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View Full Version : The story of Ellen Deveroux



Czarina
02-18-2020, 11:43 AM
Hi, this is Ellen Deveroux, I don't know if you remember me. I saw on your Facebook page that you were between jobs, and I'd like to offer you a position as a personal assistant. Give me a call back, and we can talk about it. My number is XXX-XXX-XXXX. Hope to hear from you soon.

Even after listening to the voicemail for the third time, I still didn't understand.

Oh, I remembered Ellen, alright. I was only at that school in California for a short time, but she made an impression. She was blonde, blue-eyed, well over six feet tall and built like a brick house. That kind of thing sticks with a guy.

The truth was, I was only weeks away from being homeless. Once I got out from under my parents, I cut off all contact with them and made my way on my own. They'd ruined my life with all of the moving around they put me through. I could not, would not turn to them for help.

I'd been a sous chef. I'd been an interior carpenter. Clothing manufacture. Hotel housekeeping. Masseuse. Oil change bitch. Waiter. Welder. Lifeguard. I'd built furniture. I'd even spent time at a nursing home as an orderly.

But with every job, they kept me on just long enough to learn the job, then I was mysteriously downsized. It was never because of job performance, the reasons were bullshit and made up, but I figured it out. It was the way I spoke.

My work history mirrored my personal history, in that I was forced to move on from place to place against my will.

The call from Ellen, who I had barely knew eight years ago, was a lifeline I needed, but a suspicious one. Why would she contact me out of the blue after so long, when I'd only known her for a handful of weeks? How did she even get my number?

Turning my phone over and over in my hand, I mulled it over. I needed a job desperately. I didn't really have a choice in the end, I had to at least hear her out.

Decision made, I dialed the number she left me.

******

The limousine pulled around a circular driveway to the front entrance of a really, really big, sprawling mansion.

She had booked me a round trip flight, in first-class of all things, and had a limo pick me up at the airport. She must have arranged a gratuity for the driver in advance, that made a lot of sense.

I was staring at the door when my phone rang. It must have been ten feet high, and wide to match. I fumbled in my pocket for my phone.

"Er, 'Ello?"

"Hello, James," Ellen greeted me warmly. "I can see you on the security camera. Let yourself in, please, but keep me on the line."

It was weird, but I could roll with it. I stepped through the unlocked door, fumbling a little with a phone, suitcase, and door handle to manage but only two hands. I managed to get inside and the door closed.

"Uh, I'm inside?" I questioned inarticulately.

"I'm sorry about this, James. My appearance is a little... startling. I wanted to ease you into seeing me."

"Ah. Well, alright then. What do I need to know?"

"I am very big. Very big and tall. If you... if you weren't prepared, and you reacted poorly... well, let's say that my feelings would be very hurt, at the least."

"Alright, I think I understand."

When Ellen Deveroux stepped from around the corner, my phone slipped from numb fingers to clatter on the expensive tiled flooring.

She wasn't very tall. She was a giant.

She stood nervously, wearing what looked like the largest mu-mu she could find, and it fit her like a dark purple baby-doll tee. Around her wide hips, it looked like she was wearing a floor to ceiling window curtain in a matching color as a skirt, wrapped around her like a bath towel.

So yeah, she was tall, but she was also big everywhere. She had what looked like two beanbag chairs for breasts straining against the mu-mu, a bit of a plump belly, and such wide, curving hips that they didn't even look out of place as compared with her monumental boobs. If her hips were any indication, her ass was just as oversized as the rest of her.

Thick arms, really thick legs, but her face was the same as the girl I remembered from so long ago. Her blonde hair was long and slightly unkempt, but those blue eyes were looking back at me with the same fear and anxiety that she did in high school.

"Seven-foot-eight," she commented out of nowhere. "They don't make a scale that can read me, and I wouldn't tell you my weight anyway." At the look on my face, she shrugged and added fatalistically, "Everyone always wonders that first thing."

I scrambled to pick my phone up from where I'd dropped it in shock. "Wha-? How!?" It shouldn't be possible for anyone to be that big, let alone that big and still easily walking around. She was two entire feet taller than I was.

Ellen stepped fully into the room and sat down in the middle of a sofa that was much too small for her. She patted the narrow space next to her, "Come and sit, and I'll tell you about the girl with the all the endocrine problems."

I blinked, but gamely sat next to her, the weight of her ass sinking the couch down far enough that I slid down the slope into her side.

Ellen, massive Ellen, casually rested a heavy arm around my neck and held me close to her. Her giant breast was brushing the side of my face, and I struggled to keep my reactions normal.

"Once there was a girl," she started in a story-telling tone, "and this girl was born different. Do you know what it means to be intersexed?" she asked.

"Uh, dat's... a person gots both? Like a hermaphrodite?"

"Mmm. That's right. For future reference, I do prefer the term intersexed, alright? Now, not only was this girl born intersexed, but she also had a myriad of glandular and hormonal disfunctions, because life wouldn't have been hard enough otherwise."

"The girl grew too big. She couldn't lose weight. Too much HGH in her system made her build too much muscle just moving her heavy body around. Her skin was so sensitive that not only could she not shave any of it, she couldn't even wear deodorant. There were even more problems, but we'll get into those later."

"The people she went to school with were cruel. They called her hurtful names and ostracized her. But then one day, a new boy came to town. He was worldly, and cute, and not only did he not mind the poor girl's company, he seemed to prefer it."

Ellen's arm around my neck pulled me in tighter, pressing my face into the side of her giant breast. I could feel no tactile sensations of any bra beneath her top, only warm, soft breast flesh.

She looked down at me, and I couldn't help but to look up at her, meeting her gaze. "On the very last day she ever saw that boy, when he didn't know that she was listening, the girl heard him defend her against the popular ones."

"She has carried that memory with her ever since. On her darkest days, she'd look in the mirror, and tell herself what he said about her. She wasn't fat, she was soft and curvy like women were supposed to be. She wasn't ugly, she was actually pretty in the face. The girl told herself that no, she was not a big, smelly ogre at all. She told herself that she was really a 'Bonny Lass', because James Volk said it was so."

I got a little embarrassed by the intensity in her gaze. "Ye remembered dat?"

Ellen assured me, "I remember it like it was yesterday, James. But back to the story. Now the girl kept getting bigger and bigger. She found an organic deodorant that she could actually wear. She found that an electric razor was tolerable on her skin. By then, though, it was too late. People pointed and whispered at the giant girl everywhere she went."

"She took refuge behind the safety of a computer screen, and found she had a talent for it. Instead of going to college, she stayed at home and did distance learning, afraid of being around people."

"One day, she sold a silly little computer program for an obscene amount of money. Then she sold a couple of novels she'd written. Then, another program. Soon, she had all of the money she'd ever need, and then some."

"She found a home, being sold by a professional basketball player, that she could fit inside of. She had almost everything, but she was so lonely. Wondering what that worldly boy was doing one day, the girl looked him up, and found that he was unemployed. The girl had an idea, and did the bravest, chanciest thing she'd ever done. She offered him a job, and would try to see if money actually could buy happiness after all."

I blinked in shock as the idea settled in. Ellen wasn't hiring me to be someone else's assistant, she was hiring me to be hers. She was my age, and where I was nearly broke and weeks from eviction, she had a massive mansion and, it seemed, more money than Midas.

Ellen kept me pressed against her side, nearly smothering me with her enormous side-boob, and ran her fingertips through my somewhat long hair. "On paper, you will be my personal assistant. You will tend to the grounds, clean my home, cook my meals. Should I need errands ran, you will go out into public in my stead."

I choked. "Clean dis monstrous home? All by meself? Dis would take a team of people!"

Ellen considered my words and nodded, seeing my point. "The truth is, I only use a few rooms, ever. If you can clean the rest of it biweekly or even monthly, that will be good enough. The point I was about to make, James, is that this is all secondary to what your real job will be."

My stomach dropped as the catch came. I knew it was too good to be true. "An' what's me real job?"

Ellen tilted her head and sighed, somewhat wistfully. She stared at my hair and ran her fingers through it again. "Your real job is to simply make my life better. I'm going to pay you four thousand dollars a week to never say no to me, James. Anything I want, my trusty manservant will deliver." She reached down, gently grabbed my hand, and brought it up to her massive breast, her big hand completely eclipsing mine as she pressed my palm directly over her giant, hardening nipple.

"Do we understand each other, James?" she asked, eyebrows raised. Hiding behind her eyes, I could see an abject fear of rejection.

I had been expecting her to ask me to go out and kill people for her or something. Finding out that she just wanted sex was something of a relief by comparison. "I tink we do, Miss Ellen."

She paused, thoughtfully. "I think I like the sound of that, James. Keep calling me 'Miss Ellen', alright?"

"So... what ye need firstly, Miss Ellen?" There was very little I wouldn't do for four grand a week.

Ellen shook herself. "Right. Well, remember when I mentioned in my little story that I had a couple of other problems? Here's the easy one."

Ellen reached down and pulled her mu-mu up, the tight fabric rolling her breasts upward before first one, then the other broke free to bounce downward.

"Mother of God," I gasped at the first sight of her bared tits. Ellen's bust was spectacular. Not only was the sheer size of her mammaries awe-inspiring, with pale areolas in perfect circles and bigger in diameter than my own face was, but Ellen had the thickest nipples I'd ever seen. I mean seriously, her pale pink nubs had to be at least two inches long, and an inch and a half across.

She had all of that going for her, and they didn't sag. Not one bit. Whatever was wrong with her body had stuffed so much breast matter into what was already an overly large container to the point that her insanely full breasts defied gravity.

"Miss Ellen... Deez are... surely ye have de most spectacular baps in de world, truth."

She chuckled, "I'm glad you think so, because you are going to be spending a lot of time with them. See, I lactate. It's one of my problems. My nipples are too big to use a breast pump anymore, and as big as these are," she bounced her heavy breasts meaningfully, "I can't get my nipples into my own mouth. I'm tired of squeezing it out, James. It's kind of painful, and takes forever. Come, drink me," she beckoned.


That huge nipple staring at me was kind of intimidating that close up. I wasn't sure if I should use my hands, or if that was even allowed. Ellen grasped the back of my head with her enormous hand and pulled me down to make contact with it, taking the choice from me altogether.

I did as I was bade, and began to suckle at her breast. The flow of milk was weak to start with, but steadily increased in volume until I was having to swallow with every draw. She tasted like the milk left in the bowl after really sugary cereal, only watery and body temperature hot. It was surprisingly delicious.

