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“MOMO AYASE!” The alien figure held up a gleaming silver device, dulled slightly by the sunless sky of Empty Space. A menagerie of other strangely shaped beings followed suit, raising things that were much more obviously guns. “SURRENDER YOURSELF TO US THIS INSTANT!”
Momo sighed, shoving away the last few bites of her lunch.
“Damnit, again?” she mumbled to herself.
Without missing a beat, Jiji reached across the small table and scooped up the remains off her plate.
“Been a while since the last one though, right?” he said through a mouth stuffed with takoyaki.
She rolled her eyes and stood up, turning to address the leader, a big, round being that looked like a bunch of clay stuffed into a space suit.
“Listen, you guys are-”
“WE ARE THE STARLIGHT DREAMERS, A GROUP OF INTERGALACTIC BOUNTY HUNTERS! AND WE’RE HERE TO TAKE YOU IN!”
The being next to the leader placed a tentacled hand onto the Clayperson’s shoulder.
“No, Captain, we’re more than just a group of hunters,” they said. “We’re a family.”
The rest of the figures nodded, a few getting emotional.
The clay thing let out a single chuckle, four black eyes shining with tears. “Of course, Jd*r$kl. How could I forget?”
“Ugh.” Momo made a jack off motion to Jiji, who snorted.
Clayperson renewed their attention on her. “Obviously a scoundrel like you wouldn’t understand the meaning of the word family. What it means to bring a bunch of misfits and outcasts together, and carve out a place for them in this hostile universe!”
“Aw!” Jiji said. “Momo maybe you should go with them, they seem sweet!”
“I ain’t letting myself get kidnapped by aliens just ‘cuz they’re kinda sympathetic!” she said. “Look, I hate to tell you guys this, but whatever bounty listing you saw is way outta date. Pretty sure I’m on a galaxy-wide Do Not Engage edict.”
Clayperson narrowed their eyes. “We’ll let the client worry about that.”
They motioned forward, and every other figure started firing, blasts of searing light leaving glowing barrels.
With a flick of her hand, she summoned a glowing, teal barrier of psychic energy around her and Jiji.
The buzzing beams of light slammed into the barrier and fizzled across its surface, leaving only a slight tickle on her palms. They continued firing in a ceaseless barrage, projectiles sparking and popping uselessly against her psychic shield. She yawned, covering her mouth with her palm.
“When they’re done, you take the ones on the left, me on the right?” Jiji asked. She nodded.
Once the volley stopped, guns overheated and smoking, they went to work.
She almost felt bad for these guys. They weren’t as imposing as the Kur, as even a handful of Serpos, just a bunch of chumps with guns and a dream; neither of which could stop her from flattening them with massive telekinetic slams. On the other side, Evil Eye had been let out, and was zipping around grabbing whatever limbs he could get a hold of and using the aliens themselves as melee weapons against their friends. A few of them managed to get their guns working again, firing off a few more shots, but they plinked off her barrier, and off of Evil Eye’s yōkai body, as if they’d been pebbles against a brick wall.
In just a few minutes they had handily defeated the bounty hunter group, a parade of alien forms groaning on the ground next to their discarded weaponry. She found the boss and kicked at his torso; her foot sunk into his body, squishy as jelly.
“Oy, let us out of Empty Space now, we won!”
Clayperson coughed. “N…Never…” he grunted. “I’ll never give up, not as long as my family is counting on me!”
Momo clicked her tongue.
“Sure you don’t wanna go with them?” Jiji asked. “They get their payout, then me ‘n everyone can come get you from whoever with Peeny-Weeny.”
“You wanna help ‘em out so bad, you can go with ‘em!”
Jiji thought on it.
“Nah. Gotta get back to work in a few.”
“Then stop-”
She heard a quiet, synthetic hum underneath the pained moans of the aliens.
She turned just in time to see the lieutenant, TentacleHands, pointing the device the Captain had brandished earlier at her.
It fired, hitting Momo before she could get her barrier out.
“Momo!”
“FOR THE STARLIGHT DREAMERS!”
She reeled back from the impact just as Jiji dashed over, kicking the device out of TentacleHands’ hands.
He spun back to her, worry on his face.
She realized she wasn’t in any pain.
She looked down at herself, patting at her body. It had struck her in the side, but apparently had done nothing to her, other than leave a faint, glowing stain on her jacket.
Which still sucked. She liked this jacket, damnit!
She psychic’d up a huge fist and slammed into Clayperson and TentacleHands, knocking them unconscious.
The world clicked back to normal, the pile of aliens gone.
Jiji rushed over and grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her an intense look-over.
“You okay?!
“I’m fine! I think. Nothing hurts, anyways-”
The world exploded outwards.
Not like a bomb, but like an emergency raft. In mere seconds, everything inflated, grew a hundred times its size; the tables, the chairs, the roads, the buildings. Even Jiji, who now towered over her, so high up she couldn’t make out the features of his face over the sharp, vertical plane of his body.
