. He felt like the rug had just been pulled from under him- just one after the other. One by one by one. 

"Well little guy?" 

Still dumbstruck, still in disbelief, he looked up at Darcy, who sat before him, her bare feet propped up on the table in front of her, toes wriggling in apparent anticipation. There was a look on her face...

Smug. Smug was the word Andrew was looking for.

"I'm waiting~" her voice tittered and teased. "Get up and strip, little man. Put a show on for your girl!"

With a frown and then followed slowly by a contented smirk, Andrew obeyed. 

Every bit came off, and, Darcy had to give him credit, he made a show of it- very droll, very playful. He was being a good sport, and she knew it. For fun, she put on a tune from her phone, and they had both ended up laughing.

The game after was quick, short, and really a mop up. All of Darcy's queened pieces trapped Andrew's very quickly, an it became apparent that the game was over. Then again, they knew it from Darcy's sweep. Done like dinner. 

Andrew took it like a champ, despite his mock pout, which, Darcy believed, was laced with a genuine 'bummerness.' Still, the graceful queen that she was, Darcy picked up the tiny boyfriend and held him in front of her face. She gave him a smooch on the side of his body, which shivered delightfully at the soft contact. 

"That was close one, wasn't it?"

Andrew nodded thoughtfully, slowly.

"Yep. And I could have won, were it not for your little... External inputs."

Darcy chuckled, biting her lip and blushing. Guess she wasn't as subtle as she thought she had been. 
"Subtle as a foghorn, with that banana."

She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue, giggling a little bit. 

"Oh come on now. You just wish that banana was you, don't you."

He folded his arms and huffed, looking over to the side.

"...yes."

She giggled and held her hand under him, twitching her fingers to tickle his feet. He kicked and laughed. She then brought her finger up, caressing his thigh and pressing softy on his genitals. They throbbed in response, and he exhaled. 

"Well then," he said, continuing to bite her lip, "I think, well, hey, we're already naked." She flashed her eyes at him. "Let's do something about that monster you've got between your legs..."

A wicked grin passed over her face, one he was fast become familiar with.

"But first... Are you ready to do what you promised you'd do if you lost?"

Andrew's head nodded up and down dejectedly, his resigned smile tempered by the bitter gall of defeat.

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

The hardest part about the task was keeping the grape from rolling back down. Andrew unfortunately had to retrieve the tiny piece of fruit (well, relatively tiny) a couple of times, but on the third go, he got it.

Using his new skill, he rolled it up up up, past her smooth stomach, between her twin breasts, and then up near her chin.

“All yours, babe.”

She chuckled, and he felt the vibration run through the skin underneath his feet. A pair of fingers came down, plucked the grape from his grasp, and then popped it into her mouth. Andrew could taste the aerosol juice come down from her nose- a little sour, but fine, ripe grapes nonetheless.

She swallowed, causing Andrew, still on Darcy’s throat, to bob up and down and  shake but a little.

“Mmm,” she moaned, most assuredly for effect, “delicious.”

He grinned at that. Despite the defeat, it was nice to do just this small gesture for Darcy. Granted, she had asked him to, so it really wasn’t out of goodness. And yes, granted, she was the one who set everything up- she retrieved the grapes from the fridge, she set him and said grapes in a bowl on her stomach… well… maybe he was just glad to be the transport- as mandatory as it was.

She plucked him up between two fingers and pressed him against her lips, which he accepted wholeheartedly.

“Thank you, my little manservant!” She stuck out her tongue at him, almost embarrassed. “Your master is most pleased with your service. Er, wait, or is it mistress? Anyway,” she rose up, tiny man still in hand. She brought him up to her face and eyed him up and down once more.

“We’ve got other business to attend to.”

 

**Experimentation**

 

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon- the sun was shining brightly through the slight cloud coverage, shafts of light raining down on the myriad and varied buildings of the city of Atlanta. Grey pillars amongst the sea of blue sky, white clouds, and green trees, the slightest of smogs marring the picturesque (most of the smog had been blown off by yesterday's storm). 

 

The state's several thousands of church buildings were filled with harmoniously repentant people, all singing and some dancing, a few sitting quietly as their clergy droned on and on, some wondering, very concernedly, if their souls were doomed to this terrible fire that promised by the preachers and spoke of in holy writ. 

 

Others broke their fast at the equal several thousand chains of waffle restaurants, where fat and joyous cooks tossed eggs, burned toast, and slung waffles and coffee like it was going out of style. On the radio, soft tunes of ages gone by played and people sat and ate and ruminated and ate some more, pestered occasionally by a server who, in her words, is 'only keepin' it together, thank you Jesus,' and is the sweetest lady you're ever like to meet.

 

Others still, of a different sort, stay home and worship at their own altars of rest and relaxation- time for reflection. Two such are Darcy and Andrew- not particularly religious, no, but they, more so Darcy, believes in something of a divine, as is the wont of such in her millennial generation- cosmic karmic law, universal harmony, blends of Taoism and feel-good-ism. Whatever it might've been, it never really manifested to be something of a Sunday activity in Darcy's mind- no call to hajji, no building upon the rock. As most other millennials, theirs is a feel good do nothing God. 

 

Still. 

 

Sunday was a special day for them- time of intellectual pursuits and reinvigoration of the mind. While their actions certainly didn't fall into the category of religious dogma, they did follow the Abrahamic god's example of resting on the seventh. And, to be truthful (since y'all're bein' good god-fearin' Christians, bless your hearts), the intellectual pursuits we spoke of earlier truly just consist of books, magazines, outdoorsy activities, and, now getting less and less frequent since unemployment, Andrew's law journals. 

 

This time, Andrew, lying comfortably on a reclining Darcy's stomach, was sifting through a specially sized magazine labelled, and chuckling every time he thought about it, Tiny Times. 

