The Training of Jeff Stintum Ch. 13

Chapter 13: In Sarah's House

Warm sunlight had been streaming into Sarah's house for several hours now, bathing its rooms in a rich array of golden light that blended seamlessly with the white walls of the foyer, the kitchen, and the living room, the deep red walls of the dining room, and the lavender walls of the bedroom. The succulent smell of cooking meat was beginning to infuse the air with the cozy domestic promise of dinner to come, and aside from the gentle bubbling of liquid from the crock pot in the kitchen, there was no sound throughout the house. Calm silence reigned, as if the very house itself had grown accustomed to waiting patiently every day for its mistress to return in the evening.

*clack* *clack* *clack* The sound of rubber-tipped, hollow metal crutches on the hardwood floor interrupted the stillness. Jeff Stintum was on the move, exploring the house. After brushing his teeth he had stepped gingerly down from the stepping stool that Sarah had so kindly (and playfully) provided, and had realized from his growling stomach that he was hungry. But Jeff's morning time habits were such that he interpreted his hunger in a specific way: he wanted a beer.

He had crutched himself back into Sarah's bedroom, past the little pile of his clothes that she had so neatly folded for him, and out into the house towards the kitchen. He had not even considered putting his clothes on. It was not as if Jeff was accustomed to walking around naked after he woke up, but without him realizing, something about the energy in Sarah's house, the tranquil calm combined with the fact that everything was slightly too big for him, induced him to forgo his clothes. Jeff wasn't aware of this feeling, but somewhere in his brain he realized that his nudity suited him because it would make Sarah smile and giggle to know that he was walking around her house in crutches without any clothes on. Somewhere in his thoughts, he knew she would think he was cute.

He hobbled through the living room past the huge red sofa, which reminded Jeff of the overwhelming rapture of the previous night. Everything really was so much bigger in this house. In the bright clarity of daylight, he saw how big the sofa really was — standing up, the seating cushions came up to his waist, and it was obvious that if he wanted to sit on them, he would have to actually hop up to get on them. The sofa's headrest rose up in front of him, all the way up until Jeff realized that its top was even with his eyes. Why did Sarah need to have such a huge sofa? But he quickly imagined her standing in front of him, with her imposing height supporting her huge bulk, and he envisaged her simply bending at the waist to guide her immense body gently and comfortably down onto the plush sofa cushions. Yes, this sofa was made for Sarah all right.

Jeff shook these thoughts from his head and ignored his erection as he limped on toward the kitchen. He had felt another flash of frustration as he noticed himself getting hard yet again while thinking about the size of Sarah's body, highlighted by the size of everything around him, and he could not understand why he didn't seem to have any control over how his body reacted to these invasive thoughts. Of course Sarah was hot — that much was obvious. But the way his mind kept gravitating to the particulars of her actual size, and the way she had made it a point to compare her body to his, made him feel uneasy. It was their size difference that was turning him on; even to Jeff, this was becoming clear. And he had no idea why.

He was encouraged, however, that he seemed to be getting better at ignoring things he did not like.

"First thing's first," he muttered to himself as he spied the fridge in the kitchen. A nice cold morning beer or two would set him right. Surely Sarah had some beers in there, right? Probably some of those more expensive high-gravity kinds...that would be just like Sarah — and just then he almost slipped and completely wiped out on the hardwood floor. One of his crutches had skidded on something smooth on the floor. A piece of clothing. A sock. Sarah's sock.

Jeff stopped dead in his tracks as he lifted up his crutch from the sock on the floor. His heart was beating quickly as he stared down at it, as if he had stumbled upon some rare and fascinating creature. The sock was white and mini-crew, designed to go up a little past the ankle of the wearer. He couldn't help himself — putting down his crutches, Jeff awkwardly lowered himself to the floor, collapsing in a heap at the end of his descent. From a sitting position he picked up the sock. It was soft and sweet-smelling, obviously clean. Sarah must have dropped it on the floor accidentally that morning as she got ready for work. But looking around at the rest of her house, Jeff couldn't help but notice how immaculately clean everything else was, how spotless and free from clutter. Could it be that she...dropped this here on purpose? For him?

