“I warned you before th-that I don’t often get company,” Duval began, nervously giggling as she pushed her hip into the bedroom door. “So, y-you might imagine that I don’t have many people come up here, especially. I hope you can feel comfortable…”

Sierra aimed herself forward in preparation for the bedroom, a scene she had dreamed of experiencing in-person -- when her dreams were not swamped with more extravagant fantasies, at least. She heeded Duval’s warning much like the others, but still pressed herself to the tips of her fingers, eager to scope out the room. Duval must have noticed such excitement when she hesitated to enter, taking a deep breath before stepping forward with her guest in hand.

The cool air of a stagnant room exhaled out the door as it opened, sweeping past Sierra as she awed at the interior waiting within. A generous amount of space welcomed the pair into a pseudo-circular shape, the layout of furniture adjusted to the unique dimensions. One round corner opposite of the entry was a wide window curved around a narrow seat, presenting itself like a centerpiece landscape painting; the vista outside was impressive, scanning over the roofs of houses lower into the hills, the quiet slopes and streets like tranquil brushstrokes of that real world they had quietly departed. That grand view of the night pulled Sierra’s attention away from the details immediately around her; she noticed in blinks the scattered arrangement of Duval’s make-up at her vanity, the unshelved books crowned with a coffee mug that took up her nightstand, and the mound of worn clothes piled onto a chair. Even after Duval flicked on the lights and cast the ceiling fan to begin, there remained a vacancy to the space, brought on by the mauve color scheme and general openness of the room.

While Sierra marveled at the room and absorbed her surroundings, Duval progressed inwards at a slow, melancholy pace. She was pulled forward to the window, her free-hand responsible for keeping the chest of her bathrobe secured as she neared her reflection in the glass -- an image, she realized, that was unfamiliar to her. Painted above the landscape of lavish properties was herself, robed in white, carrying in one palm the existence of an entire person, so curiously peeking past the edges of her hand. It struck her just how rare it was to see this dynamic from another perspective; all her time spent with her head lowered, her eyes honed onto something so small, had always preoccupied her from seeing just how truly large she was, the aura she manifested by being this divinely figure. No less was this learned by Duval as she stared at this image of herself against the city skyline, those distant silhouettes of buildings relating her to a giant, all-encompassing size.

“It’s a gorgeous view,” Sierra chuckled, thawing that silence in the air.

“... It is,” Duval said softly. Her eyes outlined her reflected form once again, warmed by that image and the confidence that came with it. She blinked; “I-It really sold me on the house, th-the view from here. Or, anywhere in the house, every window has such an amazing look over the neighborhood.”

“The walls are so bare, though.”

“... Are they?” Duval turned away from the window and looked to the walls, half-circling where she stood to examine the room. Other than shelves and light fixtures, there really was nothing on the walls. “Mm. I’ve never really noticed.”

“Sorry,” Sierra said, “i-it’s just something I noticed. You absolutely have a lovely house!”

“Heh. Did you expect something different?”

“P-Perhaps. I suppose it’s… a little silly,” she giggled, “maybe it’s just from movies I watched, but I always expected…-- I thought a house, like this, would have a gallery of beautiful paintings.”

“Really? Hmm.”

“Or perhaps… one big portrait, of the owner of the estate,” Sierra joked. Nervous pauses broke up her speech, but Duval’s amused response helped calm her. “I can almost imagine it. But, really though, m-maybe you’d like some abstract art. Something you can get lost in.”

Duval nodded along. “Do you like paintings?”

“Sort of. I used to paint, i-it was kind of a phase. But at my old place, I would keep up a lot of paintings, anything I’d find. A lot of simple scenes. I didn’t, uh, have nearly as good of a view as you do at my apartment. So I tried to make up for it with pretty paintings. I could get lost in some of them, like portals to different worlds…”

Duval’s fingers curled closer around Sierra, pulled to her like gravity. She dwelled on that idea, taking to heart Sierra’s suggestion for a painting. The many windows, wide and clear as they were, offered her many ways of looking at her world outwardly -- always staring off to the horizon, some other day. A painting, she considered, was introspective, a look into herself, though she debated what she wanted to see there and what it would mean.

“... I’ll have to browse around for something,” Duval said, smiling at her precious friend as she shifted towards the bed. “I wish I could have something you made. I would think of you any time I looked at it!”

Sierra laughed. “Y-You wouldn’t-- They were never very good,” she clarified. “But, I think with the right painting, you could find something that reminds you of me.”

“Oh? Could I?” Duval gently dropped onto the corner of her bed, reeling Sierra closer to her chest so that the movement was less stunted. “What would a painting like that look like?”

“I guess that’s up to you,” Sierra giggled. “What reminds you of me?”

“Fires…”

“... Really? Like, a house fire--?”

Duval huffed, “Really! Like, small fires. Like candles. Often when I’m holding you, it feels like that’s what’s in my hands. A warm, little flame. And I have to be careful with it. I don’t want the wind to put you out. And I don’t want to get burned, either.” She shared a smile with Sierra, pointing out a finger from her robe-clutching hand so it could gently prod the tiny woman. In an act, that finger flinched back after contact; “Ouch! See?”

