Laksami was a quiet soul, a beautiful young Thai woman with long streams of dark hair that often hid her face as she bent over books or tinkered with her latest obsession ā bugs, computers, drawing, anything that pulled her into a world other than the one she lived in. She was several kinds of nerdy and kept to herself most of the time, her introversion a shield she wore as comfortably as the oversized shirts she favored (and sometimes wore for too many days in a row). But there was a secret she kept tucked away in the soft corners of her mind: she loved the idea of size, of vastness and smallness colliding. She didnāt know what to do with it yet ā she didnāt have the words or know what to do with her fantasies beyond constantly holding them in her mindās eye ā but it hummed constantly in the back of her brain.
On warmer afternoons, when the humid air clung to her skin like a second layer, sheād come out and sit cross-legged in her backyard, the faint scent of lemongrass and damp earth rising around her. Sheād pluck ants from the ground with delicate fingers, their tiny black bodies squirming against her touch. Sheād set them on her arm first, watching their little legs skitter across her skin, a ticklish prickle that made her breath catch. The sensation was electric to her ā such small, fleeting pulses of life against her motionless immensity. Sheād guide them higher, sometimes, letting one crawl along the curve of her collarbone or even, after checking that no one was watching and her mother was out of the house, the edge of her nipple, nudging the ant under her clothing to where the fabric of her shirt brushed just close enough to tease her now-stiff little nubs. Her cheeks would flush, her lips parting as she felt the faint tap-tap-tap of their feet where they shouldnāt be, a secret thrill she didnāt fully understand. Once, on a particularly sticky day, sheād gone out without panties on under her skirt, and picked one lucky (or perhaps unlucky) little ant to make it wander through her faintly damp bush, a ticklish trail just above her tingling womanhood. The sweat there from both the heat outside and the heat inside her was slick and shiny, making her skin glisten. Sheād shivered, eyes wide, caught between fascination and something deeper, something she couldnāt name. This was her secret, intense and lewd and incredible. She wanted to take it so much further, but didnāt know how.
I know what she did becauseā¦ I am ashamed to admit, I sometimes watched her from my window, the boy next door with a crush that burned quiet and fierce. I was her friend ā her grinning, awkward shadow, every bit as nerdy as she ā but she didnāt know how often I traced her silhouette with my eyes, how her shy smile unraveled me the moment she looked away. One day, though, things changed. Fate or mischief or wicked gods, whoever was in charge of such things, handed me a gift: a shrink website where you could put in your information, set a time and date and pick the size you wanted to be shrunk to, and for how long. It workedāI tested it first for a few seconds right there on my computer chair, dwindling to an inch tall in a pile of my own clothing. Then half an inch, for a few minutes. And finally, I found the settings to shrink my clothing with me, and tested out āant-sizedā. Sure enough, I stood no taller than an ant at the appointed time, for a full hour this time.
At last, I was ready to try my plan. One afternoon, I set everything up; my black clothes hugging me like a second skin. I didnāt plan to āspyā on her, not really. I just wanted to see her closer, to be near her in a way I never could as myself. Dressed in black, Iād blend in, just another wandering little speck running around beneath her world. When the shrinking went off, I was right on the edge of my property and ready to crawl along the ground to where she would soon come out to indulge herself. My heart thumped heavily as I crept through the grass that loomed like a forest, her distant presence a siren call pulling me forward.
Laksami was there, as always, perched on the ground with her knees drawn up, her shirt loose and her skin gleaming with the dayās heat. A goddess, worthy of worship. She thought herself awkward and nerdy, but only because she couldnāt see herself from the view of an ant like I now could. I saw her fingers dip down to the earth, lifting an ant with that gentle care I adored. My breath hitched as she set it on her wrist, her lips curling into a private smile as it roamed. I edged closer, my tiny legs trembling with every step, until I stood nearly at the base of her discarded sandal, her titanic bare feet just beyond. She didnāt see me yet ā maybe she couldnāt until I was even closer ā but I saw everything: the sheen of sweat on her calves, the way her hair swayed like a curtain in the breeze, the faint rise and fall of her chest (I tried not to stare. I really did!). I wanted to be near her, to feel her, to get to see more of her the way those ants did, even if sheād never know it was me.
