Big Beautiful Little

by Ava Sinclair

  By the time he laid her down, she felt almost languidly helpless under the power of the two strong, handsome men now controlling the situation. Dr. Baxter’s hands moved efficiently over Tiffany’s soft, pillowy breasts. He smiled down on her as he announced them free of any worrisome lumps, and moved his hands down her body to press on her pelvis. He asked her the date of her last period, and told her he’d be taking her off her regular birth control medication and moving her to a special formula he felt was safer and more effective. Not only would it prevent pregnancy, he said, it would also free her of monthly menses.

  “I’m going to do a pelvic exam now,” he informed her, and Tiffany felt butterflies through the languid haze as he removed her panties. The resistance she would have otherwise felt to this mandatory exam did not manifest completely, thanks to the pills, and she watched as the physician gently lifted first one leg and then the other into wide-set supports that ended in fleece-covered foot rests. Beside her, Lance stroked her forehead in a soothing manner.

  “I’m going to do a Pap smear first,” Dr. Baxter said, snapping on a pair of latex gloves before reaching for a speculum. He sat down on a stool at the end of the table between Tiffany’s open legs and reached toward the metal table for the instrument.

  “You’re going to feel a little pressure and a pinch,” he said gently and Tiffany breathed deeply as the speculum slid with embarrassing ease into a pussy she realized was more than well-lubricated. There was a slight sting as the doctor swabbed her cervix. Next he pushed a gloved digit into her pussy, probing her as he pressed down on her abdomen. Tiffany sighed with relief as the invading finger was moved and tried to sit up, but Lance stopped her.

  “Not yet,” he said. “We’re not done.”

  “What else?” She could feel her heart racing now.

  “We need to take your temperature.”

  Tiffany’s eyes widened when she saw the physician lube a thick medical thermometer. Before she could protest, he was pressing the bulb of it against the tight pucker of her anus.

  “Relax,” he warned, and she groaned in humiliation as the thermometer slid in. After removing and reading it, the doctor smiled. “Perfect temperature,” he said.

  “Almost done,” Lance said. “Dr. Baxter still needs to do a stimuli test. Again, this is something all new littles receive.”

  The words did little to soothe her as she saw Dr. Baxter pick up a small brown jar and dip his gloved finger into the ointment inside. He turned his back to her, facing her legs, and she could not see what he was doing. She did feel his hands part her labia, however, and something graze her clit.

  “Oh!” She jumped a little.

  “Hold still,” Dr. Baxter said, and turned back to her. “The cream will make you a little more sensitive.” He looked down at her. “And you should know you’re going to need to be bare for this next test,” he said.

  Tiffany looked at Lance. “Bare? What does he mean by ‘bare’?”

  “What I mean, young lady,” said Dr. Baxter, “is that you are going to be divested of your pubic thatch. Littles are best kept clean-shaven as is befitting anyone in an age-regression regimen. And I think you’ll realize the benefits during the test.”

  Dr. Baxter had picked up a small pot of shaving cream as he spoke and was swirling it around with a shaving brush.

  “Don’t… please…” Tiffany tried to rise again, but Lance had his hands on her shoulders now.

  “Am I going to have to tie you down? There are straps on the table. I’ll do it. Everything that happens—even your responses—are our responsibility, not yours. That’s what being a little is all about. You are not responsible for what happens to you.”

  Dr. Baxter had fixed straps to her legs as Lance spoke and now began to swirl the brush around on Tiffany’s pubic mound.

  “Oh!” Her head flew up as she was suddenly stunned by the wave of pleasure even this slight sensation caused. She could feel the little bundle of nerves at the apex of her cleft throbbing, could feel moisture ooze from between the folds of her spread labia.

  “I’m going to need you to be a good little girl and hold still.” Dr. Baxter said, and Tiffany closed her eyes, trying to block out the sensation of the razor and her own puzzling excitement aroused by the sense of helplessness, by Lance’s reminder that he and the physician were now in complete control. She felt the edge of the razor glide over her delicate skin, and a few moments later a warm wet cloth wiping away the residual shaving cream.

  “Lovely pubic mound,” Dr. Baxter said. “Lance, come see. I need you for the next part of the exam, anyway.”

  Tiffany opened her eyes to see both men at the foot of the table, looking down between her obscenely spread legs. She wanted to be indignant, offended, outraged… but the truth was, she’d never been more aroused in her whole life.

  “Lovely, indeed,” Lance said.

  “We’ll need to test your arousal now, Tiffany,” Dr. Baxter said. “And since you’re in Lance’s care, he should be the one to do it.”

  “Oh, no… please…” Tiffany began. But even as she protested, she felt the walls of her pussy contract with a need that left her breathless. She wanted to reach up and stay Lance’s hand as it moved to the top of her freshly shaved mound, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop him. She wanted it. Oh, God… she wanted it. And when the tip of his finger entered and moved up her drenched slit, Tiffany felt herself arch at the contact.

  “Oh… oh… oh…”

  The men exchanged knowing glances, and Dr. Baxter cocked an eyebrow and smiled when Lance plunged two fingers into Tiffany’s pussy only to have her orgasm immediately. As the slick muscular walls of her core milked his fingers, he moved the pad of his thumb up to her clit, applying light pressure. It was enough to make her cry out and thrust her hips upwards, as if seeking deeper contact.

  “Oh, don’t!” she cried, and even as she came, tears slipped from her eyes.

  “There’s no need to be ashamed,” Lance said. “You’re doing beautifully. It’s just what we wanted.”