Ellen kept that big hand on the back of my head and sighed softly. "Oh that feels great, James. No teeth now, be careful of that, okay? You can touch if you want," she suggested.

I made the decision at that point that would eventually overtake me entirely. If I was to be a proper manservant for her, then Miss Ellen's suggestions would have to be orders. I grasped the sides of that huge tit and felt her vastness, trying very hard to be as gentle as possible. I stroked the skin more than anything.

"Oooooh," she cooed. "My skin is very sensitive, James. I told you about that, right? Your hands feel so good, keep doing that."

The flow of her milk wasn't stopping. My stomach began to feel full, but I pushed on regardless. I kept on stroking her breast skin and tried to ignore not only my expanding stomach, but my straining erection.

Eventually that massive breast was dry. I couldn't begin to gauge just how much she put into me, but I knew that I wasn't going to fit anything else in me for awhile. I leaned back, bracing myself with my hands behind me on her knee. "I tink yer empty, Miss Ellen."

Ellen gently squeezed the breast I'd been working on, and a single drop welled up on her nipple that I darted forward to lick off before she had to ask me.

"Mmm. Good job, James. Now for the other one."

The surprising feeling of pleasure I'd felt at her praise quickly morphed into horror as I stared over at her other breast. There was no way I could drink that much again so soon.

"Ah... Miss Ellen, me apologies but I dunnae tink I can drink anytin' else right now." To make my point, I poked at my slightly swollen stomach, and the liquid inside sloshed.

She stared at my stomach for a moment before looking at my face. "I suppose you're right, I can't expect you to take it all in the very first time. We'll work on stretching you out, James. In ten minutes or so you'll work on my other until you're full again. Then again. You'll get there eventually, James. I have faith in you," she told me seriously.

I blinked at her casual dominance. Thinking it over though, she was paying me an awful lot of money to never say no. I nodded, accepting her orders.

"In the meantime, though, I've got one more thing I need you to do for me." With that she grasped me around my ribs and hoisted me up, setting me down on the floor between her splayed legs. "Get on your knees, James," she told me imperiously.

I struggled to a kneeling position as she untied the curtain she wore as a skirt. Without any flourish, the purple fabric was pulled away to reveal Ellen's crotch.

I'd never seen what an intersexed woman had between her legs before. There was no denying that the erect, surprisingly circumcised phallus pointing straight out and directly at my face was a penis. On the base of it, underneath, the skin split and opened up into a vagina, her large pussy lips slightly bulging and if I squinted, they looked a little like balls.

Ellen grasped her cock and slowly stroked it. A bead of pre-cum welled up out of the tip, slowly stretching down to the floor. "This is my other big problem, James. My hormones are always out of control, and I'm horny nearly all of the time."

I looked at her lustful face pleadingly. I mean, I wasn't supposed to say no to her, but this was a dick. A dick she obviously expected me to suck. For some reason, when she told me she was intersexed, I didn't realize that she wanted me to do things to her penis.

She kept stroking her erection. "This is kind of a deal-breaker, James. I will expect you to do this for me whenever I want." There was a long moment where I didn't move, and she sighed. "Gather your hair to the back of your head, James." Her tone wasn't pleased, and I rushed to move my hair to where she wanted before I could think it through.

Ellen reached behind my head with her free hand and grasped the short ponytail I'd made back there in her fist. With the handle I'd inadvertently created for her, Ellen applied her incredible strength to move me towards her cock. A few strands of my hair slipped free from her tight grasp to drift in front of my face, and I stared at her cock as she flexed it in her grip, the crown swelling dramatically for a moment.

I fought against her force instinctually, but to no avail. She was unstoppable. Inexorably I was pulled down and in, until her flared cockhead was against my clenched lips.

Compared to the rest of her body, Ellen's cock looked rather small. Up this close, however, I could see just how badly that skewed perspective had thrown me off. She had at least eight visible inches, and her shaft was at least as thick as her nipples. It was only in the grip of her giant hand, between those tree trunk thighs that it seemed small. Ellen rubbed her cockhead back and forth across my mouth, smearing her pre-cum across my lips.

"You'll start out easy, James. Ease into it. Just kiss it. One kiss."

I took a deep, steadying breath through my nose, and was inundated with the scents of her nether regions. A combination of slightly musky dick and wet pussy assaulted my senses. The fist grasping my hair held my entire head immobile, I was going nowhere.

I puckered my lips and kissed the crown like she wanted. At the slight suction of my lips, her cockhead flared alarmingly against my mouth.

"Ah," she breathed. "That wasn't so bad now, was it? Do it again, James. One more time."

I kissed her dick again, and she pulled me into just a little firmer contact with it.

"Mmm. Put the head in your mouth now. Suckle it just like you did my breast. Just the tip, James, that's all."

The tone of Ellen's voice held no room for argument. This was going to happen whether or not I wanted it. My eyes closed of their own accord, trying to protect me from what was happening, and I slipped my lips around the flaring end of her weapon.

"See? That's not so scary now, is it? Suck on it, James... Suck it."

Heart pounding, and hating myself a little for letting myself get into this situation, I obeyed and sucked on her cock. The spongy flesh on my tongue swelled in her pleasure.

"Harder, James. Suck me harder... More! Yeah, just like that. That feels nice." She had me suck on just the end of her dick for about a minute before she yanked me back off of it. I looked up at her questioningly.

Miss Ellen gazed down at me from so far above, her face framed by the gargantuan swells of her giant tits. Without expression she told me seriously, "Wet your lips, James."

I wasn't slow about it, her tone held a lot of impatience. Frantically I ran my tongue around my lips, tasting the pre-cum she'd smeared there earlier and the musk of her cock that she'd left on me. Then I was once again forced down onto her spear.

This time she moved my head up and down as I sucked, using my head like a Fleshlight. She really was taking it easy on me, I realized. I was being bobbed over only a few of her inches.

"Use your tongue, James. Mmm. That's good. I can't tell you how many dreams I've had of this. Most girls, when they have wet dreams about the guy they like, it's probably something like getting fucked by him. The dream I always had? I'd find you in the school library, and I'd ask you to be my boyfriend. When you'd say yes, I'd push you to your knees, pull my dick out, and make you blow me. I had that dream at least once a month for years after I met you."

As she reminisced, she began to bob me deeper down on her dick. With her implacable grip on my hair, she began to slide me down over more than half of her length, then back up. I braced myself with my hands on the floor as she picked up speed.

I looked up at her face as she stared down at me. "Keep looking up at me, James. I want you to grow your hair out, understand? I need more of a handle than this. That reminds me, I don't like facial hair, I'm going to want you to keep your face smooth. Hum if you understand."

I hummed around her dick, and she slid even more of it in, until I gagged. "You are going to need to work through that gag reflex, James. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of practice. Mmmm, I'm close. You're going to swallow, James. I'm going to cum in your mouth, and you will swallow it."

Every third pass down her shaft, Ellen pressed me down deep enough to make me gag again. If I managed to suppress it, she went just a little further down with my head. My eyes were tearing awfully, but I kept looking up at her as she demanded.

I watched her lip curl upward in almost a snarl, and she shoved me all the way down. My nose sank into the soft flesh above her cock, and I could feel the top of her vaginal divide on my lower lip. I fought against gagging with everything I had, as she'd lodged her swollen head down my throat more than just a little.

Her cock swelled in my mouth mightily, and then it began to pulse at a rapid rate. Shot after shot of Ellen's cum shot down my throat and she grunted softly with every stream.

It seemed like she'd been saving that orgasm for her entire life with how long it lasted. Spurt after spurt left her python and went straight into the liquid contents of my stomach that she'd filled just prior.

I'd sucked a dick until it came, and swallowed the resulting cum. I was now officially a cocksucker, no two ways about it. My face flushed with humiliation.

When Ellen finally stopped cumming down my throat, she pulled me back, but only halfway. Her face turned upward into a happy, pleased smile, and it did something to me. The humiliation I had been feeling twisted around on itself and turned inside out into something resembling pride.

"You did good for your first time, James. Very good," she praised me happily.

That same feeling I had gotten briefly earlier at her praise hit me again, only stronger. It felt like gentle electricity traveled down my spine and settled in my stomach, energizing my whole body. My eyes rolled up into my head momentarily, outside of my control. How could the simple statement of her saying I did well make me feel like that?

Miss Ellen settled back and absently played with her massive breast, chuckling. "Even though you have my dick in your mouth, James, I'm still a woman. We're multi-orgasmic."

Mentally sighing, I put effort into not gagging on her cock. That feeling of energy from pleasing her was addictive, and I wanted more of it. And then there was the money too, I guess.

******

It had taken an entire six weeks to get Miss Ellen's home into some kind of order. I didn't dare ask how long it had been since any of it was cleaned, but it had obviously been some time. The swimming pool, in particular, took an entire three days to get back into shape.

Miss Ellen established a routine for me to follow, and any free time I had outside of that was mine to do with as I wished.

Miss Ellen hated alarm clocks, so it fell to me to wake her. I would bring her a coffee cup, gently stroke her face until she woke, and hand her the mug. As she sat up, sipped it and woke up, I would lay across her immense lap and get to work at emptying her breasts. I was now able to get the contents of an entire breast and about half of the other down before my stomach was stretched too painfully to continue. Miss Ellen was kind enough to support my head as I eased her fullness.

Sometimes she wanted a blowjob or two, but most times she scooted herself to the shower without. Perhaps once a week she'd want me to get in the water with her and wash her from head to toe. Those were my favorite mornings.

I'd make her breakfast, and after she vanished into her office I would start on cleaning for the day.

Miss Ellen really only used a few rooms in the entire manor. Out of sixty-eight rooms, only the kitchen, Miss Ellen's bedroom and bathroom, her office, and the bathroom I usually used needed daily cleaning. I'd tackle three or four of the barren, unused rooms every day, and usually steam-cleaned the hallway carpets twice a month.

The lawn needed care twice a week, but there was a very large riding lawnmower for my use.

I'd make Miss Ellen lunch and supper, but for the most part she stayed locked away in her office working on her computer, either writing her novels or programming.

Then I looked around, and there was a lot I could do for her.

Settling on the first thing I thought she needed, I went out and spent my own money on a lot of electrical conduit pipes and the devices I needed to curve and cut them. Miss Ellen reviewed the receipts for everything I charged on the household card, and if I didn't pay for it all myself the surprise would be ruined. I had hardly anything to spend the stupid amount of money she paid me on anyway.

