Clara spotted her husband Marc from the window of her apartment. It was Friday, and she’d been awaiting his return since she finished her work for the day at least 30 minutes ago.

Her mind always dove into the gutter when she worked from home because she didn’t have to keep up appearances like she did at the office. Nobody was looking over her shoulder or expecting her to make small talk. She was completely alone and free to let her brain wander. And amid all her naughty thoughts, she decided today would be the day. She wouldn’t let Marc put it off any longer. She’d been asking him to do it for months and he always had some half-baked excuse up his sleeve. Going out with the guys, meetings after work, or whatever other nonsense he could come up with.

But she made sure he was free tonight. She texted him, asking if he had anything to do after work. And he replied with these three magic words.

I’m all yours.

Then she asked, mostly just to be polite, what he wanted to do. He wrote back another three magic words.

Whatever you want.

Some part of her thought he had to know what he was getting into by giving her that much leeway. Then again, he often lost himself in his work. Maybe he texted her back absentmindedly. Either way, it didn’t matter. He said what he said, and she would hold him to it.

Clara’s fetishes weren’t exactly a secret. And neither were his. But her tastes were the kinkier of the two. He just kinda liked her feet and sometimes he liked to dabble in a little bondage. She wanted more control over her man than a pair of handcuffs could provide her.

She heard Marc twisting the key in the door and had to restrain herself from squealing. She didn’t want to appear too eager right off the bat. He had to believe that this was just a normal night.

So, instead of greeting him at the door like an overexcited puppy, Clara sat back at the kitchen table and waited for him to come to her.

“Hey, Clara! I’m home!”

The couple’s apartment was small but functional. There was a small entryway where he kicked off his shoes, which led to the kitchen on the right and the living room behind that. Their bedroom was lofted above the living area.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Marc,” she cooed.

They got a glimpse of each other for the first time that evening as he approached the kitchen. Clara was a 5’4” knockout. She was wearing her favorite green nightie, the lace trim accentuating her DD breasts. Her reddish blonde hair was down and messy as if she’d just gotten out of the shower. And the icing on the cake was her stunning blue eyes that lit up any room she was in. He was already getting hard looking at her.

Marc wasn’t bad looking but was nothing compared to his wife. He was 5’9”, a bit on the skinny side and had medium-length brown hair. He was five years older than the 25-year-old Clara, which he thought should give him some wisdom over her. In reality, she was always the one lecturing him about things, which strangely made him more attracted to her.

He leaned over the kitchen table and gave Clara a quick kiss on the lips, but in the first sign of her intentions for that night, she pulled him right back in and jammed her tongue into his mouth. Caught off guard by her feistiness, his first instinct was to back up, but she didn’t allow it. She was surprisingly strong when she wanted to be, and right now, she had both hands gripped around the back of his neck.

So, he embraced the kiss, absorbing himself into the freneticism of the moment. The slow yet rough way she was nudging her face into his was driving him wild. The couple remained joined at the lips longer than usual, with Clara refusing to let Marc come up for air. She kept exploring his mouth as if she was looking for treasure, and he simply allowed her. She was hungry for him, which only made his appetite for her grow in kind.

Marc took greater control, cupping her chin in his hands and guiding her face away from his for a moment so he could reposition. He went right back to kissing her, now taking one hand to brush her frizzy hair out of her eyes. And it was that gesture that made her go crazy. She abruptly yanked him forward by his tie, nearly choking him. Marc pulled away, shocked.

“What the hell was that?!” he shouted, loosening his tie so she couldn’t do that again.

“Sorry, sweetie. I guess I just got carried away. I’m just so…excited for tonight!”

“Excited? Do we have dinner reservations or something?”

She sighed. Sometimes he showed his age in the worst way. How was a dinner reservation more thrilling to him than what she was implying? A night full of sex and debauchery.

“Nooo, come on. What do you think? When was the last time we had sex?”

“Sunday,” he came up with rather fast.

“You had that ready to go, huh,” she teased, getting up of her stool to come around and greet her husband. She got tantalizingly close and lightly grazed his chest with her hand. “It sounds like someone’s thirsty,” she said.

God, he loved this view. His gorgeous wife standing beneath him, chin on his collarbone and staring expectantly up at him. She had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and a stretching grin. Meanwhile, as she gazed up at his incredulous expression, pleasant tingles ran throughout her body, delighted to see the gears turning in his head.

But she couldn’t wait anymore. She was going to be straight with him and reveal what she wanted.

“Marc, we’ve been married over six months, and you still haven’t let me do it to you.”

He knew what “it” was. He immediately thought back to his texts with her throughout the day and realized. She set him up. He told her he was all hers and that she could do whatever she wanted.

