Little did Andy know it at the time, but Kimberly's temporary addition to the household had inaugurated a sexual contest between them, one that he had unwittingly started deep in the hole. He was obsessed with Kimberly, and she knew it because he'd told her! He had thought he was talking to a girl in need of fatherly reassurance and guidance, and had forgotten he was dealing with a woman learning just how powerful her charms could be.

Kimberly masqueraded about the house all afternoon, teasing him relentlessly with her body. The beautiful teen drove him to distraction with glimpses of her legs, backside, and chest. Her magnificent curves were magnified at least twice from his vantage point, and he was in a state of constant excitement and arousal.

Part of Andy wished Kimberly wasn't staying with them, so that he would still have the image of her in the Twin Peaks uniform preserved in his memory. Now that she was always around, his imagination wasn't good enough to satisfy his sexual cravings. He wanted the real thing.

But how?! He had given her all the cards.

Well, not ALL the cards. He was a 40 year-old man, after all, and she was only 18. What she boasted in form, he boasted in experience and tactics. And she had left him one little something. She had said if he wanted anything, she would help him if she could.

Before she left for work, Kimberly presented herself to him, wearing her Twin Peaks uniform. She was working night shifts now, a sign of recognition from management that she was popular with the customers. She turned to the side, giving him a stunning view of her body in profile. "Why do you think that is, Mr. Speed?"

Andy wasn't about to complain about the view, but the girl's attitude was a big turn-off. This behavior was irritating, presuming that she could dominate him with a visual offering of flesh anytime she wanted.

A part of him was too proud to be dominated so easily. He said archly, "That the clientele at night is fonder of throwing away their money."

Kimberly pouted playfully. "Come on, Mr. Speed, I was only teasing. I thought you liked—"

"Remember what I said about men and their thoughts, Kim. And remember alcohol reduces inhibition."

Serious now, her hands came together below her waist, that gesture of meekness. "Yes, Mr. Speed. See you tomorrow!"

Andy set to masturbating as soon as she was gone and blasted his biggest load yet.

Then he began to formulate a plan for Friday.

"Good morning, Mr. Speed." She was sitting at the kitchen counter, eating an orange.

"Good morning, Kim."

"I got the newspaper for you." She patted the folded newspaper, lying on the countertop.

"Thank you." In a repeat of yesterday morning, Andy climbed the stool to the counter, while Kimberly watched him with girlish fascination.

He feigned interest in the newspaper for a minute before facing her. "Can I ask you a favor?" he asked.

She brightened and put down her orange slice. "Sure!"

"I was thinking I'd like to have a real breakfast. I'm sick of cereal bars. Do you know how to make eggs?"

Kimberly smiled broadly and jumped down from her stool, her breasts bouncing under her pink T-shirt. Andy guessed from their more subtle movements compared to yesterday that she was wearing a bra, possibly out of respect for him after their parting words yesterday. Maybe his hand wasn't as weak as he thought.

"I sure do! How many do you want?"

"Just one." He patted his belly. "All I can stomach, I think."

She ran to the fridge and opened the dairy drawer. She was wearing black volleyball shorts that covered just a few inches of her thighs, and clung like a second skin to her tight butt.

Ten minutes later, she put a scrambled egg on a saucer plate in front of him. She watched closely as he ate his egg with a fork as long as his arm.

"Pretty good," he said judiciously. "Can I have a glass of orange juice?" This was the critical part of his plan.

He watched her walk to the refrigerator again, a spring in her step. She liked doing things for him, he realized. That was good, because he had designs for her to do more things to him later.

Kimberly filled a glass half-full of orange juice and set it in front of him. She put her plate of two eggs next to him and they ate facing each other, him sitting cross-legged on the counter, her sitting on the stool.

He reached both hands around the orange juice glass and lifted it to his mouth. "Ah!" he cried out as he let the glass slip through his hands. Orange juice splashed all over him and ran towards the edge of the counter.

Kimberly leapt to her feet. "I got it!" She tore off some paper towels and sopped the juice off the counter, while Andy stood the glass up. He looked down at himself, pretending frustration. He was drenched.

She looked at him as he stood dripping in front of her. "Oh, poor thing. Do you have a change of clothes?"

"This is my only set of clothes at this height," he said. He looked up at her. "Could you wash these for me?"

She seemed startled. "Sure, Mr. Speed, but what will you—ah, wear?"

She hadn't finished the sentence before Andy had removed his shirt and his pants, leaving him in just his 13-inch-waist boxer briefs.

Kimberly looked at him, mouth closed, face blank. "Something wrong?" he asked, smirking.

Her voice had a husky quality as she said, barely above a whisper, "I've never seen you without your shirt on, Mr. Speed. I didn't know you were so fit."

