Giantess Stories: Plaything Part 1

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Plaything Part 1

by

Unknown

William was boring. His scope of life didn't extend beyond his

trivial passions: video games, sci-fi, anime, spy paperbacks, cable

TV and keeping on top of the latest in technology. He hadn't slept

with a woman since college and the few times he tried to get out of

his house in Palm Springs were pitifully unsuccessful. Invariably he

would retreat to a corner or hand around the edge of the dance floor

nervously bobbing his head and shuffling a little to the whumping

beat as he stared at the girls. He wanted them, the blondes, goths,

trendies, asians, and glamour girls, but the haughty way they held

themselves, their tight clothing- sophisticated or outrageous- and

their cruel red lips held him back. Too intimidated to approach, he'd

watch helplessly as they strutted, danced, and invariably disappeared

with a group of chattering girlfriends or a prowling alpha male.

Returning home he'd breathe a sigh of dissapointment and relief and

turn on Dragnet or cartoons, trying not to b!

erate himself for being a shameless lecher as well as an impotent

coward. He was, in short, a looser.

But William was a very wealthy looser. His immaturity and countless

hours frittered away in front of the computer had made him somewhat

of an expert on technology and youth trends. He'd helped finance the

extension of Telletubbies from the U.K. to America, invested in the

import of Sailor Moon and the even more lucrative introduction of

Pokemon to US children. He was on top of the latest in life

enhancement, from better cell phones reception to clearer TV imaging.

In his most successful venture he had brought over the Tomogachi

craze from Japan. He had built up the project from the ground level;

it was under his influence that the model marketed to westerners was

developed (featuring a ressurectable chick to accommodate the

irresponsibility of American kids). In spite of bastard rip-offs like

Giga-pets, he'd made a fortune, and now enjoyed the cushy job of

trying out prototypes of computer games and gadgets and predicting

for the companies how to modify, if possible, their p!

roduct for American consumers.

So it was no surprise to William when UPS dropped off a package the

size of a milk crate plastered with cautionary stickers warning

FRAGILE in both Japanese and English from Ban Dai Corporation, Tokyo.

Ban Dai was high tech, but most of the stuff they'd sent him was way

too weirdly Japanese to ever market in the US. As far as really

Japanese products went, the manga and anime doo-dads were usually a

safe bet, but William had learned that the Japanese have a very

different idea of what's fun than Americans. The only item of theirs

he'd been able to push in the US was the Tomagachi, and even that was

weird enough that the craze, though lucrative, did not last long. He

thought back to the last product they'd sent him, almost a year ago;

he vaguely remembered a small and technologically sophisticated

hologram generator which produced some very lifelike but bizarre

cutesy things doing... well, he'd never been able to figure out what

the hell was going on. The music was way off, t!

oo; spooky but really catchy. The irksome jingle came back to him as

he carefully cut open the box containing whatever it was they'd been

cooking up in the year since he rejected the toy.

Inside the box, nestled in layers of foam packing, was a package full

of brightly colored pills and a second packed with white pills, a

small black sealed baggie and an instruction sheet along with a

request for evaluation from the people at Ban Dai. He'd nearly

forgotten this job in the weeks since the company had contacted him;

fifteen hundred dollars for his expert opinion. William smiled

smugly, satisfied with the knowledge that he'd come so far that money

rolled into his bank account for playing with a new toys. He settled

back to examine the products more closely.

While the business letter was written pretty fluently, the enclosed

instructions were a mess of typically garbled English. He scanned

them; they seemed simple enough. 'OK,' William said 'I am opening

black baggy of SODATSU NA ON'NA NO KO with gently and put in lighted

place.' He carefully opened the airtight plastic bag and took a look

at SODATSU NA ON'NA NO KO.

It was an egg. Slightly larger and more round than a regular egg, the

thing was spongy and white but pearly. The multicolored sheen of the

opalescent surface looked tacky, and William decided it was a girl

toy. Typical 'chibi' and 'kawaii'. He turned it around, couldn't find

any buttons or seams and, shrugging, set it on the counter under the

kitchen lamp.

Nothing happened. After ten minutes of staring at the damn thing,

William flipped on the TV, glancing from time to time at the soft,

shiny egg.

When 'Three's Company' broke for commercial, he looked again, aware

that he'd gotten too absorbed in the show to check on the egg for

some time. He couldn't see any change from his seat but he went over

to check more closely anyhow. No American kid would be patient enough

to sit around this long waiting for their new gadget to start

working. Something must have happened by now, he thought.

And indeed it had. A small part of the egg was protruding slightly;

he could actually see the distended part moving subtly. The tiny

pulse in the spot intensified into a definite push from the inside.

Hatching, William figured. Makes sense. He grew juvenilely impatient,

shifting his weight from one foot to the other, anxious to see what

the hell was going to come out.

He had predicted something ridiculously cute, befitting the girly

shimmer of the egg, but nothing prepared him for the tiny figure that

finally broke out from the spongy shell and crept out, gleaming wetly

with the egg's thick fluid, onto the counter to lie, heaving, in the

light of the kitchen lamp. It was a girl. A tiny, naked girl- no, a

woman; she had full breasts and a wisp of pubic hair that matched the

dense purple hair on her head. 'Jesus H. Christ,' William mumbled

aloud, 'how the hell did they put that together?' What was it made

of? Was it- she- alive? Whatever she was, it wasn't human; she looked

exactly like an anime babe: huge eyes quivering with beads of light,

shiny purple hair falling into perfect soft spikes, enormous (well,

proportionally) tits, the works. He was dumbfounded. And then she

spoke.

'Mika!' It was a small, high-pitched voice. What did 'Mika' mean? Was

that her name? Did she need something? Without taking his eyes off

the little living doll, he stepped away and quickly fumbled for the

instructions. Under 'care' he read that, according to the shitty

language of the directions, he was supposed to give it food and

water, like a pet, and the instructions referred him to the bag of

colored pills marked 'esa na ni naru'.

On closer inspection, he realized that the brightly colored contents

were not pills but some kind of solid pellet; they looked more or

less like really big rainbow sprinkles. What the hell was in those

things? Worry about that later, William decided, and scuttled back to

the counter to feed the tiny girl, who was lying limply from the

exertion of hatching. At his approach, she picked up her head and

fixed him with those unnaturally huge, dilated eyes. 'Mika!' she

whined. He selected a blue candy-pill-thing for her and extended his

hand. 'Mika! Mika!' she yelped and sprang to her feet, dancing from

one foot to the other and raising both arms to grab at his fingers.

She snatched it eagerly and immediately started biting into it with

greedy hunger.