“Momo?! Where’d you go?? Oh no, was that some kind of disintegration ray, Okarun’s gonna kill me for letting it hit you…”
She jumped up and down, yelling at him. “Down here!”
He tilted his head down.
“What.”
“Jiji!” she said, on the verge of panic. “I think that weird gun turned everything big!”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. His eyes squinted skeptically.
He crouched down, face looming over her, and measured her with his thumb and index finger.
“I… think you got it backwards?”
“What do you…”
She looked at herself. The only small thing in a big world.
She groaned.
“Damnit, again?”
*
With a careful hand, Ken held her still while he worked on her.
His eyes roamed over her body, taking in the detail, the textures, the colors. She was beautiful; even moreso like this, so close to completion. A work of art. With the lightest touch, he rubbed his finger down her body, a slight wetness beading on the tip. He moved his face in close, tongue peeking out between his lips.
And with a quick, precise burst of his airbrush, the last of his detailing was finished.
He let out a relieved breath and sat back from his desk, taking in the full sight of his newly finished Mothra Kit – now fully painted up with beautiful yellows and browns and reds, deep shading in her recesses, ridges of her fur perfectly highlighted. The weeks of work really paid off.
The doorbell chimed throughout the apartment.
He flipped off his goggles, his mask, his gloves, set up a small fan to gently blow air at her so she could dry, then went to the door.
He opened it, to find a grinning Jiji on the other side, hands hidden behind his back.
“‘Sup Okarun!” he said. “Got a surprise for you!”
Ken reeled back. “This isn’t like your last surprise, is it?!”
“Nah, you know I wouldn’t do that again! Not after how much blood there was.” He shook his head. “I got something that’ll make you happy this time! Guess what!”
“…Um, is it-”
Jiji swung his arms forward, presenting his palms. “It’s Momo!”
There, in the center of his hands, a tiny, grumpy Momo sat, legs and arms crossed, looking thoroughly displeased.
Ken’s jaw fell.
“Momo!” he said. “You’re… small!!”
Her tiny eyes flicked up. “Yeah, no shit!”
He grimaced, before carefully scooping her up into his own hands. Momo sat unmoving throughout the whole process, irritation keeping her rigid as a statue. Ken focused back on Jiji, exasperated. “Why would I be happy about this?!”
Jiji looked at him like he was ridiculous. “Gee, I figured you’d be grateful for having your girlfriend all here and not disintegrated.”
“Disinte… Jiji, what the hell happened?!”
“Aliens,” he said, like that answered every possible question. Ken supposed it did. Jiji shrugged, then threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Anyways, I gotta get going.”
“Just like that?!”
“I’m already late getting back to work ‘cuz I had to drop her off!” He grabbed the door handle, closing it as he backed out, getting out one last comment before it shut. “See ya later! Let me know how it all turns out!”
The door clicked closed.
Ken’s attention went back to his tiny girlfriend.
She was eerily light in his palms, noticeable more by the press of her boots against him than her actual weight. So light it felt like she might flutter off at any moment, catching on a random breeze like a butterfly. Aside from the most obvious difference, there were a few other signs of what actually happened during her lunch with Jiji; mussed up hair, a still-glowing splatter on her coat, a lingering hint of teal in her eyes from using so much of her powers. Momo was the cleverest person he knew, but when she didn’t want to bother with the cleverness she could be the bluntest instrument around.
“Um, besides the… smallness, are you okay?”
She grumbled. “I’m fine. They didn’t touch me besides the shrink ray or whatever it was.” She stood up on his hand and grabbed at his thumb, tugging it towards the door. “Anyways, let’s get going!”
“To where?”
“To Peeny-Weeny’s place!” she said. “Maybe he’s got somethin’ to fix me!”
“He definitely doesn’t.”
“Oh and you’re so sure about that?!”
“I talk with him about his alien stuff all the time,” Ken said. “And weirdly enough, size changing tech is rarer than FTL tech. It’s pretty hard to get a hold of.”
“Then what the heck am I supposed to do about this?!” She flapped her hands up and down her body.
“Well honestly, it having been aliens is good news. Curses can work in weird, abstract ways, but tech is standardized. All mass and size manipulation tech, even Vamola’s suit, works off the same principal, and unless it’s specifically maintained with a power supply it’s all temporary. You’ll go back to regular size on your own, eventually.”
“How long is eventually??”
Ken shrugged. “I’d guess a day or two?”
“That’s still too long!”
“Not really another option,” he said. “Getting a hold of something to change you back would take even longer. Unless you managed to grab whatever got you in the first place?”
She crossed her arms and pouted. That was a no, then.
“It’ll be fine, Momo. I’ll help you go over anything you miss in your classes, and I’ll call you in sick to work.”
The two small maroon dots of her eyes found his again, pinching that pout of hers into glare.
“…Psh. Why am I even asking you to do anything,” she said, sinister grin overtaking her face, “when I can just make you do what I want?”
Her body flared with teal as she began summoning up her powers.
He sighed. Yeah, he expected as much.