 

What freshman marketing exec pumped that one out, he mused.

 

Tiny Times is what it sounded like- policy, politics, and human interest stories relevant to him. It was a print magazine, but those were fast becoming a rarity- his tablet, another recent purchase, was still charging. It passed as weird for him, seeing how it was a couple of months, to hold an actual collection of paper in his hands. He did prefer using a tablet, but... Well, the tactile sensation of paper on skin gave him a sense of normalcy. Almost comforting. 

 

High above him, the lights of Darcy's own tablet flickered softly as she browsed whatever website. He smiled, looking up at her face- her brow furrowed and her eyes squinted as she read, something Andrew found amusing. He wondered, briefly, what she was reading- not that it mattered, she always looked like that when she read- Andrew called it her 'reading murderface,' much to her chagrin. 

 

He set the magazine to his own stomach and closed his eyes. This was great. It'd been months since they'd started their relationship officially, and so far the move had felt right. The late spring and summer days had been filled with wonderful fun, pleasant memories, and very touching moments between the two. The nights, seemingly endless, were filled with love, the two bonding in a way they'd never felt before. 

 

He sighed, content. Perhaps it was just the honeymoon of their relationship- the novelty of it endearing them both. It certainly wouldn't be uncommon- he'd heard of and experienced it many times before in previous relationships. 

 

Then again, this was different, he felt. He couldn't recall feeling so at ease with someone- even in the quieter moments. They occasionally had their spats, as any lovers do, but he recalled always feeling more sad than angry when they did so- like he was sorrowful that such a conflict did take place. Andrew, a certified headstrong and stubborn asshole, often found himself wanting to change and make things better than be right. 

 

He wanted to be better, he realized, for her. That had to mean something, right? That the relationship wasn't just fluff and infatuation. A deep connection. 

 

He pondered that. He didn't have a crystal ball, but he wasn't an idiot- he'd been with very toxic girls before, and Darcy certainly wasn't one of them. He may not have been able to predict everything that could happen, but he certainly believed that they could work it out together.

 

He sighed again, just a little more contentedly this time, just a little more assured. 

 

He was nearly dozing off when a soft voice above him shook him out of it.

 

"Hey Drew."

 

He popped an eye open and gazed up at her. 

 

"Will you come up and read this?"

 

Flipping over, he arose and walked over closer to Darcy's neck, able to get a better vantage point.

 

"What am I looking at?" He asked, to which Darcy pointed at a small passage with her finger. 

 

Andrew read, mouthing the words as he did so- a terrible habit of his, he thought. Finally, he nodded his head.

 

"Well... Wow. That's something else." He turned his head over to face her. "Where did you find this?"

 

She blew air out of her nose, causing Andrew's hair to flip wildly about. When she spoke, a sonorous rumble shook beneath his feet, and he balanced himself.

 

"I found it after, well, browsing. You remember that stuff... What is it called, that giant woman thing, you know, that my friend was telling me about..." She bit her lip and cast her eyes to the side, trying to remember the word. Finally she snapped her finger and said, "macrophilia. Remember?"

 

Andrew rolled his eyes and nodded. 

 

"Oh yeah." He grimaced. "That shit sounds weird. Are you really reading it?"

 

She nodded, smiling. 

 

"Yeah. And, yes, it's a little weird but... That thing you read..." She blushed slightly. "Doesn't it sound interesting?"

 

He nodded, sitting back down and onto her neck. 

 

"I suppose. Why?" He looked up at her, cranking his head way up. "What did you have in mind?"

 

He felt her swallow, the lump passing through her throat as causing him to shift his seat slightly. 

 

"Well... Do you want to try it?"

 

He was quiet for a moment. Then, nodding, he simply said, "sure. I'm down." 

 

Darcy smiled, looking a little relieved. This did not go unnoticed by Andrew, who smiled back and asked,

 

"Ha, did it make you nervous, bringing it up?"

 

She blushed again, and nodded weakly. She then brought her thumb and forefinger close together, holding it just in front of one eye and closing the other. 

 

"Just a little."

 

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

 

 

"So, where to start, where, toooooo start."

 

A naked Darcy held a naked Andrew in her palm- the clothes had come off fairly quickly, and they lay now discarded in a pile near the couch on which Darcy sat longways. When she had first approached Andrew with the idea, she had been so nervous to suggest it that she hadn't put any thought into executing the task. Now, both of them committed to it, indecision had crept back into her like some unwanted bug infestation. 

 

The idea was simple enough- worship. Not in any serious sense of the word, nothing theistic or, well, she blushed, blasphemous, but fun. An extension, she hoped, of the pet and master relationship that had supplemented their sexual fun.

 

Thankfully, the little man in her hand had broken the silence with a suggestion. 

 

"On your breasts?"

 

Seemed like good as any, she thought. Smiling, she laid down lengthwise on the couch, and set him between her two cafe au lait mammaries, the warmth of anticipation emanating off them and flushing Andrew's face. 

 

Once set down, he stood up and looked around. How did one worship another person? He tried to think about any religion he may have been subject to as a kid. He remembered, very vaguely, a lot of standing up and sitting down. Also, he remembered, less pleasantly, a bland cracker and the worst goddamn fruit juice he ever had. 

 

But he didn't have any of those things right now. Maybe he could stand up and down on her. He doubted that he should.

 

Tentatively, he set his hands on one breast and he began to massage softly.  He heard, most satisfyingly, a quiet moan from above. He looked up, and found a very placid smile pass on Darcy's lips. 

 

"That feels wonderful... But won't you go lower, little man?"

 

"Lower, huh?" He grinned mischievously. "Such a demanding goddess."

 

She blushed, biting her lip, and smiling devilishly- something that indicated that she wasn't quite embarrassed. 

 

"Mmhmm. What can I say," she said, "I'm a goddess who knows what she wants..."

