Jennifer got up from the sofa, giving me the feeling of rising in an elevator.

“OKAY YOU,” she said, tousling my hair with a pinky nail. “SHOWER TIME.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO TAKE JERRY INTO THE SHOWER?” Stuart raised his eyebrows.

Jennifer pivoted around to face him, cradling me in one palm. “YOU DON’T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT, STUART, DO YOU? LOOK AT HIM; HE’S TOO WEAK TO WASH HIMSELF.”

Stuart nodded and looked away. “THAT’S FAIR ENOUGH,” Then, gesturing vaguely, said: “I JUST WONDERED IF IT MADE JERRY UNCOMFORTABLE…”

Her smooth laugh interrupted him. “WHY WOULD IT? JERRY AND I ARE JUST REALLY GOOD FRIENDS.”

Stuart didn’t advance a better argument – to my frustration – so, without another look back, Jennifer strode down the hallway, carrying me in one hand.

Entering the bathroom and shutting the door behind her, she placed me down on the sink counter for a moment while she started running the shower. As the sound of the gushing water filled the room, I walked up to the mirrored wall behind the sink, peering at myself.

I had light stubble growing back from my previous shave, and I wasn’t looking forward to getting another any time soon. At my size, shaving tools were too clumsy and dangerous, and at first I had let my hair grow out. But then Jennifer noticed and began to fuss; she didn’t want me looking like some kind of tiny Tarzan, so she devised a strategy to shave me. The first time she doped me up on painkillers (crushing them up in my food, unbeknownst to me) and then carefully placed waxed strips over my beard and ripped them off. Even through the painkillers I was howling enough to cause Stuart to come out and look. After he had been satisfied I wasn’t in danger and left, Jennifer threatened to wax my whole body if I made any more ‘melodramatic’ noises.

Luckily, she permitted the stubble to grow out some before looking to make repeat attempts.

Cutting my hair was a more straightforward matter; she used a pair of clippers, which was far less uncomfortable than being waxed, although the vibration of the clipper guard caused my eyeballs to bounce around inside my head.

Reflected behind me in the mirror, Jennifer was stripping off her clothes. Naturally, she did this without a hint of inhibition, as if she was completely alone in the bathroom. My feet shifted awkwardly over the cold cultured marble I was standing on. She was right there on one side, and duplicated in the mirror on the other side – there was nowhere for me to turn without seeing her somehow.

But I stared for another reason: she looked different somehow, better – if that was possible. Watching her skin tighten and her muscles flex as she pulled off each article of clothing, it struck me that she must have been working out lately. It seemed to me to be a good sign: she was in a good frame of mind, she was taking care of herself, and trying to look good for Stuart (though she didn’t need to try hard, in my opinion). It was like a kind of test I set for myself: if I could look at her naked and endure showering with her, without flinching, I could prove to myself, her and everyone that I was over her.

Once she was nude, she came up to the sink, and the bare surface of her abdomen moved up in front of me like a wall, with her full breasts dangling prominently just over my head. She stared down at my still clothed form with exasperation.

“COME ON! WATER’S RUNNING!”

Pushing down my discomfort, I began to take off my clothes. The instant my underwear was at my ankles, her hand thrust forward and nabbed me. I was jerked through the air as she spun around and entered the shower cubicle.

The hot water pattered down like hailstone sized water droplets. And it was really hot – just the way Jennifer liked her showers. I, on the other hand liked mine cool.

“Aaaagghh!” I screamed, trying to bury my head against her hand.

“CALM DOWN,” she said as she fiddled around to moderate the temperature.

"What are you trying to do? Wash me or cook me?"

“IT’S ONLY WATER. IT’S NOT GOING TO KILL YOU.”

I knew I was over-reacting, but she didn’t understand the hazard of everyday situations was magnified when you were tiny, not to mention, powerlessly trapped in someone’s fist. It was better to over-stress than under-react and die. No wonder small animals were so wired up and respirated so fast.