That was just one of the realities of dating Momo Ayase. At a point very early on in their relationship, she became comfortable enough around him that any qualms she had about using her powers on him were completely quashed. When Momo wanted something done, and wanted him to do it with her, there really was no stopping it; she’d just swipe him up in her psychic grasp and pull him along. He was used to it by now; that he tried to talk her out of it now was more out of habit than anything.
He waited for the telltale tightness around him, ready to be piloted around by her powers like a horse in their reigns. He was pretty sure there was a word or two for how fast he gave up. Learned helplessness, he thought.
Instead, he felt two small slaps against his face.
Nothing painful; more like when she pressed her palms against his cheeks and fiddled them around. The touch he felt now buzzed with energy though, pressure without heat.
From her small form, two teal arms extended; still big compared to her, but no larger than a normal pair of arms. And, from the force she was trying to apply to him, weaker than even her regular physical strength.
She blinked. Tried tugging his head around with her powers. He was able to completely fight it off by just stiffening his neck.
Her jaw fell open.
“My powers are small too?! That didn’t happen last time!!”
“…Huh. That actually makes some sense!” Ken said, slightly muffled by her still squishing his cheeks. “Last time was a spiritual curse; it probably shrank your body but not your aura. But alien tech directly affects your size in spacetime, as well as your ability to interact with it. Like when you were in the Kinta mech years ago, and it made your powers bigger.”
“Uughh,” Momo moaned, pressing this way and that on his face; this time he let hit happen, letting her get the frustration out. “Even more reason to fix this ASAP! I can’t do anything like this!”
She switched to thoughtlessly bonking at his forehead. He gave her current condition some real consideration.
“…Huh. You… can’t, can you?”
Her bonking stopped, one ethereal fist resting lightly on his head. She raised a suspicious eyebrow at him.
He shifted to grab her in one hand, fingers wrapping entirely around her body.
She let out a soft gasp as they closed around her, his fingertips pressing into the fabric of her clothes. She looked up at him in surprise, powers blinking away, and her real arms instinctively braced against his fist. She tried to pull herself out of his grip, uselessly.
“…Okarun?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up.
“Every day, you use those powers of yours to make me do whatever you wanna do,” he said. “You grab me, wrap me up, squeeze me, push and pull me around, and there’s never anything I can do to about it.” He squeezed, and another breathy sound left her mouth, air leaving her lungs. “But now, things are different. For the first time, I can make you do whatever I wanna do, and you can’t stop me.”
This close to his face, he could see the fine detail of her expression. Eyes wide, hit with true shock. Pupils suddenly dilated, cherry irises nothing more than thin rings. A flush hit her cheeks. Another breath shivered out of her throat. She swallowed, hard enough that he could feel the pulse of it against his index finger.
“And… what exactly d’you wanna do, Okarun?”
He felt his grin stretch cheek to cheek.
*
Her eyelids fell, half-lidded, lip hooked up in a sneer.
In front of her on the desktop, slightly out of arms reach, a huge, painted moth-thing floated on its stand. To her left, a constructed model cityscape stood as a backdrop, buildings as tall as her head. To her right, Okarun stood a bit away from the desk, looking through his camera phone where it sat on a tripod. She tugged irritably at the set of clothes she was wearing, a ridiculous, brightly colored sailor suit deal with a bunch of superfluous detailing, stiff and itchy and slightly immodest, her midriff bare and the skirt mini-skirt short.
The shutter sounded on Okarun’s phone a few times. Okarun leaned back, framing the whole sight in a box of his fingers, before nodding, satisfied.
“Okay, now pretend Mothra is attacking you and you’re fighting her off!”
She gave a single, slow blink at him, before looking back at the moth figure. She raised the cheap plastic staff he’d given her, bright pink like the sailor suit she was wearing. She gave the moth a half-assed bonk. The shutter sounded.
“…Can you put a little more oomph into it?” he said.
She threw the staff at the kaiju figure.
“Why am I doing this?!”
“Too much oomph!” he said, fretting over the Mothra figure. “Be careful with this, it was a custom garage kit from one of Kinta’s friends!!”
“Answer the question!”
He clicked his tongue. “C’mon, Momo, I wanna get a good action pose! You’ll look so cool, like you’re fighting a giant monster!”
“I’ve literally done that for real!” She fisted at the fabric of the skirt, holding it out. “And why do I gotta do it in this?! Why do you even have this, what kinda weird shit you gettin’ up to when I’m not around?!”
“It’s not even mine, okay?”
“That’s even weirder!”
He grumbled, putting his elbow on the table and leaning his head on his hand. He looked down at her, giving her the perfect view of the slope of his throat, the bump of his Adam’s apple, the ridge of his collarbone peeking out from his t-shirt.
“Geez, you’re real cranky right now, huh?”
She growled back. “Yeah well I thought we were gonna be doin’ something else right now!”
His brows furrowed. “What’d you think?”
She blushed. Crossed her arms a little low on her torso, to cover up her bellybutton.
“…Oh,” Okarun said, before his eyes shot wide open. “OH!” His own face turned beet red, and the hand he was leaning on shifted to play at a few of his curls. “That, um. That hadn’t really occurred to me…”
The bow of her arms tightened. She looked away.
