With Paul stashed in her booty shorts, Brooke pulled her T-shirt on to cover her chest. "Come in," she said.

The door creaked open. Andy, all 3 feet, 2 inches of him, stepped into the bedroom. "Hey, sweetie. Did I wake you?"

"No, Daddy. I can't sleep," she said plaintively. Daddy's precious, little girl. No hijinx going on here.

"I'm sorry." He shut the door, walked over, and sat next to her on the bed, legs dangling over the side. She turned herself around to face him while remaining reclined on her side, mindful that any sudden movements could crush her little quarry.

Her tight shorts weren't tight enough to hold Paul in place on her curvaceous hip. As soon as she moved, he fell off her hip and slid across her tight butt cheek down into the crack between her legs. The sweet, musty scent of her arousal dominated his olfactory senses. The only thing between him and her holy of holies was a triangle of red, patterned lace. Strange sleeping attire, he thought, unless she wore it for him.

Andy winced and reached under his thigh, pulling out the pink, plastic-wrapped tampon. He shrugged and tossed it on the nightstand. Brooke looked down and saw Paul's doll-sized pants on the bedspread. She covered them with her hand and shuffled them under the sheets.

"Crazy day, huh?" Andy said, unaware his friend was in the room with them, let alone stuffed down his daughter's shorts next to her nether regions.

"Yep." The shorter she kept her answers, the sooner he would leave, and the sooner she could resume playing with Paul.

"What do you think, of me and Kim making it official?"

"It's great. It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I asked how YOU felt about it."

Brooke blushed. Andy didn't solicit her opinion on matters often. She forgot about Paul and poured out her emotions. "I'm happy for you, because I know how happy Kim makes you. At the same time, it doesn't feel fair."

He touched her knee. "What do you mean it's not fair?"

"I mean, you're getting back a wife, but I'm not getting back my mom. It's like you've forgotten about her." She sniffled.

"I haven't forgotten, Brooke. Your mother is part of who I am. She's part of who you are. She'll always be my first love. Kim will be my wife, but she can't be who Alecia was. And I don't expect that from her. That wouldn't be fair to her, would it?"

She lowered her face to wipe tears out of her eyes. "I guess not. I thought, with you and Kim, not having Mom would stop hurting."

"It'll hurt less, over time." He put his arm around her. He couldn't reach all the way across her back, but it was the thought that counted. She squeezed him against her large shoulder, and they held each other for a minute.

Balancing on Brooke's left butt cheek, Paul was touched. Andy had a deep relationship with his daughter. He wondered if he could ever be in a relationship as selfless as the one he was witnessing. It wasn't too late for him to settle down and start a family. He was only 36. Up to now, though, girls were too much fun to take seriously. Maybe after I'm done shrinking and things get back to normal, I'll turn over a new leaf, he thought. But not until then. He had unfinished business, starting with Brooke.

"Nervous about tomorrow?" Andy asked.

"A little," she said with a shrug.

"College is a big adjustment. It was for me, when I was your age. You have more freedom than you've ever had before. You'll have to manage yourself."

"I know."

"And you know you can call or text me anytime, day or night."

They held each other for a little longer. Andy slid off the edge of the bed to the floor. "Good night, sweetie."

He was just about to close the door when Brooke called out, "Daddy?"

He stuck his head back in. "Yes?"

"Why didn't you tell me you and Mr. Briggs got into a fight?"

She knows? Paul thought, a sinking feeling in his stomach. She's known this whole time?!

"What do you mean?" Andy said.

"You tried to stop Mr. Briggs's and Kim's date, and he beat you up, when you were just 2 feet tall."

Andy stepped back through the door, his forehead crinkling in concern. "How do you know about that? Did Paul tell you?"

"No, it was Kim."

"That bitch!" Paul hissed, seething with anger.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" Brooke said innocently.

"I heard something."

"Oh. That was me. I tooted." She forced out a wet, high-pitched fart. "Excuse me."

Paul's eyes and nostrils burned, and he gagged on the smell of rancid eggs. Girls' farts were the worst. Who knew such pretty creatures could give off such offensive odors?

Andy shook his head. Kim, what were you thinking? he thought. "It was a misunderstanding between me and Paul. He apologized, and I forgave him. There's nothing more to it than that."

"Oh, okay."

"I was never in any real danger. We were arguing and he just got careless."

"Mm-hmm." She clenched her butt cheeks, trapping Paul in her creamy flesh, punishing him with her noxious fumes. She felt him struggling mere millimeters from her watering pussy.

