Stepdad, I Shrunk Myself
Chapter Two: An Office Hitchhiker
This story contains graphic depictions of sexual intercourse and strong language. Don't read this if you are under 18 years of age or it's not legal for you to do so. The characters are adults and purely fictional. Please don't share my work without my permission. I post stories on my Tumblr if you'd like to read my other work.
"Oh fuck yeah," Paul mutters as he drops his fork and squeezes my head between his thighs. "Arghhhh!" His cock throbs between my lips, emptying the man's heavy balls into my mouth. He stares down at me from his perch atop the stool at the kitchen island and says, "I don't know how I ever woke up without breakfast and a blowjob. You're never allowed to move out, you know?"
I grin back up at him as I stuff his slick cock back in those familiar boxers. With my fingertips, I smear a few globs of cum that overflowed past my lips, rubbing them into my skin as Paul chomps on a crispy slice of bacon. He gives his belly a satisfied pat, it's looking a little rounder after a few weeks of homemade meals.
"You work today?" Paul asks before letting out a rumbling belch with a smirk down at me. He knows I love it.
"Yeah, I need to get going in a minute," I lie.
"Good for you," he praises as he stands up and lets his boxers fall. He kicks them up into his hand and shoved them down over my head, stuffing my nose right where his big dick rubs all night. We haven't washed them in weeks now and his stench is nearly overwhelming, but I look at it as preparation. As he lumbers up the stairs, I leap into action.
I shove his dishes in the sink for later, and gobble down a protein bar as I grab my supplies. The sound of rushing water in the walls tells me the shower is running. He's slow, but still I need to be fast. I quickly and quietly bound up the stairs and into his room. I'm already naked, a lesson I learned after that first time.
I see the clothes I set out for Paul still on the dresser, and I step up to stand over them, a bottle of swirling white liquid in hand. My heart races with the same mix of fear and excitement as every time. I look over at the bathroom door and take a deep breath. I raise the bottle to my lips and gulp it down as fast as I can, dropping the bottle to the floor and kicking it under the bed before its effects can stop me.
The dizziness is just starting to take me when I climb up to kneel atop the dresser, my weight lessening by the millisecond. I lift myself up but my head is dropping as the large wooden surface rises up to meet me. As suddenly as it began, the process stops and I find myself kneeling beside a massive pile of my stepdad's clothes.
I hear a booming clank sound when Paul turns off the shower, and I know it's time to run. I climb up the layers of clothing, lifting myself up his deep blue pants onto the crisp white buttoned shirt. I leap over his massive socks and see my prize: the briefs. He wears those ratty boxers at home, but out in the world Paul prefers to stuff his big dick into a bulging pair of black briefs.
As I climb inside them, I see where the fabric has been stretched and warped by his cock. I slide up against the spot in the pouch that has been permanently stained a lighter shade by his precum. I savor the residual smell of him before climbing up into the fly and take refuge between the outer and inner layer of fabric.
It isn't long before those familiar, booming footsteps have my heart thumping in my chest. The world spins around me as he picks up my new hideout and slides the garment up his massive, meaty thighs. The waistband stretches taut around his hips as his spent manhood fills the pouch and presses against me through the fabric.
His stubby fingers bludgeon against me when he tousles his bulging briefs and continues to dress. My tiny dick is hard as rock against his gargantuan cock, and the booming sound of his zipper as he pulls on his trousers is like the clanging of a closing door on my prison cell.
Paul makes his way around the house before yelling out to me, "I'm off. Have a good day, buddy." Once he settles into the driver's seat of his car, I'm surrounded by the dull hum of the engine and the thumping tires. Above all of that, however, I begin to notice that I can hear the blood pulsing through Paul's cock with the steady beating of his heart.
The rhythms of his manhood become the background for my existence. Its immense mass waxes and wanes, squishing me against the rigid wall of Paul's trousers. Every few moments, Paul seems to reach down and tug on his dick and I wonder whether he can feel something amiss with my body against his shaft. Eventually, I realize that it's merely out of habit. Paul can't even feel my insignificant body against him.
