THERAPY 2

Therapy – Part 2

By Ramvo

Sunday Morning

Timmy lay utterly spent, broken and tamed, on the softest surface he had known in days: the crumpled crotch of Dr. Maggy Kilmister’s worn satin panties. He was trapped inside one of the deep mahogany drawers of her bedroom dresser, surrounded by the heavy perfume of her lingerie and the lingering musk of her body.

Since Friday afternoon, when his own mother had casually deposited him—shrunken to barely three inches tall—into the suffocating crevice of Dr. Kilmister’s enormous ass, his life had become a feverish nightmare. The memories were both blurred and razor-sharp: the heat, the pressure, the endless slick darkness, the way the giantess had used him again and again without mercy. He had never imagined that “therapy” could be so degrading, so utterly dehumanizing.

Once his mother had left, laughing as she closed the door behind her, Timmy had become Dr. Kilmister’s personal plaything—and not just hers. Other women had visited the house over the weekend, curious friends and clients eager to sample the living toy Maggy kept in her drawer. But his real training, the systematic breaking of his will, had begun with Maggy’s young assistant, Jenny.

Jenny was a petite, deceptively sweet-looking psychology student—barely 5'2", with long golden-blonde hair, innocent blue eyes, and a body that seemed designed for sin. Her breasts were absurdly full and heavy for her tiny frame, straining against every top she wore, and her round, heart-shaped bubble butt jiggled hypnotically with every step. At normal size, Timmy would have worshipped her from afar. Now she was a playful, merciless goddess.

She had arrived only minutes after Timmy’s mother departed. The two women greeted each other with hungry kisses, hands already roaming, and carried the terrified boy straight to Maggy’s king-sized bed.

The First Session

The bedroom was bathed in warm afternoon light filtering through gauzy curtains. The air smelled of vanilla candles and feminine arousal. Maggy and Jenny stripped each other slowly, savoring the ritual. Maggy peeled Jenny’s tight denim miniskirt down her smooth thighs, revealing a tiny black g-string that disappeared between those perfect plump cheeks. Jenny, standing on the bed to reach, unclasped Maggy’s bra and let the doctor’s enormous, olive-skinned breasts spill free—heavy, pendulous, capped with wide dark areolas already stiffening in the cool air.

Timmy stood frozen on the duvet, staring up at the two giantesses locked in a slow, ravenous kiss. Maggy towered over Jenny like an Amazon, her curvaceous six-foot frame dwarfing the petite blonde, yet their bodies fit together with practiced intimacy. Their tongues danced visibly; soft moans filled the room. Timmy’s tiny cock, traitorous as ever, throbbed against his will.

Finally they broke the kiss and turned their heads in perfect unison toward him. Four gleaming eyes fixed on the little man. Identical wicked smiles curved their lips.

Maggy lay back against the mountain of pillows, her dark hair fanning across the silk. With two enormous fingers she plucked Timmy from the bed as casually as a crumb.

“Time to begin your real therapy, sweetheart,” she purred, bringing him close enough that her warm breath washed over him in humid waves. Her full lips glistened. “You’re going to learn respect. Obedience. Worship. And Jenny here—” she glanced at the grinning blonde—“is my lover and my very enthusiastic assistant. You’ll serve her just as eagerly as you serve me.”

She passed the trembling boy to Jenny, who cupped him in soft, manicured hands.

“Hi, Timmy,” Jenny cooed, voice sugary but dripping with menace. “Be a good boy and this will be fun for all of us.” She dragged her warm, wet tongue slowly up his entire body—head to toe—coating him in a glistening layer of saliva. He shuddered, equal parts terror and unwanted arousal.

Then the games truly began.

Jenny knelt between Maggy’s spread thighs and used Timmy like a living massage tool, rubbing his body in slow circles over the doctor’s massive breasts. The skin was warm silk beneath him; the scent of her perfume mingled with faint sweat. Whenever he slowed, Jenny pressed him harder against a thick, erect nipple the size of his head.

