Vivianne shrank extremely abruptly, far too quickly for Francis to really comprehend what had even happened. His dick had raced ahead of his brain, and, hoping that he could satisfy his giant mistress even better, he had had sex with her. It didn't seem to occur to him that he was holding onto her neck like a handle, or that her entire body barely came up to his chest when he had her on her hands and knees. He was just doing his job as a dutiful servant of his mistress.

It was only after he had finished, and immediately after he had finished, that he realized that the power dynamic between them had completely flipped, and all at once. She was no longer his mistress, the goddess whose pussy he had to live under in order to keep her satisfied. She was... something else... Something... less... Was he her master now? He had spent so long literally inside her, his entire body subordinate to her vagina, that it seemed almost impossible. But, if not that, then what was she?

Ever since she had started to shrink and was relieved of the need to go to work every day, her sex drive had been absolutely insatiable. And, since she had been so much bigger, his own body's needs was not a consideration; whether he wanted it or not, she would use him to bring herself to orgasm. And, while her appetites had not diminished with her size, she had always been big enough to figure out how she wanted to use him. But now he was larger than she was, large enough that he could move her body as he wanted, so it was up to him to keep her satisfied.

Fortunately, he had seen enough of her body, he had lived enough of it, to know exactly what she wanted, and he was more than able to give it to her. At her new size, his dick was almost as long and as thick around as her forearm, but it didn't seem uncomfortable for her. She actually seemed to love it, despite the fact that he could see it bulging out of her belly. And she would quickly climax with just a patient, measured thrusting that he could keep up forever.

He started by fucking her from behind, thinking that it would be easier than having her straddle him, but, with their size difference, the awkward angle became a little uncomfortable. So he slid out, leaned up against the back of the couch, and guided her back over his hips. Already, her face was flushed, her mouth agape, and hair slick with sweat. She already looked like she was totally spent, but he had barely started. With each of his hands wrapping easily around her thighs, he pulled her back down onto the top of his dick, watching that exhausted face move from shock, to pleasure, to pure, unbridled ecstasy as he penetrated her. Watching the clear lump of his penis inside her body move up from between her legs, higher and higher, far beyond what her vagina should have been able to handle, until it was almost touching the bottom of her ribcage.

He slowly slid his cock in and out of her, watching as it slid effortlessly deep into her body, savoring how easily he could make her body seize in pleasure around him. Two, three, four, and then flex, and her legs squeezed hard around his torso, her pelvic muscles spasmed ineffectually around his cock, and her ab muscles drew tight, obscuring, for a moment, the bulge of his penis through her stomach before they relaxed again. She couldn't even breathe, her mouth gaping in wordless pleasure at the height of her orgasm. And then she finally came down, just enough to let out a ragged, animal-like moan, and then he started again, cutting her off before she could recover with a single, forceful thrust as deep as he could go.

He never let her come all the way down, and her hands slapped against his chest in protest, but, despite her protests, he knew that she loved it. He could keep going at this pace forever, but, after the fifth time she came, she gasped out a desperate, "Don't stop," and that sent him right over the edge. He gripped her hips, spread his stance, and pummeled her as hard as he could.

Her tits bounced wildly, and her entire body drew as tight as a bowstring. Her legs, spread wide, tried to squeeze together and push him out, but he was too strong and she was too small, so it was just fun to watch as her body writhed around in more pleasure than it could handle.

He came deep inside her after only two minutes, and it seemed like the feeling of it brought Vivianne to yet another orgasm. His dick flexed, her insides shifted with it, and a tiny spurt of fluid shot out into her body. Francis let himself believe that it was a firehose to her diminutive form, and he was rewarded for that belief when she tightened up and shook in the throes of yet another orgasm, her pelvic muscles squeezing helplessly against his cock.

God, he felt so powerful. As Vivianne crested the top of yet another orgasm, he marvelled at that perfect body writhing around in his grasp. He had to do so little to render her blind with pleasure; if she shrank any more, he could reduce her to a twitching mess of orgasmic bliss by just wiggling his fingers.

