Chapter Three: Julie's Night
Dressed in a babydoll tee and panties, Julie stared at herself in her bathroom mirror with huge blue eyes as she brushed her teeth. In her room down the hall there was a tiny little humanoid who'd been programmed to do whatever she told it to do. Her heart pounded nervously at the strangeness of the situation: cloning her friend's skin cells to create this tiny little being, soaking in a glass of dissolved aspirin on the nightstand beside her bed. She scrubbed her tongue and the roof of her mouth, staring blankly into the mirror as her mind raced. Was there anything unethical to this? Was it a crime against nature? Was God watching? So many questions she didn't know the answer to. She leaned over and spat into the sink, rinsed, and toweled off her face, taking momentary comfort in the assurance of terry cloth. She looked out the door of the bathroom for a long time before mustering up the courage to return to her own room.
There was the tiny little man, soaking in the glass, smiling vapidly at nothing with the smiley face with which he'd been imprinted. Julie's long, developing legs carried her before the nightstand. Set in front of a chintzy lamp, the glass of water with the "hunkulous" in it was about level with her pelvis. Idly she wondered if and how the tiny creature could see and, if it could, what it saw right now. She tried to imagine the pale flowers printed on her panties stretching before his field of vision, through the distortion of glass and water. Even she was a little awestruck at his perspective, imagining a huge pair of girly hips hovering magnificently before the narrow island of nightstand, and craning one's head back to stare up at the monolithic tower of teenage girlflesh in thin fabric. Shaking her head, she turned and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the sheets down.
After some moments like that, she pensively reached for the diminutive figure in the glass and pulled him out. Drying him off on the blankets at the foot of her bed, she finally set him down beside her left hip and looked at his motionless form. "Well, what do you think, Fred?" she asked him rhetorically. "Your first night alive, alone with me. Are you scared?" She sighed and quietly said, "I sure am.
"I can't believe we have the science to create something like you. I mean, our cars don't hover, we still have to use planes to travel across the country, we don't even have little zap guns or whatever. But we can scrape off a little skin and create a tiny little person who can move around without wires or batteries. Amazing." She reached down to poke what represented his belly. He was very cool to the touch, due to the glass of water, and his arms and legs wriggled for a moment, giving the illusion that he was giggling beneath her fingertip. Smirking at him, she slowly raised up her hips and held them over little Fred. He lay there passively, staring (if he could) straight up into a pony pair of buttocks in white flannel, supported by two narrow, firm tree trunks of thighs. Her ass slowly lowered and all around him went dark. She smiled at her audaciousness and broke out in goosebumps at the sense of his solidity beneath her butt and his coldness against her skin. Taking a deep breath she applied more weight upon him and the mattress beneath them began to sag. She felt the liquid in him begin to redistribute into his limbs; shifting her hips slightly, she worked the tiny humanoid body between her buttocks and applied more of her weight.
"Fred," she called down to him, "grab onto the fabric." She felt his arms squirm in his gesture of not understanding. "You know, my panties . . . rrrgh! Fred, grab!" Two tiny arms writhed beneath her butt, wiping down the massive walls of teenage ass, looking for a handhold. Finally they hooked into her panties and Julie stood up. The water flowed back into his torso as he dangled from her panties, his tiny legs flailing in space and occasionally striking the backs of her thighs. Grinning to herself, Julie started to slowly walk around the room in a circle. Fred swayed slightly as her hips sashayed and he took turns bouncing against each thigh just below the tidy little tuck of her ass. She swung her hips back and forth and banged him against each leg as he clung diligently to her panties. She began to laugh at her antics, spreading her legs and thrusting her pelvis to send Fred swinging to and fro beneath her crotch. Suddenly she stopped and stood up, catching him between her inner thighs in mid-swing and nearly crushing him.
"Fred. . . raise one arm up," she said. The homunculus released its grasp with one stumpy arm and poked it straight up from itself. Julie shivered as what would be its fist raised up into her vulva. "Higher, Fred." It/he shifted its/his shoulders and extended its/his arm, finding trouble entering the dry labia. She noticed at this point that Fred was less an 'it' and more a 'him,' despite his size and origins. ". . . Higher than that, Fred." She couldn't see it, but the homunculus actually extended his reach by morphing his body to accommodate, and slowly the tiny fist entered her vulva.
