VIOLENT shrunken women BOARD

New Story - Rampant Appetites (Pt. 1)
Tuesday, 29-Feb-2000 03:39:42
    216.254.37.152 writes:


    Jupiter sat at the head of the board room table like a barbarian king. His huge frame draped languidly over the broad leather chair, legs sprawled with his knees almost topping the table and every few minutes he would purse his lips and blow a breath of pure boredom. He stared with baleful eyes at the woman drawing diagrams on the whiteboard, she was beautiful and he desired her. He tapped his fingers on the tabletop in rapid rythm impatiently, the mousey woman to his right stared openly at the tight leather gloves emerging from under the cuff of his Armani suit.
    Jupiter smirked and moved his large, strong hand to his lap, fingers grasping and squeezing his package right through the thin fabric of his trousers. Mousegirl’s eyes were wide as an owls’, and she sat so stock still he was positive she had stopped breathing. Didn’t say a word, though, and wouldn’t look away. Ten inch shaft bulges against his pants, his pole as obvious as a corvette under a car-cover, his shiny glove traces its outline for the Mousegirl, stroking it longer and thicker as she watches. She’s biting her lip hard enough to draw blood and he catches a whiff of her getting wet.
    He’s known women like her before, all they want to do is watch. Sit in a corner and look on while the large leather man plies his sadism on someone more interested in involvement. There’s a small dark spot just below his beltbuckle where his pre-cum has seeped into the gunmetal of his suit, and it feels as if he’s going to explode into a million pieces if he has to sit there one more minute. Jupiter grins at the Mousegirl and nods to the hot blonde talking about mainframe maintenance agreements at the whiteboard.
    “Want to see me fuck her?” he asks in a voice like cigars and bourbon. Mousegirl stares at him, frightened to be involved. All the eyes in the boardroom zero in on him, and the babe in the business suit has stopped talking.
    “Excuse me...” she begins angrily, but is interrupted by the rasping timbre of his voice.
    “Well?” he asks in a stern yet conspiratorial tone, pinning Mousegirl with his gaze. She nods, very slowly, barely a tilt of her head. “You do? You want me to stick this thing in her, and fuck her with it until she pops?”
    Mousegirl nods again, an all but imperceptible gesture with less motion but more conviction.
    Jupiter smiles like a leopard as it clamps down on the kill.
    “All right! Then let’s do it...” he stands and his straining suit suddenly seems seven sizes too small. It is. The tabletop is well below his knee now, and he places a black leather boot on it, inches from the mousegirl’s face. His thigh bursts a seam, and his skin peeks through, and as he steps up and onto, his cock rips itself free. He walks down the length of the table stroking the length of his manhood with one gloved hand. Every stroke pumps the shaft taller and thicker, and him along with it, his size 52-long coat rips at the seams with every step he takes, and the board members just sit and stare with mouths agape as he grows and pleasures himself before them.
    His belt breaks loudly, shirt buttons and diamond cufflinks audibly pop across the room as his tie is destroyed by the thickening sinews of his neck, it makes a soft snap as seventy dollars of silk become fluttering rags. His pants have simply disintegrated, the scraps falling to the table as he passes, his massively muscled legs sheathed in a second skin of black leather boots almost up to his crotch. His balls are as large as tennis balls by now, and his member has only been matched in size and shape by overeager dildo makers.
    The blonde has backed herself up against the whiteboard, her sensible suit smearing her carefully rendered diagrams, watching the Chairman stalk toward her on the tabletop. As he hops down, one pie-plate sized hand rips the remains of his shirt and coat from his amazingly broad and sculpted chest. His small, pink nipples were standing full erect, and she stared at them before dragging her gaze down to behold the purple throbbing beast he was stroking to new heights. She has the presence of mind to cap her marker and put it back on it’s ledge before he’s upon her.
    Jupiter stands nine feet tall now, and he bends down and grabs a double handful of her silk blouse and blazer. With scarcely any effort, he rips them into two ragged pieces, and slips them from her arms as she screams helplessly. The blonde isn’t wearing a bra, and he smirks. He grabs a fistful of her skirt at the hemline, and yanks up roughly, lifting her off her feet, and with another jerk, rips it free from her slender body. She falls backwards to the table, naked, and it’s now clear that she wasn’t wearing panties either. The other board members shout and stand in horror, outrage, or confusion, an edge of pure panic and raw incomprehension poisoning the air. The Chairman has her pinned at the neck with one fist, and with the other he grabs a would be hero by the head, palming his entire face, and slams it to the floor, splattering brains on the expensive italian loafers of a hastily retreating executive. The rest of the room with one exception is out of their chairs and some run shrieking out the door, others are calling the cops and building security on their cellphones. The Mousegirl is still in her seat, though, bunched up and as small as she could make herself, staring seriously without ever seeming to blink.
    “Hmm. You’re kind of scrawny, now that I see you without your clothes.” he sneered, flipping her the bird and tracing her jaw gently with it “But I suppose you’ll have to do.”
    His dragged his middle finger down the center of her struggling body, splitting her cleavage with a leather whisper, tickling her as it brushed past her belly and through her bush.