While Jennifer worked the water, I found myself ensconced in her grip, suspended upside down against her outer thigh while her other hand twisted the valves. She had now positioned herself under the water, blocking me from it, although I still felt the misty spray that bounced off her body against me.

As the blood ran into my head it gave me a little more clarity of mind.

Wow, I thought to myself. What happened to you, Jerry? You used to be cool. Back when we were dating, Jennifer could have beat her fists against my chest and I wouldn’t even blink. Now I was shrieking my head off over a bit of hot water. This horrible affliction of size was turning me into a different person.

With the temperature fixed, Jennifer placed me up on the soap dish while she let the water run through her hair.

Now I was suffering from the opposite problem: while Jennifer luxuriated under the direct warm water, everywhere else it was cold. Getting the burst of hot water initially was worse than nothing at all; it made the dry air seem chill by comparison. I began to shiver, but didn’t say anything. This whole situation was demeaning enough; I needed to salvage the scraps of my manhood by acting and looking like a grown-up.

She had her back turned away from me while she put some shampoo into her hand, before turning and bowing her head out from the spray in order to rub the shampoo into her hair, while the water cascaded down her back.

She lowered her hands a moment and stood with her eyes closed.

“DID I MISS A SPOT?” she said, referring to the shampoo in her hair. I crawled to the edge of the soap dish and stared out at the frothy ropey coil of her hair, trailing down onto one of her breasts, sending rivulets of soapy water down her stomach into her shaved mound. For whatever reason, water running over a naked female body was a particular trigger for me. It was my thang. Or, one of them. And at my current size, this weakness of mine hit fever pitch levels, as the wet female body resembled a monumental fountain art installation.

I was almost about to mutter something like ‘Oh, I wasn’t looking,’ when I stopped.

Dumb, I scolded myself. She knows you’re looking. You know you’re looking. Who are you kidding? You need to look at her and not flinch away, remember?

Still with her eyes closed, she turned a little in my direction, pointing her breasts like at me like the front ends of two blimps.

“JERRY?”

One of her hands snaked out blindly over the soap dish, groping for me, and her finger accidentally poked me roughly in the face.

“Ow!” I gasped, pressing my palms over my nose and eyes. It felt like I’d been head-butted by a horse.

She pulled her hand back.

“SORRY, BUT WHAT GIVES? I ASKED YOU A QUESTION. DON’T MAKE ME WONDER IF YOU’VE DROWNED.”

“Your hair’s fine,” I said, after my nose had stopped throbbing.

She moved back under the showerhead to wash the shampoo out, which began to stream down her body like a foaming waterfall.

Once it had all washed out of her hair, she went to grab the bar of soap, which was with me on the soap dish.

Her hand was suddenly flying towards me. I quickly hopped up and pressed myself against the back of the dish as her fingers swept over the bar of soap and flexed for grip. However, her fingers slicked off the side of the soap in my direction, briefly crushing me against the cubicle wall I was backed against. I let out a small wheeze of air.

Lifting the soap, she eyed me for a second.

“THERE’S NO A LOT OF SPACE FOR YOU UP THERE,” she observed, not realizing the firm impact her fingers had applied to my groaning chest. “MAYBE I SHOULD PUT YOU ON THE GROUND.”

“What? That’s even more dangerous!”

“NO, LISTEN; IF YOU FELL DOWN FROM THERE, YOU COULD GET REALLY HURT.”

That settled the matter in her view, and, even as I began to protest, she passed up against the soap dish to collect me. Then she paused, noticing me shivering and her eyes softened.

“AWWW, BABY,” she said, giving a small whine, “I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE COLD. WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SOMETHING?”

My heart plunged into the pit of my stomach. She hadn’t called me ‘baby’ since we’d been together. She really needed to get a grip on these careless slips of the tongue, otherwise it would get really confusing, really quickly.

