New story: The Posterior Bonding Ceremony

 The Posterior Bonding Ceremony

By Ramvo

Disclaimer: all characters in this fictional story are of legal age, 18 or older!!

The basement of Kappa Delta Rho was dimly lit by strings of fairy lights and scented candles vanilla and musk to mask any telltale odors. The senior sisters, all in matching black lace thongs and cropped hoodies with the Greek letters glittering across their chests, lounged on plush couches arranged in a semicircle. In front of them knelt the ten new pledges, nervous freshmen dressed only in white cotton panties and thin tank tops, each holding a small glass vial between trembling fingers.

Inside every vial squirmed a one inch man shrunken "pledge toys" sourced from the university's disciplinary reduction program. Some had been arrogant frat boys, others scholarship athletes who crossed the wrong sorority member. Now they were property, destined to prove the pledges' worth.

Big Sister Elena, chapter president and undisputed queen of the house, stood at the center. Tall, curvaceous, with long dark hair and an ass that looked sculpted for dominance, she smiled sweetly as she addressed the group.

“Welcome to the real initiation, pledges. Tonight you learn what it means to own someone completely. Not with chains or cages with your body. Specifically…” She turned, bent at the waist, and slowly peeled her thong aside, spreading her plump perfectly rounded cheeks wide with both hands. “…this.”

The pledges leaned forward, eyes wide. The tiny man already lodged in Elena's anus was visible only as a faint, frantic lump pressed against the wrinkled pink ring. Every few seconds she gave a light clench, making him twitch visibly.

“Placement is everything,” Elena explained, voice calm and teacherly. “You don't just drop him in and hope. Watch carefully.”

She relaxed her glutes, widening the cleft so the candlelight caught the glossy sheen of natural moisture. With two fingers, she gently nudged the tiny deeper until only his kicking legs protruded from the outer furrows. Then she squeezed slowly, deliberately. The legs vanished with a soft, wet schlick.

“Mmmh… See that? The ring catches him like a trap. Once he's seated right, gravity and your own heat do the rest. But you control the pressure. Too tight too soon and he panics uselessly. Too loose and he might crawl. We want controlled panic enough to keep him moving, enough to remind him who's in charge.”

The pledges giggled nervously. One blonde, petite Mia whispered, “He's still kicking in there?”

Elena straightened, letting her cheeks snap shut. A tiny bulge appeared under the lace before disappearing again as she clenched. “Oh yes. Every flutter is a little prayer for mercy. And it feels… exquisite.”

She clapped once. “Your turn. Panties down, vials open. Big sisters will supervise.”

The pledges obeyed, sliding their underwear to their knees. One by one, they tipped the screaming tinies into their waiting cracks. Soft thumps echoed as each man landed between warm, meaty hills, huge spheres of juvenile flesh for them. Giggles erupted immediately.

“Oh my god, he's sliding right to it!” sophomore pledge Lauren squealed, bending to watch in the full length mirror propped against the wall.

“Widen your hips, sweetie,” her assigned big sister Chloe coached, kneeling behind her. “Like you're about to sit on his face because you are. Now two fingers… push… there.”

Lauren gasped as the tiny vanished into her ring with a slick pop. She clenched experimentally; her eyes fluttered. “Holy shit… I can feel every little punch.”

Across the circle the scene repeated: tinies dropped, guided, inserted. Some girls were clumsy at first accidentally smearing their toy along the crack before finally lodging him. Others were naturals, pushing with practiced ease. Moans mixed with laughter.

“Don't be shy about squeezing,” Elena reminded them. “Pulse in sets of five. Hold… release… hold. If he stops moving, clench harder. Revive him. We don't waste good toys on the first night.”

For the next hour the pledges remained bent over or on all fours while big sisters critiqued technique. Mirrors were passed around so each girl could see her tiny's faint outline under stretched cotton.

“Look how pathetic he is,” Chloe said, pointing at Lauren's reflection. “All that muscle, all that ego, reduced to a little lump in your asshole. Squeeze again, make him dance.”

Lauren did. The bulge jerked wildly. She bit her lip, thighs trembling. “He's… begging or something. I can feel his mouth opening against me.”

“Good,” Elena purred. “That's when you know you've won. Now the endurance portion.”

The pledges were told to pull up their pantiestight, seamless ones provided by the house and sit in a circle on the carpet. No cushions. Just firm pressure.

“Two hours minimum,” Elena announced. “Talk, laugh, drink your wine coolers. Act normal. Your toy is part of you now. If you feel him weaken, give a little flex. Remind him that breathing is a privilege. And remember that their distress is your pleasure!!”

The room filled with chatterclasses, boys, weekend plans while beneath panties and between massive cheeks, ten tiny men fought for air in hot, humid darkness. Sweat beaded and trickled, adding slick lubrication that pulled them inexorably deeper. Every casual shift of a hip or cross of legs ground them further into wrinkled flesh.

One pledge, redheaded Taylor, closed her eyes and sighed. “He's still going strong… like a tiny vibrator. I think I'm gonna cum if he keeps this up.”

The big sisters laughed approvingly. “That's the point,” Elena said. “Power feels good. Control feels better. His suffering is your pleasure.”

As the clock ticked past midnight, Elena stood. “Final test. Full insertion, no fingers, just muscle. Push him past the ring. Let your rectum claim him.”

The pledges focused, breathing deep. Soft grunts and whimpers filled the room as tinies were swallowed deeper by rhythmic contractions. One by one the visible bulges vanished completely.

Mia looked down at her smooth panties, no trace left. “He's… gone. Inside me.”

“Exactly,” Elena said. “Tomorrow you'll feel him all day walking to class, sitting in lecture, sleeping. Take him out only for bathroom breaks, and only if you're careful. These toys are expensive to replace.”