The other arm lost its grip, however, and Fred fell to the floor at her feet.
Julie stared down at the tiny man-shaped figure, lying on the carpet between her feet. For a moment she felt like a huge goddess, staring down at some idle worshipper left for her to play with. She slowly raised one long foot, drawing it away from the tiny humanoid, letting it hover around mid-shin of her other leg, before flexing her toes and letting it descend slowly past her ankle and coming to rest upon the cool, solid body of Fred. She spread her toes to allow his smiley face to poke up between her big and 2nd toes. She resisted the urge to bellow, "Ho, ho, ho," down at him, but applied some pressure to his cool, fleshy body and commanded, "Fred. . . escape."
After half a second of processing the order she felt his tiny limbs start to flail and look for handholds. Finding none, they attempted to pinch together some handful of carpet strands and pull the body out that way; when he seemed he might make some headway, Julie simply applied a little more of her immense weight upon the tiny body and he gave up that effort. Fred's next tack was to push her off. His strength was not inconsiderable but laughably insufficient for the task. As she stared on bemusedly, Fred's tiny arms tried lifting her individual toes away from his body: her 2nd and 4th toes each pumped rhythmically as he attempted to shove them out of the way. Julie giggled at the pathetic display but admired his fortitude. Occasionally Fred would lose his grip and his arm would get caught between her toes, at which point Julie would pinch her toes together and hold his arm fast. She laughed harder at the perpetual smiley face as his tiny body clearly shuddered with the struggle of freeing his arm. Ultimately he was unable to do so until Julie permitted it, and she felt a spreading tingle in her thighs and belly as her power over him became more and more patently obvious even to her. "I said 'escape,' Fred!" she repeated firmly, trying to keep the mirth out of her voice, and grew more excited as the tiny body squirmed beneath her foot. It started to tickle, so she applied more weight to her little prisoner until he merely rocked back and forth beneath her tender sole. As a final gesture of dominance she swiveled her big toe from the side of his head to rest upon his continually grinning face. Blotting out his expression, she bore most of her weight through the ball of her foot onto his chest and shoulders, and through her big toe onto his head. His belly and limbs swelled up taut with displaced fluid and became less flexible, flailing pathetically around the sides of her foot.
At last she relented. "Okay, knock it off, Fred," she said and lifted her foot. His body reformed itself properly and she ordered him to crawl upon her foot and grasp her ankle; once he was situated, she slowly stalked back to her bed and lifted him gently beneath the sheets as she climbed in herself. She focused on the coolness of the sheets and turned off the lamp beside her, staring into the darkness of her room. The weight of the tiny "man" clinging to her foot never went away.
"Fred. . . tap my toes if you can hear me," she said quietly. Beneath the sheets she felt a dull, stumpy arm tapping her 2nd and 3rd toenails. "Climb down between my feet, Fred," she whispered, and the small body slid along the inside of her foot to stand on the mattress between her heels. "Kiss my ankle, Fred," she ordered, and she felt what must have been his face press against her right ankle. "Come here, Fred," she said, quietest of all, "slowly." She felt two stumpy arms bracing themselves against the inside of her shins as Fred took very slow, ponderous steps up the mattress between her legs. She felt his smooth hips squeeze between her calves and she made no motion to spread them and give him room to move. When he accessed her knees, in fact, she drew her legs slightly closer together, momentarily pinning him between them. Her breath was getting more excited as she felt his arms blindly fumbling in the valley between her thighs, and his legs lifted from the bedspread as he attempted crawling upon her thighs pressed together. She raised one long, thin hand to her chest to better feel her racing heart as the little "man" determinedly crawled his way up her smooth, lightly tanned legs, getting closer and closer to her crotch.
