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Description

Michael and Tiffany's marriage completely fell apart not long after the Shrinking Virus robbed Michael of nearly fifteen inches of height and a hundred pounds of mass; his frame and presence resembling that of a 4th-grader. It wasn't like their marriage was particularly strong during the early days of the sickness, but at least the respect was still there. Tiffany started refusing her husband's advances soon after his eye level dropped under her own. She'd always hated short men, and had said as much on several occasions while flirting with the six-foot-one suitor who would eventually become her husband. The idea of bedding a man smaller than her was too much for Tiffany to handle; even though she still loved her husband and admired his stoic demeanor while facing the disease. However, Michael started to notice even his wife's respect for him as a man start to fade over the weeks as his size increasingly dwindled. A sideways glance here, an impatient tone there, a subtle eye roll when he asked her to reach something in the kitchen; all foreboding indicators which become increasingly apparent to Michael. Eventually, even sentences which she would normally frame as questions started to sound like statements; like "should we go to the Park today" became "We're going to the Park today".

Though this creeping loss of masculine authority bothered Michael, it was nothing compared to what happened near the end of the shrinking process. After passing the one foot milestone, Tiffany casually brought another man into their house. Having become increasingly psychologically stressed by his predicament, the couple often would not speak to each other for days at a time; but Michael still never imagined that things had gotten this bad in their marriage. The unfamiliar stranger was a mountain of a man whom Michael couldn't recall ever meeting, and yet Tiffany seemed extremely familiar with him. The Giant, as Michael would eventually think of him, would come by every couple of evenings to take Tiffany out on a date; occasionally spending the night upon their return. When together at home, they giggled and flirted openly as Michael generally tried to keep a safe distance; hiding behind corners and under tables as the much larger man kissed, caressed, and cuddled his wife right in front of him. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

But the worse was yet to come. Eventually, The Giant moved into their house to live with Tiffany full time. At this point, Michael was no more than three inches tall and was forced to spend the majority of his day in a glass jar sitting on the bedroom dresser, accompanied only by a soft cotton ball and a thimble. Tiffany would periodically drop apple wedges, or a few shreds of chicken, or a slice or two of banana into the jar to keep her husband fed; dumping him out, washing the inside of the jar, and replacing the cotton ball daily to keep things as sanitary and tidy as possible. From Michael's perspective, this was evidence that at least some small spark of love still existed in their marriage. Or so he thought.

The dreadful day came on a crisp Tuesday evening in October. The Giant let himself in from the cold with his own key before marching directly into the living room, his presence announced by a once warm and familiar door chime which now brought a shiver up Michael's spine; signaling his imminent demotion within the household pecking order. Michael could hear The Giant's hurried and heavy footsteps from his glass bedroom prison; listening intently to his wife's feminine giggling turned loud cackling between their muffled living-room banter. Soon thereafter, Michel heard his wife playfully scream; an exaggerated chortle would better describe the sound. . . followed by a single set of quickly approaching footsteps. Just then, the bedroom door flung open to reveal the nude bulk of The Giant as he effortlessly carried Michael's wife over the threshold like a sack of feathers. A disturbing sight from Michael's perspective, given his wife's enormous size. Reduced to performing menial tasks around the house when not imprisoned, Michael recalled the immense struggle it took for him to drag only one of his wife's high heeled pumps across the floor in order to polish it; but her new boyfriend could lift and carry her entire body without any effort. This realization put an emphasize on just what a tiny cuckold he had become.

Throwing Tiffany onto the tiny cuckold's marital bed, The Giant needed only to issue a single commanded. "Strip," he ordered in a baritone voice. The Giant's erotic hold over his lover was intense, compelling Tiffany to instantly bend to his masculine authority; his intoxicating power standing in stark contrast to her puny husband trapped within the jar on their dresser. A few minutes later, both lovers were writhing on the bed in full view of Michael. And though he had watched his wife and her lover fuck each other several times over the past few weeks, Michael was shocked when they finished and the Giant made his way over to his jar. This was new. Tiffany's lover seemed to have gone out of his way to ignore Michael in the past; never really acknowledging his presence even when occupying the same room. "Hey! What are you doing?!" Michael yelled when his rival's immense hand entered the jar, encircling his tiny pink body firmly with the rough and leathery palm of his enormous hairy hand. Michael screamed and twisted in a panicked rage as he felt one of his legs being pinched between two of The Giant's thick fingers; turned upside-down and left dangling from what seemed like hundreds of feet above the floor. Michael then felt his momentum shift as The Giant gingerly walked him towards the bed.

Michael's wold was a dizzying blur of distant shapes and colors as he felt himself lifting upwards between the Giant's fingers. Looking backwards and over his own shoulder, Michael was finally able to make out that he was dangling right in front of his wife's face. And there, upon Tiffany's face, was a look that he had never before seen. She didn't even bother to glance at her husband's shrunken naked body dangling directly in front of her. She only had eyes for The Giant, and she kept those eyes tilted upwards as if transfixed; completely taken by pure lust. And just then, Michael heard The Giant say something so bizarre that the boldness of it completely astonished him.

"Swallow your husband."

The little man initially scoffed at the statement. Tiffany still loved him. There is no way she would do something like. . .

The little man's thoughts were interrupted upon feeling a gust of hot wet air blast against his back. Twisting at the hips and glancing over his shoulder once again, Michael was horrified to see his giant wife's mouth agape; her long glistening tongue unfurled over its pink bottom lip - awaiting its prize.

All the tiny cuckold could do was scream.