Jeff shook his head again, impressing himself once again with his ability to shake away these invasive thoughts. What mattered was that he was holding the sock now. Just like everything else, it felt big in his hands. It almost felt like he was holding a small baby in his arms. Without thinking, he lay the foot of the sock against his arm, to see how long it was in comparison. From the heel to the toe, the sock spanned from his elbow to the middle of his hand. Were her feet really that big? And then, as if mandated by some irresistible force within him, his eyes drifted to the sock's opening. Pulling himself up into a seating position, he took the sock in both hands and very slowly, as if he could not contain his excitement, slid his left foot into it.

To Jeff it seemed like he was putting his foot into a small shirt. The fabric, which was clearly intended to stretch to accommodate the size of the wearer, sat loosely against his foot. The sock was so baggy that the ankle opening barely touched his leg. Jeff immediately felt stupid and would have shaken the sock off if he had not simultaneously felt an uncontrollable arousal rise up in his chest and course through his small body. He imagined Sarah putting the sock on, and the fabric stretching as her foot filled its space and pushed it to its limits. He imagined the sock tightly hugging her ankle...even though he had never seen her wearing these socks, Jeff was absolutely certain that this is how they would fit her.

He felt an almost painful pressure in his dick and he realized that he was fully hard right now, and to an extent that he once again couldn't help but question if his dick had gotten bigger. He knew he was big, but as he looked at the trembling erect length that rose in front of him, he couldn't remember ever really looking that big. If he had been feeling more like himself, Jeff would have stopped and marveled at this strange new phenomenon, and then would have likely smiled to himself as he started to muse about how lucky Sarah was to have landed someone like him.

But Jeff was not feeling like himself. For the second time that morning he was utterly unable to resist the lust that was hustling through his veins, and he grabbed his cock and fell backwards from his sitting position onto the hardwood floor, wrenching it with a mindless desperation. His legs hung awkwardly in the air, Sarah's sock dangling loosely from his foot, as he came violently in seconds, once again spewing cum all over his chest and neck. He lay there for a minute, gasping for air, until he hurtled himself up on his crutches and continued stumping on his long journey to the kitchen. He would have laid there for minutes longer, and maybe even fallen back asleep, if he had allowed himself to. But already in his post-orgasmic heat he was annoyed at himself for giving in to that feeling...that huge, awful, mysterious feeling...that obsession with the size difference between himself and the owner of the house.

He was in the kitchen now. Everything looked so smooth in the late-morning sunlight: the countertops, the appliances, the sleek silver of the fridge...it all looked so polished and well-kept. Maybe it was the change of rooms, but whatever it was allowed Jeff to sigh in relief. He was going to be ok; he just needed that beer. He needed to clean the cum off his chest first, though, and he looked around for a paper towel...and there they were in a fancy marble holder on the counter, way back. He crutched himself over and stretched out his hand to reach, but just like with the toothpaste, Jeff found them out of reach. He huffed in frustration as he looked around. Wasn't there a dishcloth or something laying around? But there was nothing. He looked back at the unattainable paper towels and his mind shot straight back into Sarah's bathroom, where the step stool was sitting. Did he seriously have to hobble on these crutches all the way back there to get a stepping stool so he could reach some paper towels to wipe cum off his chest? The idea was absurd, and the more he thought about it the more irritated he became.

A minute later he was rummaging through Sarah's bathroom as his vexation grew. He had used the last of her toilet paper wiping the first load off his chest, and he had flushed it away down the toilet. Looking through the tall cabinet, Jeff thought it was odd that Sarah didn't have any backup toilet paper...and then he saw it. On the top shelf, way, way out of his reach. He pulled the stepping stool up and stood on it, and from this added height tried to reach, but it was still comically beyond his range. He took one of his crutches and tried to use it as a tool to knock the toilet paper down, but it was placed on the shelf in such a way that even though he could reach with his crutch, he could not maneuver it down. All this time he was standing on one foot on the stool, and after several moments of futile attempts to knock the toilet paper down, he lost his balance and tumbled off the stool and back onto Sarah's fluffy bathroom mat.

"Fuck!" yelled Jeff involuntarily, and he lay on Sarah's mat, glaring up at the toilet paper high above him, which almost seemed to be smiling at him in a teasing, Sarah-like way. This was all too ridiculous. He looked over at the stool, which also seemed to be winking at him mockingly. A couple of minutes later, after much hassle, Jeff was back in the kitchen, standing on the stool on his tip toes, barely managing to reach the paper towels. Huffing to himself at how much of a unbelievable hassle all that was, Jeff wiped the cum of his chest, with a little more difficulty than usual since it had started to harden.