Then it happened. A shadow fell over me, a warm eclipse, and her fingers ā massive, soft, and impossibly gentle ā scooped me up. My world was upended with dizzying speed, air rushing past as she lifted me high. I felt the heat of her skin, the faint pulse beneath it, and my heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement and longing. This is what had wanted. Would she see just another ant, or somehow know it was me and respond accordingly? She tilted her head, her dark eyes studying me ā but not with suspicion, not leaning in as if to make out some tiny detail. Justā¦. Looking. Eventually, she must have had another thought and her eyes flicked away, down her own body. So she was indeed mistaking me for one of her ants, a tiny plaything for her secret pleasures. Her breath washed over me, a humid gust that smelled of mint and something sweet, and then she smiled, that shy, secret smile Iād fallen for. Even if the smile was for her own fun, not for me, it was worth it to see it filling my sky.
With a delicate touch, Laksami set me on her forearm, the landscape of her skin stretching out before me like a golden plain. I froze, overwhelmed by the softness beneath my feet, the subtle give of her flesh as I took a tentative step. She didnāt know it was me, didnāt know the boy whoād so often waved at her over the fence was now the latest little bug-toy trembling against her warmth. But I felt her ā every shift, every sigh ā and it was more than Iād ever dreamed.
Her forearm was a warm expanse beneath me, a living terrain of smooth skin and tiny hairs that swayed like reeds in the breeze of her breath as she leaned close to watch her little ant run around on her. I stumbled forward, my tiny feet sinking slightly into her softness. I wanted to give her whatever she wanted out of this. She watched, her dark eyes glimmering with that quiet fascination Iād seen so many times, her lips parted just enough to show the edge of her teeth. I was lost in it, in her, my black-clad body a speck against her vastness, my youthful crush on her a wildfire in my chest.
She shifted then, a subtle tilt of her arm, and I felt the world quake ā a gentle repositioning to her, a seismic event to me. Her fingers hovered overhead again, for a long moment. A canopy of flesh and shadows, and then they plucked me up again, so softly and gently I barely registered the pressure. My stomach lurched as she lifted me, the air rushing past in a warm gust, and I caught the scent of her skin. Sweat mingled with something floral, maybe a trace of a lotion she used. She didnāt speak (why would she, while thinking Iām an ant?), but her breath hitched, a sound so faint I wouldnāt have heard it as my normal self. Something was stirring in her ā the way her cheeks flushed a deeper bronze, the way her gaze lingered on me with a mix of wonder and fascination and somethingā¦ hungrier.
She didnāt know it was me, her awkward neighbor-boy friend, shrunk down and trembling in her grasp. Obviously. She wouldnāt let me run around on her like this if she did. To her, I was just another ant, another tiny life to use as she wished. But as she held me closer to her face, her exhales washing over me like a humid storm, I saw her hesitate. Her size kink ā the one she hadnāt named, hadnāt fully pinned down yet ā was waking up, a shiver of delight she couldnāt quite hide. Her lips curved into a shy, secret smile. Her cheeks flushed just a little darker. And then she moved me again, lowering her hand with a care that belied the boldness of her intent.
The world blurred, and then I was set down again ā this time on the swell of her chest, just above the neckline of her loose shirt. The fabric brushed against me, a cotton cliff, but it was her skin that held me captive: warm, impossibly soft, and rising with each breath like a living hill. She adjusted herself, leaning back against the tree she sat under, and the motion sent me tumbling forward ā down the slope of her chest, until I landed with a soft bump against the edge of her nipple, hidden beneath the thin fabric. A place I would never have expected to end up, even knowing there was a chance from observing her past āplay-timesā out here.