Working from memory, I built what were essentially wire-frame models of Miss Ellen from the neck to waist, from waist to ankle, and one that was neck to mid-thigh. They were my dress-maker dolls. The arc-welder in the garage came in very handy for putting all of the curved piping together.

Once I had my models, I appropriated one of the rooms on the lower floor, far away from Miss Ellen's cluster of rooms. A work-table, a sewing machine, all the supplies I would need to make her clothing that would actually fit her gigantic frame.

Buying the biggest, highest quality bra and panty set I could find, I meticulously reverse-engineered it, taking lots of pictures and notes as stitch by stitch it was tediously disassembled, then I made much larger ones from scratch, out of the same fabric it had but in multiple colors.

The bra hooks I had to fabricate myself. Miss Ellen had large fingers, she didn't need to be fumbling with the, to her, stupidly tiny hooks.

I had four sets of underwear, made from silk with doubly reinforced silk thread stitching. One in white, one in black, one in teal and one in red. Lace is terrible to work with.

I did the same reverse-engineering to make her a half-dozen simple cotton panties, three tank-tops, six v-neck t-shirts, three skirts, two lightweight summer dresses, and a single pair of blue jeans. I'd even managed to make a dozen pairs of cotton socks in various colors, but I had to guess on those. I couldn't make models of her feet from memory.

I stared at the clothing gift-boxes I'd packed it all into, and decided that she'd gone long enough wearing mu-mus and curtains. Besides, if I was off when I made the dolls, and none of it fit right, then this was a good stopping point. I'd sank enough of my own time and money into this.

I clicked my earpiece. "I have a surprise for you, Miss Ellen. Are you free to meet me in your bedroom?"

"Oh, uh... alright. Am I going to like this surprise?"

"I do hope so."

Miss Ellen walked into the room, a puzzled look on her face. I gestured at the stack of boxes and stepped back.

She walked over to them, shooting me odd looks, and opened up the top box.

The very top box had the silk bra and panty sets in it, and once she had absorbed what was she was looking at, the box top slipped from her fingers.

She fingered the material on one of the bras in front of her. "Okay. I want to know all about just how you pulled this off, but that can wait a second. Why do you sound British all of a sudden?"

I blushed and looked at my feet. "My accent was too thick, and from too many countries. No one could ever understand me, well, except for you, Miss Ellen. Working for you, I finally had the means to do something about it."

"Alright, but why British?" she wondered.

"Because all of the great manservants have this accent. Batman has Alfred. Ironman has Jarvis... and Miss Ellen has James. I bought an online dialect package, and I would practice while I worked on your surprise," I gestured helplessly at the disarrayed clothing boxes. "Now seemed like the time to make the switch."

Ellen stared at me, then stood to her full, impressive height and carelessly stripped off her mu-mu and curtain in front of me. She picked up the teal silk panties, rubbing the material in her fingers covetously, and bent down to step into them.

The problem was that her hands were shaking so badly that she kept dropping them. I nodded to myself and knelt at her feet. "Allow me, Miss Ellen," I told her as I gently pulled the underwear from her fumbling fingers.

Holding them for her to step into, I pulled the silk up her legs and over her massive bottom, snugging it into place. I turned to get the matching bra, and when I looked back Miss Ellen was wiping a tear from her eye that she tried to hide from me.

She maneuvered her giant tits into the half-cups while I walked around to her back, reaching up and latching it together.

She stepped into the blue jeans, wiggled them up her legs and did the sexy bounce thing women did to get a big ass into pants. She slipped a pink t-shirt over her head, and tugged it down past the large swells of her breasts. Her deep, deep cleavage was bared fetchingly through the V-neck.

She sat down heavily on her bed and slipped a pair of pink socks on, and I almost breathed a sigh of relief as they seemed to fit.

Miss Ellen wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "Do you know how long it's been since I've worn real clothes?" she asked hoarsely.

I shook my head, "No, Miss Ellen."

She couldn't keep from running her hands over her shirt and pants. "I grew out of the biggest bra I ever found when I was eighteen. When I was twenty, I had to start wearing mu-mus and those fucking curtains," she snarled at the offensive garment where it lay on the floor. "The year after that, there were no panties anywhere that I could fit my legs through the holes. It's been almost four years, James, since I've even worn panties. How did you find these, and where can I buy more?" she pleaded.

I grasped my hands in front of me and tried not to fidget. "The fit is good?" I stalled.

Miss Ellen sniffled and ran her thumb under her bra strap. "They fit almost perfectly, James. Now tell me, where did you get all of this?"

I confessed, "I made them, Miss Ellen."

Her face lost all expression, and she stared at me long enough that I really doubted myself. "Are... are you displeased, Miss Ellen?" I cringed.

She slowly and deliberately stood up from where she had been sitting on the bed, walking to just in front of me, and staring down at me from two feet up. Then she wrapped her arms around me in a big hug and picked me up from the floor. My arms pinned to my sides, I was helpless in her mighty grasp.

Face to face with her, tightly clutched in her arms against her massive bosom, Miss Ellen stared into my eyes and told me seriously, "Displeased? I have never been more pleased, ever. This was the best surprise I have ever had." Then Miss Ellen kissed me.

I had been serving her for months, drinking from her breasts two or three times a day and performing oral sex on her at least half that much. She'd never once kissed me in all of that time.

I opened my mouth when her tongue demanded entrance, and hung limply from her arms as she aggressively explored my mouth. The pleasure from her telling me how pleased she was made my body light up like a Christmas tree, flickering points of light that only I could feel all over my body. The demanding kiss that Miss Ellen bestowed on me nearly made me cum in my pants after that.

I stroked her large, powerful tongue with mine as she ravaged me, kissing her back as well as I could under the circumstances. Finally she pulled her tongue back out of my mouth, gave me one last, lingering peck, and set me down to my feet. She ran her hand lovingly over the top of my head, smiling and excited. "Show me where you made all of this."

******

I stood in the doorway of the sewing room, watching as Miss Ellen slowly walked around the space, reaching out to touch things here and there at random. She eventually came upon the disassembled bra, pieces pinned to a corkboard in something like an exploded view, and studied it carefully. Surrounding the bra pieces were printed photographs of it in various stages of disassembly, and a few hand-drawn diagrams.

"This is how you did it? You took something apart, and made a brand new one in my size? Using these?" she gestured at the wire-frame models of herself.

"Yes, Miss Ellen."

She walked over to the dolls and ran her hand over one of the curved conduits. "And how did you get these?"

"I made them as well, Miss Ellen. From memory."

She turned to look at me, an impressed look on her face. "Just how many tricks are you hiding in that head, James?"

I was confused. I thought she knew my varied work history. As a matter of fact, I assumed I had been hired primarily because of that job experience. "I have a few skills," I demurred.

She nodded thoughtfully, but didn't press. "First question: If I understand your method right, you can recreate anything in my size as long as you have the item, and then more of the fabric it was made from?"

I shifted a bit. "In theory, yes. I am not a master tailor, Miss Ellen. Those brassieres, and those blue jeans you are wearing were rather difficult for me. I believe I can get better with time and practice, though."

She nodded and looked around the room again. "Can you make shoes?"

I blinked, put on the spot. "I... can try? I would have to learn from the ground up, I have not ever attempted to do so."

Miss Ellen nodded her head again, understanding, and I felt so relieved. "Next question: I don't remember seeing any receipts for... any of this. How did you pay for it?"

"Out of me wag..." I closed my eyes briefly, shifted my dialect back to right inside of my head, and tried again. "I paid with my own wages, Miss Ellen. I could not surprise you with this had you known what I'd purchased."

Miss Ellen paused for only a second. "Alright, here's what is going to happen. First, you get a raise. Another thousand a week sounds about right. I'm also going to give you a ten thousand dollar bonus to cover what you've spent here. That is enough?" she checked.

I was stunned at the generosity, and stuttered, "S-surely there isn't ten thousand dollars invested into this..."

She waved it off. "Consider it done, then. I want you to make me a wish list for this room, top of the line, whatever you want or need to make me clothes. The sky is the limit, James. I have an idea to replace these... metal things with something perfectly accurate. Also, I have to reward you in some way. You're giving me a piece of my life back here, James, and I am going to lean on you pretty heavily for this for awhile. What would you like? Anything at all."

I thought furiously. I needed very little, except for... "An exercise bicycle, Miss Ellen." I poked my chubby stomach to help illustrate.

She looked a little embarrassed. "I didn't want to say anything, but you have gained a little weight. Ridiculous coming from me, right? Can I ask what changed?"

I debated with myself over telling her, but eventually bit the bullet. "My diet consists nearly entirely of your breast milk, Miss Ellen."

She put her hand to her mouth in something like horror. "I had no idea. You don't have to do that anymore, okay?"

Her words made me panic, like I'd failed her. Even I was surprised at how strong that panic was. "No, Miss Ellen! Please... please give me a chance to see if exercise will help. I can still serve you in this!"

Miss Ellen blinked at me, surprised at my vehemence. "Well... alright... I guess. If it isn't working out, let me know and I'll figure something else out."

"Of course, Miss Ellen," I lied, calming back down. There was no way I would make her go back to painfully squeezing her milk out when I could take it from her pleasurably. She was mine to care for, full stop.

Miss Ellen scrubbed her mouth thoughtfully as she looked at me. "While you are making your wish list, pick out a vehicle for yourself, and I'll have it delivered. Something you'd like, but still allow you to run my errands."

******

Miss Ellen went on a buying spree that very day. She ordered a 3D scanner, an entire dozen 3D printers, and what seemed like a metric ton of printing plastic. Rush ordered, overnight delivery.

She had me scan her nude body from four different angles, and the same for her feet. She spent quite some time with the scans on her computer, and then she printed life-size mannequins of herself in eight inch cubed sections, twelve at a time.

Once they were all assembled and glued together, much like LEGOs, I had a green upper body with removable, handless arms, a blue lower body from the bottom of the ribs to ankles, a red neck to thigh mannequin which also had removable arms, and a pair of purple feet to try my hand at shoes with. Every detail was perfect, down to the texture of the surface imitating her skin.

The workspace changed into a very expensive, top shelf sewing room. I even had a rack for bolts of fabric and an embroidery machine, and an 80-inch flat screen mounted on the wall that I could put pictures and diagrams up on for easy reference.