It was torture to resist the urge to close her thighs on him, to lie there and hold still for the gentle but determined shifting between her legs. His warm, fleshy body caressed her skin in his passing and as he fought his way between her muscles he pushed buttons she never knew she had. She'd masturbated before, she knew how to crudely sate herself, but never having been with a lover before she had no idea what another's touch could elicit. To feel this tiny "person" pushing onward between her legs was a tremendous rush; even moreso to realize that she was in complete control of it, not only in her ability to administer orders to it but to simply physically overpower the creation with nothing but her own natural strength. To test this concept she scissored her thighs gently shut, with a broad grin upon her face. As imagined, Fred was stopped in his tracks and took a moment to recover. While the salicylic wash inside his body gooshed to his extremities, the concept of narrowing his lower half to squeeze out from between her legs didn't seem to occur to his programming, and he tried a more brutish effort to reach the goal, her groin.
Holding him there provided such great satisfaction, it was all Julie could do to keep from bursting out with exultant laughter. Instead she bit her bottom lip, lying there in the darkness, and slipped her free hand down beneath her panties. Her fingertips ran over where new hair had begun sprouting from her mons and down between her lean inner thighs. She tugged back on the skin above the clitoral hood to make her little pink button appear, which she rubbed almost thoughtfully while Fred stressed and strained between her legs. Julie shook her head slowly, amazed at the concept of her situation, having a diminutive love slave completely at her mercy while she pleasured herself. What she wouldn't do to have it be one of those boys at school, one of those arrogant jocks with the incredible, wolfish bodies killing themselves in their windsprints across the football field. She thought of one in particular, Jake LaRusso, giving her clit a pinch as she recalled his bright, sharp smile and deep, deep brown eyes that made her knees melt. Unfortunately, he had an attitude problem a mile wide and talking to him made her feel filthy and diminished.
"Fred, hold on a second," she gasped, "and tap my leg twice for 'yes' and once for 'no'. Do you understand?" The struggling between her firm young legs ceased and she felt a clear, blunt double-tap upon one leg. "Good, good. . . now, for tonight, I'm not going to call you Fred. Tonight I'm going to call you Jake. Do you understand?" She breathed a sigh of relief and ground the insides of her knuckles against her labia roughly, stirring up heavy, hot feelings deep in her belly and thighs. "Jake," she said, experimentally, "continue trying to get to my crotch." There was no movement at first, and Julie was momentarily discouraged at the thought that she'd have to haul him back to the programming chamber and throw him in just to teach him this stupid name. What a cold interruption in contrast to the warm, frothy feelings she was experiencing right now! So all the more relief she felt when his solid body resumed his effort to access her crotch.
"Jake, oh, Jake," she moaned, parting her thighs slightly. Not completely, not enough to let him just walk up to her vulva, but just enough to let his soft, warm skin rasp very hard against her inner thighs. The closer he got, the more her tension mounted, and the harder her breathing became. At long last, Fred/Jake (for tonight) plowed between her milky sweet thighs and ground his head and shoulders against her labia, stumbling forward roughly as she opened her legs that last inch.
She drove the back of her head deep into her pillows, clenching her eyes, and both of her hands slipped off her body to dig their nails hard into her mattress and sheets. "Oh my God, Jake," she nearly cried out, barely controlling her voice. She gasped, "Please, Jake, push into my labia." The organic automaton didn't have that in its vocabulary so it just stood there, standing blind and unknowing before the sopping altar of late teenage feminine sexuality. In frustration Julie reached up with one desperate hand and seized Jake's back, grinding him mercilessly into her labia. "This, Jake," she growled, "this is my labia, dammit!" She ground him harder still, rubbing his chest and blunt, rounded head into the folds of her skin and against her clit, rubbing so hard she could feel her own fingertips through his body. Relenting at last with a huge gulp of air, she clenched the sides of her mattress and lay there once more, wishing unto God there were some way for her to tie herself down for this little man before she tore him apart with burning desire. She hoped he picked up the lesson quickly: "Now, Jake, rub your hands against my labia." Without a word (as if there were any other way) the little ersatz Jake reached out with its blunt arms, each the size of a grown man's finger, and pressed its paws against the fleshy folds, commencing to grinding in lengthwise strokes.