Her hand rose up over the edge of the soap dish from below, like some great white shark jumping up onto a boat – and like a shark, keen to ensnare me in its grip. Because her hand was wet and slippery, she curled her fingers around me extra tightly, making it difficult for me to get air in. My insides swooped as I found myself dropping rapidly through the air as Jennifer crouched down and placed me on the polished white base of the shower. She had her feet brought together; leaving a small gap in between, into which she carefully slotted me.

The soles of my feet were planted on the smooth acrylic floor, with most of my body walled in on either side by the inside edges of her arches, which reached up to my mid torso, leaving my head and neck free.

I made the mistake of looking up to find her face and got an immediate view of her darkened labia and the crevice running between them. Her mound was practically hanging directly over my head. I whipped my head down again, but now I could hear the water gushing in a thick stream down the curve of her rump.

As she stood up straight again, her legs stiffened, and her arches tightened considerably around my middle, flexing in against my body like I was toothpaste she was trying to squeeze me out of the tube. For a couple of seconds I couldn’t breathe, my blood vessels were throbbing in my neck and around my temples, my muscles were painfully conforming to the curves of her feet –

Then she regained full height, her foot muscles relaxed around me again. In relief, I shut my eyes and lifted my face up to take in a deep breath of air.  Thick drops of soapy water splattered between my lips and raced down my throat. My pharynx recoiled at the floral alkaline taste, and I began to spit and gag.

Cracking my eyes open and staring up, I was met with a startling view straight up the front of her body, framed by the two swollen bumps of her breasts hanging way above, jiggling faintly as she lathered the soap over herself. She was currently in the process of rubbing the bar of soap back and forth and around her armpit – the runoff of which had just spilled down my throat. As I gazed up at her, more of this suddy spill-off spattered into my eyes.

I yanked my face down and shook my head like a dog as my eyes began to prickle and sting – I couldn’t wipe my eyes because my arms were pressed against my sides by her firm arches.

Jennifer must have felt me moving around between her feet, because she then said, in an offhand way:

“YOU OKAY DOWN THERE?”

“I’d be better if you put me back on the soap dish,” I said, trying to forget the fact that the spout of water now drumming onto the crown of my head was raining directly down from her pussy, while huge drops of water pounded around me like a rainstorm.

“NOT HAPPENING. YOU’RE STAYING RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE, MISTER.”

As if to emphasize this, her feet squished me a little between them, and I felt my chest cave in worryingly for a second.

She continued to soap her body. At one point my impatience got the better of me, and I looked up to see her cradling one giant breast in her palm while she massaged the soap all over it. The steady, indulgent way she stroked it, it was almost like her breast was a pet cat. The surprise shuddered through my chest and lingered in my dick, which began to pulse.

I couldn’t forget the scene even if I tried; as she lifted and positioned her breast under the shower spray, the water collected into a thick spout which streamed off her nipple and hit the top of my head with the force of a sharp poke, like someone rudely trying to get my attention.

For an extended few minutes she leisurely worked over herself with the soap. She normally would not have taken so long in the shower except that we were going out. It didn’t take long before I was able to intuit a pattern of knowing when to breathe and when to close my eyes hold my air in as the soapy water thickly ran over my face. All the while, the muscles of her feet tensed and shifted against me as she subtly adjusted her balance, smoothly transferring her weight from one foot to the other. Her powerful arches rocked against my arms, gently squeezing my ribcage in and out.

Trying to endure these sensations without reaction, I concentrated on the shower glass fogging up, and then the trails of water cutting through the fog.

Above, there was the clap of the soap bar being placed back in the dish. An instant later, the arches hemming me in began to stiffen and dig into me on either side. She was crouching down, the muscles in her feet tensing mercilessly as a result. The pressure began to build up against me like two walls closing in.

As my puny body contracted inward, my muscles bending and aching, my heartbeat seemed to jump up out of my chest and pound inside my head.

