Layla handed him a colourful, plastic child’s watering can. Even in his hands it felt small, though it was practically tiny in hers as she held the handle with merely a forefinger and thumb.
“You’ve been working so hard I wanted to give you something less stressful to do for your first day.” She said warmly, gently running her fingers over his head in an altogether all too familiar way.
“Uh, yeah sure.” Roger said, eager to please but a little disappointed by the infantilising task. “Are you sure you just want me to water the plants? ”
“Rule three sweetie. No arguing, no fussing.”
He winced a little at how readily she quoted her rules. He hadn’t exactly been arguing with her…
“Since you’re such a grown man now I’m sure a kid’s chore should be easy for you.”
Not wanting to give her any further cause to question that, he nodded and turned to the nearby plant, standing on a loose wrought iron plant stand. It was a leafy monstrosity that clung to the aging window frame behind it like grasping vines. It was almost alien in its sheer expanse. Hell, it reminded him of that old movie, Little Shop of Horrors.
Unsure how much to water such a large plant he kept going until the soil on the surface was retaining its moisture, only to immediately have Layla touching his shoulder.
“Wonderful, good job sweetie.” She said softly, stroking his arm reassuringly as if speaking to a young boy - much to his irritation.
However her insistence on constant physical touch thus far was already beginning to have an effect. Roger regretted acquiescing to her clothing choice of tight gym shorts, trying not to turn face Layla as his tumescence grew. His shoulders sank under her affection. It felt so ridiculous to be congratulated for doing something so simple. At least now she would leave him to it, right? Perhaps if he could get done sooner than she expected he might gain a modicum of recognition.
As he made his way across the hall, however, to his dismay, she made no signs of leaving at all.
“There we go sweetie. Water the next one.” He looked back at her with a grimace, her utterly humiliating and overbearing attitude was weighing down on him almost as much as her body had not too long ago.
Resigned to his task he next watered a complex, twisted mass of blooming pink blossoms. Again upon completion he received utterly patronising praise. Beginning to see this was how he would be spending the rest of his day, his heart sank. What had happened? Why was she treating a ‘handsome man’ like a wayward child?
“Layla, uh-”
“What’s wrong sweetie? Is this too much for you? I can find something easier to do if you like…”
“No, it’s just, you um… you don’t have to keep following me. I can do this by myself.”
“Oh, I know you can sweetie. You’re such a big boy after all.” Her eyes lowered at him with a bemused look. “But I do love spending time with you.”
As she showed no inclination of leaving he sighed under his breath, though not wanting to appear fussy and give her any further excuse to treat him like a child, he merely proceeded on.
The third plant was what appeared to be a large, purple lipped venus fly trap, albeit much different to any he had ever seen before. Desperate to avoid seeming petulant, he went out of his way to appear as calm as he could as he watered it.
As he tipped it in, the first issue to arise occurred to him. This small watering can would be very quickly empty. Indeed, within a couple of seconds his tiny tool had been drained dry.
“What’s wrong sweetie?”
“It, uh… it’s too small. I’m out of water.”
Smugly inserting herself into his personal space, she squatted down to bring her nose inches from his, pressing her hands to his sides.
“Awwww, it’s okay sweetie. Don’t be upset!” She coo’d, acting as though he was on the verge of tears.
“I’m not- I’m-” He began, but she pressed a finger to his lips with alarming speed.
“Uh uh, no fussing.”
With that, she took his hand and led him to the kitchen, until they were stood before the sink. It loomed over him, his eyes barely at the level of the counter top. A block of ice dropped into his stomach as the sheer magnitude of the task ahead of him became clear.
Rising to his tiptoes, he tried to angle the plastic red watering can in such a way that he could dip it into the sink, but he couldn’t even reach that far over the lip of the counter.
“Everything okay, darling?” She asked, as innocently as could be.
“I can’t… um… I can’t reach it.” He fell back to his heels defeatedly, cursing the sheer scale of everything in her home.
No wonder she thought of him as a child, he rued, when for all intents in her house he was one.
“Oh you poor thing.” She said, entirely unsurprised. Roger wondered at her behaviour, surely she must have known he couldn’t reach it, right? “Here, let me help you.”