Julie bit her lip to keep from crying out, thrashing her head back and forth at the wonderful sensation. More than the sense of control she simply adored the basic touch of someone else (even if that someone was a bioengineered miniature clone-model of her friend's skin). It was her body heat he was suffused with, and that heat felt welcome and familiar to her. The pressure of his dull limbs massaging her labia was something else entirely, something independent of her, and she relished it. "Harder, Jake," she breathed, and the tiny man obliged as best he could. Digging his feet into the mattress he attempted to really lean into her pussy, always yanking one arm or the other back for better purchase on her increasingly lubricated skin. Soon that became the manner of his massage: rather than up and down strokes he began planting his fists just outside of her vulva and letting the force of his leaning drive his arms inward, working his way up and down in this much slower progression.
Then the inevitable happened: Jake's arms became coated in Julie's slick vasocongestion. With so little friction on his side anymore the homunculus gave one mighty shove and burst into her vulva. Julie felt the thick limbs suddenly filling her and her eyes flew open wide, staring into the inky blackness of her room. His legs struggled to maintain himself upright and ended up driving Jake in a little deeper, but as the lathering lubrication had not reached his head and shoulders he only made it so far. It was quite the tight fit, inside Julie's vulvic clench, a previously untested orifice now housing the homunculus. Unsure whether this conformed to its orders, Jake attempted to extract himself in order to return to massaging his mistress' instructions.
When she felt the tiny person squirming around inside her, she thought he had certainly touched upon a piece of heaven that shot through her young body. She whimpered and writhed as if caught in the throes of a scorching fever, only half aware of her own vulva clenching and fluttering around her miniature slave. She was certainly not coherent enough to consider whether she could realistically squeeze him in half with her fierce vaginal grip upon the little man .
Then she realized he was attempting to extricate himself from her vagina. "Oh, no!" she snarled, "no you don't! You stay in there, Jake LaRusso! You're going to give me what I want! And even if you don't want to, I'm going to take it!" Lost in her immature fantasy she seized hold of the little "Jake's" legs and began jamming him roughly into her vagina. Given that he had no formal "ears," as such, but could hear with any exposed surface of its skin, she needn't have panicked and seized upon him, but it was so much simpler to react reflexively than to think these things out. The brutal cinch she imposed upon the tiny person forced fluid back into his legs, giving her a good handle on the little victimized Jake, and she commenced to pumping him harder and harder inside herself.
Instantly his head was coated in her frothing lubrication and then his shoulders, so forcing him in up to his chest was no problem. Julie saw stars when she forced Jake's mass into her pussy, never dreaming it could be like this. It was when the pain shot up that she started considering what she (or Jake, for that matter) was getting into. Thinking quickly she leapt out of bed, holding the diminutive Jake firmly in her vagina, and darted for the bathroom. She made a ridiculous picture, hobbling in this fashion for the bathroom, but the necessity of it overrode any aesthetic consideration. She flung open the door and yanked the darkest towel in reach off its rod, and simply fell to the floor rather than try to stagger back to her bed. Wadding up the towel beneath her narrow hips, she closed her eyes forcibly shut and resumed thrusting the tiny science experiment up into her virginal vagina. "Jake," she rasped in the back of her constricted throat, "I need you to do something for me." She strained to find the words, in the midst of her libidinous frenzy: "Burrow inside me." It took a moment to process but Jake figured it out and stopped fighting her distressed plunging. Narrowing his arms and tucking his head down, he began to writhe like an inchworm until his hips disappeared between her distended, ruddy labia, and then his upper thighs. There were less and less of his legs in her narrow palm for her to grip, and she found herself merely holding his feet. Fine enough, she figured, as she got what she wanted.