To her mind, her breasts were small ā too small, even ā as were the dark tips cresting the slight rise of her chest, which sheād barely thought about prior to discovering the first hints of her fascination with size differences. But to me? That nipple was the size of a house, a pink-brown shape that loomed above me, immense and breathtaking. The fabric stretched taut over it as it finished hardening at the mere presence of such a tiny soul ā me ā down where it shouldnāt be. The stiffness helped, relieving the fabricās pressure on me and outlining the nippleās shape, and as she nudged me closer with a fingertip far larger than even the house-scale nipple ā I felt the texture of her body change under me. Her nipple was hard, and her skin was soft, but between the two lay a ring of darker skin that was a landscape of its own, rougher and puckered into tiny ridges and valleys I could wander through and between at my size. And it smelled faintly different, almost a little spicy and sweet. Pheromones, maybe? Iād never noticed it before. Probably because Iād never been literally just a speck on her body before.
āCome onā¦ move around moreā¦ā Laksami murmured, her voice a low, almost frustrated-sounding whimper that vibrated through me, shaking me more than I would have thought possible. She didnāt know I understood, didnāt know I was anything more than just another dumb ant, but I obeyed, my heart pounding as I stepped from her dark ring of tender skin onto her nipple proper. It was warm ā no, hot ā radiating youthful excitement and inexperienced lust against my tiny form, and the texture was a marvel: soft yet firm, giving way just slightly under my weight before springing back. I circled its edge, my hands brushing the faint bumps of her areola, each one a small hill to me, and I felt her shudder ā a quake that nearly knocked me flat. Her breath quickened, a humid wind that tousled my black clothes, and I glanced up to see her eyes half-lidded, her lips trembling with something she didnāt yet completely understand. A moan whispered from her lips, barely audible to anyone but her audience of one, trapped just below on her chest.
She tilted her chest, guiding me with the slightest nudge, and I slowly climbed up the side toward the peak, my hands and feet constantly slipping into the crevices where her skin puckered at an invisibly-small scale. It was overwhelming ā her nipple, this small, cute, tender bit of her, was a colossal and beautiful wonder to me. I wanted to stay here, to lay here, just enjoying the warmth and intimacy of being a speck on her breast forever. I climbed higher, reaching the tip where it still jutted up from the curving landscape of her breast, proud and firm. For a long moment, I just stood there, a speck atop her mountain, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat thrum through it. She sighed then, a sound that rolled over me like thunder, and her fingertip grazed meālight as a feather to her, a landslide to meāurging me to keep moving, to explore. Or perhaps just touching her own sensitive, secret places, no longer focused on me at all as she indulged in her secret thoughts. I didnāt care, I just wanted her to keep me like this. Maybe forever.
I didnāt know if Lakshmi felt me the way I felt her, didnāt know if this was just another game to her or something more. But as I wandered her immense, living peaks and valleys, lost in the vastness of her body, I knew one thing: I was hers, tiny and unseen, caught in the gentle storm of her awakening desire. Eventually, after minutes or hours ā I still donāt know ā she was done with her game and thus also with her toy. With a light flick, she casually launched me through the air back into the brush ā screaming in shock and reflexive fear, though the landing didnāt actually hurt at this size ā before going back inside. I crept back to my home to wait for the eventual un-shrinking ā Iād set it for midnight, so I would be this size for a long time yet. Plenty of time to run and rerun the events of the day through my head.
I would definitely be doing this again. Soon. Maybe someday Iād even tell herā¦
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Part 2:
Laksami didnāt know Iād been shrinking myself down to ant-size for weeks now, slipping through the grass of her backyard to be near her. Each visit, Iād dressed in all black, my heart hammering with a mix of guilt and longing, hoping sheād scoop me up as one of her little ants. And she did ā several times ā her searching gaze and gentle fingers mistaking me for just another hapless little plaything, her size kink stirring more with every encounter. I was her neighbor at normal size, even her friend, but at this scale and disguised this way, I was just a helpless little speck in her vast, warm world, caught up in experiencing the thrill of her touch and the danger of her casual, oblivious power.