Sierra laughed along with Duval and playfully pushed the finger away. Duval gave in to the tiny shove and allowed her whole hand to be moved aside, allowing Sierra to “win.” Incidentally, Sierra’s prize was bestowed to her; where the hand once kept the robe together, there was now a part between the two halves, giving a glimpse of cleavage that was within arms reach. The sight instantly struck Sierra into stillness, her jaw frozen mid-giggle as her stare took over.

“There are other things, too,” Duval continued, building a list of things that reminded her of Sierra. Her glance reached for the window and its vista again. “Of course, I think a lot about you at the lab, if that counts. You’ve made me think a lot about my rubber gloves after your little stunt,” she teased, her eyes still held forward. “There’s also… hm?”

Duval was interrupted when she felt a tickle of touches at her chest. Her attention then returned directly onto Sierra, noticing that she had, with her diminutive strength, tugged apart the robe to create a wider gap that further exposed her skin. Sierra marveled at what she uncovered, modestly allowing just one hand to caress its smoothness in a downward stroke. The tips of those fingers pressed into the skin’s softness, just short of grasping it.

But restraint anchored her. Her touch weakened until just one finger lay pushed into the skin. This isn’t the hotel, Sierra toiled. That night is gone. I let it all out then, and so did Duval. How could I want more when I’ve already been given so much? She bit her lip, her stare piercing past that wall of a body. Because… that was a different Duval, wasn’t it? All that we did was what I wanted for so long, but it was Ophelia that I wanted it to be with. It’s Ophelia that I’ve fallen so in love with… but Ophelia wants so much more, and I’ve only been in the way.

“Sierra…” Duval sang her name like a lullaby, gently drawing her focus. “You worry me when you freeze up like that. Is everything fine?”

Sierra hesitated; while processing the question, she listened to the tempo of Duval’s heartbeat that drummed nearby. Her reply was breathed weakly, “I-I don’t know.”

Duval raised a brow, shuffling in her seat so that her chest popped forward slightly more. “You seemed… interested in something,” she hinted. “Was there something you wanted?”

Sierra looked at the cleavage, which had opened as the robe fell looser around Duval’s torso. It was impossible to not stare into, but Sierra again turned her vision aside after a moment. “I don’t know what we want,” she specified. “And I don’t even know what’s right for us…”

Duval noticeably became still with concern. The minuscule weight in her hand felt heavier in that moment, not like the fire she had compared Sierra to earlier. A deep breath brought her back to life, “I knew there would still be a lot on your mind… I’ve thought a lot about that, what it is that I want. I, honestly, still don’t quite know. But…” Her fingers curled again, but it was a twitch of excitement that bent them. “I think what I want is something like this.”

There was only a beat of time for Sierra to hang on the tail of Duval’s words, for in that next moment, she was being shoveled forward without warning. She was flipped upside-down, her naked body flung between the breasts she had been admiring at a touch. A squeal of surprise went muffled into the globes as her head was plunged into the flesh, her little body enveloped by the cleavage. It was a fight to earn herself space, pushing with both legs and arms awkwardly against the immense plushness, but that struggle was squashed when Duval, caught in a laugh, hugged both breasts together. Sierra was wrestled in the middle, churned and swirled by the rotating motions that followed.

The pressure was relieved when the breasts were pulled apart, revealing the mop-haired Sierra that was pressed-stuck against one’s roundness. Wearily, she pulled out from the skin that clung to her; she would have slipped down, but Duval had reclined her posture so that the slope was not so steep. Despite this, Sierra trembled to stay where she was, still short of breath after that blindsided experience -- as that flustered feeling lingered, she wondered what it had been in response to.

Duval’s giggling eased into a coo of concern. “Oh, d-did that rough you up too much?” she asked sincerely, peeking down at the figure between her boobs. “I-I got ahead of myself. You just looked so cute waiting there… like you needed a little push.”

Sierra coughed -- That was a bit more than just a push, she remarked to herself. Her arms gripped at the fat of the breasts, using what she could pinch to support her position while also fixing the mess made of her hair. Even after her sense of balance was restored, she was left puzzled in the aftermath, looking back and forth between where she lay and Duval’s curious expression above.

“What… was that, exactly?” Sierra wondered, fully aware that her body was glowing with redness.

“Hah! I’m not sure,” Duval honestly replied. “An urge, I guess. Something I had to do.” She sighed, and Sierra felt the fullness of it as her chest lifted and sank. “I couldn’t help myself~ It’s just that you made me realize that there’s a lot of life I haven’t been living. I try to deny it, but I am getting older -- time is passing by, and not with a lot to look back on.” Her smile persisted, but like dusk, it was caught between two shades. “Everything I’ve accomplished… won’t mean as much if it just takes me to some lonely office at the top of the world.”