He didn’t want to make eye contact with her, ashamedly holding up the watering can for her to take it, only to feel her warm hands ensnaring him. In moments he was in vertigo, his world moving too fast as she plucked him like prey from the jungle floor, her arms around his waist like the coils of a massive snake.
“There we go, my sweet boy.” She grinned.
Beside himself with embarrassment he froze in her arms as she held him directly in front of her sink. When it became obvious she intended to hold him there as long as it took, he tried to fill the watering can as quickly as he could, fumbling with the taps.
“Here sweetie, let me help you…” Came her voice in his ear.
With that, her body pressed against his, her colossal breasts encircling his head and subsuming his existence as he was pinned between the kitchen counter and her utterly mountainous body, buried under soft forgiving flesh.
Roger was utterly unable to see past the bosomy flesh within her soft sweater fully enveloping his head like a blanket. He could only feel as cool water ran over his wrist, her other arm holding him firmly pinned to her stomach. The fact she could easily pin him like this with just a single armw as hardly lost on him, simmering with humiliation as he was. Her hand rested ever so gently holding his stomach and her fingertips resting just low enough on his body to leave the boy’s head spinning.
“I’ve got it honey.” She quipped lightly, guiding his hand with the watering can loosely held within under the trickling stream.
Given its small size it took only seconds to fill, but he had no way to know that, blinded by her immense breasts as he was. She was happy to let the water spill over and hold him there far longer than necessary. When she was at last satisfied, she lifted her breasts and released his sweating, panting face from her bosomy embrace before setting him back down on the kitchen floor.
“All done!” She offered, petting his head condescendingly. “Let’s get back to it.”
Steadying himself as the physics of the real world reasserted itself, having been adrift in a fleshy, cottony abyss for far too long, he held his tiny watering can in front of his chest protectively. After all if he were to spill it now he’d be lifted up and trapped like that once more, and he was trying to dissuade her in her childlike view of him.
She was all too happy to escort him back to where he had been, watching him adoringly all the while, leaving him to his ‘work’. One by one he watered her plants, having forgotten just how many she seemed to have. In fact many of them seemed quite new.
With cloying inevitability he felt the weight of the can getting lighter and lighter. He tried to be frugal, only to recieve a babyish reprimand. “It needs more water sweetie, don’t worry, we can always get more.”
At last he could delay it no longer - his can ran dry.
“Let’s go get some more sweetie.” She whispered, her fingers easily encircling his wrist as she marched him back to the sink for another bosomy embrace.
“Wait, I can - uh…”
This time she turned him by the shoulder to face her before lecherously grasping his ass in one firm hand, lifting him up to her stomach and pressing him deeply face-first into the mass of her body.
“Upsie daisy.” She offered innocently, before thoroughly smothering his head betwixt her titanic breasts, heat and moisture caking his face even through her cotton blouse.
It was even more excruciating the second time, Roger utterly lost in blissful ignorance, buried in tits as she took her sweet and leisurely time to run the tap - forgetting at first about filling the can at all.
“I’m so looking forward to our week together. We’ll finally be getting to spend some quality time Roger.” She sighed, nuzzling the top of his head where it was just barely visible between breasts larger than he was.
Eventually she did release him, by now his face deep red from both embarrassment and pearls of sweat. Layla was more than happy to hand him back his watering can once more.
“Back to work cutie!” She tittered, patting his butt encouragingly, nearly causing Roger to spill his watering can.
“Layla, uh…” he panted, almost overwhelmed by the mix of embarrassment and arousal, but not sure he could handle being treated so patronisingly much longer. “Isn’t there, um, a bigger watering can?”
“A bigger one?” Her grin turned practically demonic for a moment, and Roger wilted. She looked as though she’d been waiting for just this moment. “Of course there is sweetie, why didn’t you ask?”
Scowling, but trying not to let her see him do so, he followed behind her as she approached a cupboard. Not for the first time, she reached deep between her cleavage - winking encouragingly to him as she caught him staring longingly at the way her hand dove into it before he could turn away in embarrassment. Withdrawing her key she unlocked the door and bent over double.