The first visit after that initial time, sheād been a bit more direct. Sheād set me on her thigh, the smooth expanse of her skin glistening with sweat under the afternoon sun. Her shorts had ridden up, and sheād nudged me higher, letting me crawl toward the damp crease where her leg met her groin. The air was thick with her scents ā salt and heat and a little early arousal ā and Iād quickly slipped into the shadowy fold of fabric, my tiny body trembling as her pulse thrummed beneath me. It was hot, humidā¦ and amazing. A dream, closer to her most personal places than I had ever dared to hope. Though it was not without its risksā¦ danger struck when she shifted her hips ever so slightly, her thigh flexing inward, and I was pinned briefly in a fold of skin, the pressure immense until she giggled and freed me, unaware of how close she had come to smothering me in the humid vise of her flesh. I did not regret taking the risk, and dreamed of those perilous moments vividly for several nights afterward.
The second time, sheād brought me up to her lips, her breath a warm, humid typhoon as she pursed them to blow softly. Iād clung to her lower lip, a plush and glossy cliff, and felt the wet flick of her tongue graze over me ācurious and overwhelming. Sheād hummed happily, the vibration rattling my bones, and Iād slid down her chin. I fell past the tip of her beautiful face and was sent tumbling onto her chest where sheād pressed me lightly against the swell of her breast with a fingertip once more. The weight was crushing, a moment of suffocating darkness, until she eased off, cooing at me like any other of her secret little toys after a moment of playing a little rough.
By the third time she chose me (she didnāt pick me every time, but a couple times per week per week at most), sheād grown playful ā and maybe a bit reckless. Sheād stripped off her shirt entirely, lying back in the grass with only a thin bra, and placed me between her breasts, a valley of heat and softness. Iād simply basked in the sun there, taking in the magical view of the curves rising like golden hills on either side, until suddenly sheād squeezed them together around me. Light became dark, with the sudden clasp of flesh walls that nearly flattened me. The air rushed out of my tiny lungs, and when she relented a moment later I had just tumbled into the valley again, laying there stunned and gasping. She either didnāt notice how close to the edge sheād pushed me, or didnāt care because her toys were free and plentiful. She just laughed softly, the sound beautiful but dangerous, a gorgeous young woman completely oblivious to how close sheād come to ending me.
Each time, Iād survived ā though sometimes only barely ā and was drawn back by the pull of her, the way her shy fascination was turning into something bolder, lewder, her kink blooming in quiet gasps and lingering touches. Sheād whisper to me sometimes, her voice a low thunder ā āYouāre so tiny, I can do anythingā¦ put you anywhereā¦ serve me like a god, little one!ā ā never knowing it was me, her dumb, enamored little neighbor-boy, risking everything to be part of her secret little world.
Today, though, felt different. I crept through the grass again, my black clothes blending with the shadows, my body no bigger than an ant once the shrink ray hummed to life. Laksami was there before I was, sprawled in her usual spot, her relaxed stillness a contrast to the heat simmering in her eyes. She collected a small handful of ants this time, and I was just one among them. She put each of us into a small jar she had brought with her this time, containing only a damp paper towel floor and a small twig. When she had a half dozen or so trapped in the small enclosure, she screwed on a lid with tiny air holes and picked up the jar to bring it inside with her. My pulse raced as her fingers dipped toward us and wrapped around the jarās walls, blocking much of the light. My heart raced and my thoughts raced faster as I contemplated what would happen next. I had always been able to easily sneak back home after being set back on the ground after her playing. Inside, I would be entirely beholden to my beautiful neighbor girl's whims ā and they might be more intense than usual, in the privacy of her own room...