Distantly she wondered if this counted as losing her virginity, using a foreign object only roughly based on anything humanoid. She wondered this at the exact moment her hymen broke, as Jake's arms pushed through the tender, fragile membrane and she gave him that one last shove deep inside her and what would have been his calves disappeared between her lips. Intent on his mission, Jake pushed against the hymen and it ripped, sending him even deeper inside her. She cried out sharply with the stab of pain it brought, then held her breath in panic in case she alerted anyone else in the household. Years, eons passed as she awaited the distant thunder of footsteps down the hallway, but none came. If her parents heard they paid it no mind, and that's if they heard at all. Her breath rushed out in a lengthy whoosh as she gave Jake's feet a tight squeeze, forcing all his interior fluid to rush up into his upper body and arms. Laughing softly at the endorphic release slowly overcoming her body, the tiny man swelled up deep in her vaginal canal, filling her out completely, more than completely. "Jake, Jake, Jake," she sighed, "deeper, deeper. Get inside me, you naughty little man." She greedily squeezed what little she had of his legs, then equally as fiercely clenched upon the poor little fake high school crush inside her pussy with her vulvic rings. The salicylic fluid strained to fill out his lower extremities, already held crushed with her right hand; her left hand absently massaged one of her budding breasts, grinding the mammary tissue against her ribcage a little more than gently. All the blood, mixed with her young pussy's juice, flowed out around Jake's body, down her labia and over her pert little ass, into the dark towel hastily retrieved from the bathroom, as she finished fucking herself with the tiny little man in the middle of her floor.
She took Jake out long enough to clean him off and sop up the rest of her juicy mess from between her thighs. Then she toted him back to her bed and fucked him a few more times in that long first night with the homunculus, sometimes slow and gentle, sometimes fierce and self-serving, oblivious to little Jake's welfare. Whenever she yanked him out and held him before her tremendous face, inquiring, "How are you doing, Jake?", he never lost that silly smile and blank stare on his "face". As if this assured her that all was well, Julie happily ground him harder and harder into her young cunt, focusing on every swipe of his firm arms against her vaginal walls, filling herself in ways she never dreamed before possible. Eventually the euphoria was far too much for her little body to hold and she passed out with the tiny man still lodged halfway in her pussy, with its last order to struggle within deeper and deeper. Julie was deep in dreamland while the tiny man fought with her slick - but drying - labia and the unconscious muscular reaction of her cunt to push things out. Sometimes he made some headway, getting both arms just inside her and eliciting an unconscious moan before her vagina would rumble and force him back out. Undeterred, he continued on in this pointless vein for the rest of the night.
Eventually Julie woke up and found the little trooper still at it, laughing at his determination. "Jake, cut it out," she said, and he interpreted the colloquialism as a command of cessation. "Oh, by the way," she added, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, "you're back to being Fred, got it? Your name is Fred, we address you as Fred. Let me know you understand." Simply by dint of being there between her thighs he gave her labia two solid thumps and she giggled sleepily. She noted his movements were getting sluggish so she decided it was time for his recharge. She scooped him up in one hand and dropped him into the glass of aspirin-water with a kindly, "In you go, little man." She showered and dressed, still dreaming of the tiny man battling so hard to remain inside her. Ironically her dreams had nothing to do with the glorious Jake LaRusso whatsoever; indeed, she could hardly remember them at all. Her sleep was sound and satisfied, and she thanked the little home-grown man for that.
She went to school with a fresh mind and fresh face and a grin a mile wide. She didn't even notice the real Jake LaRusso when he hung around her locker nonchalantly, but instead spoke to Tanya when she rushed up breathlessly.
"So? How was it?" she said urgently in a stage whisper. "Was it great? Was it gross?" Julie just smiled wordlessly. "You didn't break it, did you!?" Tanya pressed. "Goddamn it, Jules! I was supposed to get my turn tonight! You didn't break the little fucker, did you!?"
"Relax, relax," Julie said musically. "You'll get your turn tonight. You sound way too tense. . . Fred's just the man to fix you up." She laughed and gathered her books for her next class. "You stop by my house tonight and I'll hand him off to you." With a winning grin she added, "You're gonna love it." So saying, she spun on her heel and tripped down the hallway, leaving a surprised and intensely curious Tanya in her wake.
To Be Continued...