"I've been curling toothpicks in my free time."

She giggled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She'd recovered from her surprise and was ready to play. "And what I said before is truer now."

"What's that?" he asked.

She lowered her face towards him until they were inches apart. Her eyes gleamed as they scanned him head to toe. He felt her warm breath on his half-naked body. "You are really cute at this size."

Andy shivered in arousal when she turned away. She picked up his soiled clothes and started to go to the laundry room. She stopped, though, and looked back at him over her shoulder. "Do you want to come with me to the laundry room?"

Andy did, but he wasn't sure he liked this. It was a small thing, going to the laundry room, but it was her idea, not his. She was asserting her will, asking him to cede control to her. But he couldn't say no. For the first time Andy appreciated how difficult it was to keep the upper hand with a woman over twice your height.

"Okay," he said, lacking conviction.

She approached the counter, turned to the side, and bent her knees a little. Andy watched her, uncertain what she was doing.

"Come on," she said, lifting her arm.

Andy cautiously walked towards the edge of the counter. Kimberly's arm fell behind him and pushed him gently into her body. Then she tucked the same arm underneath his butt and straightened her knees.

Just like that, she had picked him up, like an infant, his legs straddling her hip, his torso balanced between her chest and the crook of her arm.

She didn't even need to use her other arm. Walking to the laundry room, which was just off the kitchen, she pushed the door open with the same hand that held his soiled clothes. Over the short distance, Andy's cock achieved most of its 3 inches from rubbing against Kimberly's ribs.

In the laundry room, she set him down on his feet on top of the side-loading washer. She tossed his clothes in the washer and started adjusting knobs to start the wash cycle. Andy sat with his legs sprawled and watched her breasts appreciatively as she reached over him for the knobs, not even trying to hide his arousal.

"Enjoying the view?" she asked, stepping back from the washer and putting her hands on her hips.

He shrugged innocently. "You put me here. I'm just making the best of it."

Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a smirk as she considered her next move.

Suddenly her hands gripped the bottom hem of her T-shirt. She pulled it away from her body and looked down in mock-dismay.

"Will you look at that! Some orange juice got on my shirt. We may as well wash this, too."

Andy's heart leapt into his throat as Kimberly pulled the shirt up, over her toned abs, over her 38F breasts, and over her head in one long, slow, sexy motion.

Andy immediately recognized the red bra she was wearing. Kimberly was bigger than he had given her credit for. She more than filled each cup.

Hair askew, Kimberly threw the shirt in the side loader and pushed the button to start the cycle, exaggerating her reach to give Andy a better view. The little man sat frozen in place, as if he was an animal in the wild, aware he was being hunted.

She leaned forward on top of the washer, resting both arms on either side of Andy. The washer's motions caused her breasts to tremble.

"If that's all right with you," she added belatedly. She blushed, feeling his eyes devouring her. "I figured it would be all right, since yesterday you said it makes no difference how I dress. I affect your thoughts no matter what. Isn't that what you said, Mr. Speed?"

Andy tried to say something but all that came out was a croaking sound.

"Are you all right?" she asked quizzically. She moved her hands closer around him, as he looked a little piqued and could collapse any second. This action squeezed her round breasts closer together, making her incalculable cleavage even longer.

"I'm fine," he gasped.

"Well, what do we do now?"

Entranced by the smooth swells of flesh each half his size, expanding from her neck to abdomen, bursting from the tops of the F-size cups, Andy saw then the futility of his plan. He was clearly overmatched, and they both knew it. He was bluffing with a shit hand, and she held pocket aces. Any sexual release he imagined he could get from her would be dictated by her.

"Mr. Speed?"

Andy closed his mouth. "Uh, yes?"

"I asked what do we do now?" Her voice was husky with arousal. She liked being in charge, he thought.

"We could watch a movie?" His voice rose at the end, sounding like a question, inviting her to veto him if she preferred to do something else. The movie was the next step in his plan. He would make his move on the couch as they watched. He had subconsciously given up on the plan; however, his brain was currently on autopilot.

"What movie?" she asked.

Andy pinched himself, forcing himself to focus, to think. "Gone with the Wind?"

Kimberly felt pity towards the creature before her. Here was the man she had harbored a crush for since she was 12, shaking like a leaf, barely able to speak just from seeing her in her bra. She sensed he was suffering, and her flirtations were hurting him. It would be cruel to go on.

In the blink of an eye, Kimberly's attitude changed. Mercy, some would call it. She dropped the seductress act and became the happy servant again. Business-like, she lifted him up in both hands and carried him to the couch in the living room. Before Andy's sex-addled brain could register what was happening, they were seated together on the couch, separated by a seat cushion, watching the opening credits of Gone with the Wind. Kimberly had even pulled a throw blanket across her chest, obscuring the twin mounds that had reduced him to an infantile state moments before.