    “No!” the woman was screaming, “Please, Mr. Chairman, please don’t. Please...” She screamed again, high and full as he plunged a finger as long and thick as a normal man’s penis into her pussy, ramming it home. She jerked and yowled and beat and clawed at him, and he laughed as he raped her with his fuck-you finger.
    She was getting wet despite herself, and Jupiter withdrew his leather finger and sucked it clean of her juices. He idly backhands another sputtering grey-haired man as he stepped in to save the beautiful blonde, sending him with a crash through the glass of the boardroom window ten feet distant. The sounds of the city twenty stories below and the smell of a warm spring afternoon waft in on a cool breeze from the bloody hole he left.
    He bats her leg aside, spreading her wide and he places the beer-can thick cock head against her swollen, drooling slit, and pushes. Slowly, inexorably he forces his massive shaft into her. The blonde screams in abject agony as he forces her pussy to stretch more than it has ever been. She was tight and wet, her warm softness is so inviting. Deeper. He pushes deeper and harder, impatient for pleasure. Less than a third of the way down his shaft, his tip hit her cervix.
    He stands with her stuck on his cock, and he holds her about the middle with massively strong hands, long thick thumbs reaching up to play with the large ruby nipples on her smallish breasts. She curses, and rakes at the Chairman’s flesh with her manicured nails, leaving angry scarlet welt trails along the rippling wall of his chest and the bulging bulk of his arms. They fade only a second later. He pulls her off a small way, and then rams himself into her with all of his terrible might, monstrous physique undulating like an ocean of muscle with the effort. Again and again, he slams his cock home, forcing her down as hard and as fast as he can, trying to push his monstrous member into her to it’s base. The blonde wails with agony as he takes his pleasure at her expense, and Jupiter snarls as his body responds to his pleasure. He begins to grow again.
    The agony for his victim is unbelievable. With every thrust, he stretches her snatch a bit more, and rams with greater and greater strength. He bucks his hips as he forces her down on his shaft, trying to force his ever longer cock deeper into her. Tears stream from her eyes, pain and humiliation and fear etch her face into a parody of beauty, locked in a hoarse scream that will not end. Harder and faster he fucks her, blood trickling from her twat rolling down his shaft. Jupiter pauses, pulling her almost all the way off his cock, and then rams one, final time. Hard and fast, as hard and fast as his monstrous body can manage. She wails as his manhood destroys her womb, mashing it and tearing her asunder inside. He yells with triumph, and pulls her slowly down, licking his lips with sadistic delight as his cock’s head roots around in her soft innards like a pig hunting truffles. Inch by inch, he forces himself deeper inside her. Through some wicked miracle, she remains conscious, every iota of pain is felt and communicated through her capable voice, the blonde’s ragged screams of torment filter through to the nervous traffic of the street below. Many of the board members too stupid to leave scream along with her.
    Still he grows, driving his ever larger cock deeper and deeper into her, her pelvis cracks and he legs go limp, blood gushes from her, streaming down his dick and dripping from his balls onto the expensive marble floor tiles. Her cries are silenced as his cock squashes her vital organs, and stretches her body taught, sending ribs poking though her soft, pale skin. He fills most of the vaulted boardroom, his victim an impaled mockery of a woman, clinging to the barrel thickness of his shaft.
    He places a boot on the table, and it shatters and crashes to the floor under his weight. The mousegirl stares up at him, trembling. The sides of the chair loom around her...she didn’t just feel smaller, she actually was smaller. She is limp and trembling, a doll in his fist he carefully, gently undresses her with nimble fingers. She knows she is not beautiful, her short frame too plump and too thin at the same time, but she doesn’t care now. Just the beautiful gloves that wrap around her is all that matters. They smell like leather and like blood and like man-sweat. She is naked, resting on their firm, yielding warmth, and she knows she is probably about to die, but still she watches. Jupiter brings her level with his crotch, where the blonde babe stares lifelessly, her lithe body a gruesome ornament on his manhood. He cups the mousegirl in his palm, pulls roughly on the long golden hair of the dead blonde, and cums. Her eyes stare with dead directionlessness as her cheeks bulge and her mouth opens. Blood and gore vomit out in a noxious ooze as her body jerks and heaves with his orgasming cock, and then a stream of hot, pearlescent jizz fountains from her lips like a firehose, coating the mousey woman head to toe. She remains silent, and stares at herself for once...
    Here eyes were closed and her body stiff as a rail as a long and limber tongue licked her clean. She was confused, and frightened, and turned on, but unable to express any of that. She breathed sigh of relief when he slipped her into the top of his boot, and trapped her between the soft leather of the shaft and the writhing muscle of his thigh, bound tight from the neck down. Though she couldn’t feel or see it, she felt the power and the presence of his scrotum just above her head, and found herself trembling, yearning, and at the brink of orgasm...

    Theophilous Bolt

    PT II is well underway. Check back this time next week.

    Theophilous Bolt