Miss Ellen

I confessed, "I made them, Miss Ellen."

Her face lost all expression, and she stared at me long enough that I really doubted myself. "Are... are you displeased, Miss Ellen?" I cringed.

She slowly and deliberately stood up from where she had been sitting on the bed, walking to just in front of me, and staring down at me from two feet up. Then she wrapped her arms around me in a big hug and picked me up from the floor. My arms pinned to my sides, I was helpless in her mighty grasp.

Face to face with her, tightly clutched in her arms against her massive bosom, Miss Ellen stared into my eyes and told me seriously, "Displeased? I have never been more pleased, ever. This was the best surprise I have ever had." Then Miss Ellen kissed me.

I had been serving her for months, drinking from her breasts two or three times a day and performing oral sex on her at least half that much. She'd never once kissed me in all of that time.

I opened my mouth when her tongue demanded entrance, and hung limply from her arms as she aggressively explored my mouth. The pleasure from her telling me how pleased she was made my body light up like a Christmas tree, flickering points of light that only I could feel all over my body. The demanding kiss that Miss Ellen bestowed on me nearly made me cum in my pants after that.

I stroked her large, powerful tongue with mine as she ravaged me, kissing her back as well as I could under the circumstances. Finally she pulled her tongue back out of my mouth, gave me one last, lingering peck, and set me down to my feet. She ran her hand lovingly over the top of my head, smiling and excited. "Show me where you made all of this."

******

I stood in the doorway of the sewing room, watching as Miss Ellen slowly walked around the space, reaching out to touch things here and there at random. She eventually came upon the disassembled bra, pieces pinned to a corkboard in something like an exploded view, and studied it carefully. Surrounding the bra pieces were printed photographs of it in various stages of disassembly, and a few hand-drawn diagrams.

"This is how you did it? You took something apart, and made a brand new one in my size? Using these?" she gestured at the wire-frame models of herself.

"Yes, Miss Ellen."

She walked over to the dolls and ran her hand over one of the curved conduits. "And how did you get these?"

"I made them as well, Miss Ellen. From memory."

She turned to look at me, an impressed look on her face. "Just how many tricks are you hiding in that head, James?"

I was confused. I thought she knew my varied work history. As a matter of fact, I assumed I had been hired primarily because of that job experience. "I have a few skills," I demurred.

She nodded thoughtfully, but didn't press. "First question: If I understand your method right, you can recreate anything in my size as long as you have the item, and then more of the fabric it was made from?"

I shifted a bit. "In theory, yes. I am not a master tailor, Miss Ellen. Those brassieres, and those blue jeans you are wearing were rather difficult for me. I believe I can get better with time and practice, though."

She nodded and looked around the room again. "Can you make shoes?"

I blinked, put on the spot. "I... can try? I would have to learn from the ground up, I have not ever attempted to do so."

Miss Ellen nodded her head again, understanding, and I felt so relieved. "Next question: I don't remember seeing any receipts for... any of this. How did you pay for it?"

"Out of me wag..." I closed my eyes briefly, shifted my dialect back to right inside of my head, and tried again. "I paid with my own wages, Miss Ellen. I could not surprise you with this had you known what I'd purchased."

Miss Ellen paused for only a second. "Alright, here's what is going to happen. First, you get a raise. Another thousand a week sounds about right. I'm also going to give you a ten thousand dollar bonus to cover what you've spent here. That is enough?" she checked.

I was stunned at the generosity, and stuttered, "S-surely there isn't ten thousand dollars invested into this..."

She waved it off. "Consider it done, then. I want you to make me a wish list for this room, top of the line, whatever you want or need to make me clothes. The sky is the limit, James. I have an idea to replace these... metal things with something perfectly accurate. Also, I have to reward you in some way. You're giving me a piece of my life back here, James, and I am going to lean on you pretty heavily for this for awhile. What would you like? Anything at all."

I thought furiously. I needed very little, except for... "An exercise bicycle, Miss Ellen." I poked my chubby stomach to help illustrate.

She looked a little embarrassed. "I didn't want to say anything, but you have gained a little weight. Ridiculous coming from me, right? Can I ask what changed?"