She smiled at the circle of flushed, empowered pledges.

“Congratulations. You're officially sisters. And you each have a permanent little secret tucked away where no one else can reach.”

The new initiates stood slowly, adjusting their panties, savoring the faint, hopeless flutters deep inside. As they filed upstairs to their rooms, hips swaying, they already knew: the ritual wasn't over. It had only just begun.

Taylor's Room – 1:17 AM

The world had become heat and pressure and darkness.

His name had once been Ethan, six feet tall, college quarterback, the kind of guy who laughed too loud at parties. Now he was nothing: a one-inch smear of life wedged deep inside Taylor's rectum, past the tight ring that had swallowed him whole during the final "full insertion" phase.

The sphincter had closed like an iron gate behind him. No light. No air current. Just the slow, rhythmic undulation of slick muscular walls that pulsed with every beat of her heart. The temperature was unbearably hotter than a sauna, thick with the humid musk of her body. Sweat from the basement ritual had dried into a sticky film that glued his limbs to the furrowed lining. Every attempt to shift even an inch only smeared more mucus across his face, forcing him to taste the bitter, salty tang of her insides. 

Ethan considered the irony. He had always checked Taylor’s exquisite butt every time he had the chance, but now, he was buried deep inside the perfectly rounded ass cheeks he had drooled over only a few days ago. He was not more than a living suppository for her and a pleasure toy for her to use and discard anytime she wished.

He tried to breathe. Shallow sips through nostrils pressed flat against wrinkled flesh. Each inhale dragged in the heavy scent: feminine, earthy, faintly metallic. Exhaling was worse, his chest compressed so tightly he could barely expand his ribs. Panic clawed at him, but screaming was impossible; his mouth filled instantly with soft, yielding tissue whenever he opened it.

“Move. Just move. She has to feel it. She has to let me out.” He thought.

He kicked. Punched. Twisted. His tiny fists hammered against the pulsing walls like rain on a tent. For a glorious second he felt the flesh quiver in response a distant ripple, a muffled clench. Then the walls tightened deliberately. A slow, powerful squeeze that crushed him from all sides, forcing the last of his air out in a silent wheeze. Stars burst behind his eyelids.

Above, worlds away Taylor stirred in her sleep.

She lay on her side in the narrow dorm bed, one leg drawn up, the motion shifting everything inside her. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she felt the faint flutter deep in her core.

"Mmm… still going," she murmured drowsily, voice thick with satisfaction. Her hand drifted down, pressing lightly over her lower belly as if to feel him through layers of skin and muscle. "Good boy. Keep fighting. It feels nice."

She clenched once experimentally, lazily. The contraction rolled through her like a wave, milking him deeper. Ethan's world compressed to nothing but crushing heat. He felt himself sliding in inexorably, helplessly further into the slick tunnel. The walls grew even tighter here, the air thinner, the smell stronger. He clawed at the mucus slick surface, nails finding no purchase.

Taylor giggled softly into her pillow. "You're so pathetic… like a little worm trying to swim upstream." She rolled onto her back, spreading her legs slightly under the covers. The shift sent a fresh trickle of moisture down, lubricating the passage and pulling him another fraction deeper.

3:42 AM

Ethan had stopped counting time. His muscles burned. His lungs ached. Every few minutes the giant body around him moved,Taylor shifting in her sleep, sighing, scratching an itch on her thigh. Each motion ground him against new folds of flesh. Sometimes she clenched reflexively in dreams; other times she relaxed completely, letting her rectum loosen just enough for him to gasp a desperate breath before the next involuntary pulse sucked him back in.

He was delirious now. Hallucinations flickered: the basement lights, the laughter of the sisters, Elena's calm voice explaining technique like it was a cooking tutorial. Pulse in sets of five. Hold… release… hold.

Taylor's body obeyed its own rhythm. A dream induced Kegel squeezed him hard once, twice, three times. He thrashed wildly, hoping to trigger mercy. Instead, she moaned low in her throat, hips rocking once against the mattress.

"Fuck… yes…" she whispered, half asleep. Her fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties, pressing directly over the spot where he was lodged. The external pressure crushed him flat against the rectal wall. He felt the heat of her arousal building around him, walls swelling slightly, growing slicker, hotter.

She came quietly little more than a shuddering breath and a tightening that nearly snapped his ribs. The aftershocks rippled through her for minutes, each one grinding him like a pestle.

When the orgasm faded, she sighed contentedly and rolled over again. "You're staying right there," she mumbled. "All night. All tomorrow. Maybe forever if you're lucky."

5:58 AM – Dawn

Ethan was barely conscious. His struggles had dwindled to weak twitches instinct more than will. The air was almost gone; he survived on microscopic pockets trapped in the folds. His skin was raw from the constant friction, coated in a film of her secretions.

Taylor woke slowly. Sunlight filtered through blinds. She stretched, arching her back, feeling the tiny lump still deep inside.

"Still alive?" she asked the empty room, voice playful. A deliberate clench. A faint kick answered.

She smiled, patting her muscular ass cheek through the sheets. "Good. Class in two hours. You're coming with me and within me!." she giggled mischievously.

She stood, walked to the mirror, turned sideways. No visible bulge anymore, he was too deep. Just smooth skin and the secret knowledge of total ownership.

As she pulled on jeans tight enough to add constant pressure, Ethan felt the final shift: the world compressing one last time as denim hugged her perfect curves. No escape. No mercy. Only endless, rhythmic darkness and the indifferent heartbeat of his new goddess.

Down the hall, the other pledges woke to similar sensations. Ten tiny men, trapped in ten young women who now carried them like living jewelry, hidden, helpless, forever reminding their owners of the power between their cheeks.

