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Size Erotica: If You Could Be a Sex Toy

I’m celebrating the start of spooky season by releasing a size kink transformation fantasy! Skip to the story content section if you want to jump right in.

I’m a witch all year round, but I like leaning into it during this time of year. Witches in kinky erotica combine some of my favorite tropes: power exchange, feminine domination, and changes like growth or shrinking without need for explanation. It also opens the door to darker elements, depending on my mood.

I wrote this while on hiatus, intending to release it without edits as a kinky scribble. I kept coming back to it, though, as one of the few things that turned me on during my month-long break. At 5560 words, with three rounds of edits, and five separate orgasms, I have to admit this thing is no longer a scribble. It’s a happy, sexy mess, and it’s time for me to let it go.

I suspect I’ve been hanging onto it out of a vague sense of embarrassment. This “living dildo” kink is one of my classic go-to erotic fantasies, but I don’t see it represented often. I almost used it for Cocktober back in 2019, but was too shy and ended up writing Trick, Treat instead. This kink also tied to one of my early mistakes in the size kink community, so there’s part of me that wants to tuck it in a drawer and pretend I never get off to this, never wrote 5,000 words about how hot I find it, and definitely never made questionable choices because of it. But, as I wrote in the Twitter thread linked above, “BDSM is a skillset, a culture, a language. We need space for people to learn safely AND a place for people to make mistakes to learn.” Hiding this kink because I made a mistake that mortified me doesn’t help anyone. Sharing a whole story instead is one way for me to fight shame and give myself the same grace and acceptance I know we all deserve.

Anyway, I don’t know how much of my size kink audience will be here for a transformation scene like this, but sometimes writing kinky stories is just about having a fantasy that turns you on and leaning into it, just because it feels good. This is what felt good to me. If it’s the kind of thing that feels good to you, too, then I hope you enjoy it!

(If not, well, stick around. I have some more mainstream stories coming soon!)

Oh, and one more note. The “prose poetry orgasms” at the end were a total experiment. Sometimes when I spend a lot of time with mind control kinks, I start thinking more in kinky poetry and less in prose. If it helps, know that I wrote most of that part one-handed~

 

Support the author

Money is tight right now. I have multiple works of fiction in progress, ranging from wholesome to kinky as fuck. I’d like to continue releasing them here for free.

If you enjoy this story and want to see/hear more like it, the best way to do that is to support me financially. The few donations I get usually go right into commissioning art and paying beta readers. (The second best way is to boost the signal on my stories and encourage your friends to support me, too.) Thanks, y’all!

 

Story synopsis

Kim convinces her friends to join her at a sex toy party hosted by the richest woman in town, hoping they’ll forget their troubles for one magical night. But as they all find out the hard way, the real magic is the sex toys they become along the way.

 

Story content

Tagging is the only way I know for people online to be able to opt in or out of a sexual experience with fully informed consent. I welcome help in tagging—please let me know when I have missed anything important.

Tags for this story include:

Content tags: F/f, shrinking, growing, noncon, mind control, mild bimbofication, mention of spanking, objectification, transformation, genital transformation, lady with a cock, growth of cock and balls, disproportionate growth, living dildo, mild humiliation, helplessness, worship, and prose poetry orgasms

 

Read the story

TEXT VERSION: Read the text version of the story behind the cut.

AUDIO VERSION: I do not currently have plans to record audio for this story. If I get enough requests, however, I will reconsider.

If You Could Be A Sex Toy

5560 words

By Elle Largesse

Copyright 2022, all rights reserved.

 

 

It started when she offered me her card at the party, promising my financial troubles would be a thing of the past. I can remember feeling skeptical enough to shoot her a level look but taking it anyway.

Instantly, she seemed taller. I mean, she was Mariah, the most successful woman in our whole zip code, so of course she seemed tall. She could afford pricey heels and a personal trainer and a chiropractor and probably some gig economy worker to whisper encouraging words in her ear if she slouched. I thought I should be rolling my eyes. So why was I checking her out, instead?

“For every friend you bring, I’ll bring some friends of my own. I haven’t hosted one of my special parties in ages. I’m sure people will be excited…” She winked at me, offering a small stack of additional cards. I hesitated, feeling strangeness radiating off the card I already held. Did I want to do this?

