Mark couldn't believe the way Shiree had reacted. After eighteen years of absolute trust, yet eighteen years of keeping his fetish a secret, she acts like this when he finally reveals his sexual fantasies to her. He didn't even say a word when she had  confessed her passion for being tied up and used. Wasn't being shrunken at the hands of his giant wife sort of the same concept?

    In any case, here he was with a $570 bottle of shrinking potion and Shiree was gone to her mother's for the remainder of the weekend.

    "I just need some time to think about this, Mark. It's... it's just so... unorthodox!"

    Unorthodox. Right. What did she care about the unorthodox? She was the one who brought home ceramic pigs working in gardens whenever she got the chance. The mantel looked like some sort of freakish petting zoo slash herb garden.

    "Son of a bitch..." Mark muttered. In all his preparation, all his excitement, he had never stopped to think that maybe Shiree wouldn't want to try the potion on him. He had trusted her to want to please him as much as he'd pleased her by learning how to bind wrists to a bedpost the proper way.

    Now Mark actually cursed his undying devotion to his wife.

    He looked at the bottle in his hands and sighed. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this now?"

    The front door swung open and his sixteen year-old daughter, Jordan, meandered into the living room. Her auburn hair fell over her shoulders in razor-cut sheafs, giving her the look of a rock idol.

    Upon seeing her dad looking so dejected, young Jordan closed the door and took a seat on the couch nearby. "Dad?" she piped softly. "What's the matter?"

    Again, Mark sighed. "Nothing, Jordan... your mom and I had a little fight. She's at your grandma's for the weekend."

    "Oh..."

    "Don't worry, it wasn't anything very serious. Say..." Mark grinned as he stood to put the bottle of shrinking potion, which Jordan had fortunately not noticed, away somewhere secret. "Jordan, I know you've had a drink before. Since your mom is out, how about we have a coupla cold ones, hmm?"

     Jordan blushed, green eyes flickering, and nodded. "Alright, yeah... Just don't let mom find out. You know how she is about that sort of thing." 

    Mark watched as Jordan began to remove her coat to reveal a rather tight babydoll tee that left little to the imagination concerning the upper-torso. "Sure, hun," he said quickly and headed for the kitchen.

-----

    Three hours later it was 11:23 at night. Jordan lay blacked out on the couch, and Mark was drunk to the point that his anger was making him think crazy thoughts. 

    There was Jordan. Sixteen, practically an adult, with breasts so perfect they could bring an artist to tears. Mark cautiously leaned over and tapped his daughter on the arm. She gave no response except to pull her arms closer towards her chest.

    On a whim, Mark set his beer down and reached over to place his fingertips over Jordan's breast. He moved his hand slowly downward, causing a sensation so that the girl's nipple hardened in response. Mark pulled his hand away again.

      "Jordan...?" he called out. There was no response. "Jordan." he said again, louder this time. Still, the girl lay quietly, breathing slow and relaxed in her alcohol-induced dreams.

    Within Mark's mind an idea blossomed like smoke out of a stick of incense, billowing higher and flowing outwards to overtake anything else he might have been thinking. 

    Here is my giantess.

    Mark shook his head. No, no. Jordan was his daughter. Surely he couldn't do such a thing with her.

    Beautiful breasts... perfect pouty lips... a gorgeous ass...

    The 42 year-old stood up and headed for the kitchen. He could not and would not let that idea get any further.  All he needed was a little ice water to bring himself to his senses.

    But as he entered the kitchen, his eyes caught on the reflective gleam of the glass bottle containing his precious shrinking potion.

    Spent two years hunting that stuff down... can't let it go to waste...

     Mark slowly approached the kitchen counter and picked up the bottle. The directions read, "Dip the measured dropper into the bottle. Indicated by the number on the dropper, choose what height you wish to be. Effects wear off within 24 hours."

    His hands worked carefully to unscrew the top of the bottle, which opened up to reveal a dropper, like a small turkey baster. The numbers on the measured notches decreased as they reached from the opened tip towards the rubber top. The more you take, the smaller you get. 

    It would be so easy. She's not even going to wake up. You can play around a little and then just go to bed.

    "Yeah..." Mark closed the bottle and slipped it into his pocket. The world around him derealized until the man felt as if he were working his way through a dream.

    Soon he had walked into the living room and was carefully lifting his daughter's unconscious body up off of the couch. Then he was up the stairs, laying her down into her bed, and gently tugging off her clothes.

    For a few moments his dream slowed down while he admired his daughter's naked form. Perfectly sized breasts, a soft, flat tummy, and a pussy shaved spic and span. It was like Christmas.

    Then time pushed at him again and Mark found himself taking the bondage equipment from his wife's nightstand and using it to tie his daughter's wrists and ankles to her bed posts.

    Finally, the time had come. Jordan lay, naked and bound in her slumber, presented like a holiday feast. Mark had locked all of the doors and windows, drawn the curtains. For extra measure, he had poured a bit of Nyquil into his daughter's mouth to insure that she wouldn't wake up and fight him.

     At last, Mark pulled the bottle of shrinking potion out of his pocket and drew the dropper up to the "Six Inch" mark...