William took out his notepad and tried to think how to record what

had just happened. Under the last entry of 'No change' he noted the

time and recorded the amount of food given, the utterance that was,

presumably, her name, and a description of her features. He searched

around in his desk and finally found a ruler to check her dimensions.

No tape measure, but he figured he could measure her proportions with

string and then measure that. Getting her to stand still long enough

to be measured was tricky, but with some coaxing she stood upright

and he measured her height at 3.8 in. The string method worked pretty

well, her dimensions came out to 2.5, 1.3, 2.2 inches. Outlandish for

a human.... well, outlandish for an ordinary woman. He weighed her in

at just over a pound, with Mika more or less cooperating. She was a

little skittish, but seemed to understand that he wasn't going to

hurt her. What did she make of all this? Could she even think?

William was at a loss. She whined !

again and he gave her another colored 'esa'. He watched as the downed

the second, then began to explore his messy countertop.

She sniffed around in circles before making her way over to Mike's

Dilbert mug still half full of sludgy coffee from this morning. Her

fingertips just barely reached the rim, and she stepped back, cocked

her head and asked 'Mika?' A few more steps took her to the handle,

which she shinnied up to perch on the rim of the mug, sniffing and

wrinkling her all-but-invisible nose. She gave a little yelp of

delight when she saw her reflection in the murky coffee, and began

tilting her head and admiring herself with a satisfied insect purr.

Reaching up to coyly brush her hair, Mika lost her grip and fell

foreword into the mug. Plip. Michael quickly emptied girl and coffee

into the sink. The girl, purple hair all muddy with coffee, was

spitting and gagging at the bitter taste but seemed otherwise ok.

'You're lucky that shit wasn't hot, little Mika-thing,' Michael said

as he rinsed her gently, wondering what he was supposed to do with

her. He referred to the instructions and saw glossy pictures of

plastic SODATSU NA ON'NA NO KO habitats ranging from tiny to enormous

'depending on how much roaming space you want her to have,' Michael

figured. Well, he wasn't going to shell out for one of these plastic

playgrounds for a test sample, he decided. Not when he still had the

terrarium left behind by Basilisk, the iguana that had escaped and

turned up dead under the couch three weeks later. It was three and a

half feet by two and a good two and a half high, with a little lamp,

fake rocks and a water dish. 'Well, baby,' he told Mika, 'it aint a

little jap penthouse, but it'll have to be good enough for you.'

It was not good enough for her. Mika held her tiny nose and,

gesturing at the iguana crap encrusting the glass walls, yelled

'Mi-KA!' at him. 'Sorry, babe,' Mike said, placing the screen cover

on the glass tank. He dashed off a few more observations, then

watched Mika circle the terrarium, finally curling up catlike in a

corner. He stared at her tiny body for a long time, watching her

impossible breasts rise and fall as she breathed in and out. He

couldn't help thinking that if she weren't a toy-pet-product and if

she were life-sized.... He suddenly snapped back to reality and shook

his head, aware of his slight but waxing hardness and unnerved by it.

'Sweet dreams, Mika,' he whispered, and snapped off the light as he

left the room.

At three am he was awakened by an insistent cry of

'Mika-Mika-Mika-Mika-Mika...' He groaned, rolled over and tried to

sleep through it, but she seemed to have sensed that he was awake

because her cries changed in pitch; her calls became insistent,

demanding. 'Mmmrrrgh,' and he was out of bed, fumbling for the light

switch. 'Like a goddamn Tomogachi,' he thought. Like a baby.

Mika was no baby. He could see from her indignant expression when he

approached her terrarium that she was all woman, and a

high-mainanance one at that. She scowled at him as though he'd stood

her up for a big date, and her womanly fury actually made her even

more unbearably cute; her breasts bobbing as she huffed, sticking out

her lower lip and tossing her head. 'Heh heh heh, all riled up, huh?'

'Mika,' she said coldly, her wide eyes narrowed to thick-lashed slits

with derision. 'What what what?' he asked, taken aback, then realized

he was being rebuked by a toy, whipped by less than four inches of a

girl. No fucking way. But a second glance at Mika, fuming like an

incensed cat, rattled his feelings of domination, and he reached for

the bag of colored food pellets, eager to get this over with.

'There, ya happy?' he asked, proffering a green one. The little vixen

snatched it from his fingertips and gave him a disdainful, yet

forgiving 'Mika.' He tossed in a couple more in case she got hungry

again, and filled the dish with water. As he was replacing it, he

noticed how dirty the bowl was and, without thinking, immediately

returned to the kitchen to scrub it before offering it to his

demanding ward. She seemed pleased with the water dish and, after

admiring herself in the reflection yet again, rinsed her face and

hands, and even allowed him to very carefully stroke her hair with

one fingertip. It was softer than a robin's breast. He remained

caressing her, transfixed, until she rose to her feet, stretched her

lithe and voluptuous body and dismissed him with a nod. Michael

returned to his room and crawled back into bed. Lying, waiting for

sleep, he could still feel her smoothness against his fingertips.

Morning found Mika still curled up and dozing in the slice of

sunshine that fell across her body from the chink in the blinds. Her

glossy hair was rumpled. 'Morning, sweet thing,' Mike said, and Mika

mumbled and snuggled her head further into her folded arms, clearly

determined to wake up when and only when it suited her. Smiling,

Michael went through the coffee-making ritual and munched on a

frosted Pop Tart, unfolding the newspaper. He forced himself to read

most of the cover stories, a facsimile of adulthood he'd purposely

adopted, before allowing himself to flip to the comics. Today's Ziggy

made no sense and the Family Circus, as always, turned his stomach,

but he read it anyway.

'Too bad she's too little to cook,' he thought, remembering the

stacks of pancakes and those little sausage patties his mother used

to churn out. The place could certainly use a woman's touch; the

house was masculine by default and sloppiness. Where worthless

nostalgia like Happy Meal toys weren't crowding the tabletops, empty

beer cans, CD and DVD collectors edition boxes stood under a film of

dust alongside vestiges of manliness, like the enormous lighter

shaped like a tiger (Mike didn't smoke) and expensive hunting knives

that were lucky to see use if he needed to open a bag of Fritos.

Movie posters took up the wallspace along with a Jimmy Hendrix, an

M.C. Esher print, a blacklight spiral (throwbacks to college days he

couldn't part with) and a mounted pair of stag antlers, which he

couldn't remember acquiring. Yessir, if she were life-sized, his

little woman could really make the place a little tidier, at least.