And Clara noted the exact moment when Marc finally comprehended what was going to happen to him. His eyes widened and sheepishly darted away from her. He even backed away from her a little bit.

“Clara, I knew you’d eventually want to do this, but I don’t know if I’m ready,” he said, frantically scanning his surroundings as if they were about to change.

“No, no, no. I know you’re scared,” she said authoritatively, “I’ve given you a lot of time to prepare because I love you. And because you’re a scaredy cat, hehe! But, honey, this is happening tonight.”

“But wait, shouldn’t I—”

Clara invaded his bubble again and grabbed his butt while hugging him tight. That got him to shut up. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, giving it a series of smooches, which momentarily comforted him until she dropped a bomb.

“You should just let the process work. It’s about to start.”

“What?! How?! I thought I had to ingest something.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked right at him so she could see his reaction to what she was about to say.

“You did. My lipstick.”

His mouth fell open. The tempestuous kiss they’d shared before took on a whole new meaning now. The passion behind it wasn’t just frenzied sexual arousal, though he hoped it was part of it. No, Clara was so animalistic during their smooch because it was…

“Time for you to shrink, cutie,” she said, finishing his thought.

Almost on cue, he began to feel it, leaving him no time to get mad at her. The tingling inside his bones, the slight nausea, and the cold flashes. It was exactly how Clara described the shrinking process to him. He was going down, that much was for sure, but by how much? He wouldn’t know until the agent in her lipstick had its full effect. Though, judging by the length and intensity of their kiss, he assumed he was going to shrink quite a bit.

But still, as many times as Clara had talked to him about shrinking old boyfriends and what it was like for her, he was still unprepared for her eyes suddenly jumped above his chin, then his nose. And soon enough, they were eye-to-eye. He stupidly looked down to make sure she wasn’t wearing heels and playing a practical joke on him.

“Now that you’re definitely shrinking, she said as her eye level inched above his, “I want you to strip down naked. I want to watch every inch of your body get smaller.”

Normally, Marc wouldn’t just obey some command like that, but he got the sense that he was going to end up quite tiny. It didn’t serve him to get on her bad side right away. Besides, maybe if he got naked, she would too.

Once all his clothes were off, she hugged his naked body, saying, “This is my favorite part. Literally feeling you shrink in my arms. Uggghh sooo hot!”

She squeezed his chest firmly into her breasts. Under normal circumstances, he’d have his hands on her ass, but he was too distracted. He couldn’t focus on anything until he finished shrinking.

As he dwindled more, Clara squealed. She could feel him receding into her. Her softness was slowly enveloping him, and he was becoming more dependent on her already.

“Clara, I’m scared. I know we just started, but can’t you reverse this?” he asked, his point of view finally dipping below her shoulder.

“No, not yet. I want to get you below my knees, at least.”

“Below your knees?!” Marc was now staring into the tops of her breasts.

“Yes, below my knees, and preferably as tall as my ankle.”

He shortly reached breast height, upon which Clara’s hug turned into a carry. His feet left the floor without her even trying to hoist him up. His legs had literally gotten shorter, separating him from the ground.

“Keep shrinking into me, my love. God, it feels so good.”

She didn’t need to tell him. He involuntarily got smaller and smaller, knowing that he would soon be shorter than his wife’s knee. After a minute or so, she put him back down to get a better gauge of how much he shrunk.

He was staring into her crotch. A thin layer of fabric separated his little head and her pussy. And that drove him crazy. One step closer and he could be eating her out. A few seconds passed and a few millimeters were lost, making it impossible for him to pleasure her without standing on his tippy toes.

Clara was delighted to know that if she looked straight ahead, he was invisible. He was so tiny that he didn’t even register as an object in her eyeline. She had to purposefully aim her gaze downward to see him.

“Hug my legs, or leg rather. One might be all you can handle now,” she giggled.

He stepped forward and hugged her creamy, white thigh, which was nearly the same thickness as his torso. But as he continued embracing the fleshy pole that was his wife’s leg, it kept growing wider and taller with his inevitable descent. First his face was level with the middle of her thigh, then the lower half, and eventually, he couldn’t even consider himself half the height of her legs.

The rate of shrinking slowed when he was mid-calf height, and he never stopped hugging her, though now, his arms didn’t even reach halfway around. Her lower leg alone was easily double his size and ten times his weight. A simple bump from her and he’d be on the ground.