 

He chuckled, dragging a finger along her breast as he continued his journey down south, making her shiver. 

 

"Goddess," he muttered with a patient smile, relishing the feeling warming flesh underfoot. "The things I encourage."

 

She chuckled, causing to jump slightly on her tummy. 

 

"Goddess... Hmm, I like the sound of that..."

 

Past her waist line he arrived were a tuft of curly black sprouted like a rough carpet. It crowned Darcy's sex, the little bean erect and her mons swollen and waiting. The heady aroma of woman was in the air, and Andrew found himself intoxicated by the scent- something he had become so used to, but never lost the inherent excitement that came with it. 

 

Satisfied, he knelt down and reached over take hold of her clitoris, but a voice forbade it.

 

"Wait, no..." He looked back up at the woman's face, an eyebrow cocked. Her eyes were closed and a bead of sweat dotted her forehead. She flushed and bit her lip. "Keep going down... My feet..."

 

How odd, he thought. Usually Darcy was straight to it when it came to hankypank. Could she have something else in mind?

 

He obeyed, eager to please his love... His goddess. He walked down the smooth leg, grateful to not be wearing any socks, lest he slip. 

 

He arrived at the end, Darcy's foot raising high up into the air before him like some pillar of cuteness. A smooth skin gave way to five well-formed toes, each adorned with a healthy nail crowning, devoid of any polish (Darcy liked it that way, he remembered). The toes wiggled softly in the summer air, eagerly awaiting a tender touch. He wasn't a foot guy, but there was something to be admired in Darcy's feet, Andrew believed. She kept them well trimmed, clean, and scrubbed them daily with her peach wash, the smell even now wafting over and drifting lazily into his nostrils. Such actions kept the feet soft and smooth, something Andrew was now very grateful for, considering what may have been coming down the pipe for him. He took another step forward, intent on rubbing them, when the foot he was on suddenly flattened and set itself onto the couch armrest.

 

"Go ahead and hop off," came the command from above. 

 

Once off, the feet retracted and set themselves in the sides of the armrest. heels pressing into the side so as too present only the balls of her feet and her toes. Again, they wiggled softly in the air, swaying back and forth hypnotically. 

 

"Little man," came the quiet, almost embarrassed request, "will you rub my feet?" Then, with a chuckle, "the feet of your goddess?"

 

Andrew was nonplussed. A foot massage? Was that it? Surely it couldn't be that simple. It was nothing like in the passage they had read together. Was that all she really wanted?

 

"Are you sure?" He asked tentatively, looking past her big toe and up at her face. "Just a foot massage?"

 

She nodded, smiling softy. He noticed that a hand had snaked its way down to her crotch and now lay rest there, seemingly waiting.

 

"Just a foot massage," came the cloudy reply, the reply of someone who had just placed her finger on her clitoris. 

 

Andrew frowned- not malignantly, but just confused. 

 

"It doesn't seem like worship to me..." He offered. 

 

Darcy grinned and squinted her eyes.

 

"Well, my mom always told me that you can pray with both your lips and your hands..."

 

"Are you saying I should use my lips? Kiss your toes?" He asked with a wolfish grin on his face, which she returned right back to him.

 

"If my most devout desires so."

 

With that laugh hanging in the air, Andrew set to work, starting just below the big toe- seemed like good a good place as any. At his touch, it twitched slightly, the movement pushing him back just a bit.

 

"Is my goddess ticklish?" He teased, poking his head between her toes and looking up at her. She twitched her toes again just a little bit, closing softly the two digits and flexing her foot so he was an inch off the ground.  He wasn't hanging by his head, mind you- he had grabbed the insides of her toes and lifted himself up in addition. She grinned at him.

 

"Yes, she is," she called back, her finger brushing her sex only slightly, "and keep it up and you'll be toe jam, little devout!"

 

She set him back down and he continued his work, smiling all the while. It was a hollow threat, but more comforting than anything. Darcy had exercised so much caution prior to- she wouldn't stop now, he believed.

 

He kneaded, pulled, stretched, and occasionally kissed each toe, taking all the time he needed to make sure each got individual attention. Every once in a bit he would look up, and see her softly flicking her button, a placid, serene look resting on her face. She had closed her eyes, biting her lip and taking very deep breaths. 

 

She particularly loved being massaged between her toes, he found. Each push or pull elicited a soft moan or gasp, or a quickening of breath, her masturbation keeping in rhythm and time. Every other once in a while, his name would escape her lips in a warble- satisfying, in the deepest way imaginable. The kind of feeling you got when a close parking space opens up, when you take that first bite of your favorite ice cream, or when you delve deep into your pocket and find a twenty. 

 

He continued, relishing the work he was doing. At times, he felt almost like he was outside of himself, observing this man massage, impossibly, toes of a woman who was close thirty times his height. Was this really him? Was he caressing these perfect toes with love and care that he'd never expressed prior? It felt like it wasn't... And yet, it was. 

 

Darcy's breathing quickened once more, and she changed the rhythm of her strokes. Her clitoris was red and erect, her labia engorged and wet. Her fingers plunged deeply into her, and after a few second's twisting, she pulled them out with a soft pop. High above she bit her lip.

 

"Andrew," her voice lilted. He paused his work and looked between her toes toner face, reddened and blushing with fluster. Her eyes opened and she smiled down on him.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Call me... Call me your goddess... Will you?"

 

He smiled, slightly embarrassed by the request. To be playful and teasing about her divinity was one thing, but to actually ask it... That was something outside normal for him. A part of him knew she really didn't think herself a deity- she was posturing, playing the game. Even still, another part of him couldn't help but wonder, or rather... Couldn't help but comply. For all intents and purposes, she was his goddess. She provided for him, gave him comfort, was his support, and even loved him in a way that felt transcendent. Andrew was at best an agnostic, and had his doubt about any benevolent paternal (or maternal) force in the universe. Even so, with all that this woman did for him...