I debated with myself over telling her, but eventually bit the bullet. "My diet consists nearly entirely of your breast milk, Miss Ellen."

She put her hand to her mouth in something like horror. "I had no idea. You don't have to do that anymore, okay?"

Her words made me panic, like I'd failed her. Even I was surprised at how strong that panic was. "No, Miss Ellen! Please... please give me a chance to see if exercise will help. I can still serve you in this!"

Miss Ellen blinked at me, surprised at my vehemence. "Well... alright... I guess. If it isn't working out, let me know and I'll figure something else out."

"Of course, Miss Ellen," I lied, calming back down. There was no way I would make her go back to painfully squeezing her milk out when I could take it from her pleasurably. She was mine to care for, full stop.

Miss Ellen scrubbed her mouth thoughtfully as she looked at me. "While you are making your wish list, pick out a vehicle for yourself, and I'll have it delivered. Something you'd like, but still allow you to run my errands."

With that, Miss Ellen walked out of the room, presumably back to her new clothes, leaving me with my tongue lodged in my throat.

******

Miss Ellen went on a buying spree that very day. She ordered a 3D scanner, an entire dozen 3D printers, and what seemed like a metric ton of printing plastic. Rush ordered, overnight delivery.

She had me scan her nude body from four different angles, and the same for her feet. She spent quite some time with the scans on her computer, and then she printed life-size mannequins of herself in eight inch cubed sections, twelve at a time.

Once they were all assembled and glued together, much like LEGOs, I had a green upper body with removable, handless arms, a blue lower body from the bottom of the ribs to ankles, a red neck to thigh mannequin which also had removable arms, and a pair of purple feet to try my hand at shoes with. Every detail was perfect, down to the texture of the surface imitating her skin.

The workspace changed into a very expensive, top shelf sewing room. I even had a rack for bolts of fabric and an embroidery machine, and an 80-inch flat screen mounted on the wall that I could put pictures and diagrams up on for easy reference.

For the next few months, I worked in that room nearly to the exclusion of everything else building Miss Ellen's wardrobe. Miss Ellen would order clothes she liked online, and order the fabric I'd need, and I'd do my best to recreate it all for her.

She took great satisfaction in having me throw out her mu-mus and curtains.

******

"James? Come to my bedroom, please."

I put down the wrench and stood from my current project, clicking my earpiece. "I will be with you shortly, Miss Ellen."

Stripping out of the coveralls I'd worn over my clothes and removing my gloves, I exited the room across from her office.

Turning and walking one door down the hallway, I let myself into Miss Ellen's bedroom.

She laid sprawled on her bed, upper back resting against her headboard, completely naked and stroking her erect cock.

"How may I serve, Miss Ellen?"

"Come give me head, James," she grinned.

I crawled up the bed between her long, thick splayed legs, and gathered my hair for her without being prompted.

Miss Ellen grasped my hair in her large fist, propped her legs up, and tugged me in to eat her pussy. It was a rare treat for me.

Miss Ellen didn't actually have a clitoris, instead she had a fully functional penis. She wedged my face between her bulging pussy lips into her wetness, and I licked around and into the opening as directed. Her heavy dick rested against my forehead.

"Mmm. You keep getting better at this James," she complimented me, and as always any praise from her made my body electrify. I didn't understand it, but there it was anyway.

She made noises and coos as I worked at her opening, before she yanked me out of her gash and lined her cock up, shoving it all the way down my throat.

It had taken time and practice, but I no longer even felt the urge of gagging on her member. With my head tilted back enough, she could slide me over her full length without bending it.

I licked her underside as she liked, snaking my tongue out on the down stroke to graze her vagina. Miss Ellen really liked that, and was my last hurdle in repressing my gag reflex.

She casually bobbed me back and forth on her dick and spoke in a conversational tone. "I managed to get you some training with a cobbler, James. For a somewhat high fee, he will teach you to make custom footwear. You start on Monday."

My brows furrowed against my will, and Miss Ellen noticed, pulling me completely off of her dick. "Is there a problem with that, James?"

I swallowed the mixture of pussy juice, pre-cum, and my own saliva that was in my mouth and tried to formulate an answer that wasn't 'No'.

"I am concerned about being away from you that much, and this home. My work will fall behind."

