Is This What You Really Want? Ch. 04

"H-hello Beatrice," Timothy managed to stutter as he reached out in kind to embrace her. As her form approached him, Timothy could see how tall she actually was in these heels. He was looking straight into the tops of her breasts, which were rapidly approaching him. Before he knew it, his face was squished up against them as they embraced. He could feel the firm plushness of her figure as they hugged, and, since her hips were about even with the middle of his chest, he found himself accidentally wrapping his arms around her giant ass...or, at least, he was trying to wrap his arms around it. Beatrice's ass was so big that he couldn't even wrap his arms around it from the front. During their embrace, which went on for a second or two longer than Timothy expected it to, he could feel Beatrice squeezing him tightly and...was she...smelling his hair?? It didn't really matter...he was sitting down on a date at The Black Pig with the hottest girl he had ever seen, who towered more than a foot above him, and who was looking at him with that same dominant, hungry expression that she had when she first laid eyes on him.

As they each took their respective seats on either side of the table, Timothy couldn't help but notice some of the other patrons staring at them. Apparently it was a novelty for them to see such a mismatched couple. Timothy didn't care — in fact, their stares made him even more turned on than he was before.

"I went ahead and ordered an appetizer for the table," said Beatrice, smiling as she sat down. "Do you like seafood, Timothy?

"Uh...yeah!"

"Good. I'm looking forward to sampling their carpaccio of diver scallops. They've won some awards, apparently."

"Y-yeah," said Timothy, still wrapping his head around the fact that he was actually talking to Beatrice, "yeah...this place, uh...this place is pretty fancy, huh?"

Beatrice looked around nonchalantly and shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, it's fancy enough." She looked around a little more and then turned her head back to Timothy. Under the candlelight, her dark make-up and black lipstick looked positively smoky and mesmerizing. She was smirking at him.

"Couldn't find any clothes that fit you, cowboy?"

"Uhhh...yeah. I, uhh —" began Timothy, not quite sure how to begin telling Beatrice that he was shrinking because he had made a pact with a gorgeous goddess named Maia the day before, and that, in fact, Beatrice herself was part of this pact. Timothy briefly wondered whether she had any idea...or if perhaps she knew of Maia. But he realized that he had trailed off in the conversation, and Beatrice was sitting there, her full arms on the table, waiting expectantly with that keen smile on her face.

"I—I'm shrinking," he said simply. Beatrice raised her eyebrows, her eyes going a bit wide.

"Really?!" she breathed out, fascinated. Timothy was waiting for her to ask "how?" but she didn't — she just looked at him with a calm, smoldering stare for a few moments, before she spoke again.

"Well that's great to hear, Timothy. I like me some small little guys." She took a drink from her water glass as the appetizer arrived. Beatrice wasted no time in brandishing her fork and spearing one of the scallops (which were not small) and plopping the whole thing into her mouth. She chewed on it slowly, her eyes never leaving Timothy.

"Y-you do?" he stuttered. Of course, he knew that she liked small men — he knew way more than she did about what was going on, surely! Or did he...? He shook the questions out of his head. They didn't matter now; what mattered was how hot Beatrice looked in that fancy red dress, how sexy her mouth looked as she chewed her food. After a few silent moments, she spoke again. She didn't really seem to speak in the normal cadence of conversation that Timothy was used to. Instead of directly answering the words that he said, she simply heard them, tossed them around in her head, and answered whenever she felt like it.

"Yes," she breathed in a low, soft voice. "I love little guys like you, Timothy. And I gotta say" — and Timothy suddenly felt her foot in his lap — "that when I saw you waddling in here with those ridiculous oversized clothes, my pussy started getting wet." No one else saw her foot in his lap, thanks to the floor-length tablecloths, but Timothy couldn't hide the look of rapture on his face as Beatrice footed around his crotch. He was hard as a rock now.

Her foot still playing with him, Beatrice casually reached over and stabbed another scallop and stuck it in her mouth. "Hmmm," she said suddenly, to no one in particular, "a little dry." She seemed focused on the food for a moment, but suddenly she turned back to Timothy after she swallowed it down.

"How about you, little guy?" she asked. "Do you like big tall girls like me?"