Right. So she was the pervert here, mind going to weird places.
She wasn’t even sure why, really. She was open to stuff, sure, but… she really didn’t like being small. Hated it, being so dependent, so vulnerable. Her initial thoughts were to fix it, as quickly as possible, and fun of any sort hadn’t even crossed her mind.
But then, how he looked at her, what he said to her…
It wasn’t like that was the first time Okarun came at her with that kind of energy. Took a while for him to feel comfortable with it, and it was still an uncommon occurrence, but that just made it all the more exciting when it did show up.
What she felt earlier was different, though. This was different. They could tie rope around her wrists, put a bar between her ankles, latch it all together so she couldn’t move at all, but she knew she had her powers at the ready, thrumming under skin. Unthinkable strength at the whims of her mind.
But it was pretty thinkable right now. Grasped tight in his massive hand earlier, telekinesis pressing uselessly at his head, him looming like a mountain in front of her, that might have been the first time she felt genuinely powerless before him. Like there was truly nothing she could do to stop him.
And fuck did that make her heart race, her skin hot, her core bubble with molten lava. Make her wanna explore that feeling, wherever it took them.
It ‘hadn’t occurred to him’ though. His mind was on totally different things. Years into their relationship and she was still somehow gettin’ ahead of herself.
“…Tch. Whatever, it was dumb.” She went over and picked up the staff. “Let’s just, take more of your dorky pictures. How do you want me to fight Mothman or whatever.”
“It’s Mothra, not Mothman,” he corrected thoughtlessly. She rolled her eyes.
He didn’t direct her, though. His head was back on his hand, watching her a bit blankly as he turned something over in his head. She shrugged at him, a gesture asking for instruction, foot tapping impatiently.
Instead, his free hand crept over to her.
It was bigger than her entire body. He reached his index finger out and carefully pressed it against her cheek, fingertip as large as her face. The difference in size let her feel the individual swirls of his fingerprints, ridges and grooves scraping pleasantly against her skin in tiny circles as he pet her. She couldn’t help but nuzzle into it, smearing her face against it like a cat. She let out a sigh like a purr. His middle finger joined the other, getting both sides of her face at once, cheeks squished.
They became heavy.
They started to press down on her shoulders, muscles clenching. She braced herself against the pressure, moving to hold them up, but she was nothing against it, like trying to stop a falling boulder. Her knees bent, then buckled, and her ass hit the desktop. His hand continued and fell over her, palm pinning down her legs, fingers surrounding her like a cage. Her head poked through his index and middle, the webbing between right at her neck.
Her body was too small for the fall to hurt, but the whole push took her way off guard. It seemed... a little mean-spirited for him to do. She looked up at him with a flutter of confusion.
“Okarun…?
The blank look he’d kept on while he pushed her down finally changed, worry creeping into his eyes with a squeeze.
He sighed.
“Momo, as far as I’m concerned, you’re the strongest person on the planet. In the whole galaxy. And with all the stuff that still comes after us, I can’t help but worry for you sometimes, but when I think about it logically I know there’s nothing out there you can’t beat.
“You’re so strong. And I hate it more than anything when something takes some of that strength away. Joking around about silly pictures is one thing, but anything more?” His thumb curved in, massaging her side. “I wouldn’t take advantage of something like that…”
A warm feeling, silky like the texture of his finger, popped in her chest and spread to every small inch of her. She hooked her arms around his index, hugging it close. The clench of his fingers relaxed, and his hand sat on her more like a blanket.
“…I know, Okarun,” she said. “S’why there’s no advantage to take.” She tightened her grip around his finger, the skin wrinkling like cloth. She rubbed her temple against the side of his knuckle. “I trust you. More than anything. With anything.”
His face went flush, an embarrassed uptick to his lips. He nudged his fingers the slightest bit, letting them softly brush against her body while his knuckle carefully scratched her jaw.
His hand shifted, finger slipping out of her embrace, crawling down her body. First, by her neck, skimming her pulse point, then over her chest, tilting slightly to squish against her breast. It continued, pressing into the warmth of her bare belly, before gliding over her skirt, lifting the pressure to follow along the fabric instead of the curve of her body.
He reached the hem and flicked his finger down, tip landing on the desktop with a soft but decisive thunk between her legs. His pupils blew out, focusing on her like two pitch black spotlights, a hint of thin golden-brown surrounding.
“Anything?” he said. His voice dripped with desire, pouring over her like honey.
She bit hard into her lip. Pinched his finger, thick as a tree trunk, between her legs.
She nodded.
He deftly scooped her up and took her to the bedroom.
-
He laid her tenderly onto the bed.
The sheets were a vast field of soft cotton – leopard-print-patterned, she’d browbeaten Okarun into accepting. She barely made an indentation in the fabric, mattress firm beneath her. But Okarun crawled in right after, enough give to it that she rode the oscillations like choppy ocean waves, the mountain of his body hanging above her, his limbs four pillars holding him up. It would take nothing at all for him to slide his arms out, come crashing down on top of her, crushing her into the bed.