The ritual was complete. The torment had only begun.

TO BE CONTINUED… 

Dear Log Part 4

 August 28th: Butt worship session with Gina

Dear Log,

I’m writing this with trembling hands, my skin still humming, every breath pulling her scent deeper into my lungs. Gina. Just thinking her name makes my pulse stutter.

She appeared above me in the library like a living eclipse—her shadow cool across my tiny table, then the slow bloom of her warmth as she leaned down. Cocoa butter, yes, but layered with something richer: warm skin after a long day, the faint spice of her body oil, and underneath it all, the unmistakable throb of arousal, thick and heady, like dark honey left in the sun.

Her voice wrapped around me first—low, velvet, a rumble I felt in my ribs before I heard the words: “Come with me,Tiny.” Then her hand descended, palm wide and soft, fingers curling with effortless possession. The heat of her skin seeped into me instantly; her lifeline pressed against my back like a thick rope. She lifted me slowly, deliberately, letting me feel every shift of her muscles as she tucked me against the heavy swell of her breast. The fabric of her cropped hoodie was thin, warmed by her body; beneath it, her heartbeat thundered—deep, steady, powerful—each beat rocking me gently as she walked.

In her room, moonlight poured through the window and painted her mahogany skin in liquid silver. She turned her back to me, and the air changed—grew heavier, warmer—as she peeled away her hoodie. Then the leggings. The sound of the fabric sliding down was a slow, sensual whisper, interrupted by the soft snap when it cleared the fullest curve of her ass. No underwear. Just endless, flawless skin, the deep cleft between cheeks so round and firm they seemed sculpted from dark marble, yet impossibly soft to the touch.

She placed me on the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping slightly under my weight, and stepped back until her ass filled my entire world. The heat radiating from her was immediate, a humid wave that carried her scent straight into my lungs: rich, earthy, faintly musky, laced with the sharper tang of fresh arousal. It coated my tongue before I even touched her.

“Worship me,” she breathed, voice thick with need. Her fingers—long, strong, nails a deep crimson—reached back and parted those glorious cheeks, revealing the tight, dark ring of her asshole, already glistening faintly with her excitement, fluttering in tiny, eager pulses.

I fell forward.

My hands sank into the plush heat of her flesh first—skin so smooth it felt like warm silk over firm muscle. I pressed my face between her cheeks and inhaled deeply; the scent was overwhelming up close, intoxicating, a dark, intimate perfume that made my head spin. My lips brushed her rim, and she shivered—actually shivered—her entire massive body rippling with it.

I started with soft kisses, tasting the faint salt of her skin, the subtle bitterness that was uniquely her. Then my tongue—flat and broad at first, tracing slow, reverent circles around the sensitive pucker. She was impossibly warm there, velvet-soft, the ring tightening and releasing under each pass of my tongue. When I finally pressed the tip inside, she let out a low, guttural moan that vibrated through her hips and into my chest. The taste intensified—richer, deeper, addictive. Her inner walls were slick and scorching, clenching greedily around my tongue as I pushed deeper, thrusting in slow, deliberate strokes.

Her moans grew louder, breathier, each one rolling through her body like distant thunder. I could feel the subtle tremor in her thighs, the way her cheeks flexed and pressed closer, smothering me in soft, suffocating heat. Sweat beaded on her skin; I tasted it as it trickled down, mixing with her natural flavor. My face was slick—her arousal dripping from below, her sweat, my own saliva—until everything was wet and hot and pulsing.

“More,” she gasped, voice breaking. “Use all of you.”

I wrapped my arms as far as they would reach around one massive cheek, pressed my entire body against her hole—chest, stomach, hips grinding instinctively—and rubbed in slow, desperate circles while my tongue plunged again and again. The friction was electric; her ring fluttered wildly against my skin, hot and slick and alive. I could hear the wet sounds of her fingers working between her legs now—fast, urgent—matched by the slick slide of my mouth against her.

She started rocking back, slow at first, then harder, grinding her ass against my face with shameless need. Each push buried me deeper in warmth and scent and taste until I could barely breathe—only steal quick gasps laced with her essence. Her moans climbed higher, rawer, until her whole body went rigid.

When she came, it was cataclysmic.

Her thighs clamped around my head like warm vices. Her ass pressed back so hard I was pinned, completely enveloped. A deep, primal cry tore from her throat—long, shaking—as her ring spasmed violently around my tongue, pulse after pulse. I felt the flood of her climax even from behind: the sudden rush of wetness dripping down her thighs, the way her entire body quaked and shuddered for what felt like forever.

Only when the aftershocks faded did she ease forward, letting me gasp for air. My face was drenched, lips swollen, jaw aching—but I’d never felt more alive.

She turned then, eyes dark and glassy with satisfaction, and scooped me up. Her lips—full, soft, tasting faintly of her own lip gloss—claimed mine in a slow, deep kiss. She licked lazily across my mouth, savoring her own flavor on me, and smiled.

“Good boy,” she whispered, voice husky and sated. “You taste like me now.”

She pulled me against her chest, one massive hand cradling me possessively, and let me drift off to the thunder of her heartbeat and the lingering heat of her skin.

I am hers too!!

Completely.

Irrevocably.

To be continued ...

To be continued...

Dear Log part 3

 August 25th: Saturday Party

Dear Log:

I can’t stop thinking about last night. The Gamma Delta Gamma party—“Spin the Bottle: Giantess Edition.” The memory clings to my skin like their scent still does: warm vanilla, sweet wine, and that heavy, intoxicating arousal that filled the room.

