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Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

It was generally agreed upon by the socially conscious public at large that the correct way to handle a first date was to take things nice and slow; meet up somewhere public where you both feel safe and comfortable, have a nice chat, get to know each-other a little, and see if any chemistry sparks forth. A good opportunity to decide if a second date is on the cards, if you'd rather just be friends, or if it's really just not gonna work out so much.

And, naturally, being a pair of socially conscious members of the public, it was perfectly reasonable for Helga and Harold to meet up at a nice cafe, have a spot of tea, and see where things went from there. Of course, sometimes things don't necessarily progress the way they're supposed to. The tea was had, the conversations were had, but somewhere along the way a few wires got crossed - several important steps were seemingly skipped - and an hour later, Harold was on his knees beside Helga's sofa, feeding grapes one by one into her mouth as she rattled away at her latest game.

"Harold," she said in a gentle, commanding tone, "would you please rub my feet for me?"

"Of course." He replied happily, shuffling over and pulling the huge, thick-soled black boots off Helga's legs, setting them carefully aside before he set to down on the soles of her feet. His fingers kneaded at the flesh, his knuckles pressing against her muscle as she made an approving rumble in her throat. The plinking sounds of the game seemed to be little more than distant background noise as Harold's imagination wandered.

"Harold," she repeated in that same tone, "would you please kiss my feet for me?"

"Of course." He replied, cheeks a little flush as he lowered his head, planting a string of reverent, adoring kisses along the tops of her toes, and the ball of her foot, and generally anywhere else his mouth could reach. She pressed her heel with firm, teasing force against his face; not enough to hurt, but enough to make him move about.

"Squish." She said with a sly grin as Harold kept kissing, even as she smeared her foot all over his face.

She tapped her lip in thought.

"Harold... would you please bring me something lovely to drink?"

He rose at once.

"Of course." He said, trotting over to the kitchen and fetching a bottle from the shelf, pouring it out into an appropriate receptacle as he went. He handed it to Helga, who drank it slowly, never taking her eyes off her game... though Harold got the impression she was still watching him out of her peripheral.

As time went on and the evening sank into darkness, her commands... escalated.

"Harold, would you please kiss my thighs?"

"Of course."

"Harold, would you please take some of those grapes, tuck them between my toes, and eat them?"

"Of course."

"This level is quite frustrating... Harold, would you please give me a back massage, then kiss my ass for a while?"

"O-of course."

Eventually though, as the clock neared midnight, Helga at last set down the game and sat up. Her smile was almost wolfish as she looked at Harold on his knees, returning the gaze up at her as she rose to her feet.

"Harold..." She said, the sentence hanging in the air.

"..... Yes, Helga?"

Her lips curled faintly upwards.

"... Would you please... shrink for me?"

Harold opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out at first. He was stunned by the question.

"W... huh? What do-" He began, but as he did so, he noticed Helga's eyes.

They were glowing....... and getting further away?

His heart launched into his throat, pounding against his rib-cage as he looked down at his own hands and knees. The entire world was stretching out around him, growing larger and larger... except that it wasn't, of course; he was the one who was getting smaller.

Smaller... and smaller... until he was no bigger than a doll; barely six inches tall at most.

He lurched to his feet, stumbling backwards in shock and awe, staring up in open-mouthed rapture at the sight of Helga as she loomed far above. Her perfectly curved body looked like a black-painted statue of a Goddess, gazing down at a hapless mortal beneath.

"... Harold..." She purred, squatting slowly down, her silken dress pulling back from her thighs as she did so, his face going bright red at the sight of her skin filling the sky, "...hold still for me."

Her hand reached out for him, and in pure, gut reflex he turned to bolt for it. He made it maybe a dozen strides before her fingers effortlessly closed around him, hoisting him into the air like a toy as he struggled in absolute futility, looking back over her shoulder at her gorgeous, grinning features.

The very ground seemed to quake beneath her stride now, as she turned and strolled in the direction of her bedroom.

"H-Helga? W-what are you doing?"

"Well," she replied casually, pushing open the door to her room and stepping inside, "it's been a lovely first date, buuut... I'm afraid I shan't be doing another; I don't date toys after all."

"B-but... then... what are we doing now?"

She chuckled, a deviously wicked little sound, as she caught the door with her hip and slammed it shut behind them. Her free hand flicked off the lights, and the only source of light that remained... was the fading glow of the power behind her eyes.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm having fun with my new toy..."

The sound of her mattress creaking as she lay upon it filled Harold's ears, and he could feel himself being slowly, torturously, rubbed down the length of her body.

"... last command, little Harold....... squirm for me."

