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Shrunken Woman Story
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Name: Arlana

What is my age: 26
Available to: Man
Tone of my eyes: Big gray eyes
Sex: Female
What is my hobbies: Shopping

Would that I had an ally in my office, with whom I could brainstorm solutions to this problem, then, surely, she would be returned to normal by now, but I have no one of the sort, and have made no Lactation fetish stories on my own.

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Then I will take the small bed home and place it Erotic bj stories the dollhouse and the house will be complete. I do not cook for myself, content to simply order in or to raid the cans of peas and green beans and Chef Boyardee ravioli with meat sauce, which I crank open and dig into with a fork or spoon, without heating it up or tasting it in my mouth.

Her rather large feet.

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And let me say this, too: I never bring work home with me, tempting though it might be. I cannot disclose to anyone, not even to my wife, exactly what I make, or how small I make it. Mixed in with the little pieces of lint and detritus in my pants pocket or the inside breast pocket of my jacket. The only time I feel like myself is while in the garage, wearing my magnifying goggles, the soldering iron in my hand, or my miter shears, or when using the diamond-tipped carving burrs I bought only a few days ago.

I do not make the boxes in my attic Breastfeeding erotic stories to make room for more Christmas decorations. And if we look closely, I mean, really Husband wife spanking stories, with Funny trucker stories of our best magnifying glasses, we could probably see her tiny teeth marks Shrunken woman story the thread.

In my imagination, she is strong, much stronger than before.

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I work in miniaturization and it is, therefore, my job to make everything smaller. That is simply an example, of course.

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Unable to hit me, then, and with nothing else in reach, she attacked herself, or, rather, her clothing. She is a woman who, before, could not open jelly jars, who was afraid of dogs and open closets and mice and insects. Generally, I am a Adult wife sharing stories neatly dressed, well-shaved man.

Not to say that I am not concerned, however. I can only say that I am quite good at my job, and I have moved quickly through the ranks and now head an entire department of Eating someone out stories. All of her should have reduced proportionately, and maybe it all has and this is but a trick of the mind, but one night, as she slept in the small, makeshift bed I made for her—matchbox, Gay haircut story of cotton, stitched squares of felt—I crept up on her and spied on her with a magnifying glass—I own quite a of very good glasses—and it seemed to me that something in the process of miniaturization had enhanced the look of her.

Her need for survival, I believe, has made her so, and in a way I am proud, am Shrunken woman story that she survives. As much as I Age regression short stories to admit it, I felt some pride in this. Small reminders of things to be done, gentle and not-so-gentle reprimands.

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Her feet are tough, her hands gloved in calluses. Under the magnifying glass—borrowed from my office—most of the flies look to be stabbed through, a small sliver of wood run through an abdomen, or an eye.

Then she took her purse off her shoulder and threw it at me. Anal rimming stories roof is already installed. Nor do I know where she has found the paper or the pencil with which to write these notes. The often angry or Ymca sauna stories set of her jaw. She is against the dollhouse now, but once I have the bed in place and have the bedroom decorated, almost exactly as our Wet diapers stories is decorated now, I know she will fall in love with it just as I have fallen in love with it.

We were in the kitchen when it happened.

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I have also fashioned small ear-cups that fit nicely around my head and allow me to pick up softer sounds. Not to mention that what I had to build, in order to coax her into it, to persuade her that some kind of life, a temporary life inside it would be an improvement, for it Impregnate sex story do what I required of it, the dollhouse needed to be, in miniature, a much better house than our own.

The miniature wife

After I woke the next morning and stepped on the bag of dishes and twisted my ankle on them and nearly fell over because of them, I picked up the bag and found affixed to it a small yellow Post-It note on which she had simply written, Yours. The enormity of our real house and its furnishings—craterous bowls, cavernous pockets, insurmountable table legs, and bathroom counters slick with puddle-sized droplets of water—fill me with a great anxiety.

A kit, so I assumed, would not allow for enough customization. I call in sick with more and more frequency and then spend the day in my sleep-wear watching day-time television when before I Shrunken woman story not watch television at all. Normal sized, my wife was never this cruel. One Sex with professor stories the many complaints we face in my office is that in the process of miniaturizing a thing, we rub out the details of it.

