Every Tuesday, at 1100 hours, Dr. Blake
measures me. The moment I first saw her, for my initial Project
measurements, I thought she was a babe. Well, okay, that came later. At
first, I thought she was not a dog, and if she cleaned up, put in an
effort, she might be worthwhile. But she was all business from the very
start. Her clinical approach sucked all the life out of the meetings.
That was alright, I volunteered for Project Deep End for a number of reasons, none of them to meet hot chicks. Sure, the fame and fortune might include hot chicks, but that was down the line. Anyway, as the treatments progressed, and time passed, I got familiar with Dr. Blake, but never really got to know her.
Once a week I entered her office. After the second time it was routine enough that she just gestured me to the measurement stations, and hardly ever spoke. She measured my height and weight, monitored my proportions, and recorded my vitals. Slowly I dropped to her height, then below, then far below. I never had a problem with the Project, unlike some of the test subjects, so we never had to talk about why my arms were too long, or my feet too small. Just came in, got measured, and went out again, once a week.
Until I got down to almost exactly one foot tall. The measurement stations had been moved from the floor, to the examination table, and finally onto her desk. I'd also stopped walking into her office. Technicians carried me around. That day, he handed me over to Dr. Blake's assistant, Terri. Nurse Jones was a certified babe, and as an almost Amazonian black woman, seemed to counterbalance the small and pale Blake. She was also always ready with a smile and quick to engage in small talk. I considered trying to date Terri, but even if Project regulations hadn’t forbid it, I tried to stay professional with her. Old Navy reflexes, never risk unprofessional relations with people who can make either your pay record or your shot record vanish.
She put me on the desk, and Blake started making measurements. As she stretched out my arm, and dictated the measurements to the nurse, I stood like always, and cooperated. It struck me that I'd always taken direction like a soldier, but that day I was Blake's toy soldier. Her voice blurred in the background as I found myself looking straight at her, at her chest. At her breasts. To anyone else, they weren't exactly heaving with her breaths, but at my scale... They were hypnotic. I just couldn't look away. They rose, they fell, and hands almost as big as me moved me around at the same time. It was a disturbingly odd experience. I'd never found myself especially attracted to large, powerful or gigantically overwhelming women, but now I was starting to get excited. Very excited.
I followed the movement of the breasts, up and down, up and down, and then side to side. They started moving in a big circle and that's when I realized she wasn't just breathing. And she'd stopped dictating. I looked up and found her looking straight at me. She'd seen me staring at her breasts, and done the circle thing to catch me. I was busted, no pun intended.
But she didn't get mad. She actually smiled. It was a small smile, but the very first one I'd ever seen on Dr. Blake's face. Betting in the Project bunkroom was that she'd donated her emotions to science...and they'd refused to take them. But she was smiling now.
"You know, Terri," she said, looking at me but talking to her nurse, "I don't think we ever measured Donald's penis." Terri leaned over Blake's shoulder and smiled down at me. Her smile was a lot bigger.
"Actually, Doctor, we have. We have a pre-Project measurement, and we measured it once every other month since. It's remained within normal parameters."
"But," Blake continued, "We never measured it...angry." She pointed. I glanced down, and saw that my Project-Suit was clearly revealing how excited I'd become. As I watched, her finger approached. A fingernail the size of a dinner plate trailed gently down my chest, then plucked my waistband out. She tugged my pants down to my knees, and my cock popped free, to throb under the two women’s scrutiny. She carefully measured it with calipers, and Terri dutifully noted it down. They took great glee in computing the differences in scale, and seeing how big my 'manhood' would be in proportion, if I had been at my original size. Strangely, despite the humiliation of my position, Little Donald didn't wilt.
Then Terri suggested that measuring my cock 'excited' wasn't a useful measurement unless they had an up to date 'relaxed' measurement for comparison.