Miss Ellen let go of my hair to run her fingernails over my scalp where I lay between her colossal legs. "I can survive for a handful of weeks, James."

I grasped her cock and began to stroke it, not wanting her to lose her erection over this. "I am also less than a week from completing your birthday present," I reluctantly admitted. "I had hoped to make it a surprise."

Miss Ellen's face turned up in a confused, yet pleased smile. "You're making me something for my birthday?"

I took a quick lick of her cockhead to keep her hard. "I am. Perhaps... four days at most, working around my other duties?"

Miss Ellen considered that, and gently coaxed my head back to her dick, letting me do it on my own this time. "With what I'm paying that asshole, we can push it back a week. I'm so excited! Your last surprise was the best, James."

I worked over Miss Ellen's cock with every skill she'd forcefully taught me as she herself stared into space with an excited grin.

******

I hand-tightened the last screw, and looked it all over carefully. Piece by piece I had fabricated a computer desk and office chair to Miss Ellen's size in the auto shop, then assembled it all by hand in the room across from her office. Power tools would have given away the surprise.

The first time Miss Ellen had summoned me to her office, I was dismayed at seeing her sitting in an armless office chair far too small to be comfortable, her prodigious bottom flowing over the sides of the seat. It must have been to her like a bicycle seat was to me. She hunched over a tiny desk typing on a keyboard made for someone not nearly as impressive as she. That feeling made a resurgence every time I had seen her working, and she spent most of every day working.

I had to order a custom oversized keyboard and mouse, I had no skill to leverage in creating those. The same for the screen mounts. Everything else I had fabricated, stained, coated, upholstered, and assembled myself.

There was a retractable keyboard tray that had enough space to fit her hands inside of, three adjustable mounts bolted to the back for her three computer screens, power strips built into the underside, and I'd even installed a mini-fridge for drinks and snacks.

I had no idea what kind of computer screens I should buy, so I didn't. Miss Ellen could use the ones she had or order new ones, whichever she desired.

Once I'd seen just how much space was under her desk, I'd also installed a stool that I could swing down on a mounted arm with some limited mobility that would support my weight. Just in case she should want relief while working.

Her office chair was made to her specifications, large enough for her bottom, reinforced enough for her weight, and tall enough for her leg length.

I picked up my tools, and recleaned everything in the room one last time. It was ready to show.

I clicked my earpiece. "Miss Ellen?"

"Is it ready?" she asked excitedly. Miss Ellen had been ever so anxious for her gift. So anxious, in fact, that I worried she had over-hyped it in her mind and would be disappointed by the reality.

"It is. Come across the hall from your office when you please."

Miss Ellen nearly charged through the door, and stopped abruptly. "Oh, James," she whispered.

Reverently approaching her new desk, she carefully sat into the chair and wheeled herself in. She ran covetous hands over the desktop, and pulled out the tray.

Experimentally, she placed her fingers onto the keyboard, clicking a few keys, then played with the screen mounts and giggled.

She turned to me with a bright smile. "You've been holding out on me, James," she teased. "I wonder just what else you can do. No, wait, don't tell me. I don't want to ruin any future surprises. Just tell me one thing; What can you do that I should have been asking for all of this time?"

I thought quickly. "Either translation or massage, Miss Ellen."

Miss Ellen turned in her new chair to face me fully. "Really?"

I shrugged a little, not wanting to brag. "I speak, read, and write seven languages, and I held a position as a masseuse some time ago for perhaps... four months?"

Miss Ellen leaned back in her chair and breathed, "I don't pay you enough."

"Miss Ellen," I told her gently but somewhat laughingly, "you pay me over a quarter of a million dollars a year."

She shook her head and touched her desk again. "You're worth at least twice that. At least." After a moment of thought, she blurted, "I've been an idiot."

"Miss Ellen?"

She shook her head disgustedly. "I never had clothes that fit, not because I couldn't afford to see a tailor, but because it would mean going out into public and meeting strangers. I won't do that to myself anymore."

She looked at me and said, "But ordering custom furniture? I've got more money than I know what to do with, and I have you to greet the delivery men. The real gift you've given me here, James, is the realization that I don't have to try and cram myself into furniture that isn't right. I can make my home fit me."