Ten of us freshman tinies were carried in, one by one, our bare feet dangling above the floor as their massive fingers curled gently but inescapably around our torsos. Kayla—the blonde with sun-kissed skin and endless legs—lifted me last, her thumb brushing my chest as she smiled down. Then she tipped us all into the huge glass bottle waiting in the center of the room. We slid down the smooth, curved neck in a helpless rush, landing in a warm, trembling pile at the bottom. The glass amplified every sound: their laughter rolling like distant thunder, the soft rustle of fabric as they shifted on the couches, the wet click of lips when one of them took a sip of wine and sighed.

When the spinning started, the bottle turned with a low, resonant hum that vibrated through the glass and into our bones. Each time it slowed, the neck pointed at one of the giantesses, and her hand descended—fingers thick as tree trunks to us, nails glossy and perfect. They plucked their prize with deliberate care, sometimes trailing a fingertip along a tiny chest or thigh just to watch us shiver.

Then came the bowl. Pink slips of paper, folded small. Each winner drew one and read it aloud in a slow, husky voice that made the air feel thicker.

Roxy drew first: “Foot Worship.” She slipped off her sandal, revealing the soft, warm arch of her bare foot. Ryan disappeared beneath it, pressed firmly against her sole. We could hear the faint, wet sounds of his tongue working, her toes curling lazily in pleasure, a low moan escaping her lips.

Samantha went next: “Butt Worship.” She turned, hooked her thumbs into her waistband, and slowly peeled her leggings down just enough to expose the smooth, rounded swell of her ass. Rick was lifted between those massive cheeks, nestled deep into warm, silky flesh. Her sigh was long and satisfied as she rocked gently, savoring his struggles against her skin.

Then the bottle pointed at Samantha again. Her fingers came for me. She lifted me out slowly, letting my body drag against the rim of the bottle so I felt every inch of the cool glass before the sudden heat of her palm. She drew her slip, bit her lip as she read it, then held it up with a wicked grin: “Clit Sucking.”

The room erupted in delighted gasps and cheers. Samantha carried me to the biggest couch, reclined back, and parted her thighs. The scent hit me first—warm, musky, unmistakably her. She slipped me beneath the soft fabric of her shorts, pressing me firmly against the slick, swollen heat of her clit. It throbbed under my chest, my face, my entire body. She was already soaked; I could taste her the moment she held me there. Her fingers pinned me in place while her hips rolled in slow, greedy circles. Each moan vibrated through her body and into mine, deeper, louder, until she arched and shuddered, flooding my world with wet heat and the rhythmic pulse of her climax. When it passed, she exhaled a long, trembling sigh, stroked me once with a fingertip slick with her own arousal, and casually dropped me back into the bottle.

The rest blurred together in a haze of heat and scent:

Gina drawing “Butt Insertion” and slowly, deliberately pressing Tom deep inside her until only his feet remained visible, clenching rhythmically around him while she bit her lip and watched us watch her.

Tiffany’s “Full Insertion,” taking Ethan, completely, her fingers working him in and out with shameless, wet sounds that echoed in the bottle.

Endless foot worship, tongues tracing arches and between toes slick with sweat; pussy worship with tinies buried face-first in slick folds; breast smothering until we gasped for air against soft, suffocating warmth.

By the end we were all drenched—their arousal, our sweat, the faint salt of tears none of us would admit to. When they finally tipped the bottle and we spilled out onto the towel, we lay there trembling, marked by their scents, their taste still on our lips.

Samantha crouched down, her face filling the sky above us. She brushed a single fingertip across my cheek, smearing a trace of herself there, and whispered, “You were perfect, little one. So eager.”

I hate how my body responded. I hate how part of me already aches for the next time.

College is going to ruin me… and I’m starting to want it to.

To be continued ...

Therapy Part 3

 Therapy – Part 3 

By Ramvo 

Domination by horny mistresses continues

Sunday Evening

The bedroom reeked now: heavy vanilla undercut by raw sweat, spent sex, and the faint metallic tang of fear-sweat that no candle could mask. The lamps had been dimmed to dying embers; long shadows stretched like fingers across sweat-damp sheets.

Timmy no longer lay peacefully on Jenny’s breast.

He was pinned facedown across the thick, ridged center of Maggy’s right nipple—arms and legs splayed wide, wrists and ankles lashed tight to the pebbled areola with fine black threads torn from one of Jenny’s ruined stockings. Every shallow breath Maggy took lifted and dropped him like a living yo-yo; every heartbeat thudded through the rubbery flesh beneath him, rattling his teeth.

He had screamed himself hoarse hours ago. Now he only whimpered—small, broken animal sounds.

Jenny knelt astride Maggy’s waist, facing backward, her plump bubble-butt hovering inches above Timmy’s tiny prison. The blonde’s cheeks were flushed crimson from earlier spankings; handprints still glowed angrily across both globes. Between them, her asshole winked—still slick and slightly gaping from where Maggy had spent twenty savage minutes fist-fucking her while Timmy watched, helpless, from the headboard.

“Time to turn up the volume,” Maggy said, voice low and gravelly. She pinched her own nipple between thumb and forefinger—slowly increasing pressure until the tender bud compressed around Timmy’s body like a fleshy vise. His ribs creaked audibly. A thin scream tore from his throat.

Jenny giggled—high and cruel—and lowered herself until the sweaty cleft of her ass swallowed the tiny bound figure whole. Maggy’s nipple disappeared between those plump cheeks with a wet squelch. Timmy’s world became crushing darkness, suffocating heat, and the obscene musk of Jenny’s most private places. Her asshole flexed once—deliberately—kissing the top of his head before sliding down to trap his face against the puckered ring.