“It’s Kim, right?” she asked, and instead of being irritated that she had to ask, I felt flattered that she had remembered my name at all. She leaned in a little closer, still holding the cards between us. “I might even have to put in an order at Petticoat Fair to find the right thing to wear, if you know what I mean.”

It finally occurred to me she might be flirting with me. Was Mariah queer? I accepted the stack, feeling a thrill almost like I was dropping down the first bump in a roller coaster.

I tried to keep my voice steady as I looked up at this gorgeous, generous, bewitching woman, and promised to see if some friends were free.

“Please come? I can’t stop thinking about her. This might be my only chance.”

“Only chance to what, lose all your money in a pyramid scheme with the promise of some bejazzled rich girl pussy?”

“Celia! That’s why I need my friends with me! Make sure I don’t do anything stupid.”

“Ugh. Girl, when did you get so cute and peppy? Okay. But only because I want some free booze. And to see the inside of her house. I hear she has a big garage full of fancy cars.”

“Inside her house? Inside her boudoir, more like. Aren’t you the least bit tempted to see Mariah fucking Ellwood trussed up in lingerie selling sex toys or whatever? Here, the address is on the back of the card.”

“I mean. I wasn’t. Interested. But now you mention it… It would be kind of thrilling to see her like that. I never thought about how pretty she is. I bet her wax job is probably a masterpiece. You really think the party will devolve into a lesbian orgy?”

“It will if we convince enough friends to come.”

“You came to the right person. Let’s make this a fucking night to remember.”

“Hopefully, a night of fucking to remember!”

“All done with the account and routing number? Good job, we’re almost done. This part here covers the liability release, just initial here, honey. And this is the non-disclosure agreement—” Here she raised her voice melodically, seeming to call out all her rich friends in their elaborate satin lacy outfits. “Remember, what happens at Mariah’s Special Parties…”

“Stays at Mariah’s Special Parties,” I finished eagerly, as did a few of my own friends. We looked like a rag tag group that got lost on our way to seduce someone, anyone, at Nickel Beer Night. But even if our bras and torn fishnet crop tops didn’t match, didn’t even fit all that well, we at least looked confident. I thought we looked sexy as hell.

I was amazed how eager everyone seemed, right from the moment they walked in the door of this goddamned mansion.

“It seem weird to you to have an NDA for something that’s supposed to make money by word of mouth?” Celia, my bestie-with-benefits, fiddled with her cocktail garnish and looked somehow both turned on and distrusting. She pulled off “slutty with standards” in the best way, strutting a bit in her shiny patent leather thigh-high boots. I recognized them from her beloved Catwoman Halloween costume, but I wasn’t about to mention it.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re suspicious. Don’t get your panties in a twist, that’s probably just to make sure we feel comfortable being open and carefree.”

“I’ll do what I want with my panties, thank you very much.”

I signed on the dotted line and felt positively drunk with anticipation.

Celia followed suit and soon she was leaning forward, her thighs spread wider than she probably intended.

Mariah glided to the front of the room, her satin robe unbelting at just the right moment to reveal a truly sumptuous outfit, all rounded curves and lacy bodice. All eyes locked on her.

“Thank you for coming, ladies. It’s been too long since any of us added to our collections, hasn’t it? Rest easy, my sisters, your patience will be rewarded.” I had expected her to launch into a sales pitch to us, but the rich women applauded.

Something about the scene made me think of a coven of witches gathered around their priestess. As if they were waiting for her to begin the ritual. But if Mariah and her friends were the witches, what did that make us?

Mariah smiled warmly as if at an inside joke, and gestured to an assistant in what could almost be called a work-appropriate maid outfit. She teetered on four-inch heels as she guided a large rolling cabinet to the middle of the room.

“And for all those who came tonight to satisfy your curiosity!” She spread her arms wide towards my friends and me, welcoming, encouraging. I leaned in. She gave a regal curtsy and made the kind of flourish with her hand that might have made more sense on a magician’s stage. “I would like to welcome you with a taste of the elegant lifestyle that awaits you. Ladies. My collection.”

