Is This What You Really Want? Ch. 06

Timothy desperately wanted to see how tall Beatrice was, but he didn't feel like he could ask her. Besides, he saw how she compared to the original 5'8 marker on the wall. She was a good deal taller...a number of inches...maybe five inches taller...maybe six? That would make her 6'1 or 6'2. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the reality set in. Before long, his girlfriend was literally going to be twice as tall as him.

His close-eyed reverie was abruptly interrupted as Beatrice snatched him off the ground, practically slinging his body over to the scale. She didn't even say anything — her intentions were clear. Timothy stood on the scale for a moment...and then...48 pounds. His heart seemed to stop in his chest. 48 pounds!?!? He didn't even weigh 50 pounds!?! He couldn't believe it — he heard laughter from high above him, and he knew that Beatrice was enjoying this bit most of all.

"Oh my god, you're an absolute fucking pipsqueak!" she laughed down at him. "You don't even weigh 50 pounds, you little runt!" She laughed roughly. "Holy shit I was bigger than that when I was six. Six, Timmy!!" Sh crouched down on her knees again, looking at his tiny body with a sense of wonder. Timothy almost came right then and there just from her expression.

"I don't...it just...wow...I can't even...even express...how tiny and pathetic you look right now," she said genuinely, looking deep into his eyes and speaking with an even tone. "I just...Timothy, this...this changes things."

"W-what do you mean?" asked Timothy fearfully. And then, he surprised himself by speaking his most dire fear aloud. "Are...are you gonna l-leave me??" Even just hearing his own voice utter those words was enough for Timothy to get emotional, and he felt tears start to well up in his eyes.

"Leave you?" asked Beatrice incredulously. "Leave you? And leave...this?" She extended her arm out next to his leg, and uttered a cry of delight when she saw that her arm was thicker and longer than his leg. "Oh no, my tiny little baby man, I'm not going anywhere." Timothy breathed a sigh of relief, even though he could see in Beatrice's face something that was not quite right, something that didn't sit too well with him. It was the way her dark eyes lit up...there was something...something scary behind them, despite all their beauty.

"That's not the kind of change I was talking about," continued Beatrice, reaching out and patting his small head with her large hand. She could easily palm his head now. "I'm talking about changes in our...dynamic."

"D-dynamic?"

"Yes, Timothy. When I met you a few days ago, even though you were obviously weak and un-athletic, you still...looked like a man. You still were a man."

"B-but, but I'm still a man now," enjoined Timothy, surprising himself by his statement. Didn't he want to shrink down like this?? If so, why was he putting up resistance?

Beatrice was shaking her head, an odd smile on her face. "No, you're not, little guy. You're not a man anymore. You don't even weigh 50 pounds. You can't talk to me without st-st-st-uttering every third word. You can't drive a car anymore. You can't do things that other adults don't even have to think about doing. And look at you — there's not a hint of muscle on you whatsoever. You're wasting away into a measly little husk of a person. I don't know what's happening to you, but whatever it is, I think it's...it's turning you into something less...into something less than human."

Beatrice finished this vicious monologue and stood up, so that she was standing directly in front of him. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down on him, a haughty and severe look in her eye.

"And I fucking love it," she said emphatically. Her words caused Timothy to cower, since they were spoken with such energy and force.

"I fucking love what's happening to you," she continued. "It means that you're in my control right now, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. You're my little bitch, my little toy, my little pet to play with and tease and torment. I've wanted to do this for so long, but now...now I can."

She reached down and grabbed Timothy by the throat, her huge hand easily fastening itself all the way around his neck. With terrifying ease, she lifted him off the ground by his neck and walked over to the sofa. Timothy gasped and fought to breathe as his little hands grappled with her big arm — he may as well have been trying to move a lead statue, such was the power and weight of her arm compared to his weak little muscles. Once they were over by the sofa she roughly threw him down on top of it, leaving him gasping and choking for air as he backed hurriedly away, facing her as she bore down on him, completely covering him in her shadow.

"Yeah, look at you — you look like a scared little monkey, you know that?" As Timothy cowered at the corner of the sofa Beatrice started crawling towards him from the other end, her mouth open in a sexy snarl as she looked at him like prey.

"That pizza's on its way," she said slowly as she approached him, "but I can't wait that long. I want...another appetizer." She had reached him. She extended her arms out and tore off his shirt, exposing his pale and sickly-looking chest.

"You look like one of those AIDS victims," said Beatrice ruthlessly, sticking one of her long fingers in between his exposed ribs. "Or one of those people in concentration camps. Ugh, god, Timmy it's an absolute joke. Your body is a joke." She kept on, drawing attention to every inadequacy that she saw. Timothy was as hard as a rock by this point, and his cock was pointed straight up at Beatrice's face as she descended down on him.

"Come on you little creature," she said in a low hushed voice, "feed me your cum. Feed it to me. I'm gonna drink it. I'm gonna drink it all up — I'm gonna make you pop in my mouth and I'm gonna swallow you down, little Timmy. I'm gonna eat your soul."

This was all too much for Timothy and he howled and bucked as he shot his load. Beatrice chuckled it down her throat, moaning and shaking her head from side to side as she kept her eyes on Timothy's. It really did feel like she was staring straight into his soul, and it really did feel like she was draining out his very life force with her hungry mouth.

"Hmmm...is that it? That can't be it," she said shortly, holding up his cock to her face and studying it. "Come on little slave, I'm a big girl — give me more! I want more!!"

And with the second "more," Beatrice had produced a long finger and jammed it up into Timothy's ass. He threw his head back in surprise and yelled up at the ceiling.

"N-no! No, B-beatrice, n-no, th-that...that hurts!!"

"Shut up you little critter!" said Beatrice as she rammed her finger in and out, going deeper each time. "I'm gonna find that little prostate inside this tiny little ass of yours, and then you're gonna give me what I want." She continued to probe and jam her finger into his ass for minutes on end — Timothy's eyes were crossing now, and he had his mouth open in a terrified, perpetual act of screaming, even though almost no sound was coming out. He was in too much pain and was far too overwhelmed to utter much noise at this point. But even as Beatrice hurt him, after a few minutes she found the little bean of his prostate.

"Aha, there it is," she growled at him sexily, her huge face lit up right up next to him, her wild excited eyes drilling into his with a merciless hunger. "Now you can't resist anymore — give it to me, give it to me, give it to me. It's mine; it's my cum. I'm gonna make it shoot out of you and then I'm gonna lick it up and eat it all."

The prostate stimulation, as well as her relentless dirty talk, took Timothy to a completely different level, and he orgasmed again, not once, not twice, but three times in a row, as Beatrice shouted out and growled and snarled in pleasure, catching it all in her open mouth as she rolled the cum around and around, gargling it aggressively before finally swallowing it.

Twenty minutes later she was still jamming her finger into his ass when the doorbell rang. Beatrice uttered a cry of pleasure and stood up, walked casually over to the sink, and washed her hands. She straightened her hair and cleared her throat before answering the door. Behind her, Timothy lay sprawled on the sofa, his mind somewhere else entirely. His mouth was hanging open, and he was drooling a kind of white froth. His eyes were crossed and rolled back into his head. His little chest rose and fell lightly with slight breaths. He had cum more than he ever had in his life, so much so that he had passed out. But even as he had laid there unconscious, Beatrice had kept at him, unremitting in her determination to draw more and more and more from his shriveled body.