“Feel that?” Jenny purred, grinding in slow, filthy circles. “That’s where bad boys go when they stop being fun.”

Maggy released her nipple. The sudden release of pressure sent a jolt of blood back into the swollen flesh; Timmy convulsed as the areola swelled around him again, mashing him deeper into Jenny’s crack. The blonde moaned and rocked harder—smearing him back and forth across her twitching hole like a living wipe.

“Beg,” Maggy ordered.

Timmy tried. The word came out mangled, muffled by sweaty skin and pulsing muscle.

“Louder.”

He screamed it this time—raw, shredded: “Please—please—please—”

Jenny lifted just enough to let him breathe, then slammed back down, smothering the plea mid-word. She laughed, delighted.

“He’s still got some fight,” she said over her shoulder. “Let’s fix that.”

Maggy reached between Jenny’s thighs and spread the blonde’s dripping cunt wide with two fingers. The inner lips parted with a sticky sound; a thick rope of arousal drooled onto Timmy’s upturned face. Jenny shifted forward, aligning herself, then sat—hard.

Timmy’s head and shoulders vanished into Jenny’s soaked pussy in one brutal plunge. The walls clamped like a fist. She didn’t give him time to adjust—she simply started riding, bouncing with short, vicious strokes that slapped her ass against Maggy’s mound over and over. Each descent drove him deeper; each lift dragged him halfway out only to ram him back in again. The wet, rhythmic squelching filled the room like obscene applause.

Maggy watched, eyes glittering, one hand fisting her own cunt in time with Jenny’s rhythm while the other reached back to spread her own ass cheeks wide.

“Deeper,” she growled.

Jenny obeyed instantly. She rose onto her knees, angled her hips, and dropped with all her weight.

Timmy disappeared to the waist inside her spasming channel. Jenny froze there—impaled and trembling—then began to grind in slow, punishing circles, stirring him like a swizzle stick inside her molten core.

Maggy’s voice cut through the wet sounds: “Now the other hole.”

Jenny lifted off with an obscene pop. Timmy dangled from her cunt lips for a heartbeat—coated head to toe in thick, glistening cream—before Jenny flipped around and presented her ass directly over Maggy’s waiting mouth.

Maggy didn’t hesitate. She sealed her lips around Jenny’s still-gaping asshole and sucked—hard. Timmy’s body was yanked forward by the vacuum until his face mashed against the inside of Jenny’s rectal ring. The muscle flexed once, twice—then opened.

He slid inside headfirst, dragged by the powerful suction of Maggy’s mouth and the greedy clench of Jenny’s bowels. The tunnel was tighter here, hotter, dirtier. Ridged walls rippled around him like a living peristaltic wave, pulling him inexorably deeper with every swallow.

Jenny moaned—long and broken—as Maggy’s tongue speared inside alongside Timmy, forcing him even farther up the spasming chute. When the doctor finally pulled back with a wet gasp, a glistening string of saliva and ass-juice connected her lips to Jenny’s hole. Timmy’s kicking feet were just visible—framed obscenely by the stretched pink pucker—before another hard clench sucked them out of sight.

Inside, the pressure was apocalyptic.

Every heartbeat slammed through the walls like artillery. Every breath Jenny took dragged him forward another fraction of an inch. When she clenched—deliberately, viciously—the tunnel became a crushing fist that squeezed the air from his lungs and forced a thin, reedy scream from his mouth.

Maggy lay back, pulling Jenny down on top of her so their bodies aligned chest-to-chest, cunt-to-cunt. She wrapped long legs around the smaller woman’s waist and locked her ankles.

“Ride it out,” Maggy whispered against Jenny’s ear. “Make him feel every inch of what he’s become.”

Jenny began to grind—slow at first, then faster, harder—using the tiny body trapped in her ass like an internal dildo. Each roll of her hips drove him deeper; each clench made the tunnel spasm around him in violent waves. Maggy matched her rhythm, grinding their soaked pussies together until the wet slap-slap-slap became a continuous roar.

When Jenny came, it was cataclysmic.

Her asshole clamped down like a steel trap. The muscular ring convulsed in long, rolling waves that dragged Timmy helplessly back and forth through the spasming tunnel. A hot flood of her juices poured down around him, coating the walls, making every slide slicker, faster, more punishing. She screamed—raw and animal—hips bucking so violently that Maggy had to pin her down to keep her from flying off.

Maggy followed seconds later. Her own orgasm triggered a sympathetic clench in Jenny’s bowels; the two women’s bodies locked together in a shuddering, sweating knot while Timmy was battered between contracting walls like a rag in a washing machine.

When it finally ended, Jenny collapsed forward onto Maggy’s chest, panting. Maggy stroked her sweat-soaked hair with surprising gentleness.

A long minute passed.

Then Jenny reached back, spread her cheeks wide, and bore down.

Timmy emerged—slowly, reluctantly—ejected headfirst from her gaping, quivering asshole in a rush of hot air and thick slime. He landed on Maggy’s sternum with a wet slap, limp, coated head to toe in ass-juice and shame.

Neither woman spoke for several heartbeats.

Finally, Maggy lifted his tiny, broken body between thumb and forefinger and held him up to the lamplight. His chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged gasps. His eyes—wide and glassy—stared at nothing.

Maggy smiled—a slow, satisfied predator’s smile.

“Say it,” she commanded softly.

Timmy’s lips moved. No sound at first. Then, barely audible:

“…thank you… Mistress…”

Jenny purred and kissed Maggy’s neck.

“Therapy complete?” she asked.

Maggy turned Timmy slowly, inspecting him like a piece of jewelry.

“Not yet,” she murmured. “But he’s very, very close.”