 

Why shouldn't he worship her? She had been the closest thing to a God as anything for him.

 

"Darcy," he began, letting his words spill out his mouth slowly like a drip, unfamiliar at the time, then continue onward, "you... Are my goddess." He whispered, the idea foreign but now becoming more comfortable. 

 

The goddess in question closed her eyes and smiled, pleased with her devout's confession of faith. She bit her lip, blushing slightly at the thought of what she would say next.

 

"Again," came the half-request, half-command. "Tell me again."

 

He took another breath, accepting his task. 

 

"Darcy, you are... My queen, my goddess." The words flowed out his mouth with surprising fluidity. "You are... My light. My pillar of fire. My way and life."

 

He continued his stroking, her toes responding to each minute lithe finger movement. His voice continued to drip in praise, as if the Pentecostal fire of old had taken hold of him. 

 

"You are my love, my reason. Every bit about you is magical. You enchant me, you protect me, you let me into you and your secret places..."

 

He continued to rub, running suddenly out of ideas of things to say. He... Wasn't very good at making this kind of stuff come out, but he tried his best. Instead of ending up saying something very stupid, he just decided on

 

"You are my goddess, Darcy!"

 

And that seemed to break the dam- an explosion and yelp suddenly erupted from Darcy's throat, a high pitched gasp that ripples through her and caused her to suddenly shudder in absolute ecstasy. 

 

He backed away from the now curling toes, removing his hands before they were caught in a grip he couldn't escape. He trotted over to see her face, her lips pressed together and suddenly being bitten, one hand massaging her breast in a squeeze and her other plunging her fingers deep into her engorged pussy, discharge splurting out between her fingers and the opening. 

 

His own erection, at best tepid during the massage, was now fully invested. He bit his own lip, missing that feeling, that very distinct pleasure of filling a woman up, making them curl their toes. He touched himself, softly, shuddering at the feeling. 

 

It wasn't too long before Darcy finished her climax, and was soon fluttering down down down from her cloud nine. Her face, however, kept its serene little smile. She opened her eyes and gazed at the little man staring at her between her toes. She wiggled them, making him smile and her giggle. 

 

"You should open a foot massage business- you do," she blew a stray hair from her face, "a damn good job!"

 

He smiled at her, and still looked at her between her toes- that fact, however, struck Darcy as odd. She moved her foot to the right slightly and looked at him. 

 

"Why don't you come out from behind my... Oh."

 

Rock hard, she found. All revved up and nowhere to go. She made a face, pouting her lips in a sad frown.

 

"My poor little devout," she cooed, "you worked so hard for your goddess and all you got back was blue... Well," she said, sitting up and leaning forward, "I can fix that..."

 

A wicked grin passed her face and she reached over for Andrew. He thought about dodging and trying to cause her to chase him, but he thought otherwise- it was too high and somehow he didn't think that he should make the girl whom he was technically worshiping frustrated.

 

A large but dexterous hand scooped him up and brought him to her face. She was licking her lips, and without any words, she opened her palm and licked him from toes to head, one long stroke. She kissed him, again, again, and then once more. Softly, with all the tenderness of a mother, she nuzzled him with her nose, pressing him into her hand. The pressure was nice on Andrew's body, the warmth radiating from her so comforting and loving. 

 

She held him back in front of her face once more, smiling at him and biting her lip. She arose from her seat on the couch, the remaining discharge from her soft and swollen labia flipping forward with her movement and dripping some down onto her toes, splatting inaudibly. It felt cool to the touch, and Darcy relished the feeling. 

 

I am a goddess to this little man in my hand, she thought to herself, feeling herself slip into the part very easily. I hold him here, and he his mine to do with whatever I please. I could have him rub me again, accompany me to the bath (hey, I've got to remember that one!), or have him feed me grapes like before when he was my little slave for the night. 

 

She tittered and shook with the realization. Literally anything. She could place him between her breasts, have him be a little passenger and have him massage her breasts for her as she went to work, have him paint her nails, have him spend all the night long inside of her...

 

But then another realization came- to indulge in her nerdy side, with great power came great responsibility. Sure, she could be a literal goddess and Queen to this man, to have him worship her at her toes, but remember- this was Andrew! A real human being. Her friend. Her lover. Her companion. Someone for whom she felt a deep and resounding affection for. She could never make this man her actual slave or elevate herself to a true goddess status. She wanted equality with this man. 

 

She wanted to be his goddess, yes... But she wanted to be HIS goddess, his own to have. A benevolent giantess. Someone he could count on, someone who provided and cared for him. Someone who served him. Someone to whom he could give his love and get love reciprocally. She wanted to love this man, and earn his love in return.

 

She arrived at the wall, still holding the tiny man in her hands. Carefully, after giving him a short kiss on the head, she squatted down (shivering after feeling the cool-conditioned air pass past and up her open southern lips), and set Andrew supine lengthwise in front of her. 

 

She continued to squat over him and she grinned, her hair draping over her eyes and casting long shadows over him.

 

"Do you love your goddess, Andrew?

 

He nodded.

 

"That's good, because she just looooooves her little worshipper~" She stroked a finger across his stomach, eliciting a soft moan from the tiny guy. Perfect. "And, as a reward for all your faithful service," she stood back up as graceful as her size would allow, "your goddess is going to give you some much needed release..."

 

"Ooooo," Matt cooed, half-mockingly, which Darcy returned with a protruding tongue. Standing back up to her full height and stretching, she was still boggled when she did this- how tiny he was! No bigger than her toes that wiggled and flanked on either side of him. It used to inspire something of a small anxiety in her, to know that one small misstep would splatter him like a grape, but now... It was something different. It inspired in her a fierce imperative to protect him, to keep him safe. It was at one part possessive, another part loving... Maybe she did feel something of a divine stewardship over him. 