The cabinet seemed to radiate something a little more than elegance. It had been carved from some beautiful golden wood into a custom-made display. The assistant—maid?—leapt into action, opening doors and drawers. Each one had its own internal light, so that when we peered into the compartments, each object within glowed on display against white velvet.

We gathered close and the room filled with the sounds of our awe. Gasps and light moans of envy.

I had never seen sex toys like these. None of us had. One reminded me of a carved wooden wand. Another, a sinuous glass massager that sparkled with tiny galaxies. Some were gaudy, some scary, others lovely beyond description. There was an intricate leather paddle just begging to be gripped in a strong hand. To be spanking someone rosy red. There was something like a ray gun right out of Rocky Horror Picture Show, only clearly intended for penetration. Dr. Frankfurter would have ordered one for the whole cast.

Each toy was undeniably a unique work of art. I found myself thinking that, for a sex toy, this had to be the best life possible. The pinnacle.

I deliberately tried not to think of my own humble shoe box under my bed. Maybe I’d wrap it in a pretty scarf when I got home.

I felt momentarily disappointed. If this is what Mariah was selling, I had no hope of affording any of it. But maybe we’d get to play a little, before going back to our drab little shoe box lives. The thought gave me hope.

“Quite an inspiration, isn’t it?” Mariah continued. “Well, my lovelies, we’re going to get things started with a sexy little game. To get to know each other.”

I glanced at Celia, who was notorious for hating ice breakers. She was licking the cherry from her drink and making eyes with a woman in pink across the room.

“If you could be a sex toy, what kind of toy would you be? Give it to us in all the detail you can. Don’t hold anything back. Make yourself as elaborate and erotic, as sensual and kinky, as extra as you possibly can.”

“Tell them what the winner gets,” said the woman in pink, still eyeing Celia.

“The winner? Well. The one I like the most… she gets to be mine for the night.” With that cryptic statement, Mariah shrugged her robe off her shoulders suggestively. My mouth went dry.

She gestured to a shelf of fancy art supplies.

I picked up a glittery marker in my favorite shade of lilac purple and before I could even pause to consider what safe, socially acceptable fantasy I might draw, my hand began sketching as if it had a mind of its own.

“Whoah,” I said. “Wait a minute, how’s it doing this?” I said, more in awe than in alarm. I should have been worried to see my most private fantasy sketching out in bright purple detail.

It was lewd. It was kinky to an embarrassing degree. I should have been mortified, or at the very least concerned that it wouldn’t make sense. Instead I actually giggled about it, and held it up eagerly for Mariah to see.

She collected my sketch without looking. Soon she had a stack of them, and as my friends and I watched with dazed amazement, she passed them out to her waiting audience of rich women.

They made various noises of appreciation and amazement, passing around our work.

I was trying to decide how to feel. Disappointed that Mariah hadn’t even looked at mine. Nervous that I wouldn’t be chosen. Apprehensive that I wouldn’t even be given the chance to explain it, or even make it to first base with someone, let alone Mariah.

Then the bidding began.

I’d like to tell you who chose whom. Which of my friends went to which rich woman. But amid the chaos, all I remember is being riveted by Mariah. She pulled one from the collection, then smiled as she folded it and tucked it into the front of her corset. I had no real way of knowing, but I felt certain it was mine.

The rest of the bidding was a blur. An argument broke out, but it can’t have been intense because they resolved it with a light spanking. The ladies in their fancy laces and silks seemed to be having the time of their lives, and my friends weren’t far behind.

The women each lay their drawings at their feet. Without knowing how or why, we each rose and went to our own drawing, without guessing, without fail.

With a tremendous thrill, I stood before Mariah. “I knew it!” I whispered. Celia was no longer by my side, instead grinning before the woman in pink.

As one, the women stood and rested their manicured hands on our heads. As one, we all shivered. Light seemed to fill my vision. Pressure from Mariah’s palm was all I could feel for a long, delicious moment. As the light cleared, I gasped. We all did.

She was pushing me smaller. As if compressing my entire body into a tinier shape. Effortlessly.

I opened my mouth to gape up at her, to ask how she was doing this. Why was she doing this?

Instead, all that came out was a gushy, fangirly, “Why did you choose me?”