But he didn’t stop shrinking until he was a hair taller than Clara’s ankle. He was immediately ordered to worship her ankle, which he did without protest. The six-inch tall man kissed it, licked it, ground his genitals on it, but out of the corner of his eye, her foot began gnawing at his attention. It was so amazingly long, almost certainly double his height, and it appeared totally immovable. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to him if he were to be caught underneath one of her feet.

“Alright, that’s enough, sweetie. I want to see you up close.”

A hand that seemed more supernatural than human descended from an unimaginable height to whisk him up to his now giant wife’s face. Her fingers wrapped around him one by one, as if she was relishing how each one of her digits dwarfed him. Finally, her thumb came over top, and he was dumbfounded to learn that the tip of that finger was easily triple the size of his head. But he didn’t have much time to dwell on that because in a flash, she elevated him what felt like 60 stories, giving him a world class view of her gigantic face.

She, on the other hand, could now see her husband’s teensy weensy little body engulfed by her strong grip. Only his head and neck were visible; the rest of him was trapped underneath her fingers. But she could barely make out his expression, so she brought him even closer, studying him with an eye nearly as large as his head. From his perspective, the blue swirls of her iris were hypnotic and enchanting.

“How does it feel to be so small? Do you like it?” her voice boomed below him.

He squirmed in her hand a bit in an attempt to free his chest and lungs from the crushing pressure of her fingers. He hadn’t noticed until he tried to speak, but it felt like he was trapped under four brutally heavy sandbags.

Realizing his predicament, Clara opened her hand and allowed her now tiny husband so sit more comfortably on her palm. This allowed him to talk.

“I don’t know, Clara. I know this is your biggest fantasy, but it’s kinda terrifying on my end. You’re like a skyscraper to me! You could crush me!”

“And that’s exactly why this is so hot for me. I’m so much more powerful than you could ever be. Even when you were full sized, you could never control me like this. Dangle me like a Christmas ornament from your finger,” she said as she plucked Marc up by his arm.

He couldn’t deny anything she was saying. He could understand why this was so appealing to her. But she hadn’t done a thing to make it appealing for him yet.

“Well, since you just got off on watching me shrink, can we do something I might like?” he asked.

“Oooooh, I love this! You know how sexy it is when a man comes right out and tells a woman what he wants?” she cooed, scrutinizing him as she jiggled him about with her two fingers. “Especially when they’re tinier than your hand?”

“Oh, I know, baby,” Marc played along, “And do you know what I want?”

“Oh god, tell me.”

“I want to fuck your tits. I want to stand on top of those gigantic things and just go to town!”

“Oh, I bet you do, little guy. I bet you want to swim in them. Get lost in them. Breathe in their wonderful scent.”

His eyes rolled back into his head, as he pictured everything she was describing. He expected to be lowered down into her swelling cleavage so he could have his fun, but after several seconds of silence, he began to get nervous.

“Honey? Can I?” he asked, looking down over the edge of her palm at her breasts.

“Of course, you can. But I need you to do something for me first.”

“Clara, I shrunk for you! What else do you need me to do?!”

Clara’s other hand smacked down onto the palm he was standing on, collapsing him into a sandwich. When she was satisfied that he’d learned his place, she spread her fingers, exposing his shellshocked face.

“No backtalking. You do what you’re told. Is that clear?”

He nodded, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Good boy. Now, from here on out, I promise to be as gentle as possible, but you need to stay good. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” he blubbered.

“Great! Let’s get back to having fun, shall we?”

She brought him up to her lips and smeared his face in her lipstick. Then she returned him back to her hand to watch him shrink even more. This time, he lost half his height over the course of about thirty seconds, while he endured Clara’s penetrating stare.

When he was done getting smaller, she gradually tilted the palm containing the now three-inch tall man towards her. He tried to grab hold of anything he could, but it was no use. He slid further and further until he fell right off the edge. As soon as he felt nothing but air beneath him, he was convinced he was going to die. Clara had been careless and clearly, he was about to go splat all over the floor.

Of course, Marc wasn’t about to die. He instead plummeted what to him felt like a hundred feet into something much softer than their hardwood floors. Clara’s panties. They were black and already a little wet. It wasn’t lost on him why.

She decided to give him one last glimpse of her before she sealed him away inside her panties. To him, she was a giant face and an even bigger pair of breasts that cast an awesome shadow down onto him. To her, he was a toy. A man no bigger than an action figure.

Her size certainly overwhelmed Marc, but the hot, sweaty aroma steaming from her sex was making him fall into a delirium. He glanced back upwards at the unforgiving eyes of his wife, clasped his hands together and silently begged for a reprieve. His attempt to look pathetic only riled Clara up further. She let her panties snap back, slamming Marc into her pussy.