Mike had never fully adjusted to independent living, and in!

spite of degree, career, bulging bank account and house, Mike still

lived like he was a college student, slumping around while waiting

for the next deadline or party. That's another thing, he thought,

becoming once again acutely and uncomfortably aware of his

loneliness. I'd screw her little jap brains out if she were life

sized. In a second. He glanced at the tank and was gratified to see

Mika stretching and rubbing her eyes.

'Hey, you.' Mike approached the terrarium and inspected Mika. She

flashed him a smile and held out her hands for another pellet. Damn,

she'd finished both the extras he'd thrown in last night and still

she wanted more. How long was she going to keep eating like this. He

handed her a pink pellet, teasing 'you're gonna get fat if you don't

look out, sweetie.'

He did a double take. Had she gotten fatter? He examined her more

closely. Nope, still trim and curved like an obscene hourglass, but

she did look heavier somehow. Bigger, he realized. He mulled that

over. Makes sense, he thought, the program has to have some sort of

direction or, personality aside, she'd be no different from any pet

like his late iguana. Go over well with girls, too- the whole

mothering thing. Good design feature, he decided, and waited for her

to finish the two yellows he'd fed her before attempting to measure

her. When she'd finished licking her fingers, Mike lowered his hand

into the tank, palm open and Mika, understanding, stepped into it.

She seemed to be catching on to the ruler bit, too. She stood up

straight and grinned as he checked her height. Was she aware she was

growing? It would seem so; she gestured towards her expanded chest

and held her head high. Well, high being 4.5 inches, but what a spurt

for less than a day! Incredible, Mike thought. A!

t least he now knew why she was eating so damn much; he'd been

wondering if maybe she weren't like on of those goldfish that just

keep eating as long as you feed them, right up to the minute they go

belly-up with a busted gut.

Mika strutted for a few minutes, and further explored the countertop.

She gave the coffee a wide berth, and instead scrambled nimbly up a

pile of empty pizza boxes and food containers, surveying the room

from the top. She then leapt like a deer, diving towards and grapping

ahold of, the telephone cord. She shimmied up the coils, examined the

entirely uninteresting mouthpiece of the telephone, and then

clambered back down to the lowest point of the loop, where she swung

idly back and forth, legs braced against the wall.

Michael observed her play and added 'physical coordination and

activity' to his notation on her size increase. No wonder Ban Dai

offered such big pens for these things, all full of ladders and

wheels and swing-bars. These SODATSU NA ON'NA NO KOS were highly

active and curious; he would have to teeny-girlie-proof his house,

the thought, surveying all the potential dangers on the countertop

and lying on the floor. Those hunting knives, the lighter, the

outlets.... He checked back to make sure Mika hadn't already gotten

into trouble and was shocked to see that, still braced by her legs

against the wall, she'd straddled one side of the phone cord loop and

was grinding her pelvis against the plastic cord between her legs.

'Jesus H. Christ!' he said, and approached his brazen pet, who

continued wriggling and emitted an audible purr and short squeaks of

pleasure. Mika turned her head and saw him standing beside her, mouth

open, and slid him a sexy, slow smile through sultry, half-c!

losed eyes. 'Meeeeeka,' she cooed in a husky, breathless voice, and

spread her slender legs wider. He could smell her desire, rising off

her in waves of sweetness underscored with the thick, raw female

scent of a heated animal. Christ! They could never sell such a thing

to kids, Mike decided as his mind recovered from the shock. He shook

his head to clear it, trying not to be overpowered by her sweet-musk

sex smell, and pulled her carefully off the phone cord. A filmy smear

of her wetness shone on the cord as it settled against the wall.

Mika, however, did not cease her motions, but continued to thrust her

pelvis at nothing as he held her, facing away from him, by the waist.

She emitted a small whine at the cessation of stimulation, and

twisted her hot, moist body in Mike's hand, so that she lay on his

palm and coiled her legs around his index finger. Mike watched

helplessly as she began to slowly humping his finger, nuzzling his

second knuckle with her silky purple head. What was he supposed to

do? He could feel the warmth and sticky dampness of her crotch, and

her (proportionally) huge and perfectly round breasts bobbed with a

frenetic motion that was both lewd and exquisite. His feeling of

shock was being superceded with an intense fascination that was more

than purely academic. Mike had never seen a woman so genuinely turned

on before, so shamelessly pleasure-drunk, and his body responded,

heedless of the strange nature of the source of his arousal.

Unconsciously he urged her on, as her thrusts became mo!

re frantic and her huffing and gasps were punctuated by short, sharp

squeaks of 'Mika! Mika!'.

Before he could decide what to do, Mika's body made a final, violent

thrash against his finger, and she climaxed in a spurt of girl juice

and a shriek of agonized pleasure 'Miii-kaaaaa!'. She collapsed,

sprawled across his palm, legs dangling, and gazed up at him through

sated, half closed eyes, still panting. She giggled and chirped

'Mika' softly like a naughty child. Mike set her down gently on the

arm of the sofa and collapsed against the cushions, unaware that his

left hand had found its way to his crotch. She slowly, mindlessly

pumped her legs against the soft upholstery, and let her hands wander

to her big breasts to aimlessly caress their still-stiff nipples, as

her body wound down from her violent climax. Mike slumped, dazed, and

wondered what to make of it all.

Plaything Part 2

Kate

Mike, a young and wealthy investor and product tester for a Japanese

toy company, has been given a prototype for a new product, a tiny

anime-modeled woman who 'hatches' from a synthetic egg. She lives on

synthetic food- brightly colored pellets- and has a vocabulary of a

single word: Mika. One day after receiving her in the mail, Mike is

surprised to find that she has grown from 3.8 to 4.5 inches. In spite

of her limited size and vocabulary, Mike discovers that 'Mika' is not

only cognizant but temperamental and sexual.

Part of Mike was shocked at what he had done. Mika was a product, he

told himself, not a person- well, not human, anyway. And yet... he

watched her snuggle dreamily into the leather sofa... she was a

woman. A tiny woman. A growing woman, at that, though he was sure the

developmental phase of her program had been completed. Well, she

certainly wouldn't do as a toy for little girls, he thought dryly.

Maybe that's not what she was designed for. A living anime babe, a

live woman who ate, slept, grew... and fucked. Jesus Christ! Maybe

she was designed for lonely men. Lonely single men, certainly, since

the little wife would never care for such a thing. But single men

worked; how would they go about handling the constant maintenance?

Lonely old men, then. Like me, he thought. Twenty six and already

curled up to sit on my pile of money and stare at the ceiling.

