Giantess World
“Listen here, ya little runt…” Joanne uttered under her breath. With her back to the group, the woman’s already-frumpy smile transformed into a pinched mask of end-of-the-rope frustration over the tiny resident of her panties. “We talked about this. I even wrote out everything you had to say, so you wouldn’t have to think, just make noises. I told you what would happen if you couldn’t deliver here, didn’t I? You know Mommy can make things so much worse for you, doin’ things that don’t even come with the fun of lettin’ you get a hard-on. So not a single peep to them about the little boo-boo that you forced Mommy to give you by being so uncooperative, got it? Don’t test me, sugar-pot, you think you’ve got it bad now? I was just reading last week about a woman who deals with her no-good cheat of a husband by letting him clean her up after every deposit in the ladies’ room. Yes, that’s right, he’s her toilet paper. You’re a little on the small side for that kind of job by yourself, but if I just put some extra squares behind ya as padding, boom, we’re in business. I bet you could absorb a lot more than I give you credit for. Just think of the savings, not to mention all the good it would do for the environment. See, I’m already half-convinced it’s not a bad idea. What do ya think about that?”
Pausing to catch her breath, which had become shorter in the heat of her spittle-flying aggression, Joanne cinched her fingers around her boy like an iron lung, tightly enough that she finally got a response from Tommy in the form of a mewl and a spasm. She wiped away a layer of excess goo, which at least provided him with more breathing room, but did little to improve his dead-eyed micro-countenance.
“Listen good now, and mark… my… words,” she growled even more quietly, every husky word weighty with hard truth. “I could be doin’ things to you that would have you begging on your itty-bitty hands and knees for me to let you go back in my pussy. Oy, just think, after you’d scraped every bit of filth out of my big ol’ ass, front to back, deep as you’ll go, you’d actually be hopin’ for some pussy time just to wash everything off. I suppose that’s the kind of scenario ya wanna be in, huh, because that’s the signal you’re giving off now with this pouty quiet-game act. Go on, baby. Call Mommy’s bluff. Let’s see what happens.”
Kyle had no way of stopping himself from emitting something like a low-decibel scream amidst the tremors brought on by listening to this one-sided exchange. This went beyond fear and disgust, though of course he felt those at some level during every waking moment; this was just foul in a way he couldn’t fully emote. Joanne spoke with enough bubbling rage that Kyle himself felt he was being threatened just by existing near her, which reminded the lad to pray to the uncaring higher powers that his own mother hadn’t managed to hear too much of this speech, lest it give her ideas to add to the arsenal of anal child-breaking consequences.
Though Tommy’s voice would’ve been too quiet to be understood from such distance anyway, the ugly smile returning to Joanne’s face told Kyle she was satisfied in her threat, without even hearing a response from her child. She swirled back around to face the rest of the group, once again show-boating her humiliated son by extending the elastic of her panties like a flag. Much of the surplus fluid had been mopped up so Tommy at least didn’t have to talk through the gloppy film or risk getting a pube caught in his lips like a drinking straw, but this was a mercy too small to really matter. Though he kept his head hung low at first, so weak it was a challenge just to look directly at his hopeful audience, the motivation to avoid raking excretion out of his mom’s crack was enough to get Tommy stirring. And then he spoke as loudly as he could without vomiting or passing out from exhaustion.
“Better than ever! Better than ever!” he screeched like a trained parakeet. Every other word made Tommy’s marble-sized head lurch. “I… love what we have! I love Mom! I love all the stuff we learned! I’m so lucky she… saved me from whatever I would be without her! Thanks, everybody. Thanks, Ms. Lawrence and Kyle. And thanks, Mom, most of all! I was nothing before… nothing without Mom. I didn’t have any money or anybody to take care of me, and she still took me in, so… I learned a lot from that. I… know I can be a real… man now. A real man for my Mom. I’m… learning how to… take care of her, in all the ways she deserves to be taken care of, just like she takes care of me, and will forever. I learned to be grateful for everything she’s done, and everything she’s going to do… with me. Until… death do us part.”
Kyle flinched. He himself had been thoroughly reconditioned by Roberta, but next to Tommy and his clearly-loose screws, the six-inch boy looked far saner. Almost eerily normal. The smaller lad hung from the stretched-out banner of Joanne’s used panties, prostrated with his legs spread in four directions as though for horse-drawn quartering. His pathetic image made for a macabre display for all, even Kyle, gleaming as Tommy was with briny sweat and molten cum, adorned with dark spiral pubes attached like life support tubes, yet he seemed not to notice the horror of his own visage or anything else around him. The boy was simply parroting a script he was forced to memorize, and soaking up every blessed moment not spent directly smothered in the sloppy jowls of his mother’s crotch.
“Why, I couldn’t have said it better myself!” Joanne said, and shared a chuckle with all the women in the room. Though no one would admit it aloud, Kyle would’ve bet his life that each and every one of them, his mother included, knew that Tommy hadn’t devised a single word of this tribute himself. “We really are becomin’ a happy little family, just the two of us. Or at least one of us is representing the “little,” but I guarantee ya we’re both happier than we’ve ever been. Now, that said, don’t any of you go thinkin’ I’m a pushover just because my baby and I are involved in a promiscuous fashion. I’m still every bit his lover and his mama, so I still run a very tight ship. He may be dependent on me, but he’s still a grown man… well, grown as he’ll ever be… and he has to pay his dues, just like everybody else in this life. No such thing as a free lunch. Fortunately for my Tommy-pumpkin, rent doesn’t cost him a red cent. Just all the love in the world, and not a penny more. Hey, how else is he gonna contribute?”
Joanne ceased testing the elastic of her soused undergarments and by extension her strung-out son, and folded the waistband back together, until she’d draped the sticky folds across her knuckles like a sock puppet with Tommy in the center. She brought him to her face, wiping away the most egregious layer of cunt-filth and immediately replaced it with kissy slobber from her clenched lips, first laying a smooch over his face then his midsection, such that his defeated micro-cock remained stuck to his mom’s wrinkly lower lip until she’d fully withdrawn.
“Speaking of which, baby, I do believe it’s about time to collect, don’t you? Yes, I think so. Let’s give these folks a show, why don’t we?” Joanne purred to him in another barely-audible vow. She delicately unlooped her offspring’s arms and legs from the gooey binds, dangling the helpless thing off the cum-weighted central patch of her underwear. In doing so, she gifted the boy with several precious seconds of liberty from his panty-prison or the far worse habitat which had become his permanent lodging, but the arousal had clearly grown too much for Joanne to wait longer than a few shuddering heartbeats before driving him skull-first for the dripping blossom of her humongous labia. A sea of hairs parted, and the three-incher was swabbed in a pinwheeling pattern around the inner flanks of Joanne’s pussy, just deep enough that most of his body vanished behind the veil of muff and vaginal drool, but not so far that the woman’s chubby fingertips lost hold of him to the slippery embrace.
Joanne’s body language reacted almost as violently as the shrunken sex-boy clutched in her mitts, with her knees threatening to buckle and her over-plumped curves thrusting from the effort not to collapse in pleasure. Her lips parted wide, showing off her pearly whites and a glimpse of uvula, only releasing a grumbly moan almost too low to be human.
After giving the lad a solid swish around the rim and pushing so deep she could only keep ahold of him by pinching one flailing ankle, the giantess dragged her soiled son back out into the open. Immediately he began coughing up several servings of milky ejaculate, which was helped by Joanne keeping her victim hung to dry upside-down, with dollops plunking down his naked form and off his weeping lips. The dewy plain of her underwear soon scooped below Tommy’s prone shape, however, allowing her to release him into the spongy folds like a knapsack, but just as quickly had the boy lashed into the bands once again and ready for action.
As had become tradition, the room watched in polite and enraptured silence, with all ladies present tilted to the edge of their seats, while their shrunken charges each wallowed in the ugly gratuity, looking back and forth between one another’s bug-eyed terror, as if to confirm they were all seeing the same revolting display. Kyle eventually kept his sight trained only on Joanne’s obese thighs and the sexual crimes happening between them, still nauseated to his core and no less afraid for Tommy, but he found it was even more anxiety-inducing to have to merely listen to the sloshing from Joanne’s pussy accompanied by moaning commentary if he closed his eyes, in the same way he’d have felt better to keep watch on a rabid carnivore in case it came for him next.
Joanne grunted from deep in her gut, joints popping and backside paunch clapping as she hunched to dip her panties to the floor. With her son back in his cummy front-row seat in the velvety crotch, now aimed directly for her distant muff above like a reverse Tower of Terror, the woman began dragging her underwear up her thick limbs one halting inch at a time. Per usual, the ascent became rougher where her leg fat widened to blubbery proportions near the top, distending the panties almost beyond recognition as the supposedly-seductive garment they were, and putting just a little extra strain on the threads keeping Tommy nice and fuckable in spread-eagle position: not by much, but enough to make him whimper even before melding with his owner’s privates again.
Still, Joanne wouldn’t be deterred, and gave the lip of the waistband an extra tug from either side, then let it snap like the crack of a bullwhip back to her juicy hips. Even without having to push him inside, the woman already had her tenant cuddled to her nethers thanks to the pressure of the cloth. The maw of her pussy massaged its fleshy flaps across Tommy in contemplation of gobbling him up while Joanne shimmied her buttocks to and fro, letting the string of her underwear settle comfortably back into place.
Fully clothed again, or at least as close as could be while Joanne was still hiking up her skirts so the group could spectate the tiny lump getting stickily gnashed in her panties, she flopped back in her seat at last. A final jiggly grind against the chair completed the exercise, topped off by a murmur of contentment from Joanne that the other women present, either consciously or not, soon harmonized upon as a reverent chorus. Her point had been well and truly made. At the conclusion of this communal sigh, the other guardians required a moment of recuperation themselves, placing hands over hearts and fanning blushing cheeks, while their own men sat just as riveted by ghastly predictions of the future punishments to come from their own gigantic tormentors now that Joanne had provided such fresh inspiration. Then, once the initial shock wore off for the audience, a flurry of bubbly compliments seemed to ring out at once:
“YES, queen!” Betsy sassily cheered.
“Now that’s how you handle a troublemaker and turn him into something useful,” Olga said with a nod.
“Marvelous, dear. Just sensational technique. Oh, you make us all want to be better,” Roberta dreamily swooned, which filled her son with reborn alarm.
“Thank you for your candor, Joanne and Tommy,” the therapist said. “It really is fantastic to see that the more time we spend together, and the stronger this group becomes as a unit, the more participation we have from everyone. Not just our brave and forthcoming ladies who make so many sacrifices to provide for their little ones, but you boys trying to improve yourselves and make up for past mistakes as well. And that openness can only mean good things for all your futures.”
Clearly touched by this, the women of the group again cooed and golf-clapped, while their toy boys only languished further in the gloaming of eroticized wrath to come. This hailstorm of jubilant self-congratulations continued for the rest of the session and even beyond, as the ladies departed the circle together but kept right on sharing all the way down the hall, ecstatically complimenting progress and swapping “corrective” methods like beloved family recipes.