Jimmy is missing, and nobody can find a man who is barely an inch tall. That’s the problem when another Goddess phones me on her way over to film and asks to speak with him. I search the room, calling his name, laughing with her about how tiny he is now. What neither of us knows is exactly where he ended up: head-first between my cheeks. So I lounge on the couch, chatting away, while little Jimmy wriggles inside my unwashed bottom. I complain about an itch I can’t be bothered to scratch, because who wants dirty fingers? We even joke that it might be him. Wouldn’t that be funny? Eventually I check, and out comes one filthy, gasping Jimmy. Cue two Goddesses in fits of laughter, already planning what else a living pocket toy is good for. An unaware giantess fantasy you hear rather than see.
🖤 Mistress Mercy Rage 🖤 Do you deserve my Mercy… or my Rage?
Jimmy is missing, and nobody can find a man who is barely an inch tall. That’s the problem when another Goddess phones me on her way over to film and asks to speak with him. I search the room, calling his name, laughing with her about how tiny he is now. What neither of us knows is exactly where he ended up: head-first between my cheeks. So I lounge on the couch, chatting away, while little Jimmy wriggles inside my unwashed bottom. I complain about an itch I can’t be bothered to scratch, because who wants dirty fingers? We even joke that it might be him. Wouldn’t that be funny? Eventually I check, and out comes one filthy, gasping Jimmy. Cue two Goddesses in fits of laughter, already planning what else a living pocket toy is good for. An unaware giantess fantasy you hear rather than see.