Mike's head snapped up as a mug full of pens scattered on the carpet,

overturned by Mika, who yelped, then met Mike's gaze and giggled

apologetically. She turned her attention towards the range of desktop

clutter that must have been a landscape to her. She explored the

surface of the desk with a fearlessness that might have been

innocence or boldness, her curiosity matched only by the shortness of

her attention span. She picked up an unbent paperclip and showed off

her strength by bending it into a circle, unbending it again and

stabbing it into a gummy eraser. She sniffed out a wad of chewing gum

stuck to a post-it and licked it tentatively. Her tiny mouth spread

into a skull-splitting grin when she discovered its pliability, and

Mika began forming the gum into various shapes: now a pancake, now a

tube, now an egg. Her interest already dwindling, she made to toss

the gum aside and her shiny blue eyes widened when it remained stuck

to both hands. Mike chuckled as she whimper!

ed in distress, then frustration as she unstuck the gum from one

hand, only to transfer it to the other. Long strands of gum stretched

between her hands and fingers as she tried to extricate her little

hands, and as her frustration peaked, her little face crumpled and

she let out a tiny 'Meeee...' that grew into a wail 'KAAAAA!!', and

she began screaming with impotent rage, shaking her purple-haired

head and pounding her gummy fists in a bull-blown tantrum. 'Ok, Ok,

calm down, sweetie,' Mike shushed her, using a wet paper towel to

wipe her sticky hands off. Her shrieking died down to a whimper, and

she snuffled as she wiggled her clean fingers and rubbed her hands

together. She hiccupped a few times and wiped her nose with her hand.

'There there,' Mike said, petting her pretty hair with two gentle

fingers. His fussy little girl smiled up at him and said 'Mika' with

a distinct tone of gratitude. Then, her fit over and her curiosity

rekindled, she struck out to explore the res!

t of Mike's messy desk, ignoring him completely.

She opened an inkpad, wrinkled her nose at the odor and abandoned it,

unwittingly planting one foot on its surface as she moved on to

examine the Newton's Cradle, leaving tiny perfect left footprints

across a sheet of paper, each one smaller than a thumbprint. She

seemed perplexed by the metal balls suspended from the wooden frame,

which was level with her head, and gave the row of six balls and

experimental push. When they swung back and forth, she gave a little

scream of glee: 'Meee-ka!' She circled the Newton's Cradle, and gave

the metal balls another shove. Mike said 'Hey, little Mika, check

this out. This is what you do,' and her stopped the thing's motion,

pulled back the suspended ball on the right end and let it go,

allowing it to make contact with a click and making the ball on the

left end swing out. Mika's eyes widened with amazement, and her head

ticked back and forth, following the movement. When it slowed, she

quickly moved to do what Mike had done, setting the!

device into motion again. Dear God, she was so cute, Mike thought,

watching her bright-eyed fascination. Then, seeing that she was

totally engrossed in this new toy, he flicked on the TV and settled

into the patchy leather sofa to watch Topcat.

A few minutes later, Mika called out to him. With a little reluctance

he abandoned the program to attend to her. 'What?' She was saying

'Mika Mika', both arms extended and nodding towards the kitchen. 'Oh,

right. Food.' Mike rustled her up a small handful of pellets, and set

them, and Mika, on the coffee table, where she fell to with startling

voracity, making smacking sounds that told him that, whatever they

were, those giant sprinkles were tasty as hell. He licked a blue one

with the tip of his tongue and found it unbearably sweet. 'Eeech. You

can have those for yourself,' he told her and settled down at the

computer to fritter away the rest of the day.

Dinnertime found Mika snuggled in Mike's womb chair, idly rolling a

small rubber ball back and forth, one of those twenty-five cent jobs

you buy from the little hopper outside supermarkets. She'd worn

herself out bouncing it across the floor and chasing after it,

crawling under chairs and into corners to retrieve it. Mike nuked a

Hungry Man TV dinner of Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes, stuck a

Mad Max DVD in the player and settled on the sofa with a beer. He

seldom drank more than one unless he was watching an action flick. He

missed getting shit-faced drunk with his buddies like back in his

college days, but what was the point of drinking if you couldn't

round up your friends and raise hell? Or pick up a girl at a party

and keep refilling her gay-ass wine cooler till she was tipsy enough

to sneak off to a bedroom. He missed that, too: crazy, sloppy drunken

sex. Well, any sex for that matter. He finished off the can of Miller

and stared gloomily into his potatoes. What t!

he hell, he thought, and popped open another. It wasn't until Mel

Gibson was kicking ass well into the chase scene that he realized

he'd finished the six pack. 'Shit,' he said to himself in surprise.

Six wasn't a lot, but he hadn't had more than a couple in a row

since....shit, how long? He tried to think, staring blankly at the

widescreen.

He snapped out of it when he felt a tug on the leg of his pants. It

was Mika. She scrambled up his trousers and perched on his knee. He

absentmindedly petted her soft purple hair and reached for another

bite of... hey- how the hell did she do that? He judged the distance

from the floor to be some two feet, and Mika was only 4 and a half

inches....wasn't she? Maybe he had measured wrong- she looked bigger

than that. His blurry brain thought back. Yeah, she shouldn't be- she

couldn't be...big enough to be blocking his view of the screen like

that. But she was.

He lifted her onto the coffee table next to the plastic tray of food

(she felt heavier. It wasn't possible.) and he headed back to the

kitchen for the ruler and another beer. She stood up when she saw the

ruler and held herself straight against it. Six and a half inches.

She was two inches taller. And she knew it. She was beaming smugly,

proud of her growth. Mike took a deep breath. How could she be

growing so fast? Was there something wrong with her? Maybe she was...

defective. She was only a product, after all. But she no longer

seemed that way to him. She hopped from the coffee table onto his lap

and smiled at him, eyes shinning.

Was she a toy or a woman? He couldn't decide. He slowly looked her

over. A live anime babe. Unbelievable. Eyes like supershiny blue

saucers, big bouncy tits that moved like flesh just doesn't move,

purple hair, purple pubes.... It wasn't until Mika shifted and gave a

little cry of surprise that he realized he was getting hard.

Christ he thought drunkenly. Jesus fucking Christ. She was so

beautiful. He cracked another can of Miller and took a long drink,

watching her. She shifted on his stiffening crotch, and, as if

sensing his arousal, began to rock slowly back and forth, her big

breasts, now bigger, move as she breathed heavily. Before he knew it

the can was empty. He tossed it over his shoulder. 'Meeeeekaaaaa,'

she purred, rubbing herself against his crotch. She was getting more

and more turned on; her hands strayed to her breasts, cupping,

squeezing, licking her fingers to rub her stiffening nipples. Mike

ran a finger down her back and she arched her back, thrusting out her

chest. His finger grazed her ass and she moaned, not like some

plaything pixie: like a woman.