For the next few months, I worked in that room nearly to the exclusion of everything else building Miss Ellen's wardrobe. Miss Ellen would order clothes she liked online, and order the fabric I'd need, and I'd do my best to recreate it all for her.

She took great satisfaction in having me throw out her mu-mus and curtains.

******

"James? Come to my bedroom, please."

I put down the wrench and stood from my current project, clicking my earpiece. "I will be with you shortly, Miss Ellen."

Turning and walking one door down the hallway, I let myself into Miss Ellen's bedroom.

She laid sprawled on her bed, upper back resting against her headboard, completely naked and stroking her erect cock.

"How may I serve, Miss Ellen?"

"Come give me head, James," she grinned.

I crawled up the bed between her long, thick splayed legs, and gathered my hair for her without being prompted.

Miss Ellen grasped my hair in her large fist, propped her legs up, and tugged me in to eat her pussy. It was a rare treat for me.

Miss Ellen didn't actually have a clitoris, instead she had a fully functional penis. She wedged my face between her bulging pussy lips into her wetness, and I licked around and into the opening as directed. Her heavy dick rested against my forehead.

"Mmm. You keep getting better at this James," she complimented me, and as always any praise from her made my body electrify. I didn't understand it, but there it was anyway.

She made noises and coos as I worked at her opening, before she yanked me out of her gash and lined her cock up, shoving it all the way down my throat.

It had taken time and practice, but I no longer even felt the urge of gagging on her member. With my head tilted back enough, she could slide me over her full length without bending it.

I licked her underside as she liked, snaking my tongue out on the down stroke to graze her vagina. Miss Ellen really liked that, and was my last hurdle in repressing my gag reflex.

She casually bobbed me back and forth on her dick and spoke in a conversational tone. "I managed to get you some training with a cobbler, James. For a somewhat high fee, he will teach you to make custom footwear. You start on Monday."

I grasped her cock and began to stroke it, not wanting her to lose her erection over this. "I am also less than a week from completing your birthday present," I reluctantly admitted. "I had hoped to make it a surprise."

Miss Ellen's face turned up in a confused, yet pleased smile. "You're making me something for my birthday?"

I took a quick lick of her cockhead to keep her hard. "I am. Perhaps... four days at most, working around my other duties?"

Miss Ellen considered that, and gently coaxed my head back to her dick, letting me do it on my own this time. "With what I'm paying that asshole, we can push it back a week. I'm so excited! Your last surprise was the best, James."

I worked over Miss Ellen's cock with every skill she'd forcefully taught me as she herself stared into space with an excited grin.

******

I hand-tightened the last screw, and looked it all over carefully. Piece by piece I had fabricated a computer desk and office chair to Miss Ellen's size in the auto shop, then assembled it all by hand in the room across from her office. Power tools would have given away the surprise.

The first time Miss Ellen had summoned me to her office, I was dismayed at seeing her sitting in an armless office chair far too small to be comfortable, her prodigious bottom flowing over the sides of the seat. It must have been to her like a bicycle seat was to me. She hunched over a tiny desk typing on a keyboard made for someone not nearly as impressive as she. That feeling made a resurgence every time I had seen her working, and she spent most of every day working.

Once I'd seen just how much space was under her desk, I'd also installed a stool that I could swing down on a mounted arm with some limited mobility that would support my weight. Just in case she should want relief while working.

Her office chair was made to her specifications, large enough for her bottom, reinforced enough for her weight, and tall enough for her leg length.

I picked up my tools, and recleaned everything in the room one last time. It was ready to show.

I clicked my earpiece. "Miss Ellen?"

"Is it ready?" she asked excitedly. Miss Ellen had been ever so anxious for her gift. So anxious, in fact, that I worried she had over-hyped it in her mind and would be disappointed by the reality.

"It is. Come across the hall from your office when you please."

Miss Ellen nearly charged through the door, and stopped abruptly. "Oh, James," she whispered.

Reverently approaching her new desk, she carefully sat into the chair and wheeled herself in. She ran covetous hands over the desktop, and pulled out the tray.

Experimentally, she placed her fingers onto the keyboard, clicking a few keys, then played with the screen mounts and giggled.

She turned to me with a bright smile. "You've been holding out on me, James," she teased. "I wonder just what else you can do. No, wait, don't tell me. I don't want to ruin any future surprises. Just tell me one thing; What can you do that I should have been asking for all of this time?"

I thought quickly. "Either translation or massage, Miss Ellen."

Miss Ellen turned in her new chair to face me fully. "Really?"

I shrugged a little, not wanting to brag. "I speak, read, and write seven languages, and I held a position as a masseuse some time ago for perhaps... four months?"

Miss Ellen leaned back in her chair and breathed, "I don't pay you enough."

"Miss Ellen," I told her gently but somewhat laughingly, "you pay me over a quarter of a million dollars a year."

She shook her head and touched her desk again. "You're worth at least twice that. At least." After a moment of thought, she blurted, "I've been an idiot."

"Miss Ellen?"

She shook her head disgustedly. "I never had clothes that fit, not because I couldn't afford to see a tailor, but because it would mean going out into public and meeting strangers. I won't do that to myself anymore."

She looked at me and said, "But ordering custom furniture? I've got more money than I know what to do with, and I have you to greet the delivery men. The real gift you've given me here, James, is the realization that I don't have to try and cram myself into furniture that isn't right. I can make my home fit me."

I was confused. Did she not like it? Was she going to order something made by an actual craftsman instead of my amateurish gift? My face fell as I realized that I'd disappointed her.

"James? What is it? What's wrong?"

I looked at Miss Ellen's concerned face and tried to be stoic. "Nothing at all, Miss Ellen. I will dispose of this, and when you have a desk and chair of your choosing delivered I will, of course, have it placed wherever you like."

She looked at me as though I had stopped speaking English altogether. "Dispo-? What!? James, I love this! I was talking about the couch in the entryway and my bed and... everything except this!"

I blinked my eyes, trying to keep the relieved tears inside. "Ah... M-my apologies, Miss Ellen. The-there is one thing I'd like to show you, if I may? Would you please roll away for a moment?"

Miss Ellen wheeled her chair backward, and I scrambled underneath the desk where her legs would rest, pulling the spring-loaded stool down on its arm and seating myself. "Wheel in, please Miss Ellen."

She wheeled in, her legs comfortably spread and I placed my head nearly into her groin. "Should you want relief as you are working," I needlessly explained.

I looked up at her over the curve of her breasts and saw her face morph into a naughty grin. "Yes, I am definitely keeping this desk," she told me, as she reached down to her fly, unzipped it, and fished her cock out through the opening. "Relieve me, James," she smiled down at me.

I sucked her soft cock into my mouth, feeling it rapidly harden as I bobbed my head. I tried to apologize for my misstep with her blowjob, and worked her over with enthusiasm.

Her big hand grasped my head, fingers spread and reaching quite far around the circumference. After only a few minutes she pressed me all the way in and shot her cum down my esophagus.

I gently suckled at her cock as she orgasmed, and when I felt like her load was finished, I began to bob again.

Miss Ellen relaxed in the chair I made for her, at the desk I made for her, as I sucked her dick over and over while sitting on the stool I made for me.

******

Miss Ellen had gifted me a card to be used for surprises after that, only wanting to see the receipts once the surprise was sprung. I had immediately asked her for permission to remodel one of the unused rooms on the second floor.

While the exercise bike had helped a little, I was still gaining some weight. I'd worked my waist slightly slimmer, but my chest had gotten even a little bigger yet, and my ass and thighs were so fat that the hem of my pants was creeping up my leg.

I had to get this done before I looked even more different than I did in high school.

Using the online yearbooks of Miss Ellen's school, I had recreated a section of her high school library.

The same flat, blue carpet. Same ten-foot high bookshelves. I'd replaced the light fixture with a hanging overhead florescent light. The bookshelves bordered the room, and above them, in the four feet to the ceiling I'd placed mirrors, giving the illusion that outside of the shelves the room continued on.

There was a table and chairs, made to Miss Ellen's size, and a poster recreated from a photo in the yearbook from the year when I was there with her.

It was filling the shelves that took the most time. I'd raided every thrift shop for miles around of their books, and eventually resorted to making mock-books out of printed book covers and blocks of wood to occupy all of that space.

I made her both, using the expensive embroidering machine to make the graphic and lettering on the front of the sweatshirt, and I placed them on her bed, next to a pair of white socks, cotton bra and panties, and a pair of white sneakers.

I had spent five weeks and three days learning to make footwear from a misogynistic asshole who never called me anything other than 'Miss Volk' and denigrated my every effort.

It was when he had torn me up and down over a pair of boots I'd made for nearly thirty minutes, and then I saw them on display the next day for an obscene amount of money with no alterations that I'd decided I had learned enough.

I came home to Miss Ellen, and immediately made her five pairs of differing footwear.

Once I had her outfit laid out, I raced to my rooms in the servant's quarters to get myself ready.

I showered thoroughly, shaved my face carefully, and hung the enema bag from the shower head, a scent bead fizzling away inside.

It was something I'd began doing twice a day after Miss Ellen's birthday. I had figured it was only a matter of time before Miss Ellen would want more than just blowjobs, and if she wished to fuck me, I wanted to be prepared for her.

To that end, I had cleaned myself out both morning and afternoon every day and graduated through increasing sizes of butt-plugs, trying to make myself as ready as possible.

I dressed myself in the type of clothing I had worn back then, feeling much like a teenager. My face had been breaking out in a little acne lately, and my body hurt like I remembered growing pains had. I was obviously overworking myself, but it couldn't be helped. Serving Miss Ellen gave me a purpose I'd never had before in my life.

I taped a message to the door to the library that read: "Live your dream" and I clicked my earpiece to call Miss Ellen.

"Miss Ellen? Your surprise is finally ready."

"Oooh! I can't wait! Where is it?"

"I have laid out clothing for you on your bed. Once you've dressed, come upstairs to the East wing and look for a sign taped to a door."

When I heard the click signaling she'd terminated the connection, I clicked my earpiece back to standby and settled myself onto one of the many chairs in the room built to comfortably seat a woman two feet taller and much wider than myself.

******

Miss Ellen stepped around bookshelves I'd placed around the doorway in an L-shape. Once you were fully in the room, with sight of the door blocked from view, it really was just like being transported into a high school.