Duval’s hand was offered flat for Sierra to slide into as she explained herself. She was returned to the position she had been in front of the robed bust, but now with her heart racing far faster than it had. That unexpected push that tossed her into Duval’s cleavage rang with familiarity, yet again harking back to the hotel -- how her body was picked up and used, that meltingly warm laughter, the smell and touch of sweat. Duval, by her own admission, was succumbing to these urges, not unlike how she did when alcohol was involved, a detail that stormed Sierra’s overactive imagination.

In a jolt of motion, Sierra had grabbed at the robe again, just after Duval had reset her perch on the bed corner. She tried tossing the fabric aside, but her whole body was required to move it as far as she wanted -- to reveal most of one boob, enough to expose the firm nipple hiding underneath. Duval was startled into a stutter, seemingly more surprised by Sierra’s burst of energy than having her robe forcefully opened, but did not interfere. Her curiosity kept her refrained and observant, allowing Sierra to do as she had wanted.

Sierra hesitated, but then lunged into the breast with her arms spread apart. She pushed with her knees in an attempt to lift some of that mound up, but all she could manage was an armful of flesh that spilled over her, bouncing back with its own weight. Sierra stumbled, but threw herself back onto the skin with diligence, her hands groping the expansive area in swirls around that precious areola. Like trickling a piano’s keys, Sierra conducted shivers and flinches from Duval, working as hard as she could to replicate what one idle hand could massage at normal proportions. The effort exhausted her and her already weak condition, but she was inspired, driven to try and to live for this legendary opportunity.

Duval read hints of Sierra’s emotions, deciphered through her lustful methods. Stutters tried to ask Sierra directly what she wanted, what she was trying for, but the feeling got through -- Sierra was being chased by despair and loneliness, and so she was savoring what she could. There was desperation in her fingers’ grip, a solemn pace at which she exhaled over the globe, all signs to Duval that she was dealing with a heavy heart.

It eventually was explained, without Duval needing to sort out her stutter. Sierra shyly looked up, much of her face veiled in the way it was pressed into the breast, and she said to Duval, “I have so many urges… Can I fulfill them, too?”

Duval blinked, her smile slowly blossoming while a thumb curled into a stroke down Sierra’s back. “Sierra… Of course,” she giggled -- a subtle shift in her tone, spiced with a certain sultriness. “If I’m your entire world… I want that world to be a fantasy come true to you. Tell me anything you want.”

“I--” Sierra began quickly, but choked just as fast. Her face was a volcanic red, but her hands continued to swirl in a pattern that calmed her. “... I want to kiss you again,” she whispered, only audible enough for her tiny voice to be heard.

“I’d enjoy that,” Duval softly replied. She licked her lips, tasting a thought; “I shouldn’t make you work for it again. Here~” Both hands were steadied together, elevating Sierra from chest level up to Duval’s lips. Sierra froze during the shift, stumbled back as she comprehended the huge face put in front of her, her stare pointed into the nose that pointed sternly back at her. She naturally noticed Duval’s smile, the breaths that leaked through its thin part, how the corners coiled with amusement. “Whenever you’re ready,” she teased when the pause went on.

Like trembling before a great treasure, Sierra nervously rocked forward and crawled up to the lips. A breeze of a breath washed over her face when she leaned in close, but it was that intimate aroma that drove away the last of her restraints. Sierra dived into the lips, attacking with a long kiss that pushed deep into the tender spot. She shivered upon feeling an inkling of Duval’s saliva, the trace amount present on her lips; that sensation prolonged her kiss, extending it even further until she pulled back and exhaled. The before and after looked exactly the same, but Sierra’s soul felt featherweight, still savoring that contact while it was fresh.

Sierra wiped her own lips dry, though even her fingertips fiddled with that minimal moisture of spit taken from off her cheek. She glanced into one of Duval’s eyes before turning her head in embarrassment. After getting hyped up for such a desire, the result left Sierra quiet and contemplative.

Duval licked her lips again, retrieving the taste Sierra left behind. “That was adorable,” Duval sighed, “it was so small… but, how about a kiss from me?”

Sierra blinked, an empty breath her only noise -- until she was yelping from shock, her body conquered by those same lips. She was rolled into giggles, then massaged into wild laughter; Duval’s lips plucked at her body, ensuring every inch and side was glossed with overbearing affection. Sierra pushed against the lips in tickled resistance, but the addition of Duval’s tongue had those attempts thwarted. The pink limb snaked around the shrunken woman’s shape, every effort to stop it only squishing into its flexible form fruitlessly. A coat of drool was cast over Sierra, but Duval was tidy enough to keep most of her palm clean -- that evidence of precision and care did not go unnoticed by her little partner.

The lips pulled away for a relief of air that both cherished, but Duval was plenty eager, warped into her passion. Without her habitual second thoughts, she spun into her mattress, carrying Sierra with her as though she were pulling a normal-sized partner into bed beside her. Their scale positioned Duval on her stomach, lurking above her beloved possession with a growing grin. Sierra, tossed about like she was, was still understanding her situation when she was then blanketed by another kiss; at first, it was an ambush of a peck to steal Sierra’s attention, but those lips then bore onto her just like before, completely locking her onto her back no matter how she spasmed under the bountiful kisses.