"Ohhh yes!" said Timothy excitedly. "Oh yes! I, uh — I —"

"You really like tall women, huh?" she finished for him, sticking her tongue into the side of her mouth so that it tented outward. God, she had a long tongue, Timothy realized. "Well," Beatrice continued, leaning back in her seat and putting her hands behind her head, "that's good news for you, isn't it Timothy? Because, you know, as small as you are, I wouldn't say that there are that many women who are shorter than you." She was smiling down at him, and Timothy could tell that she was enjoying this teasing. Her foot was still working insistently in his crotch.

"Well," she said, catching herself, "maybe there are a fair number of girls who are your height or shorter — what's your height, Timothy?"

"Uh, five three and a half."

Beatrice chuckled knowingly. "Oh boy, you really are into this whole shrinking thing, aren't you?"

Timothy flushed bashfully. "Y-yes."

Beatrice laughed, not entirely in a nice way, either. "Haha, oh my god, what a little sub!" she laughed with wide eyes. She looked at him, almost as if he wasn't a person, almost as if she couldn't believe that what she was seeing and hearing was real. Her foot worked faster in his crotch and Timothy felt himself sink a little bit in his chair. Had he shrunk again?

"But anyway — like I was saying," said Beatrice, recovering herself, "even though there are still lots of girls shorter than you, I know there aren't a lot of a lot of them — who are adults, at least — who are...smaller than you." She suddenly sat forward and caught up one of Timothy's hands in her own. He looked down and saw his shrunken hand engulfed in the grip of her larger, stronger, more powerful hand — her sharp pointed black nails looked positively fearsome next to his flesh. Although he was definitely turned on by her touch, Timothy couldn't help but shudder a little uneasily at the sight of her predatory hand next to his.

"I mean, look at that Timothy," she said matter-of-factly, "just look at how my hand just swallows yours up." She made an open palm in front of his face. "Come on, Timothy, let's compare hands!" He obliged, holding his up to hers, and he was amazed to see that his fingers only came up about half way to hers. She clawed her fingers down, in a motion of engulfing him, and growled at him, shaking her head back and forth at him playfully.

"Grrrrrr," she said aggressively, "you're just a tiny little thing, aren't you? And look at that little bashful blush in those little cheeks! You're submissive to the core, little guy — I can tell. It's all I can do not to pounce on you right now."

Timothy was on the verge of cumming as Beatrice talked dirty to him, and he was actually beginning to hump her foot, which was now feverishly working his crotch. At the last moment, however, she suddenly took her foot away, leaving him gasping and panting in the restaurant. Several patrons had turned in their seats and were looking around, clearly wondering what was going on. Beatrice didn't pay them any mind, though — she couldn't have cared less.

"Uh-oh!" she said mockingly, her eyebrow arching. "Guess who's not allowed to cum yet?" Timothy suddenly noticed that their waiter was standing there at the table, looking very uncomfortable as he wrung his hands, waiting to ask them if they were ready to order. Evidently Beatrice didn't care who heard her sensual teasing, and it was all Timothy could do to keep from cumming right then and there.

"Are you...um...are you all ready to order?" asked the waiter, "Or should I come back again in a few minutes?"

"No, we're ready," said Beatrice promptly, even though Timothy had not even read a single word of his menu. She held up her own menu. "I will be having the lamb chops tonight, medium rare. Can you substitute the pan-seared broccolini for the polenta, please? And for this little guy," and she indicated to Timothy with her open palm, "he'll just be having the garden salad tonight."

"Just...the salad?" the waiter asked.

"Yes," said Beatrice, smiling at Timothy. "He's got a small little stomach, and he can't handle a whole lot of food at once." She laughed at the waiter. "But, you know, that shouldn't be too surprising, right? I mean, gosh — just look at him in that big shirt. Did you see him when he walked in here, with his pants all rolled up? He's tiny."

The waiter gave a nervous laugh, writing down the rest of the order. Beatrice wasn't done.

"He's 28 years old, you know? Can you believe that? If I didn't know better I'd say he was an underdeveloped teenager!" She laughed out loud again, and Timothy could feel the color come into his face. Beatrice's teasing was definitely a turn-on, but it was still embarrassing, especially out here in public like this.

"Ahhh, yes, ma'm," laughed the waiter nervously again, "Well, uhhh...I'll just get this order in and your food will be out shortly!" He got away from the table as fast as he could, and Timothy saw that he had gone back to the waiter's station and was whispering to the other servers, all of whom turned their heads towards their table.