 

He wiggled a bit, sitting up and cranking his head up to look at her. 

 

A grin passed her lips, and before she knew it, she half-barked at him.

 

"Did I say you could move?"

 

The phrase brought an uncertainty to the situation. They had been playing before, the divine and the devout, but an actual vocal command with that kind of tone... Well, they were crossing into uncharted lands. This was almost ownership, implicit if not explicit. 

 

The look that passed Andrew's face was at first a sort of shock, mild at most. But then, like the dawning sun, a smile crept on his lips. He inhaled and exhaled deeply- but not heavily. Reflectively, but not forlornly. He was interested, she realized- interested to see what was going to happen next, not upset or startled, and that set her heart at ease like no other. Again, she had been scared that she was overstepping her bounds, but his accepting reaction, something more frequent as of late, reassured her. 

 

Her lips curled into a soft little pout, a concerned head cocking to one side.

 

"Your goddess is very big, and she doesn't want to hurt you in the slightest," she half confessed. 

 

"Oh yeah," came the reply, "how so?" Then, placing a hand on his mouth, he asked "is talking allowed? Or rather," he coughed and cleared his throat, adopting a look of magnanimity or pomp, "doth my goddesseth permiteth her subjects to talketh?"

 

The chuckle and eye roll from above made him smile, glad he could still make this woman smile. She bit her lip then continued.

 

"Yeseth... Eth eth eth. I doth permiteth mineth eth eth..." She raspberried her tongue as she tripped over her faux-Shakespearean, giggling. "Yes little guy, you can talk." Shifted her weight again to the other foot, still looking down at him. "However," he said, leaning ever so carefully forward and setting her hands on the wall, "it would be best if you didn't move while your goddess worked..." A grin passed on her lips. "I don'teth want to stepeth on you." She chuckled. "Make you go squisheth!" 

 

Trying to balance on her outstretched hands and single foot, Darcy dragged her other foot on the heel over to where Andrew was laying down. She slowly hovered her foot, still holding her heel on the carpet below. 

 

"You ready, little devout?"

 

A soft nod from below, heavy breathing. 

 

"Good."

 

Her foot rolled down on him, slowly and tender. She found herself consciously slowing, somehow the fear of harm or worse coming back into her. She pressed on (not literally), her foot and toes splayed out as her sole contacted the flesh below.

 

It was warm! Very warm. She could make out the distinct shape of his legs, waist, then torso just by laying her foot on top of him. As she laid her toes to rest, she saw that they came up to his neck, the second largest toe (her 'pointer' toe she supposed) came just below his neck. And thank goodness for that- even that little toe of hers (long as it was) was a tree trunk! 

 

The feeling was all too surreal- each step they took together, each new adventure, the size difference became more real, less novel... Or maybe even more novel. Here, the warm body of Andrew pinned under her foot (she unconsciously lifted her foot slightly to alleviate any pressure), she realized something- she truly was a giant, a goddess to this tiny man. She literally held his life under foot.

 

Just think, if she had pressed any harder...

 

She blinked and swallowed, pushing those thoughts out of her mind. Out of the question, out her mind.

 

She would not hurt Andrew, and that was final. She cared deeply for this man, this fellow human. She couldn't live with herself if she ever hurt him. 

 

To try and take her mind off it, she focused back in Andrew, he looking up at her and smiling, rather nervously. 

 

"Really," he asked incredulously, a mocking and teasing tone lacing his voice, "I massage your toes and now you're gonna squish me like a bug? Jeez," he rolled his eyes. "See if I ever give you a massage again."

 

Darcy chuckled and dragged her toe across his chest slowly, feeling his respiration jump and a tiny bulge poke the bottom of the ball of her foot. She felt the pressure increase on her hands, her weight leaning on the wall.

 

"Don't worry, little devout," she said, biting her lip. Her hesitation was leaving her, a sweet and wild confidence filling the void. "You're not going to get squished, but I am going to reward you..."

 

Darcy's foot shifted, and her pointer toe was replaced by her big toe, a thing that covered maybe sixty percent of Andrew's body. Her eyes, however, narrowed and she snapped a finger.

 

"Oh, and, uh..." She gritted teeth and cast her eyes to the side. "We should probably have a safeword. Just in case, I mean. If the pressure gets to be too much or you want to stop... How about..."

 

"Waffle?"

 

Darcy screwed her face up, squinting. She brushed a stray hair from her face. 

 

"Waffle? Seriously?"

 

Andrew nodded.

 

"Sure. I am kind of hungry, actually."

 

Darcy laughed and stroked him again with her toe as she said, "well, okay. You're such a little weirdo sometimes."

 

"Says the girl who asks me to call her a goddess and is stepping on me?"

 

She blushed deeply and her bottom lip disappeared behind her front teeth.

 

"Fair point." She shook her head. "Anyway, enough talk!" She blew him a kiss and wiggled her toes above him. "It's time for your reward, little devout..."

 

Slowly, her toe pointed down, she descended her foot onto him and dragged it down from his chest to his waist. Lithely, and with a grace almost impossible at that size, she circled his testicles and pressed down softly.

 

Andrew moaned, his halfrection, apparently retreating back after a whole lot of nothing, fully engorged once again, ready for action. 

 

"Hmmm... Does that feel good?"

 

"Yes," he breathed out, "please, keep..."

 

"Keep going?" She cooed at him, finishing his thought. She licked her lip and smiled down. "Of course. Anything for my little man."

 

She rubbed and pressed, pressed and flicked, and expertly navigated her big toe all over him, taking special care of Andrew's penis and balls. He was fully erect, his thriving manhood sticking into the air like some pink tower. As Darcy dragged her toe along it, the side brushing by the shaft, even she felt the warmth radiating off of the blood-thick flesh. She flicked her toe softly, striking the shaft and Andrew gasped- for a half second Darcy worried she hurt him, but a smile from him assuaged her. 