Miss Ellen looked down at the paper in her hand, the note from the door, and looked around with new eyes, seeing what the point was. A smile stole onto her face as she sat across from me, and she tucked her hair behind her ear as she'd done back then.

"Look, I'm glad I caught you, James. I wanted to ask you a question."

"Ya can ask me anyting Lassie, truth. Fire away."

"I wanted to know... will you be my boyfriend?" She looked both excited, yet somehow fearful, either thinking I was setting her up for a big fall, or she'd regressed to her high school mindset.

I leaned over the table. "Truth? Nothin'd make me happier. But ya got ta know, Ellen, dat me parents be movin' me all about de earth at de drop of a hat. We won't have much time togedder."

She grinned. "Why don't you go under the table and get close? I have a surprise for you down there."

I raised an eyebrow, glanced around as if to make absolutely sure no one was looking, and slithered down the seat and under the tall table.

I crawled across the floor on hands and knees to between Miss Ellen's large, black denim-covered and widely spread legs. Her hand was covering her crotch area completely, and her other hand beckoned me forward with a single crooked finger. "Closer, James. Just a little closer."

I shuffled closer, as though I didn't know what she was up to, and as soon as I could see her face as she looked down at me past the edge of the table, she snatched a big handful of my hair to keep me from getting away.

She removed the hand covering her crotch, showing her unbuttoned and unzipped jeans, and her big erection pointed straight upward from the elastic of her panties. Grasping her cock, she pointed it down at my face and stroked it. "Surprise!" she exclaimed, and pulled my head forward, slotting it into my open mouth.

As she worked me over her cock, Miss Ellen relaxed back in the chair and sighed in pleasure. "You said it yourself, James. We won't have much time together, so I kind of need you to put out right away." Grasping her massive breast in her big hand, she squeezed hard enough that her fingers sunk into the flesh through her sweatshirt. "And I've got to let you know, I'm a very horny girl. You're going to have to put out a lot."

Her grip on my hair tightened, and she began to buck up into me, meeting me halfway. "Mmm. I've wanted your cute little mouth around my dick since the day I met you, James. We're going to be doing this a lot, okay? I'm about to cum, here, so remember to swallow. We don't want to leave any evidence for the librarian now, do we?"

Four more strokes where she fucked my face more than I sucked her dick, and she came furiously into my mouth. It was more rapid, and far more volume than she'd ever orgasmed with me before. Either I wasn't tending to her needs often enough lately, or living out her reoccurring wet dream kicked everything up a notch.

Still, most of the time when I gave Miss Ellen relief, she stuffed herself as far into me as she could, far past my taste buds. The first time she came in my mouth instead of down my throat, it was a struggle to swallow it down. I hated the taste, the texture, everything. Every time after that though, it got better and better. Now when I got her cum on my tongue, I savored it as a delicacy. It was a treat Miss Ellen rarely bestowed on me.

I kept my moan inside, but only just. I suckled at just her cockhead, making sure I got every single drop, then swallowed it all down. There was so much, it took me multiple gulps.

Miss Ellen rested with her dick still in my mouth, considering me for a minute. Then she scooted her chair back, and pulled me along with the grip she still had in my hair.

I was pulled to my feet, and she kissed me, closed-mouthed and briefly, before quickly unbuttoning my pants and tearing them down my legs to mid-thigh. My underwear followed right after.

I tried to stay in character. "Er, Ellen? What-?" was as far as I got before I was turned, lifted, and bent over the table.

The table was made for Miss Ellen's stature, so my feet hung limply, not able to reach the ground. I looked over my shoulder as Miss Ellen squatted down, spread my bum with her big hands, and dove in.

Her tongue licking around and barely inside of my asshole actually felt really good. I knew I was clean back there, and was suddenly glad I'd been secretly preparing for this for the last few months.

I kept watching over my shoulder as she got me good and wet, then she stood and spit heavily into her hand, rubbing it all about her still-hard member.

"I know this is your first time, James, but try and keep it down, alright? Don't get us expelled." I felt the crown of her slick spear begin to press at my backdoor, and I forced myself to open up and let her in.

Slowly she stuffed more and more of her tumescence into me, and I realized that I didn't stretch myself out with the plugs enough. My anal ring burned around her plunging weapon.

When it felt like she'd rammed three feet of dick up into my intestines, her soft body touched down against my ass. "Fuck you feel good James," she muttered. My body lit up at her praise, as it always had for her, and the slight pain of my stretched sphincter vanished.

She shifted the grips of her hands to my waist, holding me both possessively and securely. She pulled out, just a little, and plunged that much back in. With every thrust, she pistoned a little more out, and shoved it in a little harder.

It felt like her dick was made for my ass. Or rather, my ass was made for her dick. Her hard cock smoothly went in and out of my hole, making Miss Ellen whimper at the sensations I was giving her. Still watching her, I got to see her bunch up her sweatshirt over her breasts, holding it in place with her chin, and then one at a time pull her breasts out of the bra cups to hang over it. At no point in there did she stop thrusting into me, or even look away from where her cock was sliding in and out of me. I was pretty sure she wasn't even aware I was watching.

Her breasts bounced and wobbled with her thrusting, and every impact of her pelvis to my ass not only sent a shock through me, but plowed my prostate gland. I felt an immense pressure begin to build deep inside of me.

Miss Ellen gripped my waist tight enough to almost hurt, and then she lifted me from the table and took a step back.

I hung limply in the air, unable to brace myself on anything, as Miss Ellen stood to her full, monumental height and fucked me brutally. She seemed to have no more trouble holding me in midair than she would a ragdoll.

I lost track of everything. There was only the feeling of her cock sliding in and out of me, the hard smacks of her pelvis impacting mine, and the big, big pressure still building in my core.

Finally, after perhaps thirty seconds of violent thrusting where she both slammed into me with all of her considerable strength and also pulled me back into her, she suddenly stopped and pressed really, really hard into me, as deep as she could, and came with a muted roar that sounded nearly beastial.

I felt her enormous, flaring head swell alarmingly in my bowels, and then she emptied what seemed like a gallon of liquid heat inside of me, one mighty pulse at a time.

I couldn't hold back any more, and I cried out as my own cock exploded. Spurt after spurt shot out of me, un-aimed at all, to streak across the table that was just out of my reach.

It was the biggest, strongest, longest orgasm I'd ever had... ever.

I came down from that high to find myself still held in the air by my waist, and still stuffed full of Miss Ellen's perpetually hard cock.

"James?" she softly got my attention, "How are you doing?" The tone of her voice was nothing but concern. I intuited that playtime was over.

I needed a moment to collect myself after that. "I have been trying to prepare myself for this, Miss Ellen. I am well, I believe. Do you wish to use me again?"

She gave a small thrust and moaned, the slippery lubrication of her cum working much better than just her saliva. "You wouldn't mind?" she checked.

I kept my chuckles inside. Would I mind? What a ludicrous question. "I am at your service, Miss Ellen. Always."

Miss Ellen walked us over to the table, and laid me down on my own cum. Laying her torso down on my back, her giant heavy breasts spilling across my shoulder blades, she gripped the table edges and took me again much gentler than before. It was nearly loving.

She kissed my ear. "You are the best, James. I hope you know how much you mean to me."

I squeezed her cock with what little strength I had left in my anus, making her moan wantonly. I had no words, I just went limp and enjoyed Miss Ellen laying over me and having her way with me.

******

The male elephant trails behind his prospective mate, waiting impatiently.

I shifted in bed, tired to my bones but unable to sleep just yet. I never developed the attachment to television that most people raised in first world countries did. The only time I ever even turned on the immense TV Miss Ellen had purchased for my apartments in her home was when I was trying to fall asleep.

The one thing I moderately enjoyed watching was nature documentaries, especially the ones made about African fauna. I spent nearly half of my childhood there.

Ah! The male tastes the female's urine, testing the hormones within. Deciding that the sow is not in season just yet, the bull wanders away, perhaps to find another sow to test.

I sat upright in bed, heart pounding, suddenly very, very wide awake. Hormones! Carefully, I rewound the streaming documentary with unsteady fingers on the remote and played that last bit over again.

Hopping out of bed, I grabbed my phone and ran into my bathroom and the mirror within.

I tore my sleep clothes from my body and looked carefully. The changes were so gradual, I didn't notice. Pulling up the last photo on Facebook I'd taken of myself before joining Miss Ellen's service, I held up my phone and compared it to the face in the mirror.

It was definitely different. The mirror had a smaller nose, smaller chin, smaller brow, bigger cheekbones. All of which was impossible.

I cupped the large fleshy bulge over my left pectoral and felt it, digging my fingers in deep.

Oh God.

There was more than just fat inside of there. I knew what a breast felt like, and that was breast tissue. Actual, mammary gland, breast tissue.

Another thought hit me, and buck naked I raced through Miss Ellen's home to the sewing room.

Grabbing the pencil from the work table, I stood against the white wall and made a careful mark in line with the very top of my head, then measured it.

Five feet, ten and a half inches. An entire two and a half inches taller than I should be. I sank to the floor as the implications came crashing down, one after another.

My pants weren't riding up because my ass and legs were getting thicker. I had grown taller. My nose and chin didn't shrink, the rest of my skull got bigger. My shoulders weren't narrower at all, my ribcage and neck had just gotten longer.

The aches that reminded me of growing pains actually were growing pains.

I recalled something I'd seen about a big uproar involving dairy cows being treated with hormones, and that those hormones would make it into the milk they produced.

Miss Ellen had told me, directly, on the very first day of my service that she had an overabundance of hormones. I'd subsisted primarily on the liters of breast milk she produced every day. I'm sure she also had concentrated doses in her semen, which I had been ingesting and, for the last few months, also getting it injected directly into my intestines.

Miss Ellen's endocrine problem had made her very big, very strong, and very voluptuous. It seemed that the same hormones I'd been taking from her had somehow kicked my body into some kind of... accelerated secondary puberty, making my body follow along the same guidelines as she had. I had acne for the first time since I was a teen because I was actually in puberty again.

I didn't get called 'Ma'am' because I had long hair and too much body weight. I got mistaken for female because I was becoming more female.

I pulled my knees up and rested my forehead on them. I was now very aware of how much further my hips stuck out to the sides, and very aware of my breasts pressing against my thighs.

I fought with myself for only a very short time. In the end, I was wholly dedicated to Miss Ellen. If being in her service was to reshape me in her mold, then...

So be it.