“Get to work, little guy!” she bellowed from on high. “You’re gonna have to engage in some foreplay before you get to fuck my tits!”

He wasted no time and got to work pleasing her. Since her panties fit so tightly against her skin, Marc had a difficult time moving at all, but he did what he could. Mainly, he rolled his head over her pussy lips repeatedly while his arms tried to find her clit. His legs were completely pinned, so freeing himself from his current position was out of the question. He’d just have to do his best from where he was.

But Marc’s best wasn’t enough for Clara. She was walking around the apartment, giggling at her husband’s pathetic attempts to stimulate her. For a second, he wondered if he was even trying. Then she realized, of course he was trying. He was terrified of her. The barely perceptible stirring in her loins was all he could do for her at this size.

Ironically, thinking about how weak and useless he was beginning to get her wet. This got Marc thinking that what he was doing—his flailing arm motions and headbutts—was working, but really, it was only the sheer fact of his tininess that was getting Clara hot and bothered.

But a shrunken man squirming about in her delicates couldn’t supplant a nice, big cock forever. And now with Marc tiny, she felt no shame in using her largest dildo. A purple nine incher, now three times longer than her husband, rested comfortably beneath her socks in the top drawer of her bureau. She went to go retrieve it while he pitifully wormed around inside her.

Marc’s surroundings were getting more blisteringly cramped by the second. Her sweat and precum were mixing into a sweet and salty cocktail that he had no choice but to swallow if he didn’t want to drown, and his limbs were getting stretched to their limit as his giantess wife nonchalantly walked around the house.

But it was about to get a whole lot hotter and more cramped for him. Two of Clara’s fingers came down through the top of her panties and began pushing him against her body. At first, he thought she was just trying to warm herself up, but she was thrusting him way too hard for that. Just as he was about to lift his head and beg her to stop, her pussy opened like a door. Two more of her fingers were holding the entrance ajar, and before he knew it, she shoved him deep inside.

“Clara! CLARA!” he screamed to no avail. Trapped inside a moist tunnel with only one way out, Marc panicked. He tried to slither his way out to escape but he didn’t know which way was up or down anymore. It was pitch black and the walls of her pussy constricted around his body like a snake, making any of his desired moves impossible without her permission. He also had to take shallow breaths so her juices wouldn’t immediately fill his lungs.

This, he realized, was the high level of dominance she sought so desperately. He simply wanted to tie her to the bed every so often. But she wanted to snap her fingers and imprison a tiny man inside of her. She could control his movements, what he said, and even whether he could breathe.

Back in the outside world, Clara had gotten a hold of the dildo and had stripped naked. She was on her hands and knees ready to give her husband the surprise of a lifetime.

“Get ready hubby, something big is coming for you,” she whispered to herself.

She thrust the huge fake cock into her pussy and moaned immediately. It was so big. So much bigger than her husband. Before and after. A little piece of plastic was more man than he’d ever be, full sized or not. Her whole body tingled with pleasure at that fact. 

She began with slow, purposeful thrusts meant to probe her most sensitive areas. She was also trying to find the little man who she imagined was no doubt fighting for his life against a giant cock that could crush him and a pussy that could drown him.

She didn’t know how right she was, because Marc was pummeled by her dildo repeatedly, driving him deeper and deeper, closer and closer to her cervix. There was quite literally nothing he could do. He couldn’t dodge it; he couldn’t push back against it. He just had to lie there and take it.

But when the thrusts got faster, Marc’s fear turned into sheer terror. The dildo was hitting him hard enough to make him see stars. Every collision caused a new, painful bruise, and there was absolutely no way to tell Clara that she was hurting him. The only way she’d ever stop is if she came.

So, when he heard her faint moans grow louder and more insistent, he was hopeful that his brutal suffering would come to a merciful end.

To his dismay, it would take thirty more violent slams to the gut from her battering ram of a dildo to get her to cum. Her orgasm shot him out onto the bedspread like a missile. Thankfully, their mattress was soft, so he made a relatively safe landing. When his vision came back to him though, it became clear that Clara had gone too far. His entire body was one big black and blue, and when he tried to breathe, it felt like he was getting stabbed.

As Clara basked in the afterglow, he tried desperately to stand. It took him a minute or so, but he eventually staggered onto his feet. His wife was a behemoth, taking up nearly the entire bed. He was at the very edge and considered climbing down the bedspread to the floor. But his broken rib quickly dissuaded him from that idea.

He turned back to look at her. Her chest’s rise and fall from breathing was higher than he was tall. Her breasts were like small houses. Her legs were like football fields that could move and crush things. He was downright petrified just seeing her body, let alone being inside of it. But he swallowed his fear and decided to walk up to the hulking mass before him and tell her that playtime was over. He wanted to be regrown, and that was final.

Not long into his hike, Clara sprang upright, sending him flying backwards a dozen feet just from the wind she gusted from her titanic transfer of weight.

“Is my little hubby ready for more?”

“What?! No! Can’t you see me? I’m all bruised! I think I have a broken—”

“Nonsense, be a good boy and come to me. I have a place for you that I think you’ll like.”

He didn’t care if she was about to put him in her breasts, even that was a frightening prospect at this point. So, he ran from her approaching hand. He ignored the pain in his side and sprinted for the end of the bed. As he got near the edge, he began to think he was actually going to escape. It had been almost ten seconds and she hadn’t caught up yet.

But right as he was about to throw caution to the wind and jump down the cliff that was now his bedside, he was surrounded by darkness. Her hand had caught up to him and closed around his tiny body.

Clara opened her hand right above her pussy, causing little Marc to fall into the cummy mess that was her pubic mound. The thickness of her juices was comparable to molasses, and it was up to his knees.

“Before you go to your special place, I’m gonna need you to lick this all up.”

“All of this?!” he exclaimed surveying the lake of pussy excretion around him, “That’ll take me hours!”

“Better get to work then, honey.”

It took little Marc eight hours to lap up enough cum for Clara to be satisfied with his handiwork. She had read a magazine, watched TV, gone to bed and woke up in the morning to find that not even half of her cum was gone.

When he saw that she was awake, he immediately let his face fall into the now mostly dried cum and begged her to let him rest.

“Please, darling. I’ve been at this all night. I’m exhausted and I feel like I’m gonna throw up I’m so full.”

“You’re full just from eating my cum? We might have a new diet for you, Marc.”

“Please! Clara. I’m begging you. Just let me sleep for a few hours.”

She thought about it for a few seconds and decided to have mercy. At least how she defined it.

“Sure, you can sleep.”

“Thank you! Thank you, baby! I love you!”

“In my asshole.”

“What?!”

She grabbed him, flipped her body over, and began jamming him up into her asshole face first. In a flash, he’d completely vanished inside, and she was jiggling him up against her sensitive spots to get herself going again.

“Sweet dreams, little man!” she cackled as she armed herself with her dildo once again. She wanted to fuck herself in the ass with him inside, but she decided against it. She did say she’d let him sleep in there. How would he be able to sleep with a giant cock ramming into him every two seconds?

Her compromise was to fuck her pussy with the dildo while toying with her asshole, using Marc as a little butt toy to enhance the experience. For her, this was one of the most gratifying sexual experiences she’d ever had.

For him, it was perhaps the worst morning of his life. The smell inside her was unbearably awful. Her fingers had grasped his legs tightly and kept striking them against her booty hole harder and harder. He could feel his lower limbs wasting away. She was destroying his tiny body little by little to quench her own arousal.

A minute into the ordeal, he heard a snap from which a blinding pain followed instantly. His right leg was broken. Another minute saw his left leg break. He was barely conscious. Barely breathing. He began to dissociate, not remembering where he was or what was happening to him. But Clara’s piercing screams of pleasure shot him right back to reality. He was a cripple, and his wife was the culprit.

Finally, her yelps and moans reached a crescendo and he was taken out from her butt. Through blurred vision, he watched her squirt out another volcano of an orgasm. For a moment, he was actually able to appreciate the sheer magnitude of his undoubtedly sinister wife. Her body lying down was twice as high as him. A stray breast of hers could squelch him into tiny red stain. And her orgasms were akin to a natural disaster.

But his adoration gave way to dread when she picked up her broken man and let him splash into her pool of cum yet again.

“Sorry, you’ll have to do it all over again,” she laughed. “Lick. It. Up!”

Now that he couldn’t stand on account of his broken legs, he was forced to lay in an ocean of liquid almost as deep as he was and drink what he could. He lifted his head every few seconds to breathe, and when he got tired, he face would splatter back into the depths of her cum. Soon, he became so exhausted that he couldn’t even lift his head anymore. He began to choke on her juices. And Clara noticed. Instead of feeling awful for the little man, all she could feel was more arousal. She wasn’t even touching him, and she was killing him. He was drowning in her, and she didn’t even have to lift a finger.

But she told herself that she wasn’t cruel. Drowning was a horrible way to die, and she wasn’t about to subject the man she married to that. No, he deserved better. So, she lifted him out and placed him on the ground. She hovered her heel over him for a few seconds, making sure she was directly above him so she’d get all of him.

She stomped. And he was gone. Just…like…that.