"How old do you think I am, Timothy?" asked Beatrice, leaning forward on her elbows. Timothy's attention snapped back to her.

"Uhhh..." he said, not really having any idea. She was definitely young, but she couldn't have been that young. Maybe a few years older...or maybe his age...

"Are you...are you 28 too?" ventured Timothy, wondering if it had been a trick question.

Beatrice's eyes widened. "You — you think I'm your age??" She sounded incredulous and started laughing again. "Timothy, you're way off. I'm about to turn 23."

"W-what?" He couldn't believe it — she just looked so...comfortable in herself. So poised, so self-assured. He hadn't come across anyone this young who was so obviously at home in her own skin.

"Yes," she laughed, "I can see why you'd be so shocked. Most people think I'm much older. Can't imagine why." She nonchalantly started surveying the crowd again, and for a full minute or so seemed to not even notice that Timothy was there. He slumped a little in his chair and looked at her, feeling like a small animal as he waited for her attention to return to him. The prospect of starting some kind of new conversation with her seemed impossible at the moment; he was just so in awe of her that he literally felt paralyzed.

After a minute or two she turned back to him, evidently bored by the people around them. "So, what do you do, Timothy?"

"I...uh...I work in a soda factory. Th-the...the one close by."

"Oh, Fizzy Pop?" she asked mildly.

"Y-yeah, yeah, that's the one."

"How ordinary," she remarked drily. She looked down at him across the table. "How much do you make?"

He winced inside, feeling embarrassed at what he was about to say. "Uh...uh...$32,000."

Beatrice made a little "o" with her mouth and blew a thin stream of air out, eliciting a low whistle. She smiled again.

"So...you were lying to me when you said that you could afford this place?"

"I...no!" he said, protesting. He didn't want her to feel like he had lied to her. "I just—I just, uh...I saw that you were someone special and I uh...felt bad about the little, uh...the little fender bender and wanted to...to make it up to you!"

Beatrice chuckled. "What a recovery," she said sarcastically.

Soon their food came. Beatrice made no bones about wolfing her meal down. Timothy saw her looking straight at him whenever she bit into her meat, and he was sure that she meant for him to see her aggression as...some kind of a symbol. He was hard pretty much all through dinner, despite actually being quite hungry. He didn't dare ask for any of Beatrice's meal, so he satisfied himself with what he had.

In an hour's time they were standing up to leave. Beatrice assertively took Timothy's hand in hers, almost pulling him as she led the way out of the restaurant through throngs of young, elegant, well-dressed professionals. Her ass undulated and bucked through her red dress, at the level of Timothy's chest. It was almost unbelievable, the way that it moved. It distracted him from the fact that his belt was barely able to hold his pants up. Timothy watched her ass, totally entranced, as she led the way out. She blended in quite well — in fact, she was notable in the crowd, since she was ravishingly beautiful and standing a head above everyone else at 6'4 in her heels. Timothy, on the other hand, really did look like a young teenager who had lost his way in a crowd of adults. Even though he was turned on by the whole prospect of his own humiliation and submission in this environment, he couldn't help but feel relieved when they were free of the restaurant and breathed in the cool nighttime air.

"Why don't you lead me back to your place, big boy," said Beatrice, smiling down her breasts at him.

"Uhh, ok," said Timothy, barely able to contain his lust.

"Don't worry," said Beatrice teasingly as she walked off to her car, "I won't follow you too closely."

Timothy laughed at her joke and got into his car, delighting in the fact that he once again had to adjust everything slightly so that he could reach. Fifteen minutes later he was pulling into his driveway, with Beatrice following closely behind.

"So, this is your place, huh?" said Beatrice, looking around as they walked inside.

"Y-yep," said Timothy, realizing just how ordinary and boring everything looked.

"Just what I imagined," said Beatrice, walking around, "what someone would live in who makes $32,000 a year." She was walking around the kitchen, and then into the living room, when she turned to Timothy. "Do you even have a mortgage on this place? Or are you...like, renting to own or something?"

"N-no, I have a mortgage," said Timothy. "I had some, uh...some family money so I was able to make a downpayment."

"Aha, the old family money," laughed Beatrice, coming up to the wall where Timothy had been measuring himself. "Wait, what's this?" she asked, noticing the pencil marks on the wall. She stood up to them, turned to Timothy, then looked back at them, and then turned to him again. A huge grin was plastered across her face.