She lowered him between their joined bodies—nestling him in the hot, slippery crease where cunt met cunt—then pressed their mounds together one final time, sealing him inside the suffocating furnace of their combined heat.

“Sleep there,” Maggy whispered. “Dream of how small you are. How useless. How owned.”

Jenny giggled sleepily and clenched once—softly.

Timmy twitched once inside their joined sexes.

Then he went still.

Perfectly still.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Life in GTS high school 2: the next day

LIFE IN GIANTESS HIGH SCHOOL

Part 2: The next day.

IN THE NOT SO FAR FUTURE...

There’s a new world order. One unexpected consequence of the collapse of several Earth’s ecosystems was that female humans began growing, getting higher, stronger and more dominant, while males were decimated and remained the same size. The female-dominated society began ruling and changing the dynamics of power and males had to adapt in order to survive. 

This story takes place when all females are now 50-feet towering giantesses on average, and males are only considered toys and pets.

Jerry has just been transferred from an all male high school to a mixed one and is not sure what to expect from his school life from now on. He’s welcomed by other male students but, to his chagrin, he soon realizes that his life will never be the same!!

Life was never the same. After being used as a living suppository and human dildo several times, Jerry was finally allowed to go home and recover. He was completely soaked in the giantess’ fluids and had to take a long hot shower to eliminate all the smell and sticky liquids that were covering his body. As he washed his sore limbs, Jerry couldn’t help feeling aroused and soiled at the same time remembering the way Tyra had used him over and over. The ebony giantess had no regard for his puny pleas of mercy as she forced him to suck her engorged clit and pushed him in and out his pussy afterwards. But the worst part had been when she fed him to her anal ring. For long minutes, the walls of her intestines massaged and contracted all around him as she climaxed and moaned contentedly.

Tyra sent her girlfriends several videos showing how she played and enjoyed using Jerry in her aroused orifices. 

“Suck it bitch!” she said as she forced her engorged clit down his throat. She pushed the back of his head making him gag. Jerry tried to push her but Tyra relentlessly kept moving his tiny head closer and closer to her. In short time, Jerry had teary eyes and found himself covered in her sweat and pussy juices.

“I’m gonna make you an expert clit sucker!” she said excitedly, “you have all that it takes, you only need lots and lots of practice!”. Jerry did his best to please Tyra as she made his tiny head bob forwards and backwards giving her pleasure. He also had to suck the bulbous tip of her clit making her moan with pleasure.

After pleasing Tyra orally, Jerry was used as a living dildo several times too. Tyra manipulated his tiny body in and out her moist pussy reaching climax after climax. Meanwhile, Jerry fought to breathe as he was pushed and pulled in and out of Tyra’s vagina relentlessly.

That night, Jerry had nightmares about being swallowed alive by giant mouths. He woke up several times covered in sweat and panting. He was very concerned about his future, becoming a sex toy for horny teen giantesses was awful but he had no choices at that time. He had to finish highschool as soon as possible and leave to study at an all-boy college so he could be safe.

The next morning at school, Jerry arrived early, hoping to slip into his classroom unnoticed. His body still ached from the previous day's "welcome" from Tyra and her friends—bruises on his ribs, a lingering soreness in places he didn't want to think about. He clutched his tiny backpack (scaled for males, of course) and darted between the massive desks that towered like skyscrapers around him. The ground shook faintly with each step of the giantess students arriving, their laughter booming like thunder overhead.

He made it to the male section—a cordoned-off area on the floor near the teacher's podium, with tiny benches and a protective railing to prevent accidental squishings. A few other boys were already there, whispering nervously. One of them, a skinny kid named Mark, waved him over.

"Dude, you look wrecked," Mark said, eyeing Jerry's disheveled hair and the faint red marks on his neck. "Tyra's crew got you good yesterday, huh? Word spreads fast. They posted those vids in the group chat."

Jerry groaned, slumping onto a bench. "Yeah. I just want to get through classes without... you know."

Mark chuckled bitterly. "Good luck. Today's biology with Ms. Mounier. She's notorious for using 'volunteers' in her demos."

Before Jerry could ask what that meant, the classroom door swung open with a massive creak. In strode Ms. Mounier, the biology teacher—a stunning 52-foot giantess with curves that could crush cities and long auburn hair cascading down her back. She wore a tight blouse that strained against her enormous breasts and a skirt that ended mid-thigh, revealing legs like marble columns. The class of giantess girls cheered as she entered, their voices a chorus of excitement.

"Good morning, class!" Ms. Mounier boomed, her voice warm but commanding. She placed her massive purse on the desk, causing the floor to vibrate. Her eyes scanned the room, lingering on the male pen. "And good morning to our little pets down there. I see we have a new addition—Jerry, is it?"

Jerry froze as her gigantic face loomed closer, peering down through the railing. Her green eyes sparkled with amusement, and her full lips curved into a smile that sent a chill down his spine.

"Y-yes, Ms. Mounier," he stammered, his voice tiny even to the other boys.

"How adorable. Stand up, sweetie. Let the class see you."

The giantess girls giggled, leaning forward for a better look. Jerry reluctantly stood, feeling exposed under dozens of colossal gazes.

"Class," Ms. Mounier announced, "today we're covering human anatomy—specifically, male physiology in relation to female arousal and reproduction. Since we have such willing little subjects, I thought a hands-on demonstration would be perfect."

The class erupted in excited whispers. "Teacher's pet time!" one girl shouted.

Ms. Mounier reached down with manicured fingers the size of tree trunks and plucked Jerry from the pen effortlessly. He dangled helplessly in her grip, her warm palm enveloping his entire body. The scent of her perfume—sweet and overpowering—washed over him as she lifted him to eye level.