------------

See the "nasty version" here:

Description

Michael and Tiffany's marriage completely fell apart not long after the Shrinking Virus robbed Michael of nearly fifteen inches of height and a hundred pounds of mass; his frame and presence resembling that of a 4th-grader. It wasn't like their marriage was particularly strong during the early days of the sickness, but at least the respect was still there. Tiffany started refusing her husband's advances soon after his eye level dropped under her own. She'd always hated short men, and had said as much on several occasions while flirting with the six-foot-one suitor who would eventually become her husband. The idea of bedding a man smaller than her was too much for Tiffany to handle; even though she still loved her husband and admired his stoic demeanor while facing the disease. However, Michael started to notice even his wife's respect for him as a man start to fade over the weeks as his size increasingly dwindled. A sideways glance here, an impatient tone there, a subtle eye roll when he asked her to reach something in the kitchen; all foreboding indicators which become increasingly apparent to Michael. Eventually, even sentences which she would normally frame as questions started to sound like statements; like "should we go to the Park today" became "We're going to the Park today".

Though this creeping loss of masculine authority bothered Michael, it was nothing compared to what happened near the end of the shrinking process. After passing the one foot milestone, Tiffany casually brought another man into their house. Having become increasingly psychologically stressed by his predicament, the couple often would not speak to each other for days at a time; but Michael still never imagined that things had gotten this bad in their marriage. The unfamiliar stranger was a mountain of a man whom Michael couldn't recall ever meeting, and yet Tiffany seemed extremely familiar with him. The Giant, as Michael would eventually think of him, would come by every couple of evenings to take Tiffany out on a date; occasionally spending the night upon their return. When together at home, they giggled and flirted openly as Michael generally tried to keep a safe distance; hiding behind corners and under tables as the much larger man kissed, caressed, and cuddled his wife right in front of him. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

But the worse was yet to come. Eventually, The Giant moved into their house to live with Tiffany full time. At this point, Michael was no more than three inches tall and was forced to spend the majority of his day in a glass jar sitting on the bedroom dresser, accompanied only by a soft cotton ball and a thimble. Tiffany would periodically drop apple wedges, or a few shreds of chicken, or a slice or two of banana into the jar to keep her husband fed; dumping him out, washing the inside of the jar, and replacing the cotton ball daily to keep things as sanitary and tidy as possible. From Michael's perspective, this was evidence that at least some small spark of love still existed in their marriage. Or so he thought.

The dreadful day came on a crisp Tuesday evening in October. The Giant let himself in from the cold with his own key before marching directly into the living room, his presence announced by a once warm and familiar door chime which now brought a shiver up Michael's spine; signaling his imminent demotion within the household pecking order. Michael could hear The Giant's hurried and heavy footsteps from his glass bedroom prison; listening intently to his wife's feminine giggling turned loud cackling between their muffled living-room banter. Soon thereafter, Michel heard his wife playfully scream; an exaggerated chortle would better describe the sound. . . followed by a single set of quickly approaching footsteps. Just then, the bedroom door flung open to reveal the nude bulk of The Giant as he effortlessly carried Michael's wife over the threshold like a sack of feathers. A disturbing sight from Michael's perspective, given his wife's enormous size. Reduced to performing menial tasks around the house when not imprisoned, Michael recalled the immense struggle it took for him to drag only one of his wife's high heeled pumps across the floor in order to polish it; but her new boyfriend could lift and carry her entire body without any effort. This realization put an emphasize on just what a tiny cuckold he had become.

Throwing Tiffany onto the tiny cuckold's marital bed, The Giant needed only to issue a single commanded. "Strip," he ordered in a baritone voice. The Giant's erotic hold over his lover was intense, compelling Tiffany to instantly bend to his masculine authority; his intoxicating power standing in stark contrast to her puny husband trapped within the jar on their dresser. A few minutes later, both lovers were writhing on the bed in full view of Michael. And though he had watched his wife and her lover fuck each other several times over the past few weeks, Michael was shocked when they finished and the Giant made his way over to his jar. This was new. Tiffany's lover seemed to have gone out of his way to ignore Michael in the past; never really acknowledging his presence even when occupying the same room. "Hey! What are you doing?!" Michael yelled when his rival's immense hand entered the jar, encircling his tiny pink body firmly with the rough and leathery palm of his enormous hairy hand. Michael screamed and twisted in a panicked rage as he felt one of his legs being pinched between two of The Giant's thick fingers; turned upside-down and left dangling from what seemed like hundreds of feet above the floor. Michael then felt his momentum shift as The Giant gingerly walked him towards the bed.

Michael's wold was a dizzying blur of distant shapes and colors as he felt himself lifting upwards between the Giant's fingers. Looking backwards and over his own shoulder, Michael was finally able to make out that he was dangling right in front of his wife's face. And there, upon Tiffany's face, was a look that he had never before seen. She didn't even bother to glance at her husband's shrunken naked body dangling directly in front of her. She only had eyes for The Giant, and she kept those eyes tilted upwards as if transfixed; completely taken by pure lust. And just then, Michael heard The Giant say something so bizarre that the boldness of it completely astonished him.

"Swallow your husband."

The little man initially scoffed at the statement. Tiffany still loved him. There is no way she would do something like. . .

The little man's thoughts were interrupted upon feeling a gust of hot wet air blast against his back. Twisting at the hips and glancing over his shoulder once again, Michael was horrified to see his giant wife's mouth agape; her long glistening tongue unfurled over its pink bottom lip - awaiting its prize.

All the tiny cuckold could do was scream.

------------

See the "nasty version" here: