**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.”