Get off get off get off I found myself repeating in a desperate mantra. My face must have been going red, veins twitching against my scalp, and as I gritted my teeth a sound escaped my throat – grrrrnnnngggg – as if I was trying to lay an egg.  

The huge tips of a pointer and middle finger pressed against my collarbone while a thumb braced itself between my shoulderblades. Keeping my chest firmly between them, they lifted, but misjudging how firmly in place I was, accidentally slid off me, causing her pointer finger to strike me upside the jaw, snapping my head back.

Her toes curled as she winced, not realizing this flexion in her feet placed extra stress on my already overburdened frame.

“THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN,” she said under her breath. From her point of view, it must have looked like she’d only bumped my head with her finger. She didn’t appear to realize that from my perspective, it was like being smacked by an undercut punch. Stars were wheeling around my eyes. Another one of those suckers and my jaw was going to end up in two separate pieces.

And this was in addition to the incredible discomfort of being squeezed between her feet. Finally the pressure relaxed as she spread her feet apart.

A sharp tingling sensation ran over my whole body before my legs quivered and gave out. The white shower basin wavered and raced at my face, but just as I was going to smack into it, a big soft hand pulled around my body and launched me up into the air.  

My head felt heavy on my neck, and I held it limply as the blood started to circulate my body again. My stomach was twitching like I was going to be sick, and it didn’t help that it was full of soapy water.

Jennifer’s enormous dripping face scrutinized me.

“WOW, YOU WERE PACKED IN THERE LIKE A SARDINE,” she said with an oblivious calmness. “I DIDN’T HURT YOU DID I?”

She got her answer as I grimaced with another wave of sickness that coursed through me like a rollercoaster. A surge of warm air fanned over me, and when I opened my eyes again, I found myself tilted up at her jaw, my face lined up with her lips.

“LET ME KISS YOU BETTER,” she murmured. The firm pressure of a fingertip supported the back of my head as she bowed her face and at the same time lifted me so her lips and my face met in the middle. I recoiled, but with her fingers wrapped around my back, I couldn’t avoid it. There was an almost imperceptible moist smooching sound against my ears as my face disappeared entirely from sight under the puckered mass of her lips.

The top of my head bumped the septum of her nose and my hair must have tickled her because she chuckled and I was whipped down from her face again. This happened so reflexively that the air around my face seemed to blur before something whapped me right in the mouth. It was soft and rubbery, and didn’t hurt, but made me flinch nonetheless.

My pulse was galloping as I stared up at the path my head has just taken, from her mouth to her abdomen, which I was now held against, and was faced with the unavoidable conclusion that my face had just struck her nipple. Since it was positioned out of the water, the cold air had made it harden up into a point. It was that point that my head had unintentionally been flicked against when she whipped me away from her nose. It was unclear whether she felt it or not (and how could she not have?), but she stared at me for an extended moment to the point of making me uncomfortable.

I wondered if she was going to rib me about making the acquaintance of one of her ‘twins.’ But she said nothing, and that somehow made it more awkward. Then the moment passed.

“THERE, ALL BETTER,” she said, after she’d rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “NOW I NEED YOU TO CHECK MY BACK.”

“What?” I said, confused.

Holding me in one hand, she moved me around behind her mid back.

“I CAN’T SEE BACK THERE AND IT’S DIFFICULT TO REACH.”

She relaxed her arm slightly, causing me to be lowered, giving me a scrolling view of her back, and the long shining black rope of her wet hair, until I was level with her lower back, where the black became an ombré blending into her natural pale hair color at the tapered tip. She kept her back mostly out of the shower stream, but a thin trail of water ran down her back and over the smooth globes of her backside. I’d never been this close to her butt before at this size – least of all, when it was bare.

Her voice snapped me back to reality.

“JERRY! TELL ME: DO YOU NOTICE ANYTHING?”

“What am I supposed to be noticing?” I said. My voice came out shaky and hoarse. I quickly cleared my throat.