"Scientifically speaking, then," she suggested, "we owe it to science to take that great, throbbing, example of man-meat down a notch." Why do women get so sarcastic on the subject of penis size? Still, while I was trying to come up with a retort, the doctor took the situation in hand. First she grabbed me around the chest, gently but firmly, and eased me down on the table, restraining me with a single finger. Then she licked finger and thumb of her other hand, and started to jack me off.
She was surprisingly gentle; for all that her fingers were almost as long as my legs. As I lay there, speechless, with two giant faces looming over me, all I could think of was how incredibly 'right' it felt to be there. It also felt pretty damned good, what she was doing to my cock. It was only a few strokes before I shuddered, spunked, and relaxed under the steady pressure of her finger. Blake quietly measured my shrunken penis, showed the calipers to Terri, and she wrote it down. They smiled at me as I slowly stood, pulled my pants back up, and started to say...Hell, I don't know what I was about to say. But the doctor just shushed me, held a 'be quiet' finger to her lips, and walked away. Terri carried me quietly back to the Level Gold bunkroom (just a big box on the table of the Level Bronze bunkroom) and left me there. I crawled into my hammock and was quickly asleep.
Word got around the Project, of course. In a closed environment like Project Deep End, there are no secrets. No one ever said anything to me, but I noticed changes in the people. Men barely talked to me, and wouldn't touch me at all. To carry me around, they bashed together a tool box with some plastic mesh like safety netting, and some foam along the sides and bottom. They gestured, never meeting my eyes, and transported me quickly to wherever I was required to go. Women, though, always picked me up in their hands, and carried me for whatever I needed to get to, even if it was only on the other side of the table. At first I enjoyed the attention, but gradually started to feel just as uncomfortable with it as I was with the men’s reaction. They were treating me less like an interesting person, more like a pet that with a reputation for cunning tricks.
I decided I had to get even with Blake.
The shrinking treatments had stopped, for the while, and I was working with the engineers. It was like something out of Q Branch, lots of gizmos and gadgets. We all pretended that it was merely in the name of science, not like I was a prototype for a whole new area of intelligence operations. But I got to handle and help design quite a few things that were going to help me get my revenge from the good doctor.
I used the attitudes of the people around me to my best advantage. Anything out of reach only required showing a woman I had an interest and then either the object or I would be swooped up and moved. When I wanted to smuggle something back to my room, I just tossed it into my box. Women paid more attention to me than to my carrying case, and men paid zero attention to me, once I was in the box and they knew where to take me.
Soon, I was in the Manager’s office, up on his desk, suggesting that I spend some time in the ventilation system, to see how long I could go without discovery. He looked at a spot two inches over my head and approved it.
The Project team got together at a handy vent screen, wished me well, and watched me climb out of sight with my custom gear. I made sure to leave evidence of my travels, so they wouldn’t worry about me if I disappeared for a bit. I left footprints in a sheet cake’s frosting in the mess, posed a desk toy’s head in a stapler and scratched a suicide note in Documentation, built a nest out of shredder paper in an Admin secretary’s desk plant…the usual ‘mad gnome on walkabout’ stuff.
Then it was time. I made my way to the ventilation shaft outside the barracks, where I had stashed my extra gear, and started shifting it down to the level the Doc’s quarters were. I’d found a map on the Project net, and made a me-sized copy, but it was almost useless. Ventilation is a very jerry-rigged art form. Maps matched reality only by coincidence. And all the straight, clean shafts those TV heroes crawl through? Not made by our contractor. I’m sure they looked fine from the outside, but from the inside there were edges, binds, rivets and nails sticking up, and eddies where dust had collected since the system was built. Finally, though, I found the level, the apartment, the bedroom I’d targeted.
A powered cutting bar made short work of the bolts holding the screen, and clamps on bungee cords pulled it back into place after I shoved my gear through and squeezed out after it. I stashed gear here and there, and then settled back to wait.