Andy had not really wanted to watch this movie. He had picked it because it was Brooke's favorite movie and it was the first movie to cross his mind. He was too embarrassed, though, to tell Kimberly, so he decided to suffer quietly.

Over time, his heartrate came down and the adrenaline from the laundry room encounter subsided. He was quite cold without his clothes, and shivered in his half-nakedness.

Kimberly saw Andy shiver and, unbidden, took him underneath the arms and placed him on her lap, facing the TV. She spread the throw blanket over her waist, tucking him in against her flat belly.

Andy was surprised at how gentle and motherly she was. She had shown true affection—not lust—in moving him onto her lap to keep him warm. Perhaps she was turning over a new leaf in her treatment of him, as in no more teasing. If she was, he was both relieved and disappointed. But it did not surprise him at all. Before he'd seen this sexy side to her, Kimberly had always been perceptive and accommodating of others' needs. She had always been mature beyond her years in that regard.

"Thank you, Kim."

"You're welcome, Mr. Speed." She rested her large hand on his chest, another source of warmth, and they settled in to watch the movie.

Some minutes passed, and Andy forgot he was in Kimberly's lap, nestled against the body he had been lusting after, a millimeter's worth of tight fabric between himself and her privates. Her breathing had slowed, and now she was snoring. He tried to look up at her, but all he saw was the undersides of her bra cups.

Quietly he pulled out from under the throw blanket and crawled off Kimberly's belly onto the couch. From this angle, he could see her eyes were closed. She was fast asleep. He didn't blame her. Gone with the Wind was a pretty shitty movie.

Andy knew if he were take advantage of Kimberly on his own terms, now was the chance to do it. Her black shorts were painted on her delectably firm thighs and butt. The smooth swells of her magnificent breasts called out to him, beckoning him to slide his small body between their giving forms.

But he didn't have it in him, not after the way she treated him since the laundry room, probably not ever. Here was a girl that he would always think of as a second daughter. To despoil her to satisfy some erotic fantasy would be a scumbag thing to do.

That, and what about his wife? He loved her dearly, but as he'd lost stature he'd somehow lost his feelings for her. At the beginning of this process, Andy and Alecia had assured their daughter Brooke that Daddy was the same person, no matter how tall or short he was. Andy was beginning to appreciate how difficult a standard that was to maintain. Shrunk to less than half his height—and with a lot more shrinking to do—his thoughts and feelings towards his world had completely changed, to the extent that he had planned to cheat on his wife with his daughter's best friend.

Unfortunately for Andy, while he was thinking about his life, Kimberly had grown hot and uncomfortable. Still asleep, she pulled the throw rug off her lap and slid down the back of the couch to rest her shoulder against the cushions. Then her shoulders rolled over until she lay on her chest, trapping Andy under her.

Andy didn't know what happened, just that he was under Kimberly, pinned to the couch somewhere between her hip and armpit. When he opened his mouth to breathe, the teen's supple flesh filled his mouth. The gripping fear of being killed under daughter's best friend's body kicked in.

Andy thrashed his limbs. Only the lower half of one leg was free, and he kicked frantically, hoping to wake the giant girl up. He managed to twist his head to the side, but whatever air he managed to suck down was stale and warmed by her hot skin. He noticed the pressure on his chest, which made any air making it to his lungs all but impossible. He started to feel light-headed. He knew he didn't have much time left. He screamed and kicked for what felt like minutes.

Over his screams he heard a buzzing sound, then movement from above. Andy’s flesh prison ascended as Kimberly sat up and adjusted her breasts, which had fallen partway out of their cups in her sleep. Peering through her cleavage, she saw the little man on the couch, his skin bright red, gulping air.

Her hand went to her mouth. "Oh my gosh! Mr. Speed, I'm so sorry!" She fell to her knees next to the couch. "Are you all right?"

Andy coughed the warm, putrid air out of his lungs and relished the cool, oxygen-rich air of the living room.

"I can't believe I did that!" she said, eyes welling with tears. "I'm so sorry!" She started sobbing.

"I'll be fine," Andy said, sitting up after a minute. "I was more scared than anything else. I don't think I would have actually suffocated."

His reassurance wasn't very reassuring. She prodded his limbs with her fingers, inspecting each one. "Did I break anything?"

"Just my pride," Andy said with a wry smile. "Seriously, Kim, don't blame yourself. I should have told you I was moving. From now on, I'll stay where you put me unless I tell you otherwise."

"Oh, Mr. Speed!" She scooped him up in her hands and hugged him to her chest, kissed him.

Andy reveled in the sensation of being held close against her, inhaling her sweet perfume, her large lips smacking against his face. The sensations of the last 5 minutes were making him delirious.