He was standing in front of the fridge now, which rose up before him like some sleek silver giant.

"Finally," he said out loud, and with more effort than he had intended to give, he pulled it open. Sarah's fridge was packed with food. Lots of dark green vegetables and containers of tomatoes, carrots, and other colorful vegetables on the left, and on the right, bright red apples, ripe oranges, grapes, and other succulent fruits. Way up on the top shelf, well out of Jeff's reach, he could see eggs and yogurt and other containers he couldn't read. Straight in front of him, in clear drawers, he caught glimpses of yellow blocks of cheese, and the red hints of wrapped cuts of meat. In the inside door gallon jugs of milk sat chest-high to Jeff, but as far as he could tell there wasn't any other beverage in the fridge.

He started to panic; he almost always drank in the morning, and the seeming impossibility of that right now made him afraid. Without the alcohol to distract him he would be stuck in his sober reality, which he was increasingly unable to process. He had been counting on the promise of numbing himself to his current position, and so he anxiously scoured the fridge up and down for any beer or wine or anything he might have missed. All this healthy food...Jeff glared at it, once again feeling the strange weight of some kind of powerlessness pressing steadily down upon him. It was as if Sarah was flaunting herself at him — the fact that she was thick and tall and healthy and vigorous from eating all this food, while he was...well, the opposite. His mind flashed to the fridge at his old place. Beer and condiments. That had pretty much been it...

He closed the fridge doors in a huff, and then as he looked up he suddenly saw it: a very conspicuous tall handle of dark bourbon that was completely full. Jeff grew excited for an instant, but then suddenly drew back. Something about the placement of the bourbon directly on top of the fridge had reminded him about Sarah's third rule: no drinking unless it was with her. His shoulders slumped as he looked up at the alcohol; he knew that Sarah must have bought this bourbon just for the two of them. He had, after all, told him during their dinner weeks before (it seemed ages ago) that he was a "whiskey man." Could it be that she internalized that little bit of information and had planned this whole thing in advance? It didn't seem possible, and yet...but there were those invasive thoughts again. He looked up again at the bottle of bourbon. There was no way he could possibly get that thing down. It had been enough trouble standing on his tip toes on the stepping stool to reach the paper towels. But even if he could have reached it and somehow gotten it down, he might not have been able to break Sarah's rule. Even though at this point he refused to entertain these little flashes of thought for more than a second or two, the reality that he feared disappointing or angering Sarah more than anything else was beginning to set it. He briefly wondered if she had put the bourbon away up out of his reach because she didn't trust him...

The doorbell suddenly rang, causing Jeff to nearly fall over in surprise. Who could be at the door? Was he supposed to answer it? What would Sarah want him to do? He moved around nervously on his crutches for a moment or two, going aimlessly around in a kind of zig zag, until he decided that he could at least see who it was. He crutched himself carefully down the hallway and up to the door. The peephole was too tall for him (but such things were becoming so normal to him now that he hardly noticed), and so he went around to the window and discreetly peered through the blinds.

His mother was standing there on Sarah's doorstep, holding a satchel and looking a bit impatient. Jeff couldn't believe it. How had she...? But he didn't have time to think because his mother reached out and rang the doorbell again, calling out:

"Jeff! Jeff I know you're in there! I can hear you! Just open the door, please!"

His mind was spinning; he didn't feel like he had any other option, and so he lugged himself back over to the door, saying:

"O-ok, mom! Ok! Be right there!" He got to the door and made a motion to unlock it but then quickly realized that he didn't have clothes on. He couldn't see his mom like this — he moved away from the door on his crutches as quickly as he could to go get his clothes from Sarah's bedroom.

"Jeff!" called his mom through the door, "Please get a move on. I'm just here to drop some stuff off — I have a meeting to get to." He didn't have time to put his clothes on...he saw the blanket draped over Sarah's sofa and with some effort hauled it off and wrapped it around his naked body. A few moments later he opened the door to his mother, who was standing there in her nice work clothes.