She shrugged, still pressing. Still pushing me smaller. My eyes were level with her breasts when she answered. “I don’t have any in my collection yet that have retained some of their, shall we say, identifiably human qualities.” She smirked down at me. “If I’m being honest, I was charmed by your kinky imagination. I want to acquire you.”

I was so close to her that I could see the details of her corset hooks as she pressed me lower. I almost leaned against her stomach, leaned into her warmth. “Besides. I’m a sucker for dildos with big balls. And you drew the biggest, roundest pair of cohones I’ve seen since I started these parties.” I blushed at the praise. It was praise, right? “In fact, let’s see what we can do about bringing those out sooner, rather than later. I want everyone to admire them with me.”

She bent lower for a moment, shocking me by reaching between my legs and sliding my panties to one side without ceremony. As if they were her panties and I just happened to be wearing them for the moment, but she would do as she pleased and I would like it.

I did like it.

She stroked my pubic hair and my labia, tingling fingertips grazing over my clit and then down to the base of my vulva. She held her palm there, her other hand still warm on the crown of my head. I felt balanced between her touch, and an incredible warmth spread through me.

I moaned. A weight blossomed in my body, spreading down to fill Mariah’s gentle grip. Her thumb caressed my clit and a second weight joined the other in heaviness. Throbbing. Larger.

Bigger.

I want to say here that I had no idea what was happening. I could protest that this sensation had caught me totally off-guard. That no part of me was prepared for this experience. That it was only Mariah’s desire that made it possible. And maybe someone out there would believe me.

But Mariah knew. As she smiled down at me, laughing, luxuriating in the expression on my face and the power she held over my body, she locked eyes with me. And she knew how badly I wanted this. Exactly this.

I filled her hand. Spilled my round, sensitive flesh over the edges of her fingers. I throbbed, my erect clit swelling into a cock that brushed against her wrist, slid over her forearm.

I swayed, dizzy. Her hand on the top of my head held me in place. Pressing me smaller until the edge of her corset rose above me and her panties appeared.

I moaned for her, obediently filling up my new cock and balls with all the desire I had for this fantasy made flesh. For her. And maybe, yes, for me.

More gasps and sounds of pleasure were coming from around me. Nearby, Celia’s was paired with a stretchy sound like leather or latex, and part of me wanted to look and see. Not from fear, but from arousal and curiosity. What really, secretly turned her on?

Mariah’s gaze held me steady. And her voice. “What was your name, honey?”

“Kim?” Why had that come out as a question? I blinked, distracted as she pushed me another inch smaller.

She stroked up my balls to my cock, dazzling me with sensation. “You sure about that?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t, really. The head of my cock throbbed between her hand and her arm, a totally new feeling that took up all my attention. It was hard to focus on anything else, hard to imagine anything that could be more important than her touch on my new skin.

“Remind me, my sweet little toy, how big were your cock and balls in your drawing? In your fantasy?”

This was something I could answer. “Big.”

“How. Big.” She had stopped shrinking me, but she was so tall by now, well over double my height. I looked up at her and felt small and aroused and confused. I whimpered.

She stroked back down my shaft and cupped my balls more tightly, though they were now twice the size of normal balls and wobbled in her grasp. It was strange and wonderful to feel their fullness, to feel her touching my body in a way I could only imagine before.

“Tell me, toy.”

“Bigger than… than me…” I blushed furiously and buried my face in her lace panties.

The angle of her hand changed, so that she held the back of my head and pushed me towards her, making me nuzzle her pubis mons through the fabric. The scent of her was luscious.

“I’ll make you a proper toy when the time is right, maybe something in a pretty color and more or less portable, I think. But right now I want to feel you grow while you lick me. In fact…”

Her hand left my new, aching genitals and took my shoulder. She guided me quickly, effortlessly to the ground. I lay on the polished marble floor, watching in amazement as she straddled me, shimmied out of her panties, and with considerable grace, lowered her beautifully groomed pussy down onto my mouth. She had chosen to face my cock and I had barely opened my lips to taste her when I felt the shock of her hands firmly grasping the base of my shaft.

Tugging me larger.

I was so small at this point. Half size at least, my shoulders trapped between her knees, under the weight of her beauty and power. I licked her and was suddenly mad for the flavors slipping over my mouth and cheeks and face. It tasted like everything was finally right with the world.