But he would never. Even if there was something about the idea that kinda piqued her interest.
Instead of staying tented over her though he rolled to lie next to her, a tremor in the bed as he shifted. He propped his head up with an arm, looking over her. Deciding how he wanted to start.
He carefully but without fanfare took off the weird sailor girl outfit he’d cajoled her into earlier. He set it aside.
“What, no build up?” she teased, butt naked on the bed.
“Didn’t want it getting ruined.”
Well, shit.
His hand slid across the sheets to drape over her, palm covering her entire body. A massive, heavy warmth flattening her down like a weighted blanket, pressure comforting. He pressed down gently a few times, the give of the bed keeping her from being fully squished. She raised an eyebrow at him.
Fingers poked and prodded at her, according to a pattern she couldn’t decipher. A press into her belly, a squeeze at her bicep, a fingertip against her side, a slide against her boobs. He grabbed one of her legs and lifted it up, moved it in small circles, bent it back and forth at the knee. Pinched her foot between his fingers, making her toes splay out. She finally realized what he was doing.
He was playing with her.
Not in a sexy way, but in the way she’d seen him mess with one of those artist mannequins he had. Fiddling with her thoughtlessly, feeling and bending and positioning her for the sake of it. To experience the feel of her new body in his hands safely, chastely. Bare tactile stimulation.
When he flattened his hand over her and started rolling her back and forth like a log she had to call it out.
“The fuck are you doing!” she said, between laughter.
He shrugged. “Messin’ around.” He scooped her up, all his fingers wrapped around her. “You’re just so… small.” His thumb pressed flush against her stomach, fingernail ghosting the undersides of her breasts. “But still so warm.”
She hugged his thumb. He was a hundred times bigger than her and all she felt was safe and comfortable in his grasp.
He laid her back down, and there was a shift.
His fingers moved with more purpose. Fingertips slipping across her skin in searing caresses, the swirls of his fingerprints carving rivers of satisfying texture up and down her body. Up, and down, up, and down, in slow, near aggravating motions. Winding her up in that way he never seemed to have trouble doing, whether it was the first or fiftieth or hundredth time he did it, using those wonderful, caring hands of his.
Ugh, those hands. She’d always loved his hands. How they twisted and fidgeted when he got nervous, became sure and steadfast when things got heavy. Fingers strong and calloused from barbell exercises, but dexterous with artistic grace, notebooks filled with drawings, shelves full of meticulously painted figures. Hands that could do anything.
And now here they were, big as her, absolutely smothering her in massive, tender touches. Dream she didn’t even know she had come true. She melted, boneless underneath his ministrations.
Another shift. Even more intent in his wicked fingers.
He was leaning on one elbow now, both of his hands on her. She’d been pulled into one palm, feeling the silky crevices of his palm lines and wrinkles against her back, and that hand started to squeeze around her, palpating her entire body in a gentle massage. The focus of the other started to narrow, more and more often catching on the swell of her breasts, teasing the inside of her thighs. Her breath quickened, puffing out as satisfied hums.
Until his middle finger finally slid down her belly, over her patch of fuzz, to settle in between her legs. She sucked in a breath.
It was humongous. Nearly as thick as his torso normally, a finger that normally had no problems slipping right inside her along with one or two others. He curved it at the knuckle, adding pressure. He moved it against her, in slow, grinding rotations. Pleasure sparked up her body, warm and buzzing.
Her legs fell open for him. To alleviate an early issue. He was so big, the tip of his finger a nearly a flat plane against her, and it meant there’d be little precision on his part. He couldn’t target her clit directly, instead rubbing all of her at once, and so she spread wide, letting every movement graze against her better. Was almost like trying to get off by grinding on a pillow, one that was particularly firm and fleshy and did all the work for you.
It felt great, it felt aggravating. The start of a very slow climb. Something Okarun was very aware of the way he teased a stupid, smarmy smile at her, brown eyes all lit up with a mischievous anticipation.
What he lacked in precision he made up for in other ways, fully taking advantage of the size difference. When the two of them were eye to eye, his hands were limited to two spots on her body, but now? Every fingertip could touch a different part of her, limited only by the dexterity of his fingers – of which he had plenty. His middle finger stayed between her legs but the rest of that hand shifted to stroke and pet her feet, her legs, her sides; he curled his other hand around her so that those fingers swiped across her too, caressing her face, her chest, her belly.
It was so much. Nearly every inch of her stimulated in some way. She was caught up in a tangle of his fingers, luxuriating in all the textures of his hand: the silkiness of his skin, the grooves of his fingerprints, the stiffness of his callouses. Her breath became ragged, moans bleeding out with her exhales.
He opened up his hand, so that he could plant a kiss on her.
His lips fell across her entire face, spilled over onto her breasts. Humongous, warm plushness that contoured to her, her body sinking into them like a soft cushion, nearly smothering her.
She couldn’t help but laugh.
He backed away with a curious look.