She pushed her breasts against his finger. 'Mikaaaaa,' she said in a

thick, throaty voice. He rubbed himself through his jeans. His

throbbing hard-on felt strained against his pants. Mike was drunk and

he knew it, but he couldn't help himself; he unzipped his pants and

freed his aching cock. Mika gasped and stopped moving. Her little jaw

dropped. Ever curious, she crept closer and reached out. The contact

of her tiny, moist fingers made his penis lurch. It twitched when she

ran her hand along it. Mika was transfixed, fascinated. She had

obviously never seen one before, but her body responded without

needing her understanding. She wrapped her arms around it, her hands

just barely meeting, pulled forward as it rose to its full height,

bigger than she was. She strained to reach the head, where a pearl of

pre-cum quivered. A groan escaped Mike as she ran her little hands

from the bottom to the furthest she could reach, and he could not

resist picking her up and holding her eager!

groping hands against the head. She licked the bead of fluid. Just a

drop, but it spilled down her chin. She thrust her whole body up

against it and began humping his dick. It parted her breasts and

bobbed up and down as she first rubbed, then slammed her tiny pelvis

against it. 'Mi- Mi- Mi- KA!!' she gasped and all of a sudden he

surged past the point of no return and he was moving his hips as she

bucked up against his hard dick, riding it as he groaned, straining

towards release.

He came. He surged over her back, on her face, against her breasts as

she brought them up to meet his spurts. He came until his balls ached

and Mika's continuous caresses became so intensely pleasurable it

hurt, badly, and he trembled. She was still going; her hands sought

out the patch of purple between her legs, working franticly, her

breasts swinging crazily. Mike caught hold of her and brought her up

against his mouth. He licked the wetness from between her little

legs, ass to stomach, and the taste was unbearably candy-sweet. She

screamed. He licked. He licked and she came in a gush of sugar juice,

shrieking and thrashing, her entire pelvis sucked tight in Mike's

mouth. Shuddering, she went limp. They both lay, panting, sticky,

dizzy. Mike was beginning to sink into a sodden drunken fog. He was

going to pass out any minute. The tiny purple-haired girl swam in his

vision, now two, now three. 'Mika,' he moaned and he was gone.

Plaything

Part III

(Mike, a young and wealthy investor and product tester for a Japanese

toy company, has been given a prototype for a new product based on

their successful Tomogachi, a tiny anime-modeled woman with giant

eyes, stylized features and purple hair who 'hatches' from a

synthetic egg. She lives on synthetic food- brightly colored pellets-

and has a vocabulary of a single word: Mika. Under his care, 'Mika'

surprises and unnerves him by growing, over the course of several

days from 3.8 to 6.5 inches. In spite of her limited size and

vocabulary, Mike discovers that Mika is not only cognizant but

temperamental and sexual.)

The radio signal buzzed and faded as Mike drove home from the mall

along the coast, thinking about Mika. He had been certain that Mika

was through growing, but by the end of the week she stood three foot

three. Obviously she was too big to fit into the glass terrarium

anymore, but Mike didn't like the idea of sleeping alongside a

midget-sized nonhuman as though she was a woman, nor was he

comfortable having her sleep at the foot of his bed like a dog. In

his mind she stood somewhere between sexual partner and pet, fitting

neither category, and he ended up making arrangements for her on the

sofa. She preferred to sleep curled up, and would arrange the

cushions into something of a nest around her. She still roused him

regularly from sleep, in need of food or some other attention. Mike

was still wary about giving her free access to the package of colored

pellets, which was by now almost half empty (the white ones were, as

yet, untouched), worried that she might eat herself sick!

. Growing up, he'd found caring for the family's two cats easy, as

they ate only what they needed from their dish, but knew that even

the smartest of dogs didn't behave that way after his border collie

puppy, Jasper, ate an unattended Sunday ham down to the bone and

ended up sleeping it off three feet underground in the backyard the

next day. He wasn't sure exactly how much control Mika had over her

appetite and so, though it meant feeding her at odd hours and

intervals at her demand, Mike kept Mika's food supply well out of her

reach in a locked liquor cabinet.

Mika's sexual appetite posed another problem. Once she'd shot from

six and a half inches to almost two feet in a series of erratic

spurts which left Mike dazed, Mike was able to pleasure her with a

fingertip, rubbing between her legs at an almost nonexistent

clitoris. Penetration was impossible, even with a pinkie, but Mika

would spasm with pleasure when Mike ran his fingertip along the

length of her miniscule vaginal slit, eliciting little rushes of

sugary fluid. At this size she was better able to reciprocate, too,

by clutching and caressing his penis in doll hands and licking with

her pretty pink (and, sweet jesus, agile) tongue. Her playful little

adoring kissy-kisses along its length and especially at the swollen

tip made him almost pray for her to grow more, so that he could fit

his member into her eager mouth. Funny, he sometimes thought, but she

seemed most excited not when he ejaculated, but when his dick

expanded, rose and swelled at the ministrations of her cunnin!

g little hands.

After her most recent growth spurt, Mike found he was able, with much

struggle on both ends, worm a finger inside Mika's clutching pussy

and get herd off sure as pulling a trigger. The first time it slipped

between her slick inner lips, Mika had split his skull with a shriek

of 'Miiiiiiiiiiikaaaaaaa!!!!' and come before he could thing to move

it around inside her. The next day found her just a couple of inches

bigger, and her cute little cunt a fraction bigger. Enough, at least,

for Mike to carefully explore her pink insides with a gentle finger,

which her body squeezed in waves of delight. Now, when she wasn't

busy playing, eating, swimming in the bathtub or masturbating, she

was forever demanding a handjob, pointing at the purple-plush

triangle of her pubis and saying 'Miiika...' in a tone both coy and

commanding. Lately, Mike was beginning to tire of constantly service

her, and he'd been forced to alternate hands to prevent his right

index finger from wearing out. Her sex!

ual appetite seemed to be increasing along with her height, and every

time he was sure she had leveled off, she grew another inch, even

two, under his very eyes. She was a living wet dream, sure, but sex

play with a three foot two girl made him feel a little like a

pedophile, though her dangerous curves and hefty breasts showed she

was every inch a woman. Then again, if she grew to be life sized....?

He would often glance at her and imagine the ubervixen she would be

at about five and a half feet- fuckable size- and hope that her

growth pattern kept up. Mika, for her part, seemed to have no

intention of stopping anytime soon.