Fuck, he felt so goddamn powerful. He thought he had enjoyed being Viv's toy, doing what he could to please her sexually, and acting like the loving teddy bear she wanted when she didn't want an orgasm. And, well, at the time, he did. It seemed like the fulfillment of his role as a newly-shrunken man, too small to do anything productive but serve someone greater than himself.

But now his mistress was basically a doll in his grasp, and who knew how much smaller she was going to get? They both knew how the shrinking virus worked; she wasn't going to get any bigger. Their relationship had always been defined by their relative sizes, who was giant and who was tiny. And now he was giant, and she would forever be tiny.

The only question left unanswered was how tiny.

Francis pulled Vivianne off his softening dick and set her down on the endless field of the couch cushions, still twitching, her chest still heaving, from the relentless assault of pleasure. He had to take a minute to catch his breath too; after how long he had spent building himself up while watching her orgasm in his grasp, his finish left his toes numb and his ears ringing. So he was willing to just lie there, side-by-side with a woman who was now barely a third of his height.

And to think, not thirty minutes ago, he had been trapped under her pussy, doing his best to eat out a woman four times his own size. If he wasn't experiencing it right now, in the most visceral, intimate way possible, he would have thought this shrinking virus was unreal.

After a long enough time, he rolled onto his side to face Vivianne. Her face was bright red, her hair an absolute mess, her body covered in a glowing sheen of sweat, but her eyes still tracked him with a sudden, involuntary glance of fear. He saw that look, and he knew instantly that it was because of the way that he loomed over her. He didn't mean her any harm, of course, but he still saw that look, and... well... he had to admit, it was satisfying to see that confirmation of how the power dynamic had shifted.

"I think I got carried away," he said lightly. "But... wow." He looked her tiny, naked body up and down pointedly. "You've taken care of me so long, but now... I think it's my turn to take care of you."

Vivianne reached up with a single arm, loose and shaky, and punched him playfully in the chest. "You mean you'll finally pull your weight?" she asked.

Francis cocked a smile, but he saw through her facade. He had been with her, he had been the indisputably weaker partner for long enough that he knew when she was truly comfortable with herself. For that whole time, it had really been all he had known about their interactions together, like a fish experiencing what it meant to be wet. But this, those few short words... This was different.

She was insecure. She was scared. And the reason was obvious. For the first time since she had plucked him out of the shrunken quarantine at the hospital, he was stronger than her.

"My weight," he replied, placing his massive right hand on her hip. His palm covered her from her navel to halfway down her thigh. "And yours."

He raised his thumb and showed her the difference in their size by brushing it across her breast. He had to shift his hand just a hair up her hip to make the distance, but he knew that she got the message from the way that she cringed involuntarily at the touch, and then straightened up, trying to hide her reaction.

She looked straight at him, apparently hoping that she had managed to keep it cool, and he didn't bother hiding the fact that he knew. Keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he grinned widely, showing plenty of teeth, and tightened his grip just a bit.

And she knew that he knew, because she drew a sharp, shallow gasp. SFrancis' smile didn't move an inch, but Vivianne's face shifted from barely-disguised uncertainty to outright fear. In that moment, the master became the slave, and the slave became the master.

"How small do you think you're going to get?" Francis asked.



Vivianne had to admit that this was hot as hell. It was hard to really hate that it was happening, even though she would have rejected it out of hand if it had been proposed to her during pillow talk. It was an unbelievable, unbelievably sexy experience, but what if she got lost?

It had been two days since the virus had shrunk her even smaller than Francis. Francis, her three-inch tall pet, the tiny man that she had left in the crotch of her panties. The tiny man whose most desperate struggles against the tender flesh of her pussy has been nothing more than a pleasant itch during her twelve-hour shifts, was now larger than her, and growing larger every day.