“Nothin,” she said breathily, his middle finger still moving against her. “Just, this whole situation is so stupid, y’know?” He smiled, understanding completely. She waved him back down. “C’mere.”
He puckered his lips and held them up close, letting her tilt her head up meet them. Her tiny lips kissed his, barely taking up any space. She made an exaggerated mwah sound as they parted, her eyes squeezing with giddiness.
He got right back to it, keeping her still with a careful hand while he worked her. Eyes trailing up and down her body, taking her in, as his finger rubbed against her nonstop, slickness beading on the tip. His other fingers continued their relentless caressing, or opened up so he could plant massive kisses across her body, the vacuum of his mouth pulling hard at her skin. Always moving, never giving her a break, building her up and up as she mumbled his name in stuttering puffs of air.
She was getting close, brought there by his steady, diligent attention, by the non-stop sensation of his fingers. At the point where he’d normally narrow his focus, curve his fingers up inside her, flick his thumb across her clit, let her finish with a bang. But he was too big for any of that now. It was just the slow crawl up, utterly excruciating, in a way that made her fist at the sag of his skin, that made her brace her feet on the bed and grind her hips up and down his finger.
“Okarun…”
He shivered out a breath. “Momo…,” he said, his voice a whine. His thumb stroked across her face, over her cheek, down her jaw. “You’re so beautiful like this…”
She laughed again, embarrassed. Hid her face behind an arm. Years together and he could still make her feel like that, even while she rutted against him.
He kept his middle finger rigid and clenched, rocking it back and forth in sync with her thrusting, sliding so flush against her it made her ache, in that same way as when his fingers bruise around her thighs, when his teeth pinch at her breasts. An ache she only wanted more and more of, until he pressed into her so hard their bodies blurred together.
He drove her right over the edge, forced every muscle in her body to clench, wrap tight around whatever of him she could get a hold of. Her arms scrambled to clutch at his knuckles, her legs squeezed around his finger, riding out the waves of raw satisfaction as she twitched against the ridges of his fingerprints.
“Fuck,” she said, after the last of the aftershocks died down, after her muscles relaxed. “I really love your hands, Okarun.”
“I love making you feel good with them,” he said. He swooped one across her body, petting her all at once in a tender massage. “What they were made for.”
She crinkled her nose. “Shut up with that,” she said, though her blush probably gave away the game.
He took a minute or two to casually fondle her, let her stew in the pleasantness of climax for a bit, but she knew he wasn’t done. Their typical rhythm, he gets her off at least once, makes her nice and slick and ready for him and then they fuck; but that seemed outta the question here. Not unless he’s willing to risk actually killing her. The buzz of the orgasm was gone but another one took its place, an excited anticipation thrumming under her skin.
She could see the shift in his humongous eyes; the temporarily set-aside hunger returning. His tongue swiped across his lower lip. He swallowed, hard. He took off his glasses, set them aside, getting ready.
Still in his hands, he repositioned her.
He pinched both her arms between his index and middle finger, pulled them above her head. He lifted her up off the bed, her back draped across his lower fingers, her spine arching at their touch. There was a pull on her joints now, upper body partially hanging. She tugged at him, not to escape but to feel it, his fingers like shackles around her wrists.
With both thumbs, he peeled her legs open, pinned them back, all but immovable. Her thighs burned from the stretch.
“…If it’s ever too much,” he said, eyes sliding up and down her body, displayed so blatantly for him. “Tell me.”
She let out a breath, exhilarated. She nodded.
He planted his face against her.
It was even bigger than his hands, colossal compared to her. So much so that his nose tucked awkwardly against her side, pinching her raised arm against her head, his especially long lashes fluttering like fans just above her. So much so that when he sealed his mouth against her, she felt the pull of his lips across her thighs, her ass, her bits, all at once. An odd feeling, but still pleasant as he kissed her, taking care to keep the suction from hurting her.
He pressed his tongue against her.
“Shit!”
It was bigger than any of his fingers, but he’d thinned it, turned it sideways, made it narrow enough for more precision. Enough for her to feel a sharp burst of pleasure as he stroked her clit with the gentlest lick, still a bit sensitive from earlier. And, as if he’d just confirmed something for himself, he went at her with a new fervor, tongue flicking and writhing.
Her mind quickly went fuzzy with all the new sensation. The massive muscle of his tongue slipping over her, mostly targeted, but occasionally scraping up and leaving a trail of saliva across her entire body, half-gross and half hot as hell. All her limbs, trapped, body barely able to move except in pathetic little wriggles caused by the friction against her clit. Hot breaths washing over her like a sauna, from his mouth, from his nose, boiling at her skin. The tickle of his wavy hair, falling over his forehead and onto her hands, her fingers gripping and pulling at the tangle. The occasional prod of the tip of his tongue against her entrance, way too big to fit – even though a perverse part of her wanted him to try anyways, to fill so much of her with so little of him, have his tongue hollow her out completely.
He patiently worked through all the awkwardness – the crick in his fingers, the struggle to keep attention on such a small spot, the constant reorientation of his body to sit more comfortably – to keep her absolutely worked up. Brought her back up, much faster than before. She whined against his ruddy cheek; he let out the kind of moan someone would give while devouring a piece of particularly delicious fruit.