******

Ignoring the clicking of the keyboard, I concentrated on giving Miss Ellen the slow blowjob she desired.

Comfortably perched on my stool under her desk, I savored her length as I bobbed my head up and down, trying to keep my noises of enjoyment down so as to not distract her.

She had told me it helped her creativity when she was writing her novels if I would blow her without making her cum. She had no need to explain any of her reasoning to me, all she had to do was state her wants. Still, she tried to let me know the whys of her desires. It was as if she didn't even know that I was hers to do with as she pleased.

There was only so much attention she could take before her orgasm was upon her however, between her heightened libido and sensitive skin. I felt her hand grip the ponytail I'd taken to keeping my hair in, at the direct back of my head, and the cock in my mouth began to pulse and throb, the powerful muscles convulsing to squirt her cum across my tongue and to the back of my throat.

I swallowed her load as slowly as I could, savoring every taste she'd given me. Her hand left my hair, and I resumed bobbing over her still-hard length, managing to get a few more drops of her delicious semen out.

The clicking of the keyboard slowed, then stopped, and she wheeled her chair back to look down at me, incidentally pulling her cock from my mouth with a pop. "I think I want a massage, James. My back hurts a little from typing so long."

I nodded and crawled out from beneath her desk, the stool I'd been resting on springing back up to its resting state without my weight holding it down.

"Very good, Miss Ellen. I shall await you in the massage room." I hustled out of her office and a few doors down to the room I'd outfitted for her.

Soft lighting, an oil warmer, and a surround-sound speaker system to play relaxing music. And the pièce de résistance; a massage table, large and reinforced enough to handle Miss Ellen's awe-inspiring frame.

Turning on the warmer and stereo, I slipped into the smock hanging near the door to protect my clothing from the massage oils, and waited.

Miss Ellen walked into the room less than ten minutes later, and proceeded to strip her clothing off one article at a time, handing each to me once off.

I quickly and carefully folded her clothing as she disrobed, setting the articles on the shelf I'd installed for that very purpose.

Once she was nude, Miss Ellen laid out on the large massage table, resting her face in the padded hole at the head.

Grabbing the oil pump bottle from the warmer, I slipped it into my pocket and stepped to the table. Pumping a few squirts of oil into my hand and coating both of my hands, I began to rub Miss Ellen's lower back to an immediate groan.

I could not pay visual attention to what my hands were doing, relying on touch to keep working. Miss Ellen's large, voluptuous bottom sat high and proud, impossibly smooth and periodically clenching as she involuntarily humped the table. Rare were the times that I was able to indulge myself in admiring her glorious backside.

Miss Ellen's skin was so sensitive that an oil-assisted massage wasn't just nearly sexual to her, it was absolutely sexual. There was always much cum to clean from both the table and Miss Ellen herself after every rub-down.

Eventually I had to move up her back and away from that glorious bottom, so I did. Finding a knot, I gently worked the muscle loose to Miss Ellen's groans and sighs. Without warning she slammed her hips down on the table and humped strongly, pumping out a load of cum between herself and the table.

I kept working on her without pause. Miss Ellen was free to orgasm as she liked at any time without shame.

I rubbed away the aches in her back for nearly twenty minutes before she was as loose as I dared. "Do you wish for a full-body massage, Miss Ellen?" I queried.

Lazily, she picked her head out of the cushion. "No, I think I just wanted my back done. Thank you, James."

"My pleasure, Miss Ellen. Are you satisfied, or do you wish for more?"

Miss Ellen shuffled her body over until she was laying on her back. Her stomach was coated in the remnants of her multiple orgasms. "One more happy ending?" she begged.

Wiping my hands on a towel, I nodded. "Of course. How would you like your happy ending, Miss Ellen?"

"Ride me," she grinned, and stroked her cum-slick penis with an obscene smacking sound.

I removed my smock and hung it back up, then removed my pants and boxers, folding them quickly and placing them on the shelf. I pumped a squirt of massage oil into my hand, and climbed onto the table.

Straddling Miss Ellen's girthy thighs, I faced away from her. I did not want to cum on her body if it proved to be too much for me, as it usually did. My oil slickened hand took over stroking her, and I lubricated her member thoroughly before smearing some around and in my ass a little.

I lined her up, and sank down over her length until I rested on her soft body. Miss Ellen grasped my hips, and began to lift and drop me over her greedy cock, at a pace and depth that she desired. Riding Miss Ellen did not mean that I actually rode her.

The impacts of her dick against my prostate were a wonderful gift from her. My eyes closed of their own accord, and I savored Miss Ellen's powerful cock moving in and out of me.

She was tireless in lifting and dropping me, and I came before she did, shooting my cum to the table between her spread legs. I clenched around her tool as I orgasmed, and Miss Ellen chuckled, but did not slow or stop. "Did you just cum, James?" she teased.

"I did, Miss Ellen. Thank you."

She pulled me down and pressed me hard against her, rocking my hips with her powerful hands. "Careful, James. I might start to think that you like this."

"Bringing you pleasure brings me pleasure, Miss Ellen," I admitted.

The strong hands rocking my hips slowed to a stop, and I looked over my shoulder at her.

"If that's true, then do you know what would really give me pleasure? Turn around so I can kiss you while I fuck you."

I eased myself from her impalement, and carefully turned myself around, sinking back down on her thick cum injector. Miss Ellen pulled me down to lie on her, and scooted me up a bit so that when she curled her back and bent her neck, she could reach my lips with hers. My shirt felt wet where it started to soak in the remnants of Miss Ellen's prior orgasms.

Miss Ellen began to thrust upward, unable to quite bottom out as she could before, but her insistent, frenetic kissing seemed to make up for my lack of height to her.

One of her large hands grasped my ass and hip, and the other trailed down the side of my face, down my neck, and over my chest. When she found my breast beneath the loose shirt I was wearing, everything stopped right there.

"James..." she whispered dangerously at me from inches away. "What. Is. This!?"

I felt a lot of fear in that moment, but answered honestly. "I believe that is my breast, Miss Ellen."

"Get off. Right now," she demanded through clenched teeth and I scrambled to obey.

Miss Ellen sat herself upright and turned to face me. She considered me for a moment. "Have you been taking hormones, James?"

I stared at my feet and clasped my hands. "I believe that I have been taking your hormones, Miss Ellen."

"Explain. Now."

I cringed at her tone. "You, yourself have admitted to me that you have an overabundance of various hormones in your system, Miss Ellen. I believe those same hormones are in your semen and breast milk, which have comprised perhaps ninety percent of my diet for the last year and a half."

I looked up at her disbelieving face. "You think that your chest fat is actually boobs, and it's somehow my fault?"

I tried to stand straight. "There are other indicators, Miss Ellen. My nipples are bigger, my hips are wider. My face is different. When last I measured, I have grown nearly three inches taller in the time I have served you. My skin is softer and far more sensitive. Even my penis is slightly larger, Miss Ellen."

She looked at my face closely, and her disbelief became something approaching horror. "Take off your clothes, James. Show me," she whispered.

I removed my shirt, letting the garment fall to the floor, and Miss Ellen gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Behind that barrier, she bade me, "Let your hair down."

Wearing a simple shirt hid much. Not only the swells of my chest, but my diminished chest hair and the off proportions of my waist and hips. With my hair falling past my shoulders, I looked far more like an unkempt woman than any man.

Miss Ellen did not look away from my breasts. "When I reached out to you, James, all I wanted was to hire the boy I liked in school and pay him to let me fuck him. If you could cook or clean halfway decently, that would have been a nice bonus, and something for you to do to keep busy."

"You have gone so far beyond any reasonable expectation I could ever have had. My life has been so much better in every way ever since I hired you, and that's all thanks to you." Miss Ellen reached out and cupped my cheek gently. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you," she sniffed wetly.

That last sentence was alarming. "Am... am I really so repugnant to you?" I softly despaired.

Miss Ellen shook her head slowly. "No, James. Just the opposite. Jesus, I mean..." she paused and wiped her eyes. She sadly chuckled, "I want to dress you in slutty outfits and whorish makeup. I want you to remove your body hair altogether and make you answer to the name Holly and even call me Mistress. I didn't even know that about myself until just now. That's why this is so hard."

Miss Ellen stood from the table, grabbed a fresh towel and began to wipe herself down instead of having me do it, cleaning away the oils and cum. Not looking at me, she told me, "I'm going to give you a very generous severance package, James. Six figures. You'll have medical and dental until the end of the year. I will book you the penthouse suite at the Radisson for the next month, I owe you that much at least. If it takes you longer to find your own place than that, let the concierge know, and I'll pay for longer. But I want you out of here by tonight, James. You can take your range rover with you."

I fell to my knees. In less than three minutes my entire world fell apart. "Please, Miss Ellen," I begged. "Please don't send me away. You do not have to pay me anything any longer, I will work for free. Just don't make me go!"

Miss Ellen still would not look at me. "No, James. I... I've disfigured you. I am so sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I have to save you from me, no matter how much it hurts. Goodbye, James."

I knelt on the floor and wept softy as Miss Ellen walked out of the room and more importantly, out of my life.

******

I moped for a week straight, spiraling down into what was assuredly some form of depression once I had left Mistress Ellen's home.

Eventually, I came across some motivation that would get me out of bed. It wasn't healthy, but if I was brutally honest with myself, no part of my devotion to my Mistress was actually healthy. That did not make it any less fulfilling in any sense.

I found a two-bedroom apartment, and ordered furniture to be delivered to it. While I was waiting on that, I got to work on Mistress Ellen's last wishes.

I paid to have every follicle of hair that wasn't my eyebrows or scalp hair permanently removed by laser. I saw a lawyer and had my name legally changed to Holly Volk, and wasn't that a fun conversation, given my foreign accent and no medical records of undergoing gender transition.

I purchased an entirely new, female wardrobe.

Once I was settled into my apartment, I signed up for three things. Erotic dancing classes, Yoga, and cosmetology school.

At the time, the only thing I could focus on was that if I gained enough additional skills, my Mistress would have to take me back. I had no need to obtain work, Mistress had paid me handsomely and I was set for money for quite some time.

I would attend Yoga in the morning, working off my excess weight and increasing my flexibility, then go to cosmetology school to learn to apply makeup and cut and style hair, then learn to strip in the evenings.