I was confused. Did she not like it? Was she going to order something made by an actual craftsman instead of my amateurish gift? My face fell as I realized that I'd disappointed her.

"James? What is it? What's wrong?"

I looked at Miss Ellen's concerned face and tried to be stoic. "Nothing at all, Miss Ellen. I will dispose of this, and when you have a desk and chair of your choosing delivered I will, of course, have it placed wherever you like."

She looked at me as though I had stopped speaking English altogether. "Dispo-? What!? James, I love this! I was talking about the couch in the entryway and my bed and... everything except this!"

I blinked my eyes, trying to keep the relieved tears inside. "Ah... M-my apologies, Miss Ellen. The-there is one thing I'd like to show you, if I may? Would you please roll away for a moment?"

Miss Ellen wheeled her chair backward, and I scrambled underneath the desk where her legs would rest, pulling the spring-loaded stool down on its arm and seating myself. "Wheel in, please Miss Ellen."

She wheeled in, her legs comfortably spread and I placed my head nearly into her groin. "Should you want relief as you are working," I needlessly explained.

I looked up at her over the curve of her breasts and saw her face morph into a naughty grin. "Yes, I am definitely keeping this desk," she told me, as she reached down to her fly, unzipped it, and fished her cock out through the opening. "Relieve me, James," she smiled down at me.

I sucked her soft cock into my mouth, feeling it rapidly harden as I bobbed my head. I tried to apologize for my misstep with her blowjob, and worked her over with enthusiasm.

Her big hand grasped my head, fingers spread and reaching quite far around the circumference. After only a few minutes she pressed me all the way in and shot her cum down my esophagus.

I gently suckled at her cock as she orgasmed, and when I felt like her load was finished, I began to bob again.

Miss Ellen relaxed in the chair I made for her, at the desk I made for her, as I sucked her dick over and over while sitting on the stool I made for me.

******

Miss Ellen had gifted me a card to be used for surprises after that, only wanting to see the receipts once the surprise was sprung. I had immediately asked her for permission to remodel one of the unused rooms on the second floor.

While the exercise bike had helped a little, I was still gaining some weight. I'd worked my waist slightly slimmer, but my chest had gotten even a little bigger yet, and my ass and thighs were so fat that the hem of my pants was creeping up my leg.

I had to get this done before I looked even more different than I did in high school.

Using the online yearbooks of Miss Ellen's school, I had recreated a section of her high school library.

The same flat, blue carpet. Same ten-foot high bookshelves. I'd replaced the light fixture with a hanging overhead florescent light. The bookshelves bordered the room, and above them, in the four feet to the ceiling I'd placed mirrors, giving the illusion that outside of the shelves the room continued on.

There was a table and chairs, made to Miss Ellen's size, and a poster recreated from a photo in the yearbook from the year when I was there with her.

It was filling the shelves that took the most time. I'd raided every thrift shop for miles around of their books, and eventually resorted to making mock-books out of printed book covers and blocks of wood to occupy all of that space.

Miss Ellen had never worn anything other than black jeans and a green Anaheim Ducks sweatshirt when I knew her then, and I only realized right then that it was all she could wear. Even then, very little clothing fit her.

I made her both, using the expensive embroidering machine to make the graphic and lettering on the front of the sweatshirt, and I placed them on her bed, next to a pair of white socks, cotton bra and panties, and a pair of white sneakers.

I had spent five weeks and three days learning to make footwear from a misogynistic asshole who never called me anything other than 'Miss Volk' and denigrated my every effort.

It was when he had torn me up and down over a pair of boots I'd made for nearly thirty minutes, and then I saw them on display the next day for an obscene amount of money with no alterations that I'd decided I had learned enough.

I came home to Miss Ellen, and immediately made her five pairs of differing footwear.

Once I had her outfit laid out, I raced to my rooms in the servant's quarters to get myself ready.

I showered thoroughly, shaved my face carefully, and hung the enema bag from the shower head, a scent bead fizzling away inside.

It was something I'd began doing twice a day after Miss Ellen's birthday. I had figured it was only a matter of time before Miss Ellen would want more than just blowjobs, and if she wished to fuck me, I wanted to be prepared for her.