She couldn't help but ask herself how it had happened. Had she been exposed somewhere inadvertantly? Or was it him? Had her fate been sealed the moment that she had plucked him out of the shrunken quarantine at the hospital and convinced him of the "fun" they could have together? Or would this have happened without him? Would she have been dwindling away at this moment anyway, only without another victim of this pandemic to keep her company?

She would never get her answer, she would just have to live with that uncertainty forever.

And that uncertainty weighed heavy on her mind right now. Hot, slick flesh surrounded her legs up to the middle of her thighs, and Francis' thumb pressed up against her back. Her arms were locked out, her hands holding her body upright, but she had no illusions that Francis' strength could overcome her shaky limbs in an instant, sending her plunging down, potentially to be lost forever.

Vivianne looked up at the giant whose torso loomed over her, and those dark brown eyes of his looked back down at her. He grinned slightly, and his eyebrows lifted a hair. It was all the signal she needed to know that he was going through with this.

Just in case she didn't get the point, his mouth opened, revealing bright white teeth behind his lips. "Hold your breath," he said.

Like that would make a difference. Vivianne had been shrunken to nearly microscopic size. If Francis was her comparison, she was around a quarter of an inch tall, easily small enough to be swallowed whole by Francis' cock. But she knew that Francis was only three inches tall. She wasn't all that good at math, but, by her estimation, that made her barely one hundredth of an inch tall.

The millimeter markers on a ruler would have dwarfed her.

She was perched on the tip of his dick, her legs already swallowed halfway to her hips by the tight, burning-hot flesh of his urethra. Around her, the purplish head of his dick seemed like the roof of a building, radiating heat and shaking slightly with his heartbeat. His fist was wrapped around the rest of his cock, ready to start jerking off, except that his thumb, bigger than her entire body, was pressed up against her back. With a single move, he could plunge her deep into his cock.

And it was exactly what he did. His thumb moved up until it was on top of her head, and then he pushed. Her arms folded under the overwhelming strength, in an instant, and she was plunged deep into the hot, smooth flesh of Francis' urethra. That hot, smooth flesh that wrapped around her legs went, in an instant, from an exotic experience to her entire life. The pressure was incredible, the heat unbelievable.

He pushed a little farther, the spongy flesh at the head of his cock yielding under the pressure and driving her even farther down. Down, down, down, until she was an inseparable part of his cock. How much further down did it go?

And then he started to masturbate. At first, Vivianne was surrounded by his pulsing heartbeat, but that was quickly overcome by the deafening, buffeting forces of the giant's hand rubbing up and down over his cock. Fast and ruthless, it hit her with unbelievable pressure, over and over again. Like she was tied down onto the highway and being run over by an endless line of cars flying at 80 miles per hour.

In the chaos and the noise, she couldn't tell if she was being moved up or down. What would happen if she kept going deeper? Could she be recovered? Would she sink into his balls? Or into his bladder? She realized, in a moment of strange panic, that she didn't actually know enough about male anatomy to know what the hell was going on down there. Would she find herself swimming in piss or in cum? A few more inches, though, and she might find out the hard way, but she hated both.

She tried to struggle, to brace herself in place or to kick her way away from the danger of being swallowed forever by... something. But the flesh held her like a straightjacket, her arms lifted too high over her head to gain any leverage, and her legs pressed so tight together that she could barely wiggle her toes.

And Francis kept jerking it. Vivianne felt the pressure of his fist pass over her over and over and over again, up and down, rapid-fire. It was brutal, and it felt like it would last forever. But she knew, despite the unbelievable torture, that there was an end to all this. Would the surge of fluid finally give her freedom, or was she trapped in this prison of flesh forever?

The giant's orgasm literally hit her without warning. Her ears popped at a sudden surge of pressure, and a massive wall of burning-hot fluid surged upwards to her feet, between her legs, and propelled her back out into the open. What felt like twenty feet of Francis' urethra ripped past her in a second, to the point that the friction burn should have stripped her skin from its bones, and she was propelled high into the blinding, bright fresh air of the real world.