Andy looked at her warily. "This is ancient history as far as I'm concerned, sweetie. Don't let this upset you, and please don't bring it up with Mr. Briggs. As a favor to me. Okay?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Get some sleep." He finally left the bedroom. As soon as he was gone, she spread her legs and shook Paul out of the leg hole of her shorts. He slid down his back through a tunnel of bright red nylon, and the pillar of her leg rushed past him before he bounced on the bed next to her knee.

He rolled onto his back and looked up at the saucy teen. She had a scary, determined look in her eye.

"You k-k-knew?" he said, voice trembling.

"Of course. Kim and I tell each other everything." Kimberly actually didn't tell her the whole story until tonight, when they were looking for Andy's voice amplifier. She hoped it would dissuade her from having a liaison with Paul. Brooke was only encouraged, as Paul's secret was just the kind of ammunition she needed to execute her plan.

He crawled backwards, cognizant of what she had told him she would do to a man if he hurt one of her friends or loved ones. Her later references to hitting him in the balls now made sense. This whole night, he thought, from the very beginning, was one long set-up, intended to lure him, entrap him, and unman him.

"I did s-something bad. I've p-paid for it and apologized. Don't make me pay f-f-for it again," he pleaded.

She placed her hands far apart on either side of him. A strand of dirty blond hair fell over her face. "Mr. Paul, what am I going to do with you?" she said, voice soft and menacing.

He stopped crawling. Any attempt to run for it was futile. His best course of action was to beg. He stood up on his knees and held his clenched hands above his head. "P-please don't be m-mad, Brooke."

"I'm not mad, Mr. Paul. Just very, very disappointed."

She moved quickly for a giant, knocking him on his back and spreading his legs with her pointer and middle fingers. She flipped his limp penis onto his pelvis and placed a sharp fingernail, as long as a butcher knife, over the shriveled neck of his scrotum.

"Do you know how lucky you are that I wasn't there when you tried to kill my dad?" She tucked her nail under his shirt and shredded it with a flick of her finger. Her face was too close for comfort, her fierce glare penetrating his soul.

"P-please, Brooke." He was in a cold sweat. He felt like he was on a dissection table.

"Kim let you off easy. Just two kicks to the balls?" She tsked. "Kim's always been a bit of an underachiever."

"Not really. She does have bigger breasts than you," he gibed, trying to lighten the mood and gain back some hand.

"Quiet," she commanded. So far she'd let him think he had control. Not anymore. She lifted her glossy nail over the length of his shaft. Despite himself, he became hard.

"Oh, God," he moaned.

"Yes, little one?" His fear turned her on. In the Bible, to fear God is to love God, and that's the love she felt from Paul, which gave her such a high.

"D-don't do this."

"Don't do what? Kick you in the balls? Don't worry, I won't. My legs aren't skinny enough, like you said. My fingers, though…" She straightened her knuckle, flicking her long pointer finger at his groin, stopping just short of his testicles.

"Anyth-thing but that," he whimpered.

"Anything?" she echoed. "Are you sure about that, Mr. Paul? There are worse things than losing your balls. I could flush you down the toilet. I could bite your head in two. I could feed you to the neighbor's cat. He's always lurking around in the front yard. I could smother you in my gigantic boobs. Have you already forgotten how your little body got stuck between them?"

She swung her dainty finger, more than his match, over his crotch, threatening him with the emasculation she had promised. This she alternated with edging him with her smooth nail, immersing Paul into a paroxysm of visceral emotions so debilitating, it effectively froze every muscle in his body.

"P-p-please, Brooke. I s-said I was sorry." He was 10 years old again, apologizing to his domineering father for leaving his bike in the driveway behind the family car.

"Do you know how my dad got the hitch in his step?" she continued, mercilessly. "Kim lost him in her blouse and her boobs crushed his leg. Imagine that: boobs that can break your leg. That's how big us little girls are compared to you."

Why isn't he trying to run away? she thought. Could it be he actually enjoys being tormented like this?

"Does that excite you, my little breast man? Does getting close to a pair of jugs that can literally crush you make you hot?"

She removed her shirt and stretched across the bed, sliding her breasts like two dragracing battle tanks on either side of Paul's small body. Her waspish frame popped off the bed and she violently pressed her hefty globes from the sides, resulting in a resounding plop that only he could hear. The displaced air from her collapsing cleavage ruffled his hair. He pictured his frail body disappearing in her bosom, being mashed to a bloody pulp by her abundance. He felt a perverted attraction to meeting his end this way.

Mother of God! Her shapely hips, her narrow waist contrasted with her voluptuous rack, all at such fantastic proportions! No hyperbole would do her justice. She looked even more marvelous topless than she did just a few minutes ago. That's because she was. He was still shrinking, which meant she was still growing. Tomorrow, if he didn't stop shrinking, he'd be one-eighth the man he was now. And the next day, if he didn't stop shrinking, he'd be literally nothing. Gone.