"Don't worry, Jerry," she purred, her breath hot against his skin. "You'll be my special assistant today. The girls need to learn how to properly handle and stimulate their pets."

She carried him to the front of the class and placed him gently—but firmly—on her desk, right next to a massive textbook open to diagrams of giantess reproductive systems. The desk surface was like a vast plain to him, and Ms. Mounier's body loomed behind it like a living mountain.

"First lesson: external stimulation," she said, addressing the class while unbuttoning the top of her blouse. Her enormous breasts spilled forward slightly, casting shadows over Jerry. "Males can be quite effective at teasing sensitive areas."

With a wink to the giggling students, she scooped Jerry up again and pressed him against one of her hardening nipples through the fabric. The nub was already the size of his head, swelling under his tiny struggles.

"Rub and lick, pet," she commanded softly but firmly. "Show the class how it's done."

Jerry hesitated, but her fingers squeezed just enough to remind him of his place. Heart pounding, he began massaging the massive nipple with his hands and tongue, feeling it grow even larger and firmer. Ms. Mounier let out a low moan that echoed through the room, making the girls squeal in delight.

"Good boy," she cooed. "See how responsive they are, class? With practice, your pets can make you feel incredible without even penetrating."

But Jerry knew this was just the beginning. As the lesson progressed, Ms. Mounier's "demonstrations" grew more intimate—sliding him under her skirt for "clitoral sensitivity training," then using him to illustrate "internal vaginal exploration." By the end of class, he was drenched again, exhausted, and marked as the new teacher's pet.

As the bell rang and Ms. Mounier casually dropped him back into the pen—promising "extra credit" sessions after school—the other boys patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"Welcome to Giantess High," Mark muttered. "It only gets worse from here."

Jerry rounded the corner of the east hallway too quickly—right into the path of a wall of smooth, dark skin and the faint scent of coconut lotion mixed with fresh sweat from morning practice.

Tyra.

The ebony cheerleader towered even when she was just standing still, her long legs stretching up forever beneath the short pleated skirt of her uniform. Her full lips curved into a slow, knowing smile the moment she spotted him. Yesterday's memories slammed into Jerry like a physical blow: the suffocating heat of her pussy grinding down on him until he could barely breathe, the humiliating stretch as she'd forced him deeper still, using his entire wriggling body to tease her anus until she'd shuddered and flooded him with her release. He'd been drenched, trembling, discarded on her locker-room bench like a used tissue.

"Hello, toy," Tyra purred, bending at the waist until her face filled his entire field of vision. Her breath was warm vanilla and mint gum. Before he could back away, plush lips engulfed his head and shoulders in a single, sloppy kiss—soft, wet pressure that smeared gloss across his hair and cheeks.

"Did you dream about me?" she murmured against his scalp, tongue flicking out to lap at him like he was a lollipop. Long, deliberate strokes dragged from his collarbone to his forehead, leaving glistening trails. "I bet you did. I dreamt about having you deep inside again... and again... stretching me just right."

"No—please!" Jerry's voice cracked, small and frantic. "No more. I can't—"

Tyra's laughter rumbled through him like distant thunder. "You have to get used to it, little Jerry. You're my favorite toy now." Her fingers—long, manicured, impossibly strong—curled around his torso. She lifted him effortlessly, squeezing just enough to make his ribs creak and his lungs fight for air. He squirmed instinctively, legs kicking in the open air, which only made her giggle again, low and delighted.

"You think you can escape me?" she teased, bringing him close enough that her thick eyelashes brushed his face like dark feathers. "I don't have time to play with you right now... but I'll see you after school." Her grip tightened—a warning pulse that sent pain spiking through his chest. "And if you try to hide or run? You'll regret it."

She leaned in again. This time the kiss was slower, more possessive: full lips dragging across his entire upper body, sucking lightly, tongue swirling until every inch of him was coated in warm saliva. He tasted salt and artificial strawberry. When she pulled back, a thin string of spit connected her lower lip to his drenched shirt.

"You're so tasty," she whispered, eyes half-lidded with hunger. "I'm gonna enjoy playing with you later... so much."

Jerry trembled violently inside the tight cage of her fist, heart hammering so hard he thought it might bruise his own ribs. Tyra studied him for a long moment—licking her thick, glossy lips like a cat savoring the anticipation of a kill—then finally opened her hand.

He dropped the last few inches to the tile floor in a sprawl, gasping, clothes clinging wetly to his skin. Tyra straightened to her full, impossible height, skirt swaying as she adjusted her cheer bag over one shoulder.

"Run along to class, toy," she called after him, voice light and amused. "Don't be late. I'll know if you are."

Jerry scrambled up and bolted, legs shaky, the hallway lights blurring through the saliva still dripping into his eyes. He could feel her gaze burning into his back the entire way to his locker—like a predator deciding exactly when to pounce.

He didn't dare look behind him. He just kept moving, pulse roaring in his ears, already dreading the lunch break that would come far too soon.

The quad waited outside those double doors. Four senior giantesses already lounging in their circle. Fresh meat always drew attention eventually.

And Tyra would be watching.

During the lunch break, four colossal senior girls had claimed the center of the yard, sitting cross-legged in a loose circle like bored goddesses at a picnic. Each one cradled boys in their enormous hands—two or three per palm—while others squirmed helplessly between thighs thicker than Jerry's entire torso. Every male student in their grasp had his pants and underwear yanked down to his ankles, fabric bunched uselessly around skinny legs that kicked feebly in mid-air.

The giantesses worked with lazy, competitive enthusiasm, their glossy lips enveloping one tiny cock after another. They were running a cruel contest: who could force the most unwilling orgasms in the shortest time. Wet, rhythmic sucking sounds filled the air, punctuated by the boys' choked gasps and involuntary whimpers. The girls' cavernous mouths seemed bottomless; no matter how small the offering, they swallowed eagerly, tongues curling with casual expertise.