She hit her next climax hard. Limbs immovable, muscles clenching uselessly. A creak left her throat, too raw for an actual moan.
But Okarun wasn’t anywhere near finished.
Was hard to keep her thoughts straight after that’. She was just a tiny body, a floppy set of limbs, at Okarun’s complete mercy. He pinned her down and got her off in whatever way occurred to him in the moment, in whatever way he pleased. Hanging by her arms and sitting on his finger, face down ass up, bent completely in half, flat on the bed limbs splayed out like a starfish, Okarun switching between fingers and tongue, breathing out toe-curling affirmations whenever his mouth was free: You're doing so good for me Momo, Tell me how good it feels, Momo, Cum for me, Momo. He turned her into a living doll for him to draw orgasms out of, that he went at with the same kind of obsession he had when he did anything he loved, researching cryptids, painting models. Meticulous, voracious.
She didn’t know how much time had passed. Long past when she would’ve normally turned things around, made him the center of attention. But she was literally incapable now, in so many ways, even account for her powers. They came out a few times, involuntarily, shaking teal arms that pressed against him, to feel the pushback of his muscles, the strain of the exertion, not to actually free herself. But they were nothing to him, a few pounds of force he could easily overpower – and that made it all the more thrilling that she could be so vulnerable, be pushed so close to her limits, and still feel so safe. That if she really wanted out it’d take a single word and he’d stop in an instant, no matter how into it he was. To know she could trust him with absolutely any part of her.
It did make her realize that Okarun would probably be doin’ shit like this to her every day if he could. His natural inclination. One that was only ever held back in favor of her desires, not his. Terrifying, in the sexiest way possible.
There was a rebellious part of her that was pissed off though. That she gave him the go ahead to do literally whatever he wanted with her, and landed on ‘Make her cum as much as possible.’ Be more selfish, you ass!
She got her one win after however long, she wasn’t keepin’ a fuckin’ timer going or anything. He’d been palming at his crotch whenever he had a free hand, or grinding himself into the bed, but eventually he reached a limit of his own. In a scramble, he freed himself from his pants, hardness bouncing out. He stopped his attention on her, just grabbed her in his hand, and basically used her to jack himself off. Fuckin hot. She was mostly boneless at that point but she managed to scrape enough of herself together to wrap her limbs around his cock, hug him like a koala, feel the blazing heat of his blood under silky, spongy skin. He slipped her up and down his length as he moaned her name over and over, leaned back on the bed, shirt off, his stomach twitching and rippling.
He came onto his belly, and she got to feel that too; the pulse of extra blood, the tight throbs as he emptied himself. A drip fell across her too, mixing with the thin coating of saliva he’d left on her. Gross. Hot. She had like, a dozen new kinks now.
If any part of her thought that’d be the end of things, she would’ve been an idiot. He took a quick break to catch his breath, clean himself off, drip a small droplet of water off his finger for her to drink, then got right back to it, plastering his mouth to her.
She wasn’t sure what was left of her, at that point. She’d lost her bones, her limbs, her entire body, her mind, her name. She definitely wasn’t Momo anymore. She’d been reduced down even more, shrunk to the bare minimum, a single point of pure pleasure against his fingers and tongue.
It was reaching the point where she might genuinely, unfortunately, have to ask him to stop. She was sore in a way she’d never been before, all his attention thoroughly careful but still massive and bruising. But he was still going, using his thumb to grind into her as he held her with her other hand, squeezing at her torso, thumbing at her boobs. Her powers were out again, pressing up at his chest, not to actually push him away but to feel the pressure of his body pushing back.
“Okarun…” His name was a slur of syllables that eked out with a string of drool.
“Momo…” He was on his knees and elbows, caging his body around her, his eyes near teary with affection. “You’re so pretty so beautiful so amazing, I don’t ever wanna stop…”
A pathetic sound left her lips. She might literally die here.
She might be totally okay with that.
She was close again. Getting drawn steadily towards the peak, near numb with pleasure. Her fingers clenched, real ones at his palm, psychic ones at his chest. Electricity sparked and popped across her skin, tingling.
“O…”
The rest of his name slipped away into nothing as another climax wracked her body. She thrummed, every limb shaking. Her eyes sealed shut, liquid pleasure filling her.
Something popped.
There was a resounding crash in the room.
It startled her out of her reverie, the hint of the aftershocks still in the midst of fading away. She looked around in a panic, her mind fighting through the haze of satisfaction to put the pieces together. Okarun wasn’t sitting over her anymore. She noticed her body was lying across the bed. All the way across it.
She was normal sized again.
And so were her powers.
In her climax, they had plowed forward, shooting Okarun straight up into the ceiling. Plaster cracked around his naked body, dust trickling down. He hung there, in a cocoon of teal extending from her, completely bare, his dingle softly dangling.
She winced at him.
“Sorry, Okarun,” she said in a hoarse voice.
He let out a pained moan.