"There you are!" she said. She looked at the blanket wrapped around his body and laughed. "Did I catch you before you woke up? It's past noon, Jeff."

"I've been up for a while!" said Jeff indignantly. "I just...I just..." but here his words faltered, as he did not want to admit that he had been wandering around Sarah's house naked.

"Whatever, Jeff, it doesn't matter. I'm just glad that Sarah's agreed to take care of you before your surgery. She asked me to drop some of your things off today; she said you'd be here." His mom handed him the satchel, and Jeff struggled a little as he slung it over his shoulder.

"You got it?" his mom asked cautiously.

"Yeah," Jeff grimaced, annoyed. "Yeah I got it."

"I see she's got you on crutches," his mom said, looking at him up and down. "Good. And is that...some kind of special sock she has you wearing?" She indicated down to Jeff's left foot — Jeff felt almost sick to realize that he was still wearing Sarah's sock. It looked comically huge on him. After faltering a moment Jeff said:

"Oh...uh, y-yeah. Yeah, this is to, um...to help me, uh, keep my balance."

His mom looked at him. She wasn't a tall woman by any means, but she must have realized that due to recent events she now stood just a bit taller than her son, because her eyes were full of something like pity.

"Uh-huh. Well, just make sure you do whatever she tells you to do, ok, Jeff? Sarah's a trained professional and she knows what she's talking about."

"Y-yeah, ok, I will." Jeff had bowed his head a little in humility, but then was suddenly seized with curiosity; his head jerked back up. "So did you and dad...like...you called Sarah?"

Jeff mom had turned to leave, but stopped a moment. "Yes we did, Jeff. We're worried about you and your health, and we weren't sure that you would be able to take care of yourself before this surgery. We ran into the Hellegers a few days ago and they mentioned that Sarah was going to medical school and that you two had reconnected. We were feeling desperate so we reached out to her."

Jeff was starting to feel angry that all of this activity had happened without him even noticing, and his mother sensed his frustration.

"Don't be mad at us, Jeff. We're just doing what we think is best for you. Just know that you're lucky to have a friend like Sarah who cares about you. Your father and I have only spoken with her on the phone, but even by talking with her it's clear that she's grown into quite an impressive woman." She indicated to the house and yard around them. "She's doing it Jeff — she's making it happen. Don't take her generosity for granted, please."

"I—I won't," said Jeff simply, unable to form any other words.

"Good!" said his mom. "Well, take care; I've gotta go to that meeting. Oh, and Sarah wanted me to remind you to reschedule your surgery for next week. Have you done that yet?"

He hadn't. He had completely forgotten. "N-no, no, but I was going to!"

"Mmhm," said his mother, "She said it might have skipped your mind. Just make sure and get it done, ok?"

A few minutes later, back alone in Sarah's house, Jeff was getting off the phone with the hospital, feeling a strange mixture of irritation at feeling like his life was being run by other people and relief at having successfully followed one of Sarah's directions. She had been so insistent about that one specific thing, "reschedule your surgery," and yet if not for his mother reminding him he would have completely forgotten about it.

'Too many things at once,' he thought to himself as he limped on his crutches to the sofa. He took a couple seconds to time a little one-footed jump up so that he could reach the cushions comfortably, and then nestled into the sofa. His small body seemed so dwarfed by the cushions around him. He thought of Sarah's body and the way that she filled up space, and how high her head and shoulders reached when she was sitting on the same sofa, and how her feet comfortably touched the ground. He looked down at his own dangling feet and felt the strange inner tug on his psyche that was becoming all-too-familiar; he was helpless to stop himself noticing that he was surrounded by big things, by furniture that was clearly made for and arranged in the room by someone significantly larger than himself.

And to think that this larger person was Sarah...her absence seemed to intensify Jeff's lust for her delicious body and overpowering presence, for her piercing eye contact and slow, knowing smiles. And even though his mind fought against its own insistent gravitation to their enormous difference in size, Jeff himself was feeling less and less able to resist his fixation on how big and dominant she seemed. Any internal attempts to assert his own personality and power as a male fizzled as he sat there on the sofa, watching his legs dangle and thinking back to Sarah lounging comfortably like a great cat in the same spot, her head tall and proud, her body taking up three times the space that his did, and her feet resting casually and comfortably on the floor. It was all too much for his tired little brain, and his resistance broke again.