Only one of them—the dark-haired girl Jerry recognized from third-period English—refrained from sucking. She lounged with her phone raised, recording every humiliated twitch and spurt in crisp 4K. Between her meaty thighs lay the "used" boys: sprawled, sweat-soaked, chests heaving, eyes glassy with exhaustion. Their cocks hung limp and reddened, still twitching from overstimulation. They knew the break wasn't over. The bell was still minutes away, and the girls weren't finished playing.

Laughter rolled from the circle like thunder. After each boy shuddered and spilled into a waiting mouth, the giantess would pull back, stick out her tongue to display the pearly evidence, then casually flick the spent victim onto her lap like a discarded toy. Another would be plucked up immediately, pants already down, body trembling in pre-emptive dread.

"Another one!" the beautiful blonde crowed, pink tongue glistening as she displayed four tiny white flecks. "That's my fourth straight—beat that, bitches."

The athletic brunette smirked around the cock currently filling her mouth. She pulled off with a wet pop just long enough to brag: "Third for me. This little guy's shaking already—gonna make it quick." She dove back down, cheeks hollowing.

"I'm keeping official count," the phone girl announced in a mock-serious tone. "No cheating." She zoomed in on a fresh victim, then lowered her head to tease his balls with slow, deliberate licks before engulfing him entirely.

Jerry stood frozen at the edge of the quad, half-hidden behind a bench that barely reached the girls' shins. He recognized them all—classmates he'd only met a week ago when he transferred from the all-boys academy. Back there, the worst thing that happened was a locker-room towel snap. Here…

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the sounds drilled into him anyway: wet slurps, helpless male moans rising into desperate cries, the girls' amused giggles vibrating through the ground. Every involuntary twitch of pleasure from those boys felt like a betrayal—of dignity, of resistance, of any hope that this school would be different.

His heart hammered against his ribs. He could already imagine those same enormous fingers wrapping around his waist, lifting him like a doll, hot breath washing over him as a voice purred, "New boy wants a turn?"

Jerry pressed himself lower, praying the bell would ring before they noticed fresh meat standing alone.

Jerry's luck ran out the moment he tried to back away. A shadow fell over him—enormous, inevitable—and before he could bolt, warm fingers thicker than his legs curled gently but inescapably around his waist. The blonde giantess lifted him skyward with the casual flick of someone plucking a stray french fry.

"Look what we have here," she purred, her voice vibrating through his ribcage. "Fresh transfer boy. You've been watching us like you wanted an invitation."

The others turned, eyes lighting up with predatory delight. Jerry's stomach lurched as he was passed hand-to-hand like a living toy—each palm dwarfing his body, soft skin warm and faintly scented with vanilla body spray and something muskier. He kicked uselessly, shoes dangling, pants already half-tugged down by the time he landed in the brunette's grip.

"No—no, please—" His protest dissolved into a yelp as she brought him to her face. Her breath washed over him in a hot, humid gust, lips parting to reveal a cavernous mouth that could swallow him whole if she wanted. Instead, she lowered him lower, aligning his exposed groin with her waiting tongue.

The first contact was electric—wet heat enveloping him completely, tongue curling with terrifying precision. She sucked gently at first, then harder, the suction pulling involuntary shudders from deep in his core. Jerry's hands scrabbled against her lower lip, fingers sinking into plush flesh that gave like warm dough. His body betrayed him almost immediately; pressure built too fast, too intensely. He came with a strangled cry, hips jerking against nothing as she hummed in approval, the vibration ripping another helpless spasm from him.

She pulled back just long enough to flash a triumphant grin, a thin string of saliva connecting her lip to his twitching length. "One down. Who's next?"

They passed him like a party favor. The blonde took him next—her technique slower, more teasing, tongue flicking in lazy circles until he was whimpering, begging incoherently for it to stop and never stop. She swallowed his second orgasm with exaggerated relish, showing the others the evidence on her tongue before flicking him onward.

The dark-haired girl with the phone set it down for her turn. She cradled him between her breasts first—soft, warm pillows that smothered his cries—then lowered him to her mouth. Her blowjob was methodical, almost clinical: long, deep pulls that milked him relentlessly until number three tore through him, leaving him limp and gasping.

By the fourth, Jerry could barely form thoughts. The last giantess—quiet until now—took him with surprising gentleness that somehow made it worse. She cradled his exhausted body in one palm while her tongue worked him over with slow, insistent strokes. His overstimulated nerves screamed; every touch was too much and not enough. He came again—dry this time, just painful spasms that left him trembling and spent.

They laughed softly as they set him down between them, pants tangled around his ankles, body slick with saliva and sweat. Jerry curled into a fetal position on the grass, chest heaving, every muscle quivering. Less than fifteen minutes. Four times. His mind felt foggy, distant, like the world had narrowed to the ache between his legs and the thunder of giant footsteps.

The bell rang—sharp, merciful.

"Aww, science class," the blonde cooed, nudging him lightly with a fingertip the size of his torso. "Better get going, little guy. Don't want to be late on your first week."

Jerry staggered to his feet, yanking his clothes up with shaking hands. Cum and spit soaked through the fabric; his legs felt like jelly. He could feel their amused gazes on his back as he stumbled toward the building, each step a reminder of how small, how helpless he truly was here.

The hallway loomed ahead—normal-sized doors that now felt like escape hatches. Science class waited. More giantesses. More eyes. More chances to be noticed.

He swallowed hard and kept walking, already dreading the next break.

TO BE CONTINUED…