To keep myself busy and not dwell on my loss, I made myself the sluttiest uniforms I could think of in my second, unused bedroom that I'd made into a sewing room. The french-maid uniform, in particular, was nearly obscene, with a deep plunging neckline, tiny poofy armbands, and the tiniest skirt that barely covered my butt, especially after all the petticoats were stacked beneath it. The petticoats alone took me over a week to make.

Those six months were the darkest of days for me. Then one day, I got a phone call.

******

My phone rang, and I stared at the familiar number on the caller ID. My heart began to pound in my chest.

"Hello, Mistress Ellen," I greeted, trying to calm myself enough to speak clearly.

"Oh! Uh, James. Hi... I'm, uh, I'm a little surprised you're even taking my call."

I smiled sadly to myself. "I will always accept your calls, Mistress."

"That's... that's great... really. Uh, so... how are you?"

"I am as well as I can be, I suppose. And yourself?"

Mistress Ellen sighed over the phone. "Truthfully? Miserable. Miserable, and lonely, and horny, and... never mind me. Did... did your problem ever get better?"

I looked down at myself. I'd grown another two inches and out of three bra sizes since I'd left Mistress's service. Exercising morning and evening coupled with no longer eating primarily dairy had slimmed every part of me down and toned it all up, except for my tits. My tits had ballooned out of control. "If anything, the changes have accelerated. I changed my name to Holly."

"It was all for nothing," she whispered so faintly I barely heard it. In a more normal tone, she asked, "Where are you working now?"

I smiled faintly, not that she could see. "Actually, I am halfway done with cosmetology school."

"Cosme-!? You are much too valuable to waste yourself as a... a... a hairdresser!"

The insult she felt on my behalf was... actually heartwarming. "I am only attending to learn the skills, Mistress. I have much catching up to do in being female."

"Oh, right, right. That makes more sense."

There was only silence for a time, and I began to feel uncomfortable. "Mistress? Was there something you needed?"

"I think... I think I made a big mistake, Ja- Holly. I know that I have no right to ask this, considering how badly I treated you, but... would you ever consider, maybe, coming back? At all?"

I couldn't seem to catch my breath. My heart pounded so hard I thought I was on the verge of a heart attack. I made a very rushed mental tally of how long it would take to pack my things. "I can be there in the morning." Thinking faster, I blurted, "Unless you need me immediately. Do you need me this very moment, my Mistress? I can be to you within the hour."

Mistress Ellen sobbed on the other end of the line, blubbering her words so badly I couldn't understand any of it. Impatiently, I waited for her to let me know when to arrive.

"Th-the morning is just fine, Holly. I'll make all of this up to you, I swear. Thank you," she cried, "thank you."

"I shall see you in the morning. Until then, Mistress."

******

The next morning I drove the range rover Mistress Ellen had gifted me, packed with all of my belongings, around the circular driveway in front of her home. Taking a deep breath, I shut off the ignition and exited the vehicle. My things could wait until later.

I smoothed down my skirt as I walked up the steps to her front door. I raised my fist to knock, but paused. Remembering the first time, I tested the door knob and found it unlocked.

Letting myself in, I gently closed the door and looked around, spying the familiar earpiece resting on its charger just inside of the door. Fitting it over my ear nearly brought me to tears at the familiarity.

Clicking the link open, I called out, "Mistress Ellen?"

There was no response over the earpiece. Mistress did hate alarm clocks. I walked two steps into the room, intending to go wake her, when she stepped around the corner and stared.

"Oh, Mistress," I whispered to myself under my breath in pity. She hadn't taken care of herself very well at all in my absence.

"You're so beautiful," Mistress breathed.

I had taken care with my makeup. Perhaps not the whorish look she had mentioned, but professional-sexy, much like my business suit with its mid-thigh skirt and ultra-low cut chemise. I also stood on four-inch heels, which sounds like a lot but is just about right for someone who is over six feet tall to make her ass pop. My hair was bound in a french braid, with enough volume on the top so as to not look severe. I gave the impression of a pornstar version of a personal assistant, which was what I had aimed for.

Mistress approached me skittishly, much like she didn't really believe any of this was real. "H-Holly?" she whispered as she got close.

I grasped her large hands in mine and looked up at her. "I'm here, my Mistress."

"I... I missed you so much!" she sobbed, and clutched me in a tight hug, crying over my head. I held her back, letting her get it out, and rubbed her lower back comfortingly.

It took a few minutes, but she eventually calmed down. "I ruined all of the clothes you made me," she confessed in a tearful whisper.

"Then I shall make you new ones, Mistress," I stated simply.

When she broke the hug and wiped her eyes with a tremulous smile, I grasped her hand and began to lead her to her bathroom. "Come, Mistress. Let me draw you a bath and begin to care for you again."

Mistress followed behind me in a docile state, which I didn't care for. I led her into her bathroom, which was in dire need of cleaning, and started the water filling in the bathtub. Once it was warm enough, I stopped the draining and dropped bath salts in, before turning my attention to my Mistress.

I carefully undressed her like a *****, folding her clothing and setting it aside one at a time. Once she was nude, I coaxed her into the water.

I removed my blazer, and began to undress myself down to bra, panties, garter belt and stockings. I didn't want to get my outfit wet, but my underwear could if it had to.

Mistress stared at my cleavage as I started to gently wash her. My breasts were big enough that even restrained by the pushup bra, they still wobbled as I worked.

"I don't even know how to apologize, Holly," she told me in that downcast tone she'd been speaking in. "Or, or how to show you how grateful I am that you've come back to me. Anything I can do, or... anything you want, just say the word. Really."

I considered that. "Lie back, Mistress, and I shall wash your hair."

Once I had a lather worked into her hair, I had my thoughts more or less in order. "I would like to finish my cosmetology training, Mistress," I started.

"Sure!" she over-agreed, happy to have me set terms, in some mistaken way of trying to buy forgiveness she did not need.

"I also wish for you to let me care for you, fully, from now on."

Mistress gave me a confused look. "I thought that's what you always did?"

I shook my head and rinsed the shampoo from her hair. "No, Mistress. There were always two subjects I had never brought up. They are sensitive, and likely to hurt your feelings."

She blew out a breath. "What are they," she cringed.

Running conditioner into her hair, I answered, "Diet and exercise."

"Do I really look that bad?" My Mistress looked devastated.

"No, Mistress." I paused, trying to phrase it in a way that she wouldn't be offended. "You have such power, Mistress. Physical power. Intellectual power. Monetary. Sexual. Mistress, you are nearly a goddess. But you have poor self-image, and you could be healthier. This will help with both."

"I don't think I can run, Holly. I'm too big," she told me tearfully.

"No, Mistress. No running. Yoga and swimming. You do have a very nice swimming pool. It is time you used it."

"I don't know how to swim," she ashamedly admitted.

I rinsed the conditioner gently from her hair. "Did you know that I was once a lifeguard? I taught swimming lessons to ********. Not to worry, Mistress. I shall teach you to swim."

"Answer me truthfully, Holly. Is there anything you can't do?"

Glancing at her face, she was only half-joking. "Truthfully? I am terrible with computers, cannot play the guitar, nor can I fly a plane. Everything else I can do," I winked playfully at her.

Mistress Ellen chuckled and finally loosened up, fully relaxing into the water. "I've got computers covered," she offered.

I ran the washcloth over her skin again, gently scrubbing into the folds beneath her giant breasts as they floated a bit in the water. "Very good, Mistress. When you have finished with your bath, perhaps you will allow me to attempt to fix your hair? Shape your eyebrows?"

"I thought you weren't finished with learning all of that?"

"All but the most complex hairstyles and perms I can do. Those would come with practice. Manicures, pedicures, and skin and nail care are all in the second half of the school schedule."

"Can I ask you a question, Holly?"

"You can ask me anything, Mistress. Always."

"Okay... why are you calling me Mistress now?"

I blinked at her. I hadn't realized she'd forgotten. "The last desires you had expressed to me, Mistress. You wished for me to remove my body hair, wear slutty uniforms and makeup, answer to the name Holly, and to refer to you as 'Mistress'. I have endeavored to fulfill those wishes in our time apart."

She blinked in shock. "Even though I'd just fired you? You went and did all of that anyway?"

I stared at her, and tried to make her understand. "My whole life I was forced from place to place, Mistress. Never having a home, never having a purpose. When you reached out to me, I was at the end of the line. Nearly destitute, perhaps two weeks from being homeless. You saved me, Mistress. Coming into your service has given me stability and security I have craved for as long as I have lived. You have given me a home, a purpose, and immense satisfaction in serving you. Those last desires of yours, they were all I had left. Anything you wish, you have only to state it, and I shall see it done. Always."

"So... so for instance, if I asked you to get into the bath with me?" she cringed.

I smiled gently, "I would only ask if you would permit me to remove what clothing I still wear, or if you would rather I enter the water in my underwear."

"Take it off, please," she whispered, "but let me see?"

I stood briskly from where I knelt at the side of the bath, and after quickly drying my hands I began to un-attach the garter straps from my stockings.

Noticing just how riveted Mistress was in watching me, I employed a few of the skills I'd learned in that dancing class. I swayed, and oscillated, and turned every movement into a seduction. Rolling my stockings down my legs, her eyes couldn't look away. I turned to present my backside, pushing it out and swaying my hips as I wiggled the garter belt over my hips and down. I smiled over my shoulder at her beginning to flush face as I unhooked my bra, covering the important parts with a forearm as I removed it and turned back to face her.

My free hand ran a thumb back and forth under the elastic of my panties, every pass inching the fabric down further. Mistress was captivated and my soul sang.

Her mouth fell open as her eyes darted all over my body, trying to take it all in at once. Just as my body had grown taller, and my boobs had grown much bigger, my dick had grown similarly, hanging low and heavy in a relaxed state. When erect, it was now nearly nine inches long, and mayhap I now had enough down there to satisfy one of Mistress Ellen's stature.

I eased myself into the hot water, laying out over my Mistress's large body between her monumental breasts, nearly face to face. "Do I meet with your approval, my Mistress?"

"You're so beautiful, Holly. So beautiful, and sexy, and... I kind of feel like a big fat ogre after seeing you naked," she tearfully confessed in barely a whisper.

At the same volume, I told her, "You are a mortal goddess, my Mistress. All that I am, you have shaped me into, and you must indulge yourself in enjoying any and everything I have to offer. You must."

Mistress Ellen forcefully yet easily turned me over until I was laying on my back, then scooted me downward until her very erect penis was wedged between my ass cheeks.