Presenting him with the largest, ripest possible peach in her tight, form fitting leggings, Roger was trapped behind her and staring on with utter adoration and lust at the monumental pair of ass and thighs swaying ever so gently before him. They swelled and beckoned as, one by one, she withdrew one thing after another and set them aside - bent over all the while for his viewing pleasure.
“Now, where on earth did I put it…?” She queried no one in particular, raising her ass ever higher.
Roger couldn’t help himself. His tongue felt too big for his mouth and every inch of his neck itched and prickled with heat as he felt her body beckoning to him. His cock was, if possible, harder than ever before.
Shakily he nudged himself a little closer, then closer, then closer still, unable to resist the magnetic draw of her gently rolling and utterly incomprehensible curves.
“There we go, I think we’re getting closer…” Layla murmured, eyeing Roger over her shoulder, him being far too invested in the heart-shaped swell of her body as tall as his to notice.
Tentatively, he reached out, arms spreading as wide as they would go. Even so, he didn’t have a hope of embracing her ass. His cheeks were prickling with the heat coming from her sex as he grew closer. as if her core were a raging furnace.
He couldn’t help it. For Roger just being in her home was already a bed of temptation, but this was simply more than his hormonal mind was ever designed to process. Every alarm in his mind was screaming ‘DO NOT TOUCH’.
Yet those were easily overriden by the unrestrained force of his libido. Finally, he could hold back no more.
Roger sank his face directly into the smooth material that thinly coated her unfathomably voluptuous sex. The soft swell of her cheeks and plush, swollen mons enveloped his face, and he let out a guttural groan as he practically drowned in sheer erotic choler.
“There we go…” She soothed, gently leaning back and planting her ass squarely on his face, ensuring to mark him as thoroughly as she could, savouring the feeling of him there for just a few moments longer before standing upright.
Roger blinked as he lost his balance, her sheer mass enough to wrongfoot him at such an awkward angle. He landed square on his rear as Layla rose to her full impressive height and turned to see him on the floor, feigning shock.
“Oh my Roger, I’m so sorry!” She gasped softly, “You have to be careful, I’m quite a large girl remember.”
She kneeled down next to him and helped him up, then held aloft his prize - an old metal watering can, the kind that was designed for outdoor yard work. It was utterly massive.
“Would you like me to fill this for you sweetie?” She asked without waiting for an answer as she began to run the tap.
Roger could only look on in growing concern as he heard the metallic roar of water filling it, taking nearly three full minutes until it was right to the brim.
“Here we are sweetie!” She announced with glee at last, bending over double to hand it to him.
She held it out with a single hand, the aged wooden handle looking so small in it, yet he immediately felt its weight.
With a resounding metallic clunk it hit the floor as he crumpled, legs splaying to either side as his knees hit the tiles.
“Oh no… is it too heavy for you dear?” She asked, sounding as sincere as she could while trying to disguise her utter delight. “I should have known it would be far too big for a sweet little boy like you…”
Gleefully, she offered him the tiny plastic one pinched by her fingers once more.
“I think you should stick with this one. We can’t have you hurting yourself trying to use a grown up’s watering can, now, can we?”
Layla’s titter sent a prickle up his spine. Despondent at his situation, he saw the hungry look in her eyes as if she was just looking for any excuse to treat him like the child he suspected she had always seen him as. Roger bit his tongue, knowing anything hr said would be twisted into whining and complaining.
Roger could only take the proffered toy watering can with a sorrowful nod, another failed attempt to impress Layla having backfired, further proving his childishness in her eyes.
With what little remaining pride he could muster he returned to his work, ever under her watchful eye.
It didn’t make sense. What was the purpose of all this? Why did she want to watch him? Couldn’t she do this herself? This facile task was a leap from the back-breaking work of before.
Was this all because of the potion? It was supposed to make her obsessed with him…
Layla led him to the sitting room when the kitchen was done. She had brought the much larger watering can with her, but didn’t begin to help him as he expected. Instead it was just to allow him to fill his ridiculous tool from it. What was she getting out of watching him do this? His ever furtive glances back at her always met a lustful gaze dead set upon him.