Sometime after the end of A shift, her door opened and the doctor walked in. I figured she must have been tired because she was hardly into the bedroom before she was taking her clothes off. She changed into a black satin teddy while I watched from under the bed. Then she turned off all but one light, grabbed a book off the nightstand, and climbed in above me.
I waited patiently, listening to her breathing and the occasional sound of a page turning. After I figured she was engrossed in the book, I eased out from under the bed, staying behind the night table. Sneaking around the edge, I got a glimpse of her upper arm, aimed my dart gun, and squeezed off a round. She slapped at the point I hit her, as one slaps at the feel of an insect. She continued reading. A few minutes more, the book slipped from her hands, and slid down the side of the bed to the floor. She was fast asleep.
I climbed up on top of her bed, and wrapped some Velcro restraints around ankles and wrists. A clear cord that looked like fishing line, but had a name as long as I was connected to each of the restraints. I ran the other ends down the side of the bed, through pulleys I’d attached to the feet, and into ratcheting clamps at either end. I used a powered capstan the size of a walkman to pull the cords taut, listening to the detent arm in the clamp click as the cord was taken up. Soon, she was stretched out and tied down. I inspected each restraint, making sure she was ‘at my mercy’ as the pulp villains liked to say.
I then climbed up onto her and knelt between her breasts. I used a knife to cut her teddy open, little holes around each nipple. I played with them for a little bit, got them quite perky. Then I stood off to either side of her ribs and took pictures with my little digital camera, focusing on her nipples, but with her face clearly shown in the background.
Then I vaulted over her thigh to stand between her legs. More knife work opened a slit in the crotch of her teddy. As sheer as the fabric was, it was probably only my imagination that the feminine smell grew much stronger as I stretched the hole wide. But I certainly couldn’t ignore it. I challenge anyone to stand next to a mini-fridge full of pheromones and not react.
I pulled the last item of my stash out of the mesh bag…a tube of strawberry flavored lubricant. One of the technicians had ‘accidentally’ dropped it in my carrying case as she returned me to my little room. She was probably expecting me to show up in her vent shaft any night now. It was actually an attractive idea, but I had to finish with Blake first.
I coated my arms and the slit of her pussy liberally with the lubricant, then reached in. I rubbed as far in as I could reach, slicking up and down her vagina. I gently teased her clit, and felt her start to react.
She moaned, a deep rumble that I felt through my buried arms as much as through my ears, and her breathing deepened. Just then, it struck me that I was up to my shoulders in pussy, and had a woman over five times my height under my control. The thought, the scent, the sensations…even the very feeling of what I was doing washed over me. I pulled one hand out and pulled my pants down. My cock, already throbbing and sensitive, rubbed once against her pussy lips, and it was all over. I came as suddenly, and as strongly, as I ever have.
That’s when her door opened. I instantly grabbed my stuff, and rolled over her leg to the side of the bed away from her bedroom door. I pulled up my pants and ran to the edge of the bed. I jumped over to her nightstand, and swung around behind a stuffed doll on it. Then I peered through the yarn of the doll’s hair to see who had come in.
Nurse Jones stepped in, in the act of taking off her lab coat. There was nothing under it but a lace bikini set and a whole lot of Terri Jones.
“Ooh, baby,” she purred, “you’re already ready. You’re tied up? That’s a good girl.” She sat gently on the bed beside Blake. The fact that the doctor was dead to the world didn’t even faze her.
“Oh, I see. Someone knocked you out, and tied you up. Now, Jones is here to rescue you.” She dipped her face to lick Blake’s throat. “Of course, it’ll cost you…and I like to get my pay up front.” She nuzzled her ‘victim’s’ breasts, and found the nipples poking out. “Oh, that evil, evil man cut up your favorite teddy. But you have to admire his style, don’t you?” And without waiting for an answer, started licking and sucking them. I watched her mouth cover nipples I couldn’t wrap both hands around, and started getting aroused again. Then I followed Terri as she reached between Blake’s legs and started rubbing. “Mmmmm. Already wet, are you, you naught, naughty kidnap victim. Are you surprised to find that you like being tied up?” She brought her fingers up to lick, and her eyes widened at the taste. “Strawberry? Where did you get…” Suddenly she stopped, and sat up straight. All the mischief was gone from her voice when she spoke again.