She made me groan as she stroked me. I realized I hadn’t even looked at myself, hadn’t even laid eyes on my new body. My eyes had been locked on her. And now, trapped between her thick and powerful thighs, all I had to gauge the size of my cock was her touch. Her hands on me felt seemingly smaller by the second, when I knew—when I could feel with certainty—that it was my cock swelling instead.

I could gauge my size by one other measure. My balls were swelling tightly, seeming to rock back and forth over my thighs with the desperate movements I made. It was as if they were filling up with my desire for this woman, to please her, to be what she wanted me to be.

I licked her, and I swelled for her, and she rewarded me by leaning forward, up off my mouth as I made a sound of protest, and then stroked my huge, thickening shaft between her now-open corset. Into the softest swell of skin I had ever felt. The most sensitive part of my body I had ever felt dove into that part of her like I was meant to be there. “Oh my God,” I said, gulping down air.

“Oh my Goddess, to you, toy,” came her voice from above me. “Enjoy it while it lasts. This is the only time I’m planning on showing you off like this.”

“Ladies, what do you think of my new toy?” she called to the room.

I blushed, even with the heat already making me pant as she raised and lowered herself, almost in reach of my mouth.

I was not prepared for the way it would feel for people to applaud me. They literally clapped and cheered. My cock twitched in response, swelling more in that moment than it had in any other growth spurt she had coaxed out of me so far. The weight of my shaft and my balls were practically trapping me in place, if she hadn’t been already. It felt as if it doubled in seconds.

More cheering. I moaned, and she rocked her vulva back down on top of me, as if hiding the rest of me and just showing off my cock and balls, stroking me, hugging me. The sensitive head felt so tight it might explode at any moment, but even as I felt afraid I might shoot my load before this goddess commanded it of me, I knew that wouldn’t be possible. I could feel it, and shuddered with a deep desire to serve. To obey.

My new cock responded by swelling bigger. I could now feel the round, hot weight of my balls spreading down over my knees and shins. I tried to lift my hips to meet the goddess’ breasts, holy fuck, was she nuzzling my cock head with her face? And stroking my balls in tender handfuls, too. I moaned and licked and tried to thrust upward, but succeeded only in growing bigger. Thicker. Harder. Heavier.

It became a rhythm, kinky and intoxicating. Lick her soaking pussy, thrust pathetically upward, twitching stretching straining, bigger, bigger, cheers as the goddess stroked me bigger, bigger, lick, thrust, bigger, bigger, cheers, bigger, so impossibly big—

“Well done, toy,” she purred, licking my shaft and reaching a hand up to stroke and press against the tip of me. “It’s time to get you down to a more fuckable size. But rest assured, I will be fantasizing about this moment every time I use you.”

That should have left me with a chill, but instead it left me desperate to become whatever she considered fuckable.

She lifted up off my body, graceful as ever, and stepped to the side so I could finally see the absurdity that sprouted from between my legs. I was huge. Huge beyond all possible measure. I wobbled as thick as a tree trunk, with testicles far bigger than my breasts. They were practically a pair of beach balls swaying lewdly on my thighs.

Her hand never left the tip of my cock, and I shivered as our contact was reduced to her small fingers playing over the red, swollen skin.

People cheered one more time and she gave a little artful curtsey, gesturing to my cock as if it were a sculpture she had made herself. Then she looked down at me. Smirking once more.

This time she pressed against my cock head instead of the top of my head. I should have taken it as a sign that my usefulness, my identity, had already shifted. At the time, I just took it as a hopeful sign that I was somehow about to become more fuckable.

She pressed down onto my cock and I felt the warmth, the compression, begin to take all of me together, outlandish proportions and all, pushing me smaller, down, shrinking in place.

I was already on the floor so it was hard to compare my size, but soon my shaft shrank down past her hip, brushed down her thigh, her knee. She bent down and picked me up, and sweet fuck was that a rude awakening.

Lying prone on the floor, I hadn’t paused at any point to realize that my own cock was taller than I was. I did when she picked me up in her hands, though. Enormous hands. One wrapped completely around my torso and hips.