Eventually, though, she left him to his work.
“I’ll be right back. Do be careful okay?”
With a kiss to his forehead that left him blushing, she sauntered from the room with a gentle wave.
The moment she was gone Roger could finally release a truly shattering shudder of tension. Having her so close by all the time, watching him constantly, pressing him against her body… he was losing his mind. He’d expected being in her home to be intimate, but this was beyond his wildest expectations.
He collapsed with his back against the armrest of her giant sofa, setting his tiny tool aside. She had certainly changed… but in every way that mattered, she was still treating him like a child. If anything more than she had before!
Exasperated, he tried to think - made all the more difficult by the raging hard-on which had been demanding his attention for what felt like hours. No matter how condescending her treatment of him became he was helpless to resist how effortlessly arousing he found it.
Once again the same dilemma had arisen; he didn’t want to appear like a petulant child, but then again he couldn’t let this go on. Her suffocating, maternal behaviour would only get worse if he didn’t try to stop it, right? He had to prove in her eyes once and for all he wasn’t a child any more, even if everything in this home seemed designed to convince them both that he was.
With a sigh he readjusted his shorts once more, both as a nervous reflex and to free his cock from its rough confines as it throbbed anew. He had a fleeting, wild thought to touch it, but nothing could have been more mortifying than for her to catch him like that.
Roger grimaced as he realised the dilemma he’d been left with - every plant in the sitting room was elevated. In fact they were all either hanging from the roof or on a high shelf and well outside his reach.
For a moment he turned back to the doorway, considering calling for help… but the mere thought of that sent a shudder of embarrassment through him. How could he prove he wasn’t a child any more if he couldn’t even water some damn plants without begging her for help!?
He could just imagine the gushing way she’d praise him for admitting his inadequacy before taking over and doing it all for him as he watched in idle humiliation. Or maybe she’d lift him up… and he’d get to be pressed so nice and close to her soft body again…
Shaking his head, Roger banished such traitorous thoughts even as his cock surged.
He pushed a massive wooden chair across the carpet, the outsized furniture at last working in his favour, and clambered atop it. It should have been easy to reach the hanging tressles and baskets, but the true magnitude of the task made itself clear. The roof was so cavernous that he could only just barely reach the basket hanging above.
Distantly he heard Layla’s soft footsteps returning, and was determined to prove he could do this without her. Steadying himself against the backrest he tried again, rising onto the pads of his feet.
The chair was far more top heavy than it appeared, and the backrest tipped away from him until he was in freefall.
“Roger!”
As soon as the vertigo had time to set in it was arrested by a plush embrace. Layla was pulling him tightly to her chest, and he was instantly smothered in their softness.
“Oh my sweet boy! Are you okay?” She gasped, holding him tightly.
He was too stunned to respond, just breathing as heavily as the confines of his entrapment would allow. It took a few moments for his brain to catch up to his body and he realised Layla had caught him.
And she wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Blushing furiously as his face was buried to the nose in the flesh of her cleavage, though she seemed entirely unfazed.
“Roger you silly boy! You could have gotten hurt!” She admonished, squeezing him tighter, and like quicksand he felt her breasts begin to swallow his head until it was becoming difficult to get any air at all. “Oh imagine if I hadn’t been here!”
“I’m fine!” Roger tried to whimper as he tried to push himself above the morass of breasts steadily engulfing him, however what came out was “Mmmmmffhhhhphhh!”
“Oh well this is why I was so worried about you on your own! You need someone to take care of you…”
Layla gently stroked his hair, all at once pressing him ever further deeper into her chest. Roger couldn’t help but shiver as her utterly erotic body refused to let him go.
When she eventually put him down he was yet again panting, sweating and streaked with embarassment. He tugged at his shorts in desperation to hide his immense arousal.
“Well I blame myself. I shouldn’t have trusted such a big task to you, and you almost got hurt as a result.” She soothed, rubbing his shoulders as she knelt down to his level - although she still had to look down to see him eye to eye. She hushed him as if he were a sobbing child, but he was just staring in disbelief. “It’s not your fault, I’m not upset. It’s okay, I’ve got you. Let’s get you something to eat.”