Secure in that knowledge, I carefully slide out from my refuge back into the pouch. I press my cheek against the warm strength of Paul's colossal manhood and squeeze my tiny fingers into it. The shaft stiffens just slightly at my touch and Paul mutters, "Damn, I'm still tingling from that blowjob. That boy's got a talent."
I grin. There's a strange rush at eliciting a response from the giant without him even knowing I did it. I don't push my luck. I slide down to take refuge against Paul's boulder-sized balls, squeezing me against his briefs like a warm, soft prison of flesh and fabric. But it's safer there than in his fly.
I settle in, letting the smell of Paul's body wash over me as I begin to sweat from the immense warmth of his crotch. I intermittently spin around to dry myself on his briefs like a huge towel.
When we arrive at the office, Paul scratches his nuts, his fingertip running gently down my back, and steps out the car. His package bounces against me with every step through the parking lot, pausing only for a ride up the elevator, before he makes his rounds through the office.
A strange sense of relaxation intoxicates me. I can barely move and every sensation around me is magnified. The sounds boom--the shuffling of Paul's pants, the earth-shattering conversations, and that constant beating of his heart pulsing blood through his cock--and everything else feels foreign and new. It's all so overwhelming that I just sink into the man's enormous balls and accept their warm embrace as he goes about his day.
He walks around the office, discussing his hygienists and checking on patients. He sits on stools to do his work. It seems a busy morning, though it would be banal if it weren't all so magnified in my perspective. I feel like a passenger in Paul's mind, aware of nothing in that moment but his experiences. It feels abnormal, but delightful, to be subsumed by this man's immensity.
It's not a surprise when, perhaps halfway through the morning, Paul pauses after a short walk and a massive tearing sound fills my ears as he unzips his fly and unpacks my gargantuan roommate. A low rumble tells me what's coming. It's like a dam has broken and a river is suddenly rushing all around me. Paul lets out a sigh of relief as my world trembles from the immense stream coursing through his manhood and thunderously splashing against the porcelain urinal outside. It is magnificent, like experiencing a wonder of the world no one has ever known before this moment.
As quickly as it began, it ends. Paul stuffs his enormous and chubbed-up manhood back in with me and a massive drop of piss falls down onto me, drenching me in it. It's bitter and overwhelming, seeping between my lips and filling my nostrils, but more unsettling than unpleasant. I'm awed by the sense of my tiny scale that an insignificant drop could feel like it was drowning me as Paul continues to go about his day unaware.
But my struggles in his briefs don't go entirely unnoticed. As he walks, Paul reaches down a scratches himself several times as I squirm against him. His slightly swollen cock continues to grow until its head goes from squishy to firm and powerful, bearing down on me as I'm pressed into the stretching briefs by the massive lips on his mushroom.
As his precum starts to flow, soaking me in the watery fluid, his steps seem to hasten. His booming voice is clear when he says, "You have a minute?"
A woman's voice answers but I can't make it out over the sound of Paul reaching down to adjust his package.
"Perfect," Paul booms in a familiar tone, and the ripping sound of his zipper fills my ears again. He grunts as he struggles to get his rigid member out of his briefs, dragging the gushing head up across my chest and over my face before popping out.
Her voice is clear when she moans, "Give it to me, Paul."
He rushes forward and comes to a sudden stop. The sound of flesh against flesh, lips smacking lips and that mighty cock plowing into a welcoming gap, has me trembling with excitement. Paul growls, "You like that?"
"Fuck yes," she gasps as their bodies close together. "I wish John were half as good."
"Lucky for me he isn't," Paul chuckles as he hilts himself in the woman. The heat of her body and his exertion has me sweating. Her voice sounds so familiar. The office manager? I picture her, sitting atop his desk with legs spread and the solid man stretching them wider.