The other lightly stroked my shaft that stretched out before me like a bizarre carnival ride that I was somehow attached to. She squeezed my cock head, eliciting a helpless moan. She squeezed my balls, pulling a deeper groan. She lifted me to her face, nuzzling the balls. “Oh yes, so soft and full. Very good balls in this toy.”

She considered me.

“Do you think you could walk like this?”

I looked from her to the erect penis throbbing before me like a downed telephone pole. “I mean, I could try—”

She strode with enormous, confident steps to a nearby chair, swaying me wildly at her side as she moved. I caught a glimpse of the woman in pink stroking lube onto a black latex harness with a wicked, twisting, built-in dildo. I craned my head to see more, but Mariah’s leg soon blocked my view.

She sank down onto the chair and held me between the walls of her thighs.

If I had felt dizzy before, it was nothing to the headrush of watching her massive vulva spreading open before the biggest dick I had ever dreamed of possessing. I wobbled. I thrust my hips, more pathetic than ever, completely powerless in her grasp. Had I really just fit my mouth over the lips of her pussy just moments before? She was huge. She was everything.

I wanted to be inside her like I had never wanted anything before in my life.

She looked down at me, appraising. She tapped a lip with a finger, turning me this way and that. “You were so big before. Even if you’re a good size for a toy now, I think I want a little more.”

She grinned. Held me closer. I knew, logically, it must have been only a few inches. But to me, it looked as if my ten-foot cock were still at least a yard away from the blissful warmth of her body. I wanted. I wanted, with everything in me, to slide inside her.

“Want to come inside?” I nodded enthusiastically. “Of course you do. I can tell you’re already a good toy.” I smiled shyly—shyly!—up at her. “Well, if you want to become an excellent toy, I’m going to need you to grow. Just a little more.” She changed her grip and I was shocked to feel her hand cupping my balls again. I no longer spilled over the edges, but then again her hand seemed like a queen-sized mattress to me.

As for me? I now felt nude and exposed and suspended above the thick base of my cock, magically sprouting from my hips to become this thick monster.

My balls no longer tugged that strange weight between my legs because she was supporting them in her hand. She shifted one thumb and finger up to my shaft to better guide my unwieldy length.

The goddess reached her other hand down, stroking down my face, down over my breasts with a fingertip the size of a throw pillow. I arched my back, moaning, grateful, and yearning for more when she raised it up the mountain range of her body to stroke her own breast.

“You heard me, right?” Her voice took on a tinge of disappointment and I desperately wanted to fix that, to please her, to make this right. What had she said? She needed me to grow. Just a little more.

I looked from her distant, benevolent gaze to the thick shaft stretching out before me, and the gargantuan pussy glistening just out of reach.

I rocked my hips, uselessly.

I reached forward and stroked what I could of my own shaft, ineffectually.

I moaned, helplessly.

I felt lost in my own desire. It throbbed inside me. No—it throbbed inside my shaft. The sloshing, swelling weight of my balls. Not in my face or arms or breasts or stomach or legs. I was thinking of this wrong. The gravity of my life had shifted. It was no longer about me.

I was here to guide, to support, to witness, this toy. To pleasure her with the biggest, thickest, cock I could possibly provide.

I tingled, the skin of me tightening. I groaned. And grew.

“Yes, you’re getting the hang of it,” the goddess murmured.

I let my body ache for her. I let the desire of my cock, to be warm, to feel the wetness of her, fill me up, every single, stretching, growing, inch of me.

Closer.

I could feel my own wetness dripping down my tip, not unlike how my pussy used to drip down my thigh. Now it dripped down the ridge of my glans, and I could feel it trickle over a vein that throbbed with my need to be bigger for her. To obey her, no matter what it took.

The next swelling moment of success, I realized what was happening.

I was giving my size to this monster.

It didn’t just look bigger because it was bigger. It grew as I shrank.

As I gave more of myself to the toy I was becoming for her.

The gravity of my life shifted even more, until I was just locked in the orbit of this gargantuan cock, this throbbing thick shaft levitating towards the goddess’ vulva through her power, not mine, through her benevolence, through her generous desire, letting me grow, letting me give up my size so I could inch closer, and now I could see that it was inches away and not a yard like I had thought, because my cock was me, I was my cock, I served it, I became it, just as I served her and became her toy.