Duval was graceless in this act, posing however was necessary so that Sierra looked to her at a divine angle. Her bathrobe shimmied loose from all the movement and twisting; the chest completely came undone, her breasts pouring from the center and spreading the gap wider, while the band around her waist eventually slipped free and fell aside. Her legs enjoyed the lessened restrictions, crawling across her sheets as she continued to bury Sierra beneath a flood of love, but it still proved to be too much for Duval. In a huff, she bounced away from Sierra and shook the robe off her body, letting it cascade down her shoulders and then the rest of her frame.

In that moment, where Duval stood on her knees, the white robe dropped into a pile around her, she looked down at Sierra and breathed in a vital realization. Towering above Sierra and reading her diminutive but steamed reactions, it dawned on Duval that this was her desire. Every detail had fallen into place like a dream, but it was beyond the qualities of their size or the setting in which their romance flourished. She felt attractive in that moment, outrageously beautiful -- like any goddess would, looming above a singular mortal, stripped of her robes and yet still proud of her nudity. A glare was affixed to Sierra, the stare of a hunt; Duval had finally found what she was searching for.

And in the target of those eyes, Sierra shuddered into herself, left cold in the layer of spit soaked into her. The humiliation she felt was not unwelcomed, in fact an important aspect of what turned her on. Her romantic gestures, as full of heart as they had been, were nonetheless minuscule to such a huge and powerful person. Inversely, Duval could drown Sierra into her lips, a single kiss strong enough to tackle her off her feet. This outlandish difference in power left her feeble, but not afraid. In truth, she was immersed, her own fragility a token point of what then drove her to unabashed masturbation.

Duval snickered at the sight, biting her bottom lip with delight -- and rekindling that taste of Sierra once more. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked, her head lifted for an extra inch of height. Every bit of superiority fueled Duval’s fascination with their dynamic, developing a picture of herself that was poised and unflinching. Sierra remained in her rhythm, affording only one eye to answer the massive woman’s question. “Mhmm~ I must know what has your attention,” Duval inquired, pulling at her lip in dreamy thoughts. “What is it? What about me is on your mind…?”

Sierra was caught mid-boil in her arousal, her fingers working diligently around her clitoris even as she was spoken down to. It was a degrading perspective, but it was exactly that tone which pushed Sierra’s heat higher and higher. She struggled to budget the breath to reply, “Y-Your… hair…” Unclear as she was, Sierra jerked her head up, a gesture to where those pillar-like legs led to. “There…” she whimpered, “your… pubic hair…”

“My pubic--? Hehe…” Duval giggled earnestly, nearly blinked out of her moment -- Such interesting tastes she has, she mentally commented. She hummed back into the circumstance at play; “You’ve become so quiet, sweetie. Are you ashamed of something? Does looking up at this embarrass you?” Fingers brushed through the curls of hair at her crotch, gentle circles of motion that hooked Sierra’s gawk of a stare. Duval kept her smile hidden, pulled back so that her chest was sure to conceal her joy. “What about it? Is there something you want to see…?”

When Sierra offered no reply, Duval took initiative and lowered herself onto the bed, shifting forward so that her crotch was placed directly in front of the tiny woman. Sierra’s pleasure was interrupted by all the movement, brought to a halt as her stare delved into the growth of hairs. She studied every vivid detail, from the tangles to the wetness binding them; Duval’s arousal was introduced with its distinct aroma, a scent that twisted Sierra’s tongue with its intimate allure. Pushing herself up against the pillow behind her, Sierra itched back into her masturbation, swapping hands so that the one could rest.

The bush crawled closer to her, its weight and that of the legs flanking its sides pushing down on the malleable plain that was the mattress. Duval’s giggle continued to chime in periodically, each sound gushing over Sierra’s reactions. The closeness of her crotch and the stretch of her legs kept her cornered, allowing Duval to savor all she wanted -- until she was ready to engage.

While Sierra’s eyes were closed and her mind clouded with lust, Duval delicately reached out with a finger and brought it onto her little lover. It was a soft stroke, but Sierra was initially startled by the contact, flinching when it massaged her side and rustled her hair. Soon after did she find comfort in the finger, leaning into the touch wherever it routed her body, until that touch tickled down her center. Duval’s fingertip went back and forth between her breasts, pressing just firmly enough to feel her ribs and even a tiny tap of a heartbeat. Sierra’s tempo slowed as it continued to go lower down her body, swirling at her stomach, and then going no further.

Sierra waited, but Duval was content where she was, evidenced by that pleasant smile that shined down on Sierra like a streetlight. Sierra’s fingers curled where they were between her thighs, but she hesitated on her expectation -- she desperately desired Duval to take over, but the overseer wanted something in return, something yet to be said, a suspense that completely captivated Sierra.