 

It wasn't a even thing, no big deal, to pleasure Andrew like this. She marveled at the novelty of it. She'd heard of footjobs before, but that was with normal sized partners. Here was a situation that could very really devolve into an accident, if her foot slipped or she got careless. Then again, their first sexual experience did involve her sticking him inside and having basically his entire body inside her mouth for oral. How was this any different?

 

Well, I could step on him for one, she thought. I had hold of him inside me and he was laying on my hand when I licked him all over, so he was fairly safe, but now... 

 

She closed her eyes and smiled. Those thoughts had no place with her right this second. Yes, there was always a risk, and yes, she ought to take every precaution available to her for these kinds of things, but...

 

Come on. This was Andrew here, not some bug. She would always be cautious. Always.

 

She opened her eyes and looked down- Andrew's eyes were half closed, half open, and he was biting his lip. His breathing, she could hear, even from his distance, was more shallow, more rapid. 

 

Again she flicked her big toe around him, his chest and legs and his sex. They responded to each minute caress, each loving touch, with warmth and a sharp gasp escaping Andrew. 

 

"Hmm," Darcy cooed high above him, "I think my little guy likes this..."

 

She giggled as he nodded, still lost in his pleasure. 

 

With each stroke, he got closer and closer to the crest; with each flick or brush with her toe, he felt the blood in him thicken and course trough, threatening, he believed, would squirt out his nose if it got any higher.

 

Darcy seemed to sense this, and shifted in her position to try something very special- she twisted her heel and positioned her foot to hover her middle and pointer toes right above his cock.

 

Slowly, with a mischievous grin to match, she lower and splayed her toes out, just ever so slightly. Once her toes flanked his member, she carefully unsplayed her toes and let both of them contact the sides of the shaft. Andrew gasped at the slightest twitch, his hands grasping at the carpet and strands in a desperate attempt to not rocket off.

 

She smiled at the reaction- perfect. 

 

Her toes tightened slightly, squeezing the penis between the scrunching- the warm shaft caught and was held firmly, while not painfully. Again the shudder from Andrew, and a soft little gasp from Darcy- she felt the flush heat of his member radiating into her skin, warming her toes and thrilling her like no other. 

 

With a coy little bite of her lip, she began to flex infinitesimally- tiny tendons of her toes pulling mere millimeters back and forth, manipulating his member just so within her perception.

 

The desired effect was... Well, desirable. Andrew no longer shuddered wildly but made long stretches and pulls, biting his lip and moaning, highly satisfied- the sound of someone who just had their itch, one that had bothered for hours, scratched. Darcy bit her own lip, feeling more than pleased with herself.

 

Andrew himself was happy as well. Higher and higher he rode the sensation, letting himself fall into complete control of this beautiful creature he called his own. The act she wrought on him was, he admitted, a little off kilter from their usual fare, and he did hesitate but a bit when she started, but now...

 

But now!

 

He had always known Darcy to be a dexterous woman, surprisingly so for her height (even before his diminishing, in fact)- but the act of her little giving him a foot... Well, he supposed, a toejob (Is there such a word, he half dreamed, half thought), and by God, did it feel wonderful. 

 

Suddenly, finding a kind of blankness in the ever-rising crest, he felt himself slip past the point of no return, that feeling of ready or not, here it comes (literally, a voice echoed far away in the mind).

 

"D, Darcy."

 

He felt himself rise higher and higher, his mind elevating and blanking in one white hot moment where his nerves screamed and the stomach became hallowed out and void and wonderful. He released, inhaling sharply and smiling while squeezing his eyes shut, his stomach lurching upwards and inwards. His penis, still enveloped in the toe grip she held him in, twitched and erupted white hot seed that shot straight into the air, arced slightly, and then splattered softly on Darcy's big toe. 

 

He was, vaguely, aware of a distant giggle- all was blank as he sailed down from his cloud nine, riding the final wave of contented pleasure of post-coitus action. 

 

With a final grunt, Andrew flopped his head and arms (he had apparently grabbed Darcy's toe sometime during his orgasm) onto the carpet, utterly spent. As the sounds and sensations finally filled the blanks that were, he felt, shaking once more, Darcy releasing him from her grasp, slowly, and then as a little bit of playfulness, dragged her middle toe once more down his body and legs. 

 

"Mmmmm," he let out a moan, approving on all levels of the sudden pressure on his body. Darcy above him giggled and swayed her hips.

 

"Good for you, then, I imagine?"

 

Andrew nodded warmly, smiling and drinking deep breaths through his nose. She chuckled and, once she knew her feet were planted firmly on the floor and not her boyfriend, bent over doubly and reached down. 

 

Her fingers wiggled beneath him, digging themselves beneath and picking up his arms and legs and core and scooping him up in her hands, once again marveling at how light his body was. Was it really this tiny guy that squirted his unliteral liters of load all over her toes? She smirked at the thought. 

 

I picked me a healthy one, she thought. 

 

She brought him to her face, he slumping gloriously and resting his head softly on the thumb that held him pinned to the hand. She smiled, letting the little guy continue to slump. She lazily walked back over to the couch and sat down, doing her best to keep the little man stable. Softly, she set the little guy down onto the throw pillow next to her, lifting her foot as she did so.

 

"That," she declared finally, letting her head throw back and whipping a bit of sweat from hair, "was absolutely amazing. Thank you, little man," she reached over as poked her now supine boyfriend, who moaned annoyedly at her touch, "for making me feel like a goddess."

 

Andrew lifted himself up after a second or two, stretching his arms and legs and flexing his toes like a cat. Darcy watched him with something not unlike wanton lust, despite the both of them climaxing. Some animalistic tendency in her. To be predatory. To be the queen. Goddess. 