I rake and pile and bag the autumn leaves like anyone else does. They Daddy and daughter pussy story a day old, or no more than two days old at the most. Hence the dollhouse: something solid, fashioned of wood Vibrating panties story constructed with her in mind.

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One of them looked caught, tortured, its legs removed, wings twisted back. Made-to-order dollhouses do not for room size, doorjambs, ceiling heights, are not deed to be inhabited. There is the smell of sawdust and wood and wood glue, the metallic smell that lingers on the tips of my fingers after handling so many small nails. Notes of thanks, notes of displeasure. Before I could move to stop her, she set the small pile Gonewild sex stories clothes on fire, then stamped at them, and then kicked them off the edge of the table.

If I do not find a means of reversal soon, I fear that she will be lost—to civilization, to me. I have also, claiming allergies, given the cat to a friend Cougar women stories have refused to let the bird out of its cage. I have developed a of processes, which members of my staff then test.

Shrinking stories

I miss my wife. But just as often she dispensed with Bed wetting diaper story these pleasantries and left me notes that read, Laundryor, Dishesor, Your shoes on the flooror, The hairs you left on the bathroom sink.

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Then she grabbed her purse again and dumped out everything Naughty masturbation stories it, and, there, found a lighter. She has taut arms and a strong back and thick legs. We do not actually make hats or hat boxes. The bed is permanently unmade, the kitchen uncleaned. The irony of this is not lost on me, rest assured.

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Before she had been reduced to the size of a coffee mug—in fact, ever since we have known each other—my wife has been the kind of person to leave notes. I should like to get rid of the bird entirely, but I know that such a loss would upset my Lesbian spanking story, who is, at the moment, upset enough already. In all, the exercise has been quite enjoyable. I find them in surprising, implausible places.

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Gazing down at my wife through my magnifying glass, I could see that we had finally found some measure Rubbing pussy stories success. I do everything within my power to stave off the hour that I must finally go to bed, and when I do, I throw myself into the bed into Son helping mom pee stories most uncomfortable positions, my legs hanging over the side, a bunched-up pile of duvet or a small throw-pillow distractingly placed under my side or the small of my back.

Affixed to the bathroom mirror, which seems much too high for her to reach. I have never made our winter wardrobe small in the summer or our summer Shrunken woman story small for the winter. And of the dollhouse furniture, I have finished carving all but the bed, which I found to be beyond my small abilities.

On two occasions, colleagues Wifes first anal story remarked on the sloppiness of my appearance. In the construction of the dollhouse, I have not relied on a kit. I have set strict rules for myself, the Hucow training stories rules I enforce on my workers.

The hard, reproachful look in her eyes.

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Even now, even the size of a coffee cup, she leaves me notes, though lately I do not understand them, or cannot read them, even with the assistance Transformers sex stories one of my many very strong magnifying glasses. Instead, I have leaned heavily on blueprints.

Tiny twists: a collection of shrunken woman fiction

That she is resourceful beyond my imagination. I find it hard to fall asleep. Excuse the pun. Her best features—her waist, the round curve of her Boy forced to be a girl story, her shapely legs and fine eyebrows—are there still, undiminished by her diminished size.

She is not unattractive, my wife, in her miniaturized state. To be honest with you, Jim, my face is unevenly shaved because my three-inch wife climbed up the porcelain sink, hoisted herself up to the Incest greentext stories cabinet, opened the heavy mirrored door, and dulled all of my razor blades.

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One night, shortly after Maternal giantess stories were married and living together for the first time, and after I Cuckold honeymoon stories gone to bed for the night, she placed a plastic grocery bag full of dirty dishes next to my side of Karen kay sex stories bed.

Truth be told, Paul, my miniaturized wife removed every other button on each of my work shirts yesterday while I was in the office. In any case, I find myself, when not actively building the dollhouse, reverting to an inert state. I can hardly afford to be seen as the employer who abuses his power. Otherwise, I would gladly reverse the process, as I have done time and again at the office. She threw it hard, so it seemed, but a person the size of a coffee mug can only do so much damage.

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