“WHETHER I MISSED WASHING THE SOAP OFF ANY PARTS OF MY BACK.”

“It looks fine.”

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN LOOKING PROPERLY, ARE YOU?”

Her arm relaxed once more until I was sliding down against the curvaceous mounds of her butt, right down the middle. First I felt my feet sliding against the slippery smooth flesh, and I kept them spread apart so neither accidentally got wedged in her crack. Then my legs and knees were grazing the padded surfaces of her butt cheeks, and then she let me drift down a little more, and my heart thumped ahead double time as I realized what was about to happen a moment before it did.

By this point, my dick had completely decoupled from my mind. At the stimulation, a hair’s breadth away from her butt crack, it was unbearably hard, straining against itself like a dog pulling against a leash. Her arm relaxed a little more, and –

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…!

In one fluid motion, my ramrod stiff dick slipped neatly between the soap lubricated butt cheeks, and into the narrow shadowy valley of her crack. My throat was dry in an instant.

After swallowing my member whole, her rear acted as a powerful seal around my shaft, which was now throbbing out of control.

Possibly sensing the intrusion, she rocked on the balls of her feet, shifting her weight back and forth, which caused her butt cheeks to smoothly grip and work my member like a fist. I let out a sharp breath. A storm of different feelings raced through me: lust, alarm, confusion, frustration. One part of my brain was demanding that I pull myself out as quickly as possible, another part sorely wanted her to keep squeezing me. As both parts struggled for dominance, my brain shut down until all that remained were just unconscious motor actions: weak struggling, thrusting myself into her, groaning.

There was no way she couldn’t feel me pushing into her, but the implication of that was too much for me to bear: that I didn’t know her as well I thought; that she wanted to cheat on Stuart with me; that she thought of me as nothing more than a toy. But her cheeks had my penis cinched so firmly, squeezing and stretching it rhythmically, and the feeling pulsating through me was pure heaven, the rest of the room sailed miles away into a fuzzy silence broken only by the thumping in my ears. As the sensations intensified, I was moving fast towards completion, fulfillment, and the promise of a bliss I hadn’t enjoyed in what seemed like a very long time –

“WHAT’S IT LIKE BACK THERE?” she said calmly. “NOTICING ANYTHING?”

I didn’t reply, except for a long, whining moan.

Her body seemed to tense and then her arm began to move me away from her butt; the firm cheeks gave my overstimulated member a good long stretch as it was pulled out. I gasped as cool air hit the front of my body.  

She maneuvered me in her hands until I was in front of her again. Her fingers curled around my back, and as her thumb went to press against my front, it accidentally brushed past my hardened penis. I let out a small noise before I could help it.

“OH.” She muttered as her eyes fell on my manhood. Then she smiled wryly. “I CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU FOR ONE SECOND, CAN I?”

I just shook my head, unable to meet her eyes. My cheeks burned with shame. I’d failed the challenge I set for myself spectacularly. Did she plan on using this against me? What if she told Stuart? Would he be angry at me? Half-baked thoughts whizzed through my head in a panicked flurry.

“WHAT’S THIS, HUH?” She said coolly, playfully wiggling her finger against my thumping, frustrated erection.

“Not funny,” I said tersely.

“I WASN’T TRYING TO BE.”

“I mean it! You’re fucking around with me!” I suddenly exploded. My head throbbed with anger, maybe from being denied release, or maybe from being put in that position in the first place. “Stop it! Just stop it!” As I said this, I was surprised to find my beats beating helplessly against her fingers.

If we couldn’t be together I’d have rathered her to treat me dispassionately than this game-playing, which was like a form of torture. She obviously couldn’t see that I carried these lingering feelings for her, and her joking around was making things unbearably worse. If this kept up, I didn’t see how I could continue to live with her anymore, otherwise I would be driven crazy. But there was no way of escaping, either. It was maddening; I felt like an animal who lived in a tree that was about to be cut down.