“…S’okay,” he got out. “Guess the effect didn’t last as long as I thought it would…”
She threw him one last apologetic look, and started lowering him from the ceiling.
Her powers flickered, like an engine running out of gas, before they dissipated entirely.
Okarun hit the ground with a thud.
“Okarun!”
-
Hours later, after they’d cleaned and patched themselves up, they sat at their dining table tiredly eating their dinner.
That little marathon of theirs hadn’t actually lasted for days, as much as it felt like it. It’d exhausted them like it had though, him a bit battered from accidentally being thrown into the ceiling, then the floor, her sore down to the bones, from all Okarun’s attention, from changing size. But they still had to finish out the day; the apartment was mostly silent as they ate.
Best they could tell, somethin’ about her powers accelerated the timeline of the shrink ray, turning her back; at the cost of those powers being burnt out for a bit. Even now, she couldn’t summon up more than a little worm of energy. Pretty rare for her to be in that sorta state these days. Hopefully they’d be back to normal by tomorrow.
Though, if not, maybe they could have a repeat performance. Momo, bound and powerless, but at her normal size this time…
Though, if they were, maybe they could have a repeat performance but the other way. Okarun, bound and powerless, at her every psychic whim…
She couldn’t help the doofy smile that crawled across her face.
Something about her expression caught Okarun’s attention. He narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious.
“I feel like I should be worried about whatever’s going through your head right now,” he said.
Her eyelids fell, lidding with desire.
“Yup.”
He stuffed a spoonful of curry into his mouth, swallowing nervously.
There was a sudden odd sound coming from outside. A flurry of footsteps so heavy on the stairs of their apartment complex they could hear it through closed windows.
The door to their home burst open, and Aira scrambled inside, eyes wild, hair in a tousle.
“Did I miss it?!” she cried. A few bags swung from the crooks of her elbows.
“The hell?!” Momo shouted. “How’d you get in, the door was locked!”
Aira’s eyes landed on Momo. Her face fell, absolutely crushed, like she’d just been told she was only Chiquitita’s second favorite aunt.
“Nooo!” Aira stamped her foot into the floor. “You’re supposed to be small!”
“…Uh.” Momo traded looks with Okarun. “How’d you hear about that?”
“Jin mentioned it offhand in a text, only minutes ago! Instead of telling me when it happened!” She sniffed, eyes getting wet. “And now I missed it…”
“Why do you care that I was small again?” Momo asked.
“Because!” Aira shoved a hand into one of her bags, pulling out a bundle of various doll clothing. “I was gonna put you in so many outfits! I have way more this time!!”
“The hell you were! I’d never agree to that crap!”
She clicked her teeth, disregarding Momo’s objection entirely. She pointed an accusing finger at Okarun.
“Ken! Why was I not informed sooner?!”
He turned his face away, adjusting his glasses shyly. “Um. We… got caught up in a few things,” he said.
“Nothing I couldn’t have been invited to, I’m sure!” Aira argued. They both blushed, looking away. “Next time this happens you better call me right away!”
“It ain’t gonna happen again!” Momo said.
“…I’ll make sure to do that, Aira,” Okarun said with an appeasing smile. “And, I am sorry, I know you would’ve really liked to see tiny Momo again…”
Aira hmphed. Momo rolled her eyes.
“If it helps…”
In an instant, Ken had somehow gone from at the table to next to Aira, fast enough that he might’ve used Turbo Grannys’s power to do it. A delighted grin spread across his lips as he took out his phone.
“I did get some pictures of her in that magical girl outfit I borrowed from you!”
Aira gasped, dropping all her bags, and squished her cheek against his to look at the screen. “Let me see!”
“What-! Don’t show her that!!”
Momo threw herself out of the chair and ran at them, ready to straight up tackle Okarun to the floor and steal his phone.
Aira transformed, just her hair, a thick lock of pink extending out to twine around Momo’s body. She was lifted up and hung upside down, unable to break free with her powers still on the fritz.
“You skank, lemme go!”
Aira pinched on his phone, zooming in. She squealed, hand on her cheek. “Look at her, she fits in your hand! So cute!!”
“Right??” Okarun said, happy and proud. He flicked to the next picture, which was more or less the same thing, her standing annoyed in his hand before the whole Mothra thing.
“Ugh, so grumpy though!” Aira said. “Would it kill you to smile?”
“What are you, a 60-year old man?? Don’t tell me to smile!”
Aira’s eyes flicked towards the dining table. She fully grabbed the phone from Okarun, who easily let it go. “Ken, will you make me a plate while I keep looking?”
“No one invited you to our dinner!”
“Sure!” Okarun said politely, the fuckin’ traitor, before going to the damn kitchen and making her a plate. Unbelievable.
Aira sat down, continuing to fawn over Momo in the dumb little magical girl outfit. Okarun put a full plate in front of her, before joining her at the table, sliding over his own plate. He scooped up another spoonful as he viewed the phone screen with her.
Momo hung in the air, still suspended by Aira’s hair.
“Damnit, at least put me down so I can fuckin’ finish my food!”
*