It felt like she flew forever, trapped in a sticky, foggy glob of cum. After an eternity spent floating through the air, she landed hard on the leather couch cushions. The cool surface quickly absorbed the heat of the tiny droplet of cum that held her trapped, turning her burning-hot prison of sticky fluid surprisingly cold, surprisingly quick. The way that heat seemed to move so quickly was one of the odd quirks of being so small.

After a bit of struggling, she was able to free herself from the surface tension of the slimy, salty fluid, and struggled to her feet, wiping her face. Far above her, the giant still held his dick in one hand, face turned upwards at the ceiling, enjoying the afterglow of his orgasm.

He was a giant to her, but they were both on a couch that was meant for real people. If one of those real people was careless, they would sit right on top of Francis and not even notice that he was there. And, at her size, they would sit on her even if they were looking for her.

Something about being waist-deep in a tiny glob of cum from a three inch-tall man really made it hit home for her. She was utterly ruined. This shrinking virus had destroyed her life. Sure, maybe the sex would be exotic, the kind of thing she never could have enjoyed at full size, but all the other things? A job? A family? A home? It had all been taken from her forever.

As that realization sank in, she heard a pounding at the door.




The shrunken recovery team ultimately had to bust down the door, since Francis was is no condition to open it for them, and Vivianne certainly wasn't. But the shrunken man was able to clean himself up, and his even more-shrunken toy, enough that they were more or less presentable to them once they broke in. It would have been nice to be dressed for the occasion, but nobody made clothes small enough for either of them.

The team was a group of three, dressed head to toe in suffocating plastic hazmat gear, replete with rubber gloves and elastic booties. Careful eyes, protected behind goggles and respirators, set to searching the apartment, inch by inch, hoping to find the latest victim of the shrinking virus without accidentally stepping on them.

Francis watched their careful work from the couch, somewhat intrigued. These things had gotten much more advanced since he had been recovered from his home by a single nurse with an apron and a magnifying glass. Two of the three surveyed the carpet with long tools that looked like hockey sticks with a screen mounted on the top handle, as if they were sweeping metal detectors across a beach. The third followed behind them, scanning every horizontal surface above the ground with something that looked like a hair dryer.

One of them disappeared into the bedroom, while the other two carried on into the main room, where he and Vivianne were waiting for them. Fortunately, Francis was large enough that they identified him relatively quickly after coming close enough to the couch. One of the three, who carried the hockey stick-like tool, spotted them, waved briefly, then slowly scanned their way across the carpet until they were in reach. They planted their feet deliberately next to the couch, and leaned down so they could hear Francis' shrunken voice before they spoke.

"How many of you are here?" she asked. Buried underneath all that protective gear, the female voice came as a surprise.

Francis held up the two fingers of his left hand. "Just the two of us," he replied, speaking loudly. He raised the palm of his other hand as high as he could while still keeping it level, which wasn't much higher than his own head. Seated in it, her knees drawn to her chest, was Vivianne's miniscule figure.

"Christ, Viv..." the woman said. Behind the goggles, Francis could see a genuine look of despair on her face. "You're the smallest I've ever..."

She cut herself off there, and straightened up, digging into the pocket on her thigh. "We'll have to separate you," she said. She produced a small box and opened it to show a modest chamber, lined with thick foam. "I don't have tools for a person that small," she told Francis, holding the box up to him. "Could you..."

The box was large enough that Francis could fit in it himself, although not comfortably. He reached over the rim and deposited Vivianne carefully on the padded bottom. After he did, the recovery worker drew the box back and snapped the lid shut, though she held it carefully in her hand, trying her best not to disturb the shrunken passanger. "One of the others will bring your ride," she promised Francis.

Francis wasn't worried. He had been in the hospital's shrunken quarantine before. Hell, it was where Vivianne had picked him up in the first place. There were shrinkees of all sizes in there. Though their living amenities were customized to their size, the victims of the virus were expected to more or less get along regardless