She let loose a satisfied giggle... and then, she played.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

It was generally agreed upon by the socially conscious public at large that the correct way to handle a first date was to take things nice and slow; meet up somewhere public where you both feel safe and comfortable, have a nice chat, get to know each-other a little, and see if any chemistry sparks forth. A good opportunity to decide if a second date is on the cards, if you'd rather just be friends, or if it's really just not gonna work out so much.

And, naturally, being a pair of socially conscious members of the public, it was perfectly reasonable for Helga and Harold to meet up at a nice cafe, have a spot of tea, and see where things went from there. Of course, sometimes things don't necessarily progress the way they're supposed to. The tea was had, the conversations were had, but somewhere along the way a few wires got crossed - several important steps were seemingly skipped - and an hour later, Harold was on his knees beside Helga's sofa, feeding grapes one by one into her mouth as she rattled away at her latest game.

"Harold," she said in a gentle, commanding tone, "would you please rub my feet for me?"

"Of course." He replied happily, shuffling over and pulling the huge, thick-soled black boots off Helga's legs, setting them carefully aside before he set to down on the soles of her feet. His fingers kneaded at the flesh, his knuckles pressing against her muscle as she made an approving rumble in her throat. The plinking sounds of the game seemed to be little more than distant background noise as Harold's imagination wandered.

"Harold," she repeated in that same tone, "would you please kiss my feet for me?"

"Of course." He replied, cheeks a little flush as he lowered his head, planting a string of reverent, adoring kisses along the tops of her toes, and the ball of her foot, and generally anywhere else his mouth could reach. She pressed her heel with firm, teasing force against his face; not enough to hurt, but enough to make him move about.

"Squish." She said with a sly grin as Harold kept kissing, even as she smeared her foot all over his face.

She tapped her lip in thought.

"Harold... would you please bring me something lovely to drink?"

He rose at once.

"Of course." He said, trotting over to the kitchen and fetching a bottle from the shelf, pouring it out into an appropriate receptacle as he went. He handed it to Helga, who drank it slowly, never taking her eyes off her game... though Harold got the impression she was still watching him out of her peripheral.

As time went on and the evening sank into darkness, her commands... escalated.

"Harold, would you please kiss my thighs?"

"Of course."

"Harold, would you please take some of those grapes, tuck them between my toes, and eat them?"

"Of course."

"This level is quite frustrating... Harold, would you please give me a back massage, then kiss my ass for a while?"

"O-of course."

Eventually though, as the clock neared midnight, Helga at last set down the game and sat up. Her smile was almost wolfish as she looked at Harold on his knees, returning the gaze up at her as she rose to her feet.

"Harold..." She said, the sentence hanging in the air.

"..... Yes, Helga?"

Her lips curled faintly upwards.

"... Would you please... shrink for me?"

Harold opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out at first. He was stunned by the question.

"W... huh? What do-" He began, but as he did so, he noticed Helga's eyes.

They were glowing....... and getting further away?

His heart launched into his throat, pounding against his rib-cage as he looked down at his own hands and knees. The entire world was stretching out around him, growing larger and larger... except that it wasn't, of course; he was the one who was getting smaller.

Smaller... and smaller... until he was no bigger than a doll; barely six inches tall at most.

He lurched to his feet, stumbling backwards in shock and awe, staring up in open-mouthed rapture at the sight of Helga as she loomed far above. Her perfectly curved body looked like a black-painted statue of a Goddess, gazing down at a hapless mortal beneath.

"... Harold..." She purred, squatting slowly down, her silken dress pulling back from her thighs as she did so, his face going bright red at the sight of her skin filling the sky, "...hold still for me."

Her hand reached out for him, and in pure, gut reflex he turned to bolt for it. He made it maybe a dozen strides before her fingers effortlessly closed around him, hoisting him into the air like a toy as he struggled in absolute futility, looking back over her shoulder at her gorgeous, grinning features.

The very ground seemed to quake beneath her stride now, as she turned and strolled in the direction of her bedroom.

"H-Helga? W-what are you doing?"

"Well," she replied casually, pushing open the door to her room and stepping inside, "it's been a lovely first date, buuut... I'm afraid I shan't be doing another; I don't date toys after all."

"B-but... then... what are we doing now?"

She chuckled, a deviously wicked little sound, as she caught the door with her hip and slammed it shut behind them. Her free hand flicked off the lights, and the only source of light that remained... was the fading glow of the power behind her eyes.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm having fun with my new toy..."

The sound of her mattress creaking as she lay upon it filled Harold's ears, and he could feel himself being slowly, torturously, rubbed down the length of her body.

"... last command, little Harold....... squirm for me."

She let loose a satisfied giggle... and then, she played.