One large hand began to fondle my breast, while the other went further down and started to stroke my hardening cock. She also began to slide her erection in the crack of my bum.

"Your body hair... is it permanent?"

I stroked her arm softly. "It is. I had it all removed by laser."

She sighed, "I wish I could go into public without being a spectacle. I'd like to have that done."

"Mayhap you could pay someone to come here? I am sure whomever you find would be professional and discreet."

Mistress froze. "Or... or I could pay someone to train you, and just buy the equipment? And then you could do it for me?" she hoped.

"If that is my Mistress's desire, then it shall be so. As time permits, of course. I have much to do in the near future." Between finishing cosmetology school, creating an entire new wardrobe for her, and getting her home back into shape, the next six to eight months were going to very busy indeed. Especially if my Mistress kept me busy with her more... carnal needs.

Mistress began to move again, stroking me and humping herself into my bum. "I do love your bigger ass, Holly. This feels really good, even better than before now that you're so soft and smooth back here. Does it feel good to you?"

I placed my hand over her very large one on my breast, imploring her to squeeze harder. "My Mistress is kind to pay me this attention."

"Turn your head, Holly. Look at me," she commanded, and I complied immediately, so happy that she was finding her spine again.

Mistress Ellen kissed me once, lingeringly on my forehead, then dipped even further down to bestow the most heartfelt, loving kiss on me I have ever had.

She kept humping against my ass, creating a rhythm with stroking me, and groped my tit repeatedly nearly hard enough to hurt. My breast, big by nearly anyone's standards, was barely large enough to fill her giant hand. A handful for my Mistress was wasted space for anyone else.

Mistress gasped into my mouth, and using my dick as a handle, pressed my entire pelvis down with the bottom of her fist. I felt her cock swell between my cheeks, and then pulse rapidly as she came and came. The bathwater began to become cloudy.

I tried to help, clenching my butt a little and rocking as much as I could with her holding me in place. "Cum for me, my Mistress," I pleaded softly into her intense eyes. "Cum for me as you will, when you will. I am yours alone."

Her eyes clenched tightly closed, and the rapid pulsing of her cock slowed and stopped. My Mistress held me for a long while in the cooling bathwater, hands on my breast and dick, her own thick cock still hard and wedged in the divide of my bottom. Mistress did not open her eyes for the longest time.

"If I asked you to come to my bed with me, and stay the night, you would, right?" she asked, still not looking at me.

"You must grasp the reality of this, my Mistress," I told her gently, and she finally opened her eyes to look at me with an expression that suggested she was expecting rejection.

"Anything you ask of me, I will do," I told her intently. "I will be your cook, your housekeeper, and eventually your beautician. I will be your tailor, your carpenter, your personal trainer. Your personal assistant, your errand girl. Most of all, Mistress, whenever you desire it, I will be your lover, your girlfriend, your slave, your wife, or even your whore. You only need let me know what you wish of me as the mood strikes you."

"I want to take you to bed, and sleep with you tonight," she stated with burgeoning confidence.

With the hand I still held over hers on my chest, I squeezed her comfortingly. "Then it shall be so. Allow me to rinse us off and dry you, my Mistress. This water has become soiled."

She let go of me, and I stood to grab the retractable nozzle and get us rinsed off. Behind me, Mistress Ellen stood in the water to her breath-taking height and waited for me.

As I rinsed her divine body down, she chuckled at me. "I'd forgotten just how much you spoil me."

"I would spoil you completely, should you allow it, Mistress," I admitted.

Once I had us both toweled off, frowning at how not soft the towels were, Mistress Ellen picked me up with an arm behind my back and under my knees, hoisting me up against the bottoms of her giant breasts. Carrying me easily, she brought me to her bedroom.

She laid me down with care on her bed, and ran a gentle hand down the side of my face. "I should have done this a long time ago, Holly."

Mistress Ellen got up on the bed and swung one of her enormous thighs over to the other side of me, straddling me. Grasping my hardness, she guided it to line up to her vagina and slowly sank down.

My Mistress was incredibly tight. Nearly painfully so. My mouth fell open and I couldn't stop the pleasured moan from escaping me.

"You fill me up so much, Holly. I was so afraid it wouldn't be good, or might hurt... but I love it. Do... is it okay for you?" she worried.

"It is heaven, Mistress," I told her sincerely. "Thank you for giving me this."

Bracing herself on her hands over me, her enormous, over-full breasts swayed just over my face. "May I drink from you, Mistress?"

She started to rock her body back and forth, sliding over my cock and gripping me in a slick velvet fist. "Please, Holly. Please do," she breathed.

I guided one of her breasts to my mouth, her long and wide nipple parting my lips and giving me more of the sense of home I'd craved. Her milk flowed immediately for me, a strong stream of sweetened, watery fluid that I had missed dearly. I swallowed it as fast as it came, and it flowed very rapidly indeed.

It was too much for Mistress. Her skin was too sensitive, and her first orgasm came quickly. She bored down on me with all of her considerable weight, getting me as deep inside as she could. Against my stomach I felt her cock pulse, painting the undersides of my breasts with her joy.

I drank from my Mistress until my stomach hurt, and she rode me through another two orgasms of her own before mine came. It was a very generous gift from her.

Mistress simply held me close for a long time afterward, before I was allowed to leave her bed and begin work. I had much to accomplish before the night, when I would sleep in my Mistress's bed for the very first time.

******

I woke in the middle of the night to a pulsing between my butt cheeks and liquid heat spurting up the divide.

Mistress held me securely to her chest with a hand on my breast, my head pillowed on her arm. She breathed heavily over my head, and once she finished cumming, began to slowly hump me anew, sliding her cockhead and the perhaps two inches behind it into the now far more lubricated space in my bottom.

Wedging my hand back between us, I rubbed her cream around her cock, and into my hole a bit. Tilting my hips a little more, I lined her up to enter my ass.

There was a brief moment of searing pain as her thick cock penetrated my sphincter, but within minutes that pain had faded completely. The feeling of Mistress's dick just barely moving inside of me became pleasant and comforting. I licked the smeared cum from my hand, lacking better options, and soon after the gentle motion of my Mistress rocked me back to sleep.

******

I'd taken to wearing the slutty french-maid uniforms as I did my daily cleaning. Acres of propped up cleavage with the built-in bra, miles of stocking-ed leg, and a little white bonnet in my hair to match the tiny apron over my nearly horizontal black skirt.

I first wore it in an attempt to give my Mistress a treat, but found that I was much cooler in it than my normal work clothes, so I kept doing it, creating multiple uniforms as it became my daily wear. Mistress would tell me if anything needed change.

I prompted, "Your problem, Mistress?"

She shook herself. "My parents are coming to visit. Over Thanksgiving and for a week. I don't know what to do?" she finished in a questioning pitch.

"Mistress..." I began, wondering if I should even ask. It was none of my business, but, "Why have they not been here in the three years that I have?"

She blew out a breath in exasperation. "They've never been here, ever. I mean, I talk to them on the phone at least once a week, but... I always managed to convince them not to come here. This time Mom didn't take no for an answer."

I tilted my head. "Is there a problem I should be aware of?"

"Nooo-kinda-yeah? I mean, I love my parents, right? But they're normal. When I'm around them, I feel even more out of place and... wrong... More than I usually do. Like, they remind me of how I was supposed to be, instead of how I am. I don't... they're going to come here, and I don't know how to even have guests!"

I waited, but it seemed like she was done. "Mistress, you are successful. You have clothing that fits you perfectly, have lost much weight, and when you allow me to apply your makeup and style your hair, your beauty shines through. Show off to some of the only people you allow yourself to interact with," I implored her.

Mistress Ellen had hated the diet and exercise regimen I crafted for her, at first. I wrangled a promise to try for two months, and if she saw no results, the matter would be closed.

After two weeks, she had seen the difference in her measurements, and became a devoted participant. While she would never be thin, she looked and felt much better than she ever had. We had to reprint her mannequins twice for me to make clothes that would fit her slimmer body.

"More to the point, Mistress, you have me to lean on. You must simply decide which bedroom to have me prepare for them, and inform me of any preferences they have in food and drink. I can do much to help you with this."

Mistress Ellen gave herself a chagrined smile. "I'm blowing this out of proportion, aren't I?"

"Perhaps," I told her gently. "Or perhaps you still see yourself as their inexperienced *****, when in reality you are now a powerful, grown woman. I will help you, Mistress. Not to worry."

She chuckled and leaned back, relieved. "I seriously don't pay you enough." Looking me up and down she began to rub her palm over her crotch. "I think I want to fuck you, Holly."

I swung my hips as I walked to her, making the petticoats and skirt swing high. She scooted her chair back in anticipation. I purred, "I am always available for my Mistress's pleasure. What is it you desire?"

Briefly lifting her glorious bottom from her office chair, she yanked her yoga pants and panties down to her knees. From there, I carefully removed them from her entirely, quickly separating and folding them, then setting them aside.

"I want you in my lap, Holly," she leered, stroking her rapidly hardening erection and gazing at my cleavage wantonly.

I wore no panties beneath my petticoats and carried a small tube of anal lube with me at all times, should my Mistress desire just this. I put much effort into trying to prepare for any of her wants.

Pulling the tube from one of the tiny pockets in my tiny apron, I greased her turgid member thoroughly, wiped my hand clean with a small cloth from the other pocket in my apron, and presented my backside to my Mistress, framed by a multitude of petticoats.

She wasted no time in clutching my waist and heaving me upward, then down onto her lap. She moved me around, finding my hole, then sank me down to penetrate me.

I groaned in pleasure at the intrusion. Pulling my tits out of the uniform top to hang over, I pinched my nipples and tugged as Mistress Ellen began to lift and drop me with the grip she still had around my waist.

My maid uniform not only had a built-in bra, but a built-in corset. My Mistress was able to get her large hands nearly all the way around the circumference of my compressed waist as she used me for her enjoyment.

Closing my eyes, I reveled in the feeling of her thick cock traveling my tunnel, the jiggle of my ass and the lewd smacking sound when I was dropped down, and the pleasured grunts of my Mistress as she indulged herself in me.

Pressing me downward onto her as much as she could, Mistress Ellen grunted louder than before with every spurt of her cum into my bowels. The feeling of my Mistress's thick cock stretching my asshole just a sliver wider with every pulse was euphoria.

A moment of rest where Mistress ran her hands covetously over my arms and back and where I still sat on her lap impaled on her dick, and then she was lifting me to begin anew.