Giantess World
“Well, Kyle, it’s clear from everything we’ve heard and seen that you and your mother have made tremendous strides this week,” the therapist declared, gazing pleasantly at the six-inch boy across the circle with a smile that almost belied the sinister atmosphere of smirking ladies and sullen mini-slave boys around them. “But of course, we’d like to hear from you, as well. True solutions in relationships can only come when both parties are working in tandem, and while you often choose not to participate with commentary during these sessions, which is fine up to a point, we’d all love to support you in sharing your feelings. So, tell us, please, dear. Are you still afraid of loving your mother the way she deserves?”
With all eyes in the room upon him, some admiring his size and some challenging him to answer wrong, Kyle squirmed in his mother’s lap while flanked on either side by her hands, both palms ready to whisk him off to an appropriate time-out location if his response wasn’t acceptable. Just to rub salt in the wound, too, her fingers still reeked of lube and lower orifices from their pre-gaming activities this morning, giving the boy a heady incense to breathe while pondering what to say.
Despite the therapist’s clinical tone and neutral expression, Kyle had been through enough trials by now to recognize when yet another size-hording figurehead was teasing him with the futility of resisting his gigantic superiors. Depressingly enough, he’d have happily jumped into the therapist’s clutches and let her use him as a portable dildo and butt plug instead, if only because he found her much more attractive than the homely oafish four-eyed rapist he called “Mom,” and at this stage in the utter degradation of his soul, even the prospect of becoming someone else’s lifelong sex toy was a wonderful fantasy. But also just that: a fantasy. Because it was obvious now that there would be no easier escape from this therapeutically-approved “romance” any more than there was a chance of clambering out of his mother’s aromatic holes a single minute sooner than she wished him to.
He knew he wasn’t being asked a question now; he was being given a choice.
“Not anymore,” Kyle said, putting on the best performance of his life for the sake of saving it. He spoke calmly and slowly, ensuring no words of his ultimate lie were stammered. “I took a long time to figure it out, but I was being selfish before. I was still having trouble getting used to all the new changes then, and I took it out on Mom, even though she was the one trying to help me all along, which wasn’t right. But because she’s such a good Mom, she was patient with me during all the crap I put her through. I really have learned to appreciate her the way I should, and I’m not afraid at all to keep on doing that, because she… does deserve it. She helped me realize all that with some… extra practice… that showed me just how good of a thing we have together, exactly the way it is now.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Kyle spotted Joanne in the neighboring seat watching him even more intently than the therapist. With the jiggly domed hills of her ass cheeks crammed more-or-less into an immodest skirt, she adjusted her posture every now and again with a happy twitch as though getting settled on a beanbag chair, except of course with her own swollen thighs and ample keister as all the cushion she could ever need.
“I think the group will agree that’s the kind of progress you simply can’t discount,” the therapist practically swooned. Raising her arms, she gazed around the room with genuine pride. “Everyone, doesn’t that call for a round of applause? Let’s hear it for Roberta and Kyle!”
Understandably, only the man-possessing wardens in the room clapped, but they created enough noise to make up for the lack of enthusiasm from all the glum shrunken males imprisoned in their laps and between their tits. Roberta herself might’ve clapped the loudest, leaving a ringing in her son’s ears nearly as potent as the scent of her frizzy-haired sex still smothered thick on her fingers and especially his body.
“Now, I believe that makes it Joanne and Tommy’s turn,” the therapist said, angling toward the elephantine matriarch. She smiled, recognizing the woman’s finger-sized son was nowhere in sight. “Though it appears the better half will be representing the both of them. How are things going in your house, Joanne?”
“Oh, things have never been better!” she blurted, releasing her enthusiasm in one gust, though it was obvious to everyone listening that Joanne wasn’t just moaning with satisfaction over the therapy’s effectiveness. Playing pat-a-cake with her deflated thigh flab, the woman came dangerously close to inching her thumbs under the summery cut of her skirt in pursuit of her crotch, dragging the fabric up just high enough that Kyle and the other shrunken inmates, from their lowlier vantages, could see her damp cameltoe testing the strength of her panties. “Last week, I gotta admit I had my doubts about our progress, but since then, my little sugar-lump has done a complete one-eighty. He’s been learnin’ so much in such a short period of time, and I really have to owe it all to the advice we got in here, especially from you, Roberta, darlin’. Yes, with some helpful tips, and LOTS of practice, we’re well on our way - ooohhh, baby - to real domestic bliss.”
At this shameless eruption of cooing mid-sentence, along with the accompanying hip-wiggles and fidgeting fingers that showed Joanne was doing everything in her power to keep from masturbating through her panties right in front of them, her private audience chuckled approvingly, with all eyes falling to the nebulous array of bulges making up her husky lower quarters. Now that the speaker was slowly gyrating in her chair, it was tough to guess what twitches were owed to Joanne’s libidinous squirming and which might’ve been a sign of life from her son buried somewhere in the sweaty middle-aged mush of lard and muff.
“That does certainly seem to be the case, by the look and sound of it,” the therapist added. “Maybe that’s Tommy’s way of saying he’d like a turn to speak, too?”
“Sorry if we’re makin’ a fuss over here,” Joanne said, wiping her forehead of perspiration and fanning her reddening cheeks. “The last thing I want to be is the center of attention.”
It took everything in Kyle’s power not to laugh out loud.
“Now, now. There’s no room from apologies in this room, at least not from our devoted caretakers of society’s little outsiders,” the therapist said. She raised an eyebrow, nibbling the end of her pen. “As a reminder to everyone, it’s perfectly all right to express yourself, with your words and whatever other methods help you. This is a safe place, we’re here to learn from one another just as much as share our feelings.”
“I think she’s giving you the aye-okay to give us a sample of the action, Joanney,” Olga said, licking her lips. “We just wanna see the little fella and hear how much he’s loving life!”
“Yes, we could ALL use some new ideas,” Betsy insisted. “Believe me, we’ve seen it all, before, haven’t we?”
“Oh, I… I wouldn’t want to impose, or put any of ya in a TMI-situation,” Joanne said, still blushing and perspiring, but now with barely-restrained giddiness. Still she appeared to be having fun milking the scenario, and did her best to cross one dense leg over the other, which in turn inspired more eroticized exhales and cellulite-shuddering fidgets that verged on humping thin air. “Plus, Tommy has become kind of a private lover in these last few weeks.”
“That’s how you can tell he’s becoming a man, not just a boy. He wants that intimacy with his mama all to himself,” Roberta sagely intoned. Her fingertip twirled over her own child’s crotch, now in-tune with Joanne’s attitude. “But for what it’s worth, Joanne, taking that last step to be open not only with one another, but with the whole world, well… that’s when you really know you’ve got something special with him, forever and always.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” the therapist concurred. She winked at Kyle’s mother. “Maybe you’ve got a future in leading these groups yourself, Roberta.”
“Ya got that one right. She’s a natural. And speakin’ of which, you’ve all talked me into it. I’m sure I can entice my boy into sayin’ a few words,” Joanne laughed. Again she made a show of flaring out her skirt to stand, grunting on the rise and adjusting her cleavage to look her best in the unofficial spotlight, but just as quickly she hooked her thumb in the waistband of her elastic underwear and yanked it down her thighs, first one hock then the other, until the paltry garment was dragged low enough to plop in a damp crumpled pile around her ankles.
At first Kyle jolted, expecting to see Tommy’s three-inch-body writhing in paralysis while still laced into the panty crotch between his mother’s feet after the fall, given that was where he last saw his tortured counterpart stowed, but the boy was nowhere to be seen, at least at first, until a tiny face emerged through a gelatinous puddle of cloudy cum and wiry hairs. After kicking her underthings off the end of both pudgy feet, Joanne squatted with a modest effort and retrieved her son, letting him remain affixed to the cloth crotch while she pinched the safely un-soaked waistband.
Kyle bit his tongue to avoid retching aloud, witnessing the panties and Tommy along with them ascending past the drumstick-like pillars of Joanne’s legs, all the way above her hair-matted pink-and-pale monument of a pussy, now exposed in all its puffy cum-glazed glory for the group to appreciate. Her labia wobbled at this separation from its favorite snack, bristling her pubes and flicking a globule of fluid to the floor below. After his last bout with the cavern and little more than elastic bands, vaginal lips, and a gooey forest to keep him suspended, Tommy was still coughing and wriggling as though his chest was being pumped with a defibrillator.
Once the woman had carried her boy up to eye-level, turning him over for examination and only smiling wider at each observation she made of her obedient toy in his tailor-made suit of mom-gunk and squiggle-line pubes, she brandished him by stretching the underwear out wide for the group to witness. A chorus of gasps rang out from all parties, though more of admiration from the ladies and barely-contained dread from the men.
The boy was still just as tiny and naked as the last time everyone had seen him, but there was something different too that could be perceived even from across the room. Tommy only moved to hiccup another splurge of swallowed nectar, just letting himself hang limp from the bands, and for Kyle, who had the closest view of the guy, it was clear there was hardly any light left in those beady eyes. His brain stayed switched on and his lungs still pumped air in between swallows of ejaculate, but for all intents and purposes, the monster of Joanne’s snatch had suckled the life right out of him.
“Well, Tommy-sweetie? Mommy promised everybody a show, so we gotta deliver,” Joanne proudly commanded. “You don’t have to leave your happy little house, since I want you to be comfortable, but make sure you speak up, so they can all hear, and tell them just how good ya got it now!”
Then followed thirty seconds of grim silence, during which everyone patiently leaned forward on the edges of their seats for just a peep from a boy who looked too weary and shame-splattered to even fully open his eyes, let alone pronounce his love for this lifestyle. Having personally known that feeling so many times, though perhaps not quite to the extreme Tommy was now experiencing, Kyle hoped for the boy’s sake that Joanne would get sick of waiting and just stretch her panties back over her crotch. It was too painful to look at him. Unsurprisingly, though, the woman wasn’t satisfied with his lack of enthusiasm. Frowning, she gave the group a polite smile and mouthed “one second,” then strolled several paces away just behind the chair, chanting in a low snarl of a whisper that only Kyle, from this proximity and with his sensitive shrunken ears, could pick up aside from Tommy.