He had arrived at what medical experts called the "asymptote," the point at which the rate of shrinking almost equals the amount of size left in a man. It was well-documented in the rarest of cases, when men shrank to half an inch tall or less. The asymptote was a physical as well as a psychological phenomenon, and affected men by varying degrees depending on their mental preparedness and their final size. Basically, the body's rapid dimunition outruns the mind's ability to perceive three-dimensional space.

"I g-guess it comes with the t-t-territory," he stuttered.

"What does?"

"The bigger, the better, right? But the bigger, the more dangerous, too. You can't have one without the other." What am I saying? he thought.

She nodded judiciously. "That's a very sensible way of looking at it."

"You gotta weigh the pros against the cons." He laughed manically.

She flipped over on her butt and swiveled around, bringing her enclosed legs down around him like a cage. She started pleasuring him rhythmically with her nail. He was at full mast in seconds. "Would you like me to make you come, Mr. Paul?"

"Uh-huh," he said. No need to elaborate.

"What'll you do for me if I do?"

"What c-can I do?" he said, his shortness of patience giving rise to the admission of the hard truth. There was nothing he could do for her. He was the size of a bug, helpless, a nuisance at best. He couldn't even go to the bathroom on his own.

"You could come with me to college and let me be your giantess," she suggested.

Paul instantly sobered and looked into her green eyes. "What?"

"You heard me." She was serious. This was her endgame. She wanted to keep him, like a pet. "For at least a week, until you're too big to hide in my dorm room," she added. "The girls in college will have way more experience than me. I need to catch up, quickly. I need a boy to coach me in what boys like."

Could have fooled me, Paul thought. "I c-can't go with you. I—I have a life here."

"No, you don't, Mr. Paul. You sit in your apartment all day waiting to recover from the shrinking disease, counting down the hours until you'll be able to masturbate again. You'll never have to masturbate when you're with me, though. I'll take good care of you."

She paused her finger over his testicles and pressed down. His eyes bulged.

"Go to college with me, and I'll let you come as many times as you want. Wouldn't that be nice? Think of all the things my big body can do for you. You'd want for nothing. There's more of me than you know what to do with."

His cock twitched. His hand reflexively reached for it, to give it those final tugs that stood between him and ecstasy. She intercepted his hand, pinned it to the bed.

"I told you, only I can make you come, Mr. Paul." She rubbed the soft pad of her finger over his belly, torturing him with the prospect of release. He thrust his hips, trying to touch his cock against anything. He felt like his balls were going to explode.

"You want to come so bad, huh? The pressure is getting to be too much for you, isn't it? I can relieve the pressure for you. All you have to do is let me be your giantess. And I promise I'll bring you home after the first week of classes."

Paul's eyes darted frantically inside his head. His physical exertion, his fear and arousal, his weaker than average constitution, his size all worked together to initiate a mental breakdown. He felt like he was being dissolved from the inside out. Nothing was matter anymore, only energy and sensation.

"It would make your giantess so happy if you said yes," Brooke continued in her seductive tone. "Say yes, Mr. Paul. If you say no…"

His mind filled in the blanks. He knew what she would do. She'd pinch his balls off! Kill him between her gorgeous breasts!

"Yes!" he gasped. "F-fuck, yes, I'll d-do it! Please, do it!"

She smiled. "Excellent choice, Mr. Paul. I'm going to take your voice amplifier now."

"Why?"

"Because when you come, I don't want your screams to wake up my dad."

"Okay." With that, the last bit of resistance left him. The girl who rivaled infinity in his mind could do whatever she wanted with him.

Brooke turned his head to the side and pulled the device out of his ear. Then, in one fluid motion she lifted her legs and pulled her booty shorts off. She gingerly lifted his body between her thick thighs and pressed his back against the red lace covering—or not covering—her young womanhood. With three fingers wrapped around him, she lifted him up and over her overripe clit, while rubbing his penis between her fingertips. Her folds eased open to allow his entrance, but the thin veil of lace protected her virginity. At any rate, the friction was so good and right where she needed it. She orgasmed within seconds. While her juices flooded down his back, he trembled like a man possessed, and his load flew an impressive distance across the bed. 

She lifted him up to her face. He was passed out, the trauma of the orgasm shutting his body down. "You're not going to regret this, Mr. Paul," she whispered.

Yes, he would.

She cuddled him against her freckled cheek, and sniffed the air. He smelled like one of her farts. "You stink, Mr. Paul. You need a bath."

She took him to the bathroom to clean him up.