Duval sighed a short breath, aware that Sierra’s attention was entirely honed in on her. Only then did Duval speak: “I want you to beg a little…”

“B-Beg…?” Sierra panted the word back. It struck an electric chord deep inside her, more than the word ever could have before. She swallowed and curled forward, tepidly grasping the finger’s length as a means to pull herself. The unusual request had her guessing what was appropriate, but she was dedicated to her obedience, gripping Duval’s skin more tightly, more wantingly. “P-Please keep going… Please…?”

Duval bit her lip, filled with heartache upon hearing those diminished pleas. Under any other circumstance, that tone would have instantly won Sierra anything out of Duval. Rather than cave into her caretaker instincts, she held her breath and steadied her finger on Sierra’s stomach. “Hmm? Did I hear a peep?” she teased.

“Please… I-I really want you t-to touch me…!” Sierra’s whimpering turned to a growl halfway through, her impatience slipping into frustration. But Duval’s expression merely blinked, and her finger coldly remained. Sierra moaned, “I-I… need you to! God, please… Please d-don’t make me wait, Ophelia…”

Duval chuckled, purposing her free hand to occupy the arousal brewing between her own legs. Fingers combed through her bush, gradually unveiling the slither of pink hidden within. The slight touch of her own wetness inspired her next venture. “Kiss my finger,” she commanded. “Kiss it like you would kiss me, if you weren’t so teeny-tiny, heh~”

Sierra shivered when given the order, blinking as she studied the finger and shaped its image into that of Duval. Even then was this vision overbearing, picturing Duval as a statuesque woman that matched the finger’s length and strength. It was easy for Sierra to succumb to her own illusion, and so she propelled into a kiss, first greeting the skin under the knuckle with her lips before massaging a cheek into its side. Both hands trailed up and down the digit, each touch capturing more of Sierra’s lust until she had it wrapped in her embrace, her kisses becoming frantic and fast. Long licks proved Sierra’s dedication, but as entertained as this all made Duval, the overseer still wanted more.

The finger lifted, then pointed to Sierra’s face, so directly that she flinched away from the nail’s edge. It then bobbed at her, a gesture for her attention; a glance upwards at Duval’s dominating face suggested clearly that Sierra should proceed with just the tip of the finger. And so she did, muffling a moan into its width and kissing all around the pad. Her hands grabbed the fingernail as a means to control it, allowing her to tilt it best for her affections to be considered. Kissing turned to suckling, and Sierra’s grasp on the finger found its own rhythm of pumps, respecting the finger and its unique dimensions as much as her miserable size could offer.

Time was stopped for Duval as she dwelled on this reaction, her expression largely unchanging while her thoughts swirled and shivered. Eventually unfrozen by Sierra’s dedication, she positioned her finger where promised, gently pushing apart the little legs in her way. “Adorable,” Duval whispered, admiring the pose Sierra was struck in; her now-vacant arms barely hiding her chest, her blush-filled expression shyly aimed aside, her legs quivering in suspense. The slightest increase in pressure from her finger exponentially drew spasms out from the shrunken woman, and Duval was delicate in her process, developing a sinking-rising pattern around Sierra’s crotch that was keen to its sensitivity.

Sierra choked a breath back, a palm tossed over her mouth. What she had meant to say was exhaled as just a hiss of arousal; “O-Ophelia…” she stuttered, a name worth thousands of words. Her legs clamped onto the fingertip, disregarding the sharpness of the nail. Her expression twisted inward as she gasped, “Ah, god…”

Duval’s motions slowed and her face lowered near to Sierra, as much as her posture would allow. “Are you comfortable?” she whispered. “Hehe. Is this all it takes…? Just my fingertip…?” Her head tilted with coyness, happy to hear staggered breaths as a response. “So easy to please, when you’re just this little thing to play with. You must really be crazy over every part of me, hmm~?”

Testing such a thought for both their benefits, Duval released a blow of air from her lips, casting a gust that swept over Sierra’s shambled shape. The coolness tickled Sierra pleasantly and lured her into hugging the finger for its warmth, but beyond that was the scent of Duval’s breath which claimed all of her senses. It warped her to another world where Duval was everything, even the air she breathed; castaway in that sort of fantasy, Sierra’s shuddering accelerated, her moaning silenced as a rush of ecstasy guided her in every way she required. Suddenly, her hug on the finger turned iron-tight, her legs coiled around the fingertip, and her head lurked back as if unleashing a shout -- but there was just silence, a stuttered whine of an exhale that mimicked how her body fell frail and oozed down the digit’s length.

“Mhm. You look satisfied,” Duval said quietly, drifting her finger apart from Sierra’s crotch. She brought it to her lips which eagerly licked away the moisture it had acquired, that which it had rightfully earned. Sierra’s flavor was exhilarating, like an injection of adrenaline, and Duval openly hummed with pleasure as that taste was burned into memory. She chuckled, “It’s almost nothing~ but you must be very pleased with yourself. Mm, I hope that put you into a thankful mood, because…~”

Sierra had little time to relax before the mountain of a woman was shifting again, causing the landscape to bend and contort to wherever Duval applied her weight. She tried to watch where the massive limbs were taking position, but when that bush of pubic hair rushed at her, it demanded her full attention. Tiny tangles were forced around her as Duval’s crotch barreled ahead, pinning Sierra between it and the pillows. Caught up in the hairs, Sierra struggled to pull away, an effort that was swiftly diminishing; as ensnared by the pubic region as she was, so too did her mind belong to Duval’s clutches, anxiously awaiting the overseer’s intent.