 

Maybe that is what brought it on in the first place.

 

"You are very, very welcome my dear." He sighed, contented, and looking over at Darcy. He smiled at her crookedly, and she shot it back at him. Both just sort of basked in each other's presence. It had been a long few couple of months, full of challenges, but also all the more filled with pleasures and surprises. 

 

"So then," Andrew began, looking briefly at his now sodden genitals and nails, thinking he ought to clean up before doing much of anything else, "what next? Or rather, what next, o goddess mine?"

 

Darcy laughed and bounced her foot, the one resting on her leg, up and down. She felt something cold and wet there pass from one toe to another. She glanced over and found the discharge of her tiny guy still clinging ever so tenaciously to her toe.

 

Andrew continued to speak, counting on his fingers as he rattled off activities. 

 

"We could pack, watch a movie on Netflix, or we could... Um..."

 

He looked up to see her just in time wrap her lips around the top of her foot, her tongue poking out from between her big and index toes. She watched in mute and horrific fascination as Darcy sucked the semen right off her foot, and saw, with equal disgust and pleasure, the bolus travel down her neck when she swallowed. Darcy locked her brown eyes on him, smiling a bit when she realized he was watching, half embarrassed. 

 

"Or, I guess, we could suck jizz off our toes. I guess that works too."

 

Darcy giggled as he folded his arms uncomfortably and shifted, unconsciously covering his own privates that still had hints of the almighty white offspring batter (and the semi he had sprung). 

 

"I can't help it," she half-whispered in that flirtatious 'don't care' tone of hers. "Like I said the first time, you're a tasty treat for me."

 

"Jesus, Darcy." He said shaking his head, the smile creeping on his lips betraying his incomplete disgust. "Are you hungry? Should we go to Waffle House or something? I don't think I'll be on the menu there but maybe a waffle and coffee would suffice?"

 

"Oooh, can I get cheese on my hash?"

 

"Only if you're sharing," he shot back. "Oh, and chili."

 

"Deal!" She said, slapping her feet on the floor and scooping him up in her hands to go clean up in the bathroom. As she rose Andrew's tiny voice popped up once again.

 

"Oh, and you'll have to use house creamer for your coffee. You emptied me out of cream, I'm afraid."

 

"Ewww," Darcy droned through a laugh, shutting the bathroom door behind her. 

 

 

**Waking**

 

"Andrew?" 

 

Her voice warbled out in the darkness, unsure and uncertain. The fear that has gripped her heart when in sleep kept with her in the immediate wakefulness- it made her sharp and alert, fighting effectively against grogginess even after interrupting midway through a sleep cycle.

 

"Andrew?"

 

She tried again, maybe a little more desperate his time. Tears welled in her eyes and threatened to down her cheeks. She was careful to not move too much in her bed- what if he had strayed from his futon and was near her? Crawled under her sheets and used her as a mountain? Tickled around her feet as he was wont to do some nights? She didn't want to risk it. Not now. Not after that dream.

 

Slowly she reached over across the inky black, her memory and cochlear reckonings guiding her hand. It lighted on the switch and she turned it, the flood of light making her squint and press more tears out of her eyes. 

 

The world came slowly from the white haze and took shape, the shades and shadows filling in like an artist's charcoal sketch in becoming. She saw her bed sheet, wide and white but almost blue spread before her, a solitary half-foot and toes poking out, perhaps a heat sink. She searched hurriedly along the minor expanse but found nothing, to her delighted dismay. 

 

And then she heard him. 

 

Oh, how she heard. The tiny snores emitting softy from the bed side on the nightstand, some twigs being sawn apart. Below the lamp on the nightstand lay a printed bed, the handsewn mattress supporting the subject of her small horrors and her fears and her love. Wrapped in a standard blanket that came with the mattress, but yet under was a handsewn two layered microfelt, made by she herself, wrapped around his bantam body and keeping him warm, even in the heat of the Georgian nights. Her breath caught in her throat and swallowed it back down. She wanted more than anything to reach out and pluck him up, hold him to her face and bosom, shower him with a thousand full-lipped kisses- yet she knew she couldn't. Not out of any physical barring, at least- but tact and skill was a requirement, lest she fulfill the somniatic prophecy. 

 

Her hand stroked his back to wake him. Gentle strokes that had an entire life behind them, from neck to knee. He stirred with a start, a sharp falsetto breath leaping into his lungs. She watched him turn to her and squint his eyes.

 

"Darc? Babe? What's wrong?" His voice raspy and harsh, even at this size. 

 

"I had a nightmare."

 

"Oh." 

 

A sigh. Perhaps frustration. Maybe relief. 

 

All of a sudden she felt foolish- to wake him up with that kind of thing, a grown woman no less. And here she was, back in her mid twenties coming  to pine at her boyfriend like some kid. Darcy was a rational creature, neither had any doubt about that, and she could easily discern from dream and reality. But she had thought it real- at the time. The amygdala wreaking havoc in her brain had thought it real, and the muscles and pumping palpitation had all be informed by that perceived realness.

 

The truth of it notwithstanding, she couldn't shake it. It stuck with her, and made her shiver. 

 

"Hey babe."

 

She looked over and saw him sitting up in bed, shed of the blankets he wrapped himself in. No shirt and messy blonde hair (in need of a trim, he had told her). He was looking at her intently, hands on his legs and eyebrow half-cocked in that little way that he did. She felt small under that gaze, despite their size relation. 

 

"What was your dream? Nightmare?"

 

She debated making something up. Saying she was being chased or falling or something. Telling the truth might've been okay in the short but not so great in the long run. Would it affect the way he saw her? Not so much a girlfriend but as a hazard? The most vivid and disturbing aspect was that it was entirely plausible. Had she not woken up it would have passed as real.