When she'd measured in at three foot three, she had snatched the

measuring tape from Mike's hands and read the numbers herself. While

she couldn't read, and still spoke only one discernable word, Mika

had easily grasped the concept of numbers (and, to Mike's annoyance,

symbols: she had taken to scribbling hearts, stars and cutesy

critters on walls and paper alike). Reading her height at 129 inches,

she held her head high, grinned like the cat that swallowed the

canary, and shook her perfectly round little ass in a little dance of

joy. That was another new habit of hers: dancing. Having free reign

of the house, she'd been dicking around on Mike's sound system and

managed to tune into a station that played 'nonstop J-pop' and she

never tired of shaking her tight, bouncy little butt to those stupid

canned electronic beats backing up high-pitched girlie vocals from

Japanese pop stars that all sounded the damn same to her tormented

caretaker.

Then there was the problem of clothing her. When Mika had stood less

than two feet tall, Mike began to feel there was something indecent

about her running around the house naked all day. He made a trip to

Toys R Us looking for something that might fit her, since he had no

intention of learning to sew and she wasn't yet big enough to wear

even baby clothes. He found that the only clothing that came separate

from the doll were Barbie outfits. 'Should have thought of that one

while she still might've fit into them,' he thought, realizing that

only Barbie clothes would conceivable be able to accommodate her

disproportionately large, lush tits and ass. He was forced to pick

out a few dolls slightly larger than Mika, to leave room for her

womanly curves, including a couple of those creepy Cabbage Patch

Kids. At the register he was sure the cashier (and everyone else in

line) shot him a funny look. 'For my niece,' he said apologetically,

but he was sure the girl at the register was!

n't buying it, and he felt like explaining that he wasn't some sort

of retarded weirdo, that he just happened to have a small but growing

synthetic woman who... yeah, right. He had ducked out of the store as

quickly as possible, wishing there was another toy store in the area,

because he had had a sinking feeling that he might have to return for

a bigger doll in the near future.

Mika was excited with her new clothes. She'd been running through his

manga collection, and clearly wanted to look more like the comic book

girls. The Cabbage Patch Kids' clothes were very tight on her, which

she seemed to like, though Mike later caught her in the act of

cutting them to a more racy fit with a pair of nail scissors. Of

course, there were no fitting underpants to be had, and while she

looked more decent (and human) in her frilly doll dresses, Mike would

often catch a glimpse of her bare ass as she clambered onto

countertops or bounced on his bed and the peek at her naked behind

under a frilly skirt was somehow more sexy (and here he felt a pang

of dirtiness) than seeing her whole nude body. She often pointed to

pictures of young women wearing adult clothes (especially very fancy

and feminine dresses), and indicate with a hopeful 'Mika Mika!' that

she wanted him to get her something more suited for her... age? Mike

was unsure on this issue; she was more clever,!

and certainly more developed, than a child, but more playful and

giggly than a grown-up woman. He decided she had the approximate

mental age of a sixteen year old, and he was at a loss as to how to

clothe her as such, as she so clearly desired.

The problem was confounded when Mika had shot past the two foot mark.

She must have been growing all day, but it wasn't until mid-afternoon

that Mike heard an audible rip and saw that Mika's breasts had burst

the seams of her clothing, and her butt was just barely peeking out

from under her ruined blue dress. It was back to all day nudity until

this morning, when Mike had headed out to seek out any children's

clothing at the Kiddie Korner that might suit her, feeling even more

self-conscious as he paid for four kiddie-sized dresses than he had

buying the dolls, especially the package of 'days of the week'

underpants. The clothing he'd chosen was fancy enough for Mika's

taste and mostly made of stretchy material; hopefully, there would be

enough give to accommodate Mika's figure. When she found that a

garment constricted her chest, she would cut out the front just

enough for her high, firm breasts to spill out. Her breasts, which,

even on a body less than two and a half feet !

tall would fit a petite full-grown woman, looked scandalous rearing

naked out of a childish gingham dress.

The way she ran through clothes, she might as well have been one of

those theater and steak dinner type of women, the manicured ones that

seemed to require some personal quotas of flowers and lobster before

you could get a sniff between their legs. Kid's clothes weren't

cheap, and he'd had to buy all sorts of things to accommodate and

amuse Mika, who'd get into trouble if she wasn't kept busy. She had

ripped open six boxes of cereal and given the kitchen a carpet of

crunch after she'd seen Mike fish a plastic Big Bird out of his bowl

of Honey Nut Cheerios. She'd put a few new holes in the couch with

his cheap but manly 'ninja knife', and dealt herself a nasty cut on

the finger, impressing Mike with her bravery (or was it pride) when

she ground her teeth together and didn't flinch while Mike rinsed it

with iodine.

After she'd ripped open his collector's edition Star Trek action

figures to play some weird version of tea party with, Mike had

introduced her to a fierce regiment of entertainment activities. He'd

tied a tire swing to the biggest tree in his backyard, gotten the

little vixen hooked on video games and thrilled her ass off with his

anime collection. He wasn't sure if she understood Japanese better

than English or if she just liked watching the exploits of people

stylized just like her, but Mika went gaga for the anime, and she

watched My Neighbor Totoro at least four times a day. Back to back.

She was also extremely physical, so once she outgrew the bathtub he'd

introduced her to his small kidney-shaped swimming pool, wrapped

around the waist securely in a single water wing until he was certain

she would be safe without his supervision. She took to the water like

a seal pup, and, being something of a show-off, taught herself all

kinds of fancy dives and stunts. She was phenom!

enally strong and flexible, and God only knew but those tits probably

had something to do with how she could float so easily.

Slowly, Mika seeped into every detail of Mike's life, and she

constantly diverted his attention with her needs and sometimes

frivolous demands. Though it irritated and exhausted Mike, deep down

he knew that caring for and cleaning up after Mika had given his

placid and dull life a centerpoint, and he couldn't resent her. For

the first time in his life he was forced to be responsible, when he

had never even been truly responsible for himself. He didn't control

her- Lord, no one could!- but he looked out for her and took sincere

pleasure in her happiness, even if that meant being at her beck and

call twenty four hours a day. As far as marketing her kind, Mike gave

the company the thumbs-down. He couldn't picture anyone else caring

for a.... whatever she was, but the company must have found a

consumer group in Japan, because the people he contacted talked him

into ordering some special exercise and play equipment along with two

bigger bags of those colored pellets she couldn't !

get enough of. He had stopped taking notes on her behavior for the

benefit of Ban Dai Co., but he'd continued to track her height. He'd

even found a weird freehand graph, courtesy of Mika, that she'd drawn

up charting her growth. His first reaction was to be impressed at her

cleverness, but that had given way to mild shock when he saw the

jagged climb of her growth over the last week. Though irregular, it

was a sharp enough incline to ruffle his sense of security in knowing

that she would stop once she reached human height.