Once Sierra was caught, Duval continued to lay out like she wanted. Her legs curled up onto the pillows so that her crotch was ushered skyward, and crowned within the hairs was Sierra, still making sense of how her surroundings had spun around. In her confused state, Sierra could have forever spent her time sightseeing and appreciating the geography that was Duval’s naked body, but Duval decided to dismiss those distractions by plucking up her lover and turning her about correctly there in the patch of curls. When finished, Sierra was buried into pubic hairs and directed to the exposed clitoris, the shape of which was as big as her head.

“Now, you can return the favor~” Duval laughed, her head lifted forward so she could peer down her body. Her hands nervously hovered away once Sierra was in position, the fingers still clearly twitching with excitement. “I’m not going to help you this time,” Duval warned. “Do your best, sweetie~”

Sierra understood her mission immediately, silently accepting the challenge. She crawled through the hair, careful in how her limbs interacted with each thick strand, until she had Duval’s clitoris aimed under her. Shamelessly, she dunked her head down and circled its shape with her tongue. After two revolutions, she licked in the opposite direction, her hands pushing at the labia to make the swollen nub more accessible. Her efforts were not in vain; despite her diminutive size and output, she felt the world under her knees quake in consequence, that humid atmosphere rising higher and drawing the sweat from Sierra’s pores.

But to that extent, Duval’s arousal was only beginning to climb, and those shivers were forgettable from her perspective. She eyed Sierra closely, curious as to what her approach would be when tasked with such a difficult chore. Obviously, she was disadvantaged without any help, but those pathetic efforts were what drove Duval’s energy up the walls, that someone as small as Sierra would willingly subject herself for the sake of her pleasure. She was a proven worshipper, dedicated to pleasing a body that was magnificently huge -- truly, Sierra felt she belonged nowhere else than in servitude to Duval’s desires, and Duval wouldn’t disagree.

Regardless of that overflowing passion, Sierra understood that her insignificant size made for an uphill obstacle. It was bound to be a lackluster performance at the rate she acted, and so her strategy changed. Her lips broke away from the clit after one last kiss so that she could align her crotch above it, pushing forward in the bush until her hands were seeped into the labia folds. Duval’s entrance was drenched with her arousal, loosened enough that Sierra’s ounce of weight sank into its wetness, and thus was Sierra allowed to stroke the inside and taste the source of that flavor she craved. Her legs buckled onto the clitoris so that she sat straddled around it, massaging its roundness in a perpetual cycle that kept herself sufficiently energized.

All of this effort worked to Duval’s favor, her head relaxing into the bedsheets while Sierra performed upon her. She cherished every resulting twitch, conceptualizing those jitters of motion for what they were to Sierra. Simply extending a leg out and upward was a spectacle for the little woman, a movement that demanded her wariness. The thrill was that her sexuality was its own danger, a real threat to the shrunken person on her body. She was huge, she was beautiful, she was deserving of Sierra’s worship -- she was a planet pending to implode, and that tiny woman was the cause.

Teased to the precipice of her pleasure, Duval could stay withdrawn no longer. Her eyes flashed open with an electric impulse, and her hand was thrown to her crotch. Fingers ambushed Sierra in a net-like sprawl, haphazardly capturing her from her undignified pose. She was hoisted away only briefly, for Duval intended to intensify her purpose; she plunged Sierra into the wet crevice, which accepted her for all of her flailing and spasming. That burst of resistance tickled Duval into a boisterous and steamy laugh, releasing Sierra where she had been designated -- her legs kicked up into the air, her upper body submerged into Duval’s core -- and tasking her hand then to stimulate her clit. Warm waves of muscular power hugged at Sierra from all sides, swallowing her inch by inch into the cavern that was Duval’s cunt, but not all was strife for her; Duval shared her ecstasy onto Sierra, pinning her by the underside with a drill-like finger that not only maintained the little woman’s position, but played with her lust, well on its way to achieve a subsequent orgasm from her.

Duval focused on what was ahead, as if she were flying through the sky. Everything was in its place, the world had been spinning to become this very moment. The stresses of life, both romantic and professional, melted from her skin as beads of sweat. There was a crystal-clear clarity that revealed to her the essence of her desires, that faraway endgame that had always existed in a fog. It was painfully straightforward, how what she wanted was already in-hand. Sierra was hers, and they were together, their souls united against those terrible odds. Edging towards her completion, Duval closed her eyes and listened to the belittled squeaks that were Sierra’s moans and coughs, until finally her smile blossomed upon hearing that name from her--

“Ophelia…! I love you…!” Sierra gasped, her head flung up from the hairs as if refusing to drown. Her volume then fell flat, suddenly pronged by an overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation; “I-I want you… t-to be happy…! I want… I…”

Tension and relief clashed within Duval to keep her uncannily still, locked into the sexual position she had spread herself into, barely a breath held in the suspense. As bombastic as Sierra’s orgasm had been, Duval’s was a calm and cooling experience, as if staring at a distant horizon. From her peripherals, the shade of reality was slowly returning, but it did not disturb the image in her mind. She had found a precious treasure, and so unexpectedly -- as moments with Sierra often were.