"Easy, easy. You can set me down now." She set him gingerly on the couch. "What made you wake up?" he asked.

"It was the washer. It buzzed, so the spin cycle must be done."

Andy couldn't believe it. She hadn't felt him struggling underneath her. He was saved by the washer buzzer.

"Why don't you put the clothes in the drier. Don't worry, I'll be fine here by myself."

She looked reluctant to leave him. She stood up and ran to the laundry room, threw the clothes in the drier, and returned to his side as quick as she could.

"Tell me how I can make it up to you," she said, in a protective, almost commanding tone.

Andy by now had caught his breath. "Kim, it was an accident. You don't need to make up anything. These things happen all the time to men with my condition."

She sat back on her haunches next to the couch. "Men with your condition," she echoed. His words seemed to give her an idea.

"Kim, what are you doing?"

She was crawling onto the couch on her hands and knees, moving deliberately towards him. "I'm going to make it up to you, Mr. Speed." That husky, seductive voice. Where did she learn that? Or was it natural to her?

"Kim, I don't think that's a good idea."

"I know what you like, Mr. Speed. You told me yourself." She moved over him, pushing him onto his back. Her neck and collar bone passed over his body.

"Kim," he said plaintively, his sense of powerlessness rising to despair. "Please—"

"Shh, it's okay. Just relax. Let me make you feel better. I know this is what you want. This is my gift to you."

Andy's eyes widened in astonishment as she dragged her soft breasts over his diminutive chest. The red bra was not made for such acrobatics, and struggled to hold them in as gravity pulled them toward the couch until they formed a crawlspace narrower than his shoulders.

"You can play with them if you want," he heard her say. Her voice seemed distant, muffled by the mass of her imposing bosom.

They hovered over him, tantalizingly close. Even though they were touching him, caressing his chest and shoulders, he knew there was more weight than he was feeling. She was holding back—for his safety. That mortal fear kicked in again, but this time tinged with the eroticism of the moment. He tilted his head down. He couldn't see past his waist. She was so close, he felt like her cleavage was going to swallow him up. He wanted to touch her, to bury his body deep into her flesh—

But he couldn't. He couldn't do this to her, no matter how much she wanted him to.

Kimberly's body jumped in surprise as the sound of the front door slamming shut sounded throughout the house. "Sorry!" she whispered, and Andy's world turned to darkness as she flattened herself against the couch, hiding him under her chest and thighs.

"Hey love," Brooke said, entering the living room.

"Hey," Kimberly said, acting natural. "Slow day at the mall?"

"No. I switched shifts with that guy, Eric, so I'll be working like 12 hours next Tuesday. Hey, Gone with the Wind!"

Kimberly twirled her hair. "Yeah. I haven't seen it in ages."

Brooke watched the TV screen for a minute. "Have you seen my dad?"

"No. I think he slept in. He slept in yesterday, too."

Brooke snickered. "Or maybe he's somewhere around here and you just haven't seen him."

"Ha," Kimberly said. "That would be embarrassing."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure your boobs are as big as he is now." Brooke looked askance at her. "Bet you would like that."

Kimberly blushed. It had been years since she had talked about her attraction to Andy with Brooke, but a best friend never forgets.

"I'm gonna go change," Brooke said.

As soon as she disappeared up the stairs, Kimberly raised herself on her elbows, revealing a very red, very angry-looking little man underneath her.

"I'm so sorry!" she whispered.

He sat up, glaring daggers at her. "Why'd you do that? It wasn't any fun the first time."

She moved onto the floor beside the couch so she wasn't towering over him. "You didn't hear? Brooke is home! She almost caught us."

"What do you mean, 'us'? I asked you not to… do what you were doing."

"I was just trying to make you feel better." Who is he kidding? she thought darkly. He wanted her, whether he would admit it or not.

"Well, thanks a lot," he said bitterly. He stood up and brushed off the dust from the couch cushion that had stuck to his sweaty body. "Wait, where's Brooke now?"

"In her room changing clothes. She thinks you're in your room." She lifted him up by the armpits. "We need to get you to your room."

"Hey—" Andy started to protest, but Kimberly already had him riding on her hip and was moving quickly towards the stairs, her long, coltish legs requiring only four steps to cross the room.

"Sh-sh," she said, treading softly up the stairs. The hallway on the second floor was clear. The door to Brooke's room was shut. Kimberly tiptoed past Brooke's room and pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

"I'll bring your clothes later," she whispered, hurriedly depositing him on the carpet. He stumbled forward and struck his chin on her leg above the knee. Her expression was a mixture of mortification and embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she said for the umpteenth time.

With that, she backed out of the bedroom and shut the door.