 

He called her name out again, and she hesitated, but in the end didn't decide but rather committed to tell him the naked truth. 

 

"We were having dinner. Or breakfast. I made you chicken and waffles, like a couple nights ago. Remember?"

 

A half-grin and nod. Details.

 

"You'd asked me to get some more syrup, and so I got up, and..." She swallowed. "And my hand flew into you, and I knocked you off the table."

 

"Hm." He nodded, still watching her. Sleep had partly left him and he was more cognizant, it seemed. What his reaction to the dream was lost on her. She waited a second for any sort of emotion but none came. Naught but that intentful and patient gaze.

 

"It was an accident of course. I wouldn't ever do that to you," she laughed, trying to ease her own mind. "But," she continued, "that wasn't the worst part."

 

A nod.

 

"What was?"

 

Darcy let a heavy sigh out, tears reforming in her eyes as she thought and dread to say it. She didn't want to at all, no, but she had to. She had to let him know. 

 

"I ran over to look for you, behind the chair. I had hoped you'd fallen on the cushion, but you didn't. You..." She shuddered, that pre-cry sob that came before the release. She looked at him with her browns and her lips quivered. "You were on the ground, and your back was broken. You were screaming. And you... You wouldn't stop. You just kept on and on."

 

The dam burst and she let her head fall into her hands, her sobs coming in painful lurches. The kind of crying that came from a really bad breakup or terrible news. She brought her knees up to her chest through the blanket, resting her hands and head there.

 

"I know it was just a dream, I know. But it just... It just seemed so-"

 

"-seemed so real," he finished with her. "Yeah, I know. I know the feeling." 

 

Andrew nodded at her and watched the fear etched on her face. He felt like it might've been more than a nightmare. Maybe indicative of something deeper. He got up and grabbed the felt blanket she had made him, heading towards the edge. Darcy, peeking out from her crying position, watched with surprise and not a small bit of fear as he leapt from wooden precipice and onto her mattress.

 

"Oh," she breathed out, her head rising slightly. He'd never done that before. She sniffled and wiped her nose, about to shift herself to accommodate him and check if he was alright, but... She stopped. Clear as day, she watched him rise up and continue walking towards her, her felt gift still wrapped around him. 

 

"Pick me up please?"

 

Darcy wiped her nose and relaxed down, her hand delicately wrapping about the little guy gently. She pulled him up to her chest level and watched him squeeze himself up to free his arms. 

 

"Closer, please. Your face."

 

She brought him face level, her wet brown eyes regarding him thoughtfully. He shook his head and smiled sadly. 

 

"No, Darc. Closer. Your nose."

 

Darcy complied, bringing him up to her noble and shapely nose. Her brown, and wet, and now perplexed eyes crossed to see him, her heat flush off her brow and face. She felt the air coming through her nose pass by him and made his hair move with the current. 

 

She saw him reach up, his hand extending and him straining to touch, and cup the wetness below her eye. She felt his hand pass by and on her skin, skimming across and grabbing the tears still under, wiping them off and flipping them away. He did this with one eye, causing her to wonder, and then he did it with the other eye, making her smile wide and in gratitude. 

 

Once finished and wiped of tears, Andrew then took Darcy by the nose, each hand placing itself on the two and opposite alas. 

 

He looked her dead in right eye, her dominant, as he understood.

 

"Darcy. I'm okay." His voice came forth commanding and... Well, if Darcy was being honest with herself, manly. His words resounded in her and tugged at her heart. The big words that came out of his tiny body made her breath stop, the same way it did when her father tried to use his influence to relay something very important to her. 

 

"Darcy, I am alright. I'm safe. I'm here."

 

He swallowed and blinked. He was struggling with this next part, she thought, trying to find the right words. 

 

"I know why the nightmare upset you. It makes sense. I get it, I really do. You don't want to see me hurt. But please understand,"

 

Her face grew flush, her nose clogged and she felt more hot tears welling under the surface at the lacrimal glands.

 

"You're not a danger to me. You're not."

 

A sob erupted from Darcy's throat, and the waterworks began again, streaking down her cheeks. He watched her for a moment, wishing he wasn't diminished. He couldn't stand it sometimes, being small, and this was one of those times. Lack of physical intimacy notwithstanding, he spoke out again.

 

"I know it scares you- I've noticed you've become more careful in your movements, more deliberate. I reckon you will now more so, after that dream. Darcy, I've never felt in danger with you. I never have. I'm not scared of you, Darcy, and I don't think I ever will be."

 

He leaned over and planted a kiss on the very tip of her nose. He felt the skin heat up, smooth with a light coating of oil and sweat. The sour tang of makeup remover. Her lower lip quivered, and she laughed, despite herself, and happier tears came squeezing out of squinted eyes. She nodded her head rapidly, her thin lipped smile threatening to overtake her entire face.

 

The sense of relief came rushing into her, reinforced by the subtle movement of the little man in her hands. She cupped her digits round him and leaned in, planting a wet and eager kiss on his face. He laughed and brushed parting hand on her chin, his fingers scraping her softly.

 

He cocked his head and yawned, but then regarded her thoughtfully when he found her staring at him.

 

"Wanna cuddle for a bit?" Asked he.

 

"Yes."

 

"Until you fall asleep?"

 

"Uh huh."

 

Her fingers wrapped him around, bringing him over to her heart while she shifted away from the penetrative glow of the lamp and lay down lengthwise on the bed. As she released him and he got comfortable, she reached behind to grab her phone, deft fingers unlocking the slide and pulling up Netflix.

 

"Hey, Andrew."

 

He looked up from his perched bedding, her unbra-ed breast, and up into her brown eyes. 

 

"Yes?" The answer came from his blue eyes, his beating heart. His cautious and quaint concern.

 

She sighed, letting the corner of her mouth peek up into a half-smile. 

 

"Thanks."