Ophelia. Her own name rang like a bell, but only in Sierra’s voice. It chimed, repeating in her ears long after Sierra had sung it. It was the first in a long time that her first name made her so happy; it was a part of her identity that she had spent years distancing herself from, a name attached to the dreams and wants that the scientist had shelved so long ago in favor of ambition, the pursuit of her career. Sierra had brought that identity to the surface once again, like a sunken ship retrieved from ocean depths, but only now could Ophelia appreciate its majesty.

Her trance persisted for several moments, her dreamy stare beaming upwards into the ceiling fan. Like water easing after a storm, Ophelia’s body laid in rest, made heavy with fulfillment. A hand faintly fell over her chest, sensitive to that drumming rhythm; her smile flickered to life, giggling over the idea of what her heart must sound and feel like to someone as small as Sierra. Ophelia sighed, “Sierra… Come here, won’t you…?”

“I’m… mm…”

Ophelia lifted her head lazily upon hearing that weary response. She struggled to peer past her chest and down to her crotch, where she last had her beloved. “Sierra?” she muttered, her smirk maintained for only so much longer. “Come here, sweetie. I want to see you~”

“Hhah… I’m c-coming…”

From the tangles of Ophelia’s bush, Sierra struggled to speak up. It was easier for her to be recognized by pulling at the hairs than to try and throw her voice while her throat was still so dry. That was enough to rouse Ophelia’s concern, but she was made more alert by Sierra’s staggered pace, how she collapsed from the hairs after dragging herself to the start of her stomach. Sierra flipped onto her back, sticking there even as Ophelia craned up into a seat, her worried expression and mess of hair coming to hover over the exhausted shrunken woman.

“Sierra? Ohh, dear…” Ophelia swallowed nervously, turning stiff to avoid making Sierra anymore uncomfortable. Her hands twitched at her sides, wanting to act; “Uhh, err-- W-Water? Do you need some water?”

“Yes…” Sierra exhaled, her nod in agreement massaged into the fat of Ophelia’s belly. “P… Please…”

“Water! O-Of course! On it! Umm…” Ophelia was flustered back to life, acting promptly like a good host would. Swept in embarrassment for forgetting the importance of hydration, she carefully but hurriedly removed her lover from a knot of pubic hair and sat her aside. In record time, she sped to the bathroom and back, returning with a small glass of water that was adequate enough for Sierra to drink from. After Sierra took her few, minuscule sips, Ophelia claimed the rest for herself in one gulp, only then aware of her own fatigue.

Minutes of the evening ticked by as the two recovered. Sierra was silent, as she usually was, but Ophelia was especially quiet, often caught by her partner staring towards the window with hollow eyes. Ophelia had reapplied the bathrobe over her shoulders, but left it loose and open so that the cool air could refresh her sweat-soaked skin. She sat on the corner of the bed, lost in thought while Sierra stood closeby, cradled in the wrinkles of a comforter -- but her mind was not so relaxed, fought over by the weights of reality and the fantasy she had experienced just moments ago.

Ophelia was the first to move, shaking the bed as she twisted where she sat in Sierra’s direction. She hesitated to start a conversation, but after glancing down at her beloved and noticing her long stare, she knew something had to be said.

But Sierra was a step ahead, speaking up before Ophelia could. “I’m fine,” she said, quelling any fears so that the massive woman would not have to worry. “Just… a lot on my mind. A lot that’s happened…”

Ophelia bit her lip and nodded. “Yes. A lot,” she agreed. “That was fun, though. It was… hah, m-maybe the most exciting… thing… to happen to me.”

Sierra smiled, warmly surprised to hear that from her. “I… definitely feel the same. I wish it didn’t have to end.”

“So do I,” Ophelia chuckled. Her body lumbered to the side, casually posing herself as a long wall just behind where Sierra laid. Like a blanket, she tenderly placed her palm over Sierra, shielding her from the bedroom’s chill against her bare skin. “Tonight has been truly wonderful, hasn’t it?”

“It’s precious,” Sierra specified. “It’s rare. And now, it’s basically gone. It’s happened, and so… in the morning, everything goes back. Back to normal.” Upon saying as much, Sierra expressed a soured smile, shaking her head up at the ceiling. “I almost forgot how hellish it is back at the lab… I’m just now remembering that I… won’t be able to see you. This could be it, you know… Th-The last time I get to see you.”

“Darling… I-I don’t think--” Ophelia began, but fretted from saying anymore. She hated to see Sierra depressed, but she could not lie either -- Sierra was not wrong in her fears. Ophelia knew better, too, then to make promises only meant to keep Sierra content. She sighed, “I-I’ve been worrying about the same thing, actually. Maybe not today, I-I doubt it would come to that… but eventually… this will catch up to us.”