She regarded me for a moment, her face blank. Her previously soft grasp around me had started to turn stiff.

“I STILL NEED TO WASH YOU.”

“No!” I shook my head emphatically. “I’m done! You basically pissed soap on me the whole time you were washing yourself.”

Her eyes seemed to recede behind a mask.

“OKAY.”

She promptly turned the water off and lightly stepped out of the shower. Putting me, naked and dripping, on the sink counter, she pulled out the hairdryer and switched it on.

The sound roared through my skull like a freight train. I hunched up, drawing my legs against my chest, and said nothing.

For a little while she stood in front of the mirror naked as she dried her hair, not looking at me. Afterwards, she wrapped a towel around her torso and padded back out into the living room, putting me down in my regular place, next to my sponge bed on the table. Then, without a word, she went back down the hall and I heard her bedroom door shut.

She’d forgotten to give me a towel, so I picked up the hand towel on my sponge bed, and used it to dry myself. Then I started to try on the toy tuxedo, which surprisingly fit, more or less. The suit even came with a little pair of shiny black derby shoes, though these were made of rubber, like Crocs.

Within a moment Stuart came in, now dressed in a blue suit and black tie.

“HEY,” he said as soon as he noticed me, even giving me the air guns. “SNAPPY.”

Jennifer took a little while longer. I heard her move from her bedroom back into the bathroom to put on make-up.

Stuart took a seat on the sofa and flipped on the TV. I watched it disinterestedly. Stuart watched the clock.

Shortly, heels resounded down the hallway and Jennifer emerged at the other end, now dressed in her formal wear, and her face made up.

Stuart stared at her.

I stared at her.

She looked good without effort. And now she had put in effort.

She was wearing a midnight cocktail dress with a skirt resting above the knee. It had a mermaid shape, hugging and accentuating an hourglass figure as she walked, defining her round hips, and ending with a pleated skirt. The bust of her dress squeezed her breasts and made them jump out at the eyes. A pair of black slingbacks were on her feet, exposing her heels and newly polished toes, my recent craftsmanship on full display. Her hair was piled back over her head and though it was normally straight she’d even managed to give it a stylishly windblown look.

At my size, she looked like a model who’d walked off a building sized billboard. Any corporate advertiser should have been racing to stick their product in her manicured hands.

“WOW,” said Stuart, jumping to his feet and striding up to her. “YOU LOOK GREAT, HONEY.”

“OH, COME ON,” she said, impatiently. “YOU’D SAY THAT IF I WAS WEARING SWEATPANTS AND HAD NO BRA ON.”

“I MEAN IT.”

She stood in front of him, fixing his tie.

I couldn’t help but feel Stuart’s appraisal didn’t do her any justice. She wasn’t ‘wow’ she was hotter than Venus – both the planet and the Roman Goddess. I hadn’t felt such heated desire for her since the early days of our dating when I wanted to jump her all hours of the day, and it brought me right back with a jolt, like I really had gone back in Remy’s machine. At least, mentally. Those days had long run away – why hadn’t I held them tighter?

Slipping past Stuart, Jennifer marched up to the table and stood over me, making sure my outfit was in order.

Before I could react she deposited a drop of saliva on the end of her finger and and, to my chagrin, began using it to smooth my hair.

“YOU LOOK JUST LIKE JAMES BOND,” she purred.

“Sure,” I said, thinking of my size. “But I feel sillier than Austin Powers.”

"YOU MUST FEEL PRETTY LUCKY, JEN," Stuart said lightly, "HAVING TWO INCREDIBLY HANDSOME MEN TO TAKE YOU OUT."

Her lips pursed in a veiled smile as she looked away. “I’D FEEL EVEN LUCKIER IF – ” her eyes drifted past the clock, “—OH, NEVER MIND, WE’VE GOT TO GO NOW OR WE’LL BE LATE.”

She took me up in her hand as she swept past the table, and we shortly left the house.