Mike stepped out of the car, trying not to reflect on this last

uncertain fact, and gathered up the bag of new clothes, another bag

of toys, a greasy bucket of chicken for dinner and the rented videos,

mostly more Ranma episodes for Mika. She didn't meet him at the door

or help him with the bags, though that was to be expected, but he

didn't hear her anywhere in the house. That was odd. Whatever Mika

did, she did loudly, and it wasn't until he'd set everything down and

cocked his head that he heard the crunching sound that made his

stomach drop. Goddamn her, she hadn't-

But she had, and she didn't look very sorry either, even when Mike

stood over her, casting an angry shadow over the purple-haired figure

that carelessly munched handfuls of colored pellets at his feet. He

looked at the locked cabinet. It was still locked, allright, but the

other side had been pried off its hinges with a screwdriver. Giant

candy pills covered the carpet, but most of them had gone inside

Mika, who had the audacity to go on crunching and licking her lips as

she looked up at Mike without a trace of apology in her huge blue

eyes. 'Mika! What the hell do you think you're doing? You're gonna

make yourself sick and anyhow, that shit aint cheap! Well? Are you

even listening?' Mika blinked. Mike reached down to haul Mika to her

feet. And that's when he heard the ripping sound.

Seams burst open, and her chestless gingham dress split right down

the back, as Mika rose to her feet. And kept rising. For a moment she

looked as shocked as Mike, who stood gaping and rooted to the spot.

Then a sly flicker moved across her face and shone in her sky-colored

eyes. The glint of power, like light off the blade of a knife. A

little smile tugged at her mouth and she didn't move as the minutes

ticked slowly by. Or rather, she only moved upward. Mike's mouth

worked but no sound came out as he watched her grow from waist-high

to level with his heart, and still she kept growing, growing faster

or was it his imagination? Mike was either scared or just plain

shocked- shitless either way. Mika carelessly brushed away the shreds

of fabric that still clung to her very naked body, the breasts

swelling, jutting visibly outward, almost ridiculously big, enough to

be unbearably sexy if Mike hadn't been so blanked out with alarm.

Mika breathed thickly and her body quivered wit!

h the electric thrill of expansion. Her thick purple hair went wild,

the tips brushing, then growing past, her tight, inflating butt. She

looked him in the eye, triumphantly, and suddenly Mike felt very

small, though he still stood almost a head taller than Mika, even

that distance was starting to close. Her impressive figure was

expanding to become intimidatingly statuesque. Her growth rate wasn't

winding down, in fact, it seemed to be increasing, and then in

culminated in a final burst that shot her up five inches taller in

less than a minute and Mika looked down at him, literally. His mouth

formed the word, but no sound came out: 'Mika'.

And she laughed, loudly, her broad shoulders heaving and her whole

body shaking with mirth, not a cruel laugh, but one of exultation,

and she looked at Mike as one might look at a silly but dear

plaything. Then she gave him a fond embrace, too tightly, she didn't

know her own strength and Mike's jaw was jammed between her big,

yielding breasts, his forehead pressed against her neck. Then she

lifted him bodily off the ground and, for the first time, and with a

teasing smile, kissed him on the mouth.

Give me feedback! Part five is up in the air and I'd love to hear

your input.

-Kate

Plaything Part IIII

[Mike, a young and wealthy investor and product tester for a Japanese

toy company, has been given a prototype for a new product based on

their successful Tomogachi, a tiny anime-modeled woman with giant

eyes, stylized features and purple hair who 'hatches' from a

synthetic egg. She lives on synthetic food- of the white and colored

pellets provided, she only eats the colored- and has a vocabulary of

a single word: Mika. 'Mika' grows from 3.8' to over six feet by

gorging on her growth food.]

Mike gritted his teeth as he was put on hold for the sixth time and

the tinny Japanese muzak started up again. He swiveled his office

chair slightly and looked over at Mika, who was watching 'Totoro' for

the millionth time. Mika turned her head at the sound and grinned

naughtily at Mike through the thick curtain of purple bangs that hung

over her face. She cocked an eyebrow. Mike froze, found that the

receiver in his hand had become slick with nervous sweat. When he

failed to respond, Mika held him in her stare for a long,

uncomfortable moment, then sniffed and returned her gaze to the

screen, once more becoming engrossed in the program. She gave a

little trill when her favorite character, a nameless pointy-eared

fluff-thing, appeared again.

Though now an intimidating six foot something, Mika had retained her

childish mannerisms. She fidgeted as she lay sprawled on the floor,

her upper body shifted back by the mass of her immense breasts, chin

propped on her palm while the fingers of her free hand twirled and

twisted a lock of her thick purple hair. She idly kicked her lower

legs back and forth, slowly raising and lowering one, then the other.

Mike watched the slow, grinding motion of her ass as she carelessly

shifted her legs. He swallowed hard. He prayed she couldn't feel his

eyes on her, traveling up her spine, the shinny mass of trailing

hair, lingering on her breasts. They looked swollen, soft, yet

tightly inflated.... ridiculously big, he thought, returning for a

moment to the professional critic he was. Too big, disproportionate.

And yet? Mike turned onto her right side and those lush breasts

rolled with the motion of her chest like ripe- he turned his head

quickly, but not quickly enough to evade Mika's !

knowing glance. She drew her legs in and slowly rose to her feet.

Mika stood. Mike gave a small helpless groan. She stood, head cocked

and smiling, stood maybe six and a half feet tall, her hips tilted,

her tiny waist tight and curving upwards to meet those massive,

obscene breasts that rose and fell as she breathed and made Mike's

hands shake, the receiver slipping in a sweaty death grip. He prayed

she wouldn't move. Of course, she moved. Towards him, her breasts

bouncing more than they should have with her light, deliberate step.

She stopped five inches from him, her pubis level with his face. He

could smell her excitement and he felt like prey in the shadow of a

playful tiger. The predator giggled and bent down and kissed his

forehead, her tits softly bumping his neck, her hair falling all

around him like a curtain and for a moment the world was cut off and

there was only Mika, all around him a great terrible toy, Mika, and

then she giggled and stood back, waiting for him to respond.

'...Hello? Hello, sir?' Mike jerked the receiver back to his ear and

cleared his throat, eyes still locked on Mika's. 'Yes, hello? This is

Mister Kenway. Yes. Yes, I spoke to them already. No, they told me to

talk to you. Yes.' There was a clatter of Japanese in the background

and then Mike was politely asked please to be hold again for one

moment sir. Mika whined impatiently and shifted her weight to her

left foot. Her right hand wandered up again to fidget with her hair.