“Suck,” she ordered playfully. “Open wide, little man.”

She forced his face against the swollen bud until his jaws ached, his mouth stuffed with salty, rubbery flesh. Maggy moaned above them, arching her back, her enormous tits quivering with every breath.

From breasts they moved downward—across the taut ridges of Maggy’s abdomen, into the deep well of her navel where Timmy was repeatedly dunked like a toy in a pool. Then lower still.

Jenny positioned him directly at the entrance of Maggy’s pussy. The outer lips were plump and slick, framed by a neatly trimmed triangle of dark curls. Heat radiated against his skin; the musky scent was overwhelming. Jenny pushed him forward until he was wedged helplessly between the dripping folds.

He screamed—sound muffled instantly as Jenny’s fingertip sealed his face against the yielding flesh.

“Shhh,” she whispered. “First rule: toys don’t talk unless spoken to.”

With deliberate slowness she worked him deeper—feet-first—until only his head remained outside, framed obscenely by Maggy’s labia. Jenny admired her handiwork, then gave one final push.

Timmy vanished completely into the hot, rippling tunnel.

Inside was a living nightmare: slick walls pulsing around him, squeezing rhythmically, coating him in thick juices. The more he thrashed, the tighter the tunnel gripped, and the louder Maggy moaned overhead. When her orgasm hit, the muscular contractions nearly crushed him. A gush of fluid blasted him outward; he shot free like a cork, dangling upside-down by one ankle, coughing and sputtering, drenched in her release.

Jenny plucked him up, dangling him in front of her smiling lips.

“Rough first ride?” she teased. “Don’t worry. The next one’s even more… intimate.”

Maggy rolled onto her stomach, then lifted her hips, presenting her magnificent ass. The cheeks were smooth bronze globes, impossibly round and firm, parting slightly to reveal the deep shadowed cleft. She looked back over her shoulder, dark eyes glittering.

“Remember Friday, Timmy? When your mommy tucked you in here for safekeeping?” She wiggled; the cheeks clapped softly together. “This time you’re going much deeper.”

Jenny laid him in the sweaty valley of Maggy’s crack and spent long minutes kneading and spanking the gigantic buttocks, making them bounce and quake around the helpless boy. Sweat beaded and rolled down the cleft, soaking him anew. The scent was dizzying—musk and heat and faint traces of the doctor’s earlier arousal.

At last Jenny guided him downward until his face pressed against the puckered ring of Maggy’s anus. It flexed greedily, already slick. The heat was intense; the smell earthy and forbidden.

“Please…” Timmy managed to sob.

Jenny only laughed. “In you go, little butt-plug.”

She pushed—slowly, inexorably—feet first into the tight, clenching hole. The ring stretched around his ankles, his knees, his hips. Every inch drew a fresh wail from him and a throaty moan from Maggy. When his head finally slipped past the ring with a wet pop, darkness swallowed him whole.

Jenny left her finger buried a few inches inside, wiggling it to seat him properly, before withdrawing with a satisfied sigh.

For what felt like hours Timmy fought in the crushing, slimy tunnel. The walls rippled and squeezed in rhythmic waves; whenever his struggles slowed, Maggy clenched deliberately, forcing him to redouble his efforts. Jenny lay sprawled across Maggy’s back, kissing her neck, murmuring filthy encouragement.

At last another thunderous orgasm rippled through the giantess. The rectum contracted so violently Timmy blacked out, his last sensation the deafening roar of Maggy’s pleasure echoing through her body.

When he came to, Jenny’s lips were sealed around Maggy’s anus, sucking gently. Inch by inch she drew his limp, slime-covered body out like obscene taffy. When his head emerged she bit down lightly on his torso—just enough to hold him—then shook him playfully from side to side while both women laughed.

They deposited the half-conscious boy on a silk pillow to recover and immediately turned their attention back to each other—kissing, grinding, fingers buried deep—whispering about all the lessons still to come.

The therapy, they agreed, was progressing beautifully.

TO BE CONTINUED…