“I’m sorry, Duval… I didn’t want to drag you into more trouble, n-not after the night at the hotel. We-- god, we had a second chance… to make it right, and set things straight, but… I’ve messed that up.”

“... No. Sierra, you’ve made things clearer than ever to me. I’m not letting us go back to that -- not like that.”

“Th-That can’t happen…” Sierra paused, her glare steepening. “You’ve done so much to make it here. Your career is precious, too, i-it’s worth so much more than me! I’m just… I’m a nobody. I’m not a doctor or lawyer… I’m not even a normal-sized person anymore. I’m an experiment. I’m your test subject.”

“You’re my lover -- before anything else,” Ophelia asserted, her grasp over Sierra becoming a soulful embrace. “I’ve had to leave you in the dark, and stay quiet about things… That wasn’t right. You’re important to me-- too important to not communicate with. It’s not going to happen like that again. We won’t be pushed away, not forever.” She bit her lip, wishing that her earnest wishes could revitalize Sierra. “No matter what the labs do or say… I’ll keep coming back to you. We’ll be together.”

Ophelia’s skin ran cold; Sierra huffed, tears in her eyes. “I don’t want this night to have to end… I feel free. Alive. At the labs… That normal life that th-they try to simulate… I hate it. It’s… just a prison. A cage. I-It isn’t about you, or the experiment… Anything would feel this way if it was keeping me from you.” She massaged her temples, but that effort was quickly forfeited. “I know I have to… but I don’t want to go back.”

“There won’t be any more distractions,” Ophelia whispered. “No more doubts. Sierra, I know what I want. You. I’ve been turned around a lot this past month, and I’ve been terribly indecisive. I know this… a-and I regret what it’s done to you. I hope you can forgive me. I-It’s not really an excuse, but… I haven’t done this very much-- er, I’ve never… been in love like this before.” She breathed in deep, trying to cool the redness that was overtaking her complexion. “I’m still new at this…”

“No… You’re so…” Sierra wrestled for a better word, but giggled into what she could think of; “You’re so silly. Acting like this is all on you…”

Ophelia scoffed amusedly. “I think I’m a major reason for a lot of these, err, hassles.”

“I’m responsible, too. I’ve been so careless… so stupid.” Sierra scratched at her burdened head. “I’ve put myself in danger, only making things worse for both of us. I almost risked you your job, I-I almost risked us. I’m so sorry, Duval, I’m--”

“Sweetie~” Ophelia interrupted Sierra with a kiss, her lips perfectly forming around the side of her little body before releasing her just as softly. “Please… I love when you call me Ophelia.”

Sierra curled up, reaching for the lips that had just graced her like an angel’s touch. She looked into Ophelia’s eyes, the lakes of sincere emotion that they were, and she trembled into a sob. “I love you, Ophelia.”

“I love you so much.” Ophelia’s smile shined in its most natural form, only cracking when she began to think ahead. “I suppose we should get some sleep. We need to leave early tomorrow if we want to--”

“No, n-not yet.” Sierra stood up, forcing herself onto her feet. “There’s no way I can sleep. I really… I really don’t want this night to be over yet.”

“Ah. Neither do I.” Ophelia sighed, but Sierra stood her ground, unwavering against the breath. She rolled her head to the side, her body becoming more relaxed in its sideways lounge. “I’m sure we can think of things to do~”

Speckles of stars could still be found illuminating that purple morning sky as Ophelia drove down the empty highway. Though no traffic was present to slow her down, she insisted on driving fast. She may have had schedules for Sharpe Labs memorized, but she did not want to risk anyone getting there before her. Sierra had to be returned to the med bay, and without a soul taking notice.

Fortunately, just as she had hoped, Ophelia was the first person to arrive at the labs. She allowed herself in at a normal hour to enter, avoiding the suspicion of monitors that tracked arrivals and departures. The final moments to be together with Sierra and Sierra alone were coming to a close, a reality she begrudgingly faced head-on as she lowered her beloved into the med bay and locked it up behind her.

“Ophelia!” Sierra called out, waving through the wall-length window. She shivered in delight when the overseer’s face consumed that outwards view in its entirety. “I-I just wanted to tell you to have a good day at work…”

Ophelia giggled. “I hope you can enjoy yourself with something,” she replied, nervously eyeing the door to her office. She made sure to smile bright for Sierra when she looked back. “I’ll see you later today. I love you.”

Sierra hesitated to reply, but Ophelia offered another way to respond. She pressed the pad of her finger against the glass, then tapped gently against it, a soft drum of noise. Sierra smiled and put her hand against the glass as well, sharing in one last touch before the day was to begin.

A long day pitted Ophelia against a tall workload, but she happily endured with an attitude that excelled where she had previously been dreary. There was new inspiration in her life, and for that day in particular, there was something she wanted to do. After leaving the labs and driving into the city, Ophelia stepped outside the boundaries of her routine in search of a painting that would turn her house into a home.