Don't say it, Mike thought, Don't say it. 'Miiiika?' she cooed.

Damnit! Damn her! Mike shifted uncomfortably in his chair, painfully

aware of the boner that tented his pants and belied his intimidation.

And didn't she know it.

'Mika,' she said again, and this time there was an edge to her voice.

She had his attention and wanted to play, a little kitten of a sex

goddess though now there was nothing little about her, and both of

them seemed to know that now she'd be getting her way. Not just

because Mike, hell, no man, could resist, but because of her stance,

the way she now drew herself upright and held her head high, way too

high for Mike's comfort. And the strength of her! Mike recalled his

unsuccessful attempt to wrest the remainder of the colored food

pellets away from her, and the nonchalant shove she'd delivered that

had sent him sprawling. Thank God he'd fallen on his ass and not his

head; the girl didn't know her own strength. Even she had seemed

surprised at the ease with which she was able to rebuff him, though

she also looked rather pleased with herself, and had tested the power

of her newly grown arms by lifting Mike's La-Z-Boy with a squeal of

self-satisfied delight and set it down huf!

fing slightly and with a smirk Mike did not like the looks of.

Now, as she stood impatiently before him, he could still see the bag

of colored pellets stashed next to the TV where she'd been lounging

and knew there was no way to get at them without being blocked,

outrun or worse. She wouldn't hurt him, not deliberately, but...

well, there was something downright unnerving about this big,

imposing schoolgirl of a toy, that made him feel no longer like a

caretaker and more like, as Mika seemed to think, a playmate. No, he

thought, a plaything. That's what I'll be to her if this doesn't stop

right now.

As if on cue, the spokesman or whoever they'd redirected Mike to now,

suddenly picked up the line and chirped a very courteous good

afternoon, could he please to explain once again the problem he is

experiencing with American prototype. 'Well, she- it's- grown way too

big. I think it's from eating those colored pill things and I can't

figure out how to end the program, and-' Mike took a shaky breath and

tried to speak more slowly and clearly, 'and I need to know how to

make... it stop growing.' Without missing a beat, the spokesman

politely inquired if Mike had still the bag of white pill. 'Yes, it's

still in the cupboard, she never tried eating those for some reason.'

'Well, sir, you have only to feed with white esa instead, colored

pill are esa na ni naru, make plaything grow to desired size. If you

feed too many esa na ni naru and are unhappy with size, stop feeding

and plaything will shut down, yes?' 'Uh, you mean, like the

Tomogachi? Does it, like, stop working or can y!

ou get it going again after it's shut down?' The spokesman chuckled.

'Well, American consumers we find not so good at maintaining pet, but

prototype is Japanese version, cannot be restarted. You think we

should install restart program?' his voice was sharper as he asked.

This was Mike's job, to provide feedback, but he didn't know what to

say, and now Mika was getting impatient, making purry whining noises

and her hand strayed to her crotch while the other stroked Mike's

shoulder urgently. 'Miiika,' she insisted, and he quickly excused

himself and hung up the phone.

Now what? Mike thought. She was beautiful, he was turned on, she

obviously wanted him, but to be honest he was scared of her, and the

way she was gently but insistently demanding that he satisfy her. And

how could he get those growth pills away from her and get her to eat

the white ones? He turned the problem over in his mind, but could see

no easy solution and Mika's rapid breathing and her hand twining her

sparse purple pubic hair was distracting him. He couldn't think

straight. The hand on his shoulder tightened and she hauled him to

his feet.

Now he was almost eye to eye with her big buoyant breasts, rising and

falling with her heavy breath. Her hands locked around his waist and

she purred and pulled him close to her- too close, crushing him into

the softness of her chest, and her pelvis nudged and ground against

his stomach. Her body fell into a strange natural rhythm of pulsing

against him, pressing, nuzzling, pulling tight again. His crotch was

swollen, his head trapped, and though the nervousness remained tight

as a twist of wire in his stomach, he couldn't help freeing his hands

from Mika's embrace to touch those awesome tits, firm, bouncy, soft-

his mouth moved to engulf a stiffening nipple and Mika cooed with

delight and pulled his head tight against her breast, mashing his

face into her flesh so that for a moment he struggled to breathe.

Then she began caressing his head, his back, running a nail across

the small of his back and reaching around to graze his throbbing

hard-on through his jeans. Mike's will!

evaporated and he didn't resist or even think as Mika actually

lifted him and set him down on the big leather couch. She popped five

buttons removing his shirt, and the cheap leashed made tacky

scrunching sounds as she settled down on top of him. As if in a

dream, he saw her hovering over him, felt the slick embrace of her

narrow cunt as she mounted him, and her breasts shifting, then

bouncing wildly as rode his hips down, her hair a frenzy of kinetic

purple shine which she tossed back like a banner as she shrieked with

delight.

* * * *

Mike lay naked, dazed and semi-conscious on the sticky sofa. He felt

as drained as if he'd donated six pints of blood. Well, six pints of

semen would be more like it. He watched through half-closed eyes as

Mika cleaned herself like a cat, running her hand across her

glistening thigh and licking her fingers, wipe, lick, repeat. If he'd

had the strength, he might have tried to stop her as she retrieved

the bag of growth pellets and began to munch with all the relish of a

kid eating candy, but what would be the point? And two new bags were

arriving tomorrow! What had he been thinking? It should have been

obvious what was making her grow, but, then, he'd never expected

anything like this. Mika crunched and grinned. It looked to Mike like

she was enjoying his disapproval, defiantly eating away, not out of

hunger, but a stubborn will to increase her size. Why? Wasn't she big

enough already? How could this keep going?

It couldn't. It couldn't and it wouldn't, Mike decided, and mustering

the remainder of his strength, lifted himself off the sofa and

wandered casually into the kitchen, feeling Mika's suspicious eyes on

him. He shoved spilling boxes of cereal aside, retrieving the bag of

white pellets from the cupboard. He couldn't stop feeding her. He

couldn't kill... shut her down. At least not yet. She isn't human, he

reminded himself. She's a toy, a product. But when he turned, holding

the bag behind his back and met her huge blue eyes, he wavered. Well,

not yet anyway. But the growing had to stop.

Mike approached Mika, who now slowly and deliberately popping the

pellets into her mouth one by one and chewing them slowly. Taunting

him? Mike felt his jaw clench with anger. She was his, pet, woman,

whatever, and she was defying him. 'I could shut you down,' he told

her. Mika paused, a blue pellet at her lips, then raised her eyebrows

and put it in her mouth. Could she understand? She needed to know who

Giantess Stories: Plaything Part 1

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