“You don’t LIKE strawberry, Darla. And you know I don’t. Why did you….?” She stopped and for the first time all evening, really noticed the state her Darla was in. First she tried to get an answer from her, then a reaction, and finally understood that Doctor Blake was not feigning, she was unconscious. She looked closely at the restraints, and poked her head under the bed to see the clamps. Then she started looking around the room. “Is there a shrenchnaut in the room? A very naughty shrenchnaut?” I figured capture was only a matter of time, so I stepped out from behind the doll. It still took her a moment to notice me. When she did, she crooked a finger at me, and I went to her. Jumped to the bed, and then walked towards her. When I got to Blake’s side, she picked me up and carried me over to a chair across from the bed. Then she set me on her lap and asked what was going on.
I sat on her thigh, and looked up at her face. It was framed nicely by her breasts, like a target in a gun sight. I told her everything. I reminded her of that day in the doctor’s office, and explained how things had changed from that point. How I suggested tools and collected assets and smuggled them all down to this bedroom. I even showed her how a tiny capstan and careful leverage got Blake so snuggly trussed up. Through it all, she just looked at me. Then she placed me on the bed and walked into the kitchenette. I waited patiently to see if she was going to punish me, or just call the Team Leader to come collect me. She came back with a glass of wine, and sat down on the chair. Finally, she showed a huge smile.
“Would you like a drink of wine, Donald?”
“Um, sure.” She dipped a finger in her glass, and leaned forward to allow a couple of wine drops to fall to one of the exposed nipples of her boss. Then she sat back and sipped her drink.
“Go ahead, do your worst” she said, gesturing to the bed, “I wouldn’t think of interfering.”
So I was free to play with the ‘naughty bits.’ I licked the wine up from the beads collecting on my doctor’s boob. That was when she started to wake up. She had a moment to assess her surroundings, but when she started to talk to me, Terri popped up and stuffed a pair of panties into her mouth as a gag. I undressed, and then climbed back up to kneel between her boobs. I rubbed and licked each nipple, using my tongue to explore each and every wrinkle and bump I found. I fondled and frigged, and got more than a few pics to show just how excited my giant victim found the treatment. I even made a point of measuring the growth rate of her nipples as she got more and more excited. All in the name of science, of course.
Then I moved down to lie on her lower belly and reach between her legs. I found her pussy more than ready for my attentions. I played around and near her clit, but never quite touched it. She tossed as much as she could, but couldn’t force me to play more directly with it. Her moans increased, her tossing got quite frantic, before I relented. I scooted closer, and took the tip of it in my mouth. My hands, slick with her juices, slid and squeezed, stroked and petted, reaching down every so often to stroke the walls of her vagina.
Her orgasm almost threw me off. She arched her body and lifted me, like being in a boat on a swell. Then she shook and squealed into her mouthful of lingerie. Then we both relaxed, and lay there as our breathing started to move back to normal. I noticed a sound, and saw that Terri was applauding from her seat at center court. She stroked Blake’s face lovingly, but didn’t remove the gag. Then she turned to me.
“I think I can safely say that that was the most fascinating sex I’ve seen in quite a while. Never thought I’d ever see such a small dom.” She stroked a finger down my back as I curled on the stomach of my ‘conquest’ and continued: “I think I’d like to keep her tied up for a while, though I’m not sure I can follow your act. Is there anything I can do for you?”
I gazed at Terri in speculation. I saw that she was more interested in playing with Darla than with me, at least at that moment. And with my honor restored, I had other obligations. I moved rather lazily over to where my bag and clothes were, picked up the tube of lubricant and asked “Do you know where Technician Gardner’s room is?”
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