As he bores into her, I'm lost in awe of the cacophony of wet smacking and reverberant grunts and groans. With every thrust, his heavy balls smack against me. The sweat on his sack mixes with the precum coating on my chest and I begin adhering to the forest of hairs on it. I eagerly cling to the man's massive balls and start hugging my little arms around them.
Paul lets out a surprised moan when I squeeze his nuts with all my strength. They tighten up against his body and drag me with them, and I keep at it. He's too distracted in the midst of his romp to pinpoint the source of his heightened pleasure. I embrace and adore the masculine orbs, worshiping the man even when he doesn't know it.
His thrusts grow urgent, and his grunts strained. I feel it coming. He buries himself and everything goes still and silent for the briefest moment before he empties out like an immense fire hose. They both groan and moan around me as Paul's balls rock with small, jerking thrusts that push his seed deep. All the while, I stroke the man's nuts, coaxing as much out of him as I can.
"Fuck," Paul mutters between urgent breaths. "That was great." He stuffs himself back into his briefs, crushing me between his still-swollen, cum-drenched manhood and his emptied balls.
After that burst of excitement, lunch and the afternoon pass in a blur of the intoxicating scent and taste of the man's sticky shaft. It's pure bliss. Still, when Paul says his goodbyes and heads down to the car, I feel a pulse of relief. The drive is short, and when he passes through a door into a room with all the distinctive sounds of a bar, I sink down with dread.
Based on my tests, a full dose of the potion should last at least ten hours, but it's proven to be more art than science. Under the din of the loud bar, I vaguely hear Paul greeting people before settling in at a stool and reaching down to rearrange himself.
After a few deep breaths, I come up with a plan. I've been too scared to risk it again since that first night, but it's my best bet. Paul swallowed me, he digested me that first night and I awoke unharmed. I hope it will work again, albeit a little differently, as I slide up toward his sticky head. It is a tight fit, and there's no way he won't notice, but I grin a little at the prospect as I flip myself upside down and press my feet between the lips of the man's colossal cock.
He stirs even at that minor movement, but he reaches down to squeeze his bulge and mutters, "It's one of those days, I guess."
I know I need to move quickly, so I plant my palms on the fabric of his briefs and shove myself up into the slick, tight passage. My legs disappear easily inside him, but I have to shove hard to get my hips inside. After that obstacle is cleared, though, the organ eagerly swallows me up to my shoulders.
It's not so different from that first night in a strange way. A part of me is panicked and afraid, but mostly the feeling of Paul's gargantuan body consuming me is just deeply and unnaturally satisfying. His cock is engorging around me, woken by the meal I was making of myself, and Paul shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
He paws at his crotch, but I can tell he's trying to be discreet. Or at least as discreet as one can be with a massive hard-on in the middle of a not-so-busy bar. I should be done with it, but the suction of his throbbing shaft around me has me trembling with pleasure. Precum begins to flow, lubricating my tiny body and urging me to be swallowed into him.
With every squeeze, I feel my arms weakening in their effort to hold tight to the man's head. There's no escape now. It's a strange realization, but a relaxing one, and when I let my arms rise up over my shoulders I just sink upward into the warm, loving darkness of Paul's manhood.
I quickly lose myself in the sensations of the immense shaft hugging me and dragging me deeper. I can't breathe, but I am not afraid. My senses dull, but still I can feel the man's fingertips kneading into me through his rigid shaft. My consciousness is fading. I know I'll wake up, but still I hope I'll wake up.
My eyes shut, and when they open it is light. My bedroom window is open with a cool fall breeze drifting in. I'm naked and wet, dripping even, but I'm in my own bed again and I'm my own size again. I scoop up a glob of the thick, white fluid pooled across my body and I press it to my lips, savoring the unmistakeable taste of Paul's precum. My heart races and I grin as I scoop up and gulp down more of my man's juices.
I was shocked after my first brush with the end, but this time I'm just thrilled. My mind races with ideas for what to do next, and I intend to try them all.