"Oh my god," she said, her voice almost quivering with excitement, "is this what I think it is?"

"Wh-what, is what what you think it is?" asked Timothy, walking timidly over.

"These lines on the wall!" she said, pointing at them with a long, clawed finger. "You've been measuring yourself as you've been shrinking, haven't you?"

"Uh, y-yeah," said Timothy, turned on because of her enthusiasm and embarrassed at the same time.

"Hahaha!" she laughed, putting her big hand where each mark was, in descending order. "Holy shit, Timothy, you used to be almost as tall as I am...youknow, without heels."

"Y-yeah, 5'8."

"How long have you been shrinking?"

"J-just...just since last night."

"Last night?!" she gasped, looking down at him. "You've shrank like five inches since last night!?" She paused, looking down at him. He looked absurd in those clothes, and he looked up at her face, intimidated and feeble yet undeniably, impossibly turned on. Beatrice was filled with lust. She bent down and yanked off Timothy's shirt, which was not a difficult task, since it hung so loosely on his shrunken shoulders.

"Take off your pants, little man," she breathed down into his ear, punctuating her command by lashing his earlobe with her tongue. Timothy was breathing so hard now he was almost hyperventilating. In no time he was completely naked. Beatrice likewise slipped and slithered her curves out of her red dress — it took her a lot longer to get her clothes off, because she literally had to push and pull her clothes off, so tightly they clung to her body.

The two stood before each other, with Beatrice still in her heels. She put her hands on her enormously curvy hips and cocked her head to the side, smirking down on him. He was pretty much eye-level with her nipples now, and he saw they they stuck out in arousal, emerging from the dark circles of her areolas. Beatrice's skin was strikingly white — almost an ivory, which made the darkness of her areolas that much more conspicuous, and the darkness of her make-up and black lipstick all the more arresting.

Beatrice just stood there for a few silent moments, breathing deeply and purposefully as she looked down at Timothy with that smirk on her face. Her expression was so incredibly arousing to Timothy, but even in that moment he couldn't quite escape the feeling that her smile wasn't just a smirk — it was a sneer. But he didn't have time to wonder and analyze her facial expressions for too long, because she had stepped forward and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, forcing him to stumble backward. She led him in this way all the way across the room to the sofa, where she aggressively shoved him down.

"You've got a nice cock there, Timothy," she purred lustily as she knelt in front of him, prying his legs apart with ease so that his erect dick was completely exposed. She looked up at him wryly. "How big did it used to be?"

"Uh...uh, like seven inches."

"Hmmm, doesn't look too far off from what it is now," murmured Beatrice, measuring it against her palm. "Maybe your cock isn't shrinking like the rest of you."

"Maybe...m-maybe not," said Timothy, wondering whether this was true. But once again, he didn't have time to pay attention to anything else, because with a snarl Beatrice had taken him in her mouth and was slowly, passionately swallowing down his length. She twisted and wove her head down, down, down, until she reached his base, her fat lips kissing the flesh of his abdomen where his cock began. She looked up into his eyes, with his dick all the way down her throat, and shook her head back and forth lustily, never taking her eyes from his. Timothy gasped and heaved, choked and convulsed, as he was overcome with arousal at Beatrice's expert stimulation. She hadn't just swallowed his cock easily like a snack — she was using that long tongue of hers to play with him, tease him, torment him. It felt like his cock was engulfed in some kind of fleshy, rotating tornado, such was the skill of her technique.

She went all the way back up on his cock, the tips of her lips kissing his peehole, and then just like that, with even more energy, she thrust herself down again on his length, taking him all the way in again with an aggressive, squelching moan. She did this over and over, and after only a minute, Timothy could no longer hold off against her vacuuming cheeks, her tortuously rotating tongue, and the relentless pull of her suckle. He came violently down her throat, flinging his arms about as his eyes rolled back into his head, momentarily losing control of his limbs as his small arms and legs flailed and shook with his orgasm.

"Rrrrrr!! Mmmmmmm!" moaned Beatrice aggressively, shutting her eyes tightly as she tasted his seed. She took him all the way down as he came, and held him there, swallowing deep in her throat over and over as he shot gob after gob of hot cum into her esophagus. With each hungry swallow she drew his cum straight into her stomach, and she was charmed by the thought of Timothy' s cum being the perfect compliment to her lamb chops and pan-seared broccolini.