My balls swelled rounder, heavier, swaying loose as she changed her grip on me. Her hand was now bigger than a king size mattress…

No, her hand was her hand, and I was now smaller than five inches in her hand. I throbbed, shuddering with pleasure as I willingly relinquished myself to four inches. My cock had to be over a foot long, and my balls swayed with gravitas, with a proud presence that I knew she liked.

So close. So close. I gave up another half inch, dwindling in her hand, my arms braced against the wrinkles of her palm as her enormous fingers gripped me, guided me, held me in place so teasingly, tantalizingly close, as I moaned my tiny devotional moans and dribbled more precum, enough that it began to gush desperately down my tip, my shaft, lubing myself for the promise of entering her if I could just—if I could only—

I wanted to be worthy of her—

I sacrificed another whole inch, dwindling to two, maybe two and a half inches, barely able to see over the top of the thick shaft that made up my world now.

It was enough.

The tip of me touched her.

The touch was more sensual than I ever remembered touch being, before. Warm, hot, the heat cloying and glorious, comforting in a way it only could be for a toy in the hands of its owner.

The goddess—

Goddess—

Guided me inside.

And my world became her.

Wetness surrounded my throbbing glans, throbbing with me, the heartbeat of my Goddess, pulling me

Inside

And I couldn’t control it, because I had given up my control

Because a toy doesn’t control things, a toy is a thing, a thing to be controlled, for pleasure

And pleasure swallowed me

Inch by inch, the success of it, the joy of this pleasure, the triumph, lost in the yearning, undeniable knowledge tightening in my balls at the sound of my Goddess’ moan as she pushed me inside, the unshakeable certainty that I needed more, she needed more, SHE, She, needed more from me, She took me deeper, and She pushed me fully, oh Goddess, fully fully inside Her

I couldn’t think, could hardly bear witness to the profound pleasure of Her all-encompassing body

swallowing me whole, except for the tiny part remaining outside, wrapped in Her hand, the part left to witness, to gaze up the undulating length of Her mountainous body and breasts, to lock eyes, to have the temerity to look Her in the eye, to understand what She meant when She laughed

when She

smirked at me

and pulled me out out out into the cold air, glistening,

her voice radiating around me as she spoke: “I love this moment. Yes, you’re mine now, aren’t you?”

the way I surrendered when She said, “you feel amazing, but I want you to look amazing, too… as pretty and sparkly purple as in your drawing…”

the way this bewitching deity drew Her fingertips from the top of my head, down over my breasts, down my stomach, over the thick eternity of the shaft that ruled my life now, changing me

the way I shimmered for Her,

the magic of my worship transforming me completely into the kinky purple creation on that piece of paper tucked into Her bodice, no turning back now

because I shivered with color, all hues of lavender, lilac, deepening to a silken glittery purple as deep as an aubergine

then, my transformation complete, She stroked me slowly back in, all of me moaning, throbbing, shuddering in the heat of Her grip

my balls swung against the curve of Her ass cheeks and I nearly lost my mind at how proud I was of that sensation, how heavy and good and big they were, my roundness against Her roundness, because I knew that my Goddess liked that, some part of me remembered She liked that and I was so eager I tried thrusting and my face burned when She laughed and did what She wanted with me. Used me.

Thrusting me Herself. In and out. Deeper, oh Goddess! Deeper until I met the part of Her within that held me, stopped me, braced against my sensitive cock head,

and She gripped me

the whole long shaft of my body quivering in Her hand, almost my whole body, but the only part that mattered as Her toy

Her toy,

in and out and giving myself to Her pleasure, lost in the devotion of serving Her

until She clenched around me, crying out in ecstasy, Her enormous grip closing hard around me and the small, barely conscious human part of me that cried out too, a moan of exquisite pleasure close on the heels of Hers.

I cannot describe for you the sense of triumph from cumming inside a Goddess as you worship Her. The pinnacle.

Trust me, as She cleaned me and carried me to my new place, prized among Her collection, I had no regrets. Well. The majority of me, anyway.

The parts that mattered most.

 

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Header image credit to Dainis Graveris through a Creative Commons license on Unsplash.

 

Published inEroticaMusingsShort FictionWriting

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