  “No,” she said as he removed his fingers. She looked up at him, her face flushed, her eyes glittering with excitement, her large breasts heaving. “It’s your fault! You gave me that medicine. Otherwise I’d have never acted like this in front of a stranger.”

  Dr. Baxter walked to the head of the table.

  “Tiffany, I’m going to tell you something,” he said. “I suspected by what Lance has told me that you have the perfect makeup for true sexual submission. And I just proved it.”

  “By drugging me?” she asked.

  Both men were smiling now.

  “Well, if you consider sugar pills a drug,” Dr. Baxter said. “It was a placebo, Tiffany. You were given a placebo. Your reactions? Those weren’t from the medicine, but from you.”

  “You’re a submissive, Tiffany,” Lance said. “You were born to be a little girl. My little girl. And I don’t know if you believe in fate, but I think your walking into the gym that day was a second chance—for both of us.”

  She stared up at the ceiling, breathing heavily. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her soul, knowing that she was not only allowed to feel completely sexual in the throes of submission, but encouraged.

  However, her ordeal with Dr. Baxter was not over yet. As Lance rubbed her forehead, he told her that she was about to get her first cleansing.

  Tiffany’s repressed fantasies of having her bottom explored and fucked were blossoming now right along with the inner petals of her pussy, which pulsed at the thought. She glanced to the side, catching sight of Dr. Baxter readying the mixture for the cleansing. She watched as he affixed a nozzle onto the tubing that hung from the bulging bag of liquid she knew from reading would be flushed into her bottom. Would she be able to hold it? She began to have doubts.

  “Let’s get you turned over,” the doctor said.

  “I’m going to be so proud of you.” Lance had laid a large hand on the crest of her bottom cheek once she was
unstrapped and placed into position. When Tiffany looked back in surprise at the contact, she saw affection and lust mixing in his eyes. And she knew then that she not only could take the medicine, she wanted it.

  “I’m going to insert the end of this nozzle into your bottom as your daddy spreads your cheeks, Tiffany. Do you understand?”

  Tiffany whimpered in nervous submission. She was face down on the table with her bottom hiked up in the air.

  “Ah!” The noise she made was one of surprise as the tip of the lubricated nozzle was pressed against her bottom hole.

  “Push back a bit, princess,” Lance said. “As odd as this may sound, if you strain a little like you’re trying to push it out, it’ll open up your little rosebud enough for it to go in.”

  Tiffany moaned in embarrassment, but obeyed. And Lance was right; the entry of the nozzle stung, but the doctor was able to push it in. The feeling of Lance’s hands now spreading her cheeks—of knowing he was watching the nozzle slide in—had her suppressing a moan of a different kind; a moan of arousal.

  “I’m going to start the medicine.” Tiffany heard a click and then felt a warmth as the liquid from the bag on a pole by the table began to flow into her bowels. A pressure—a heaviness—followed and she squirmed at the unfamiliar fullness.

  “You’re doing very well,” Lance crooned a few moments later. “Almost done.”

  But then the nozzle was removed and Tiffany felt a moment of panic. Her bowels were churning now, threatening to expel the liquid. She broke out in a sweat from the effort of holding it in. Dr. Baxter appeared at the head of the table.

  “Tiffany, I want you to listen to me,” he said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Your papa is going to plug your bottom to keep the medicine in.”

  “He’s going to… what?” She looked back, and saw her handsome daddy holding a lubricated object that was triangular in shape. It narrowed just before the flanged top.

  “I’m going to stick this in your luscious bottom, Tiffany,” he said. “And if you don’t let me, I’ll spank you hard later.”

  Tiffany groaned aloud at the threat and the knowledge that she could not stop him from what he was about to do. She needed him to do it, in fact—not just because it would keep her from embarrassing herself, but also because she realized she wanted him to take this step of mastery, to do this when she was at her most vulnerable.

  She could feel his large hand on her bottom, could feel the end of the plug pushing against her bottom hole. She moaned and rocked back, rather than away. As Lance pushed the plug in, she cried out. The plug was wider than the nozzle, the sting worse. But the pleasure-pain tipped something inside of her.

  “Oh, no…” she said. “I can’t stop…”

  And as the plug slipped inside, it happened. Tiffany felt an orgasm unlike any other rock her body. She could feel juices slip down her thigh, expelled by her rapidly clenching pussy.

  With her face pressed to the table, her eyes closed in an ecstasy of sensation, she could not see how Lance first glanced down in astonishment and then in happy surprise at Dr. Baxter. His finger slipped below the plug now and into her pussy, the digit milked by the last of her hungry contractions.

  She was shaky by the time he helped her down and to the restroom. After removing the plug, he left Tiffany alone to expel the medicine.

  “Feeling better?” he asked when Tiffany emerged.

  “Y-yes,” Tiffany replied, and it was true. She felt lighter somehow, less tense, as if the medicine and the orgasm had washed the last of what she’d been holding in out of her body.

  “My princess looks tired,” Lance asked as he dressed her once she’d emerged from the bathroom. “How do you feel?”

  She thought for a moment. “Drained.”

  “Then I should carry you to the reception area so you can rest. You were Dr. Baxter’s last patient of the day,” he said. “He’s gone to get his little one and we’re to meet in his house for dinner shortly.”

  Before Tiffany could make the first objection that came to her mind—that she was too heavy—Lance had scooped her up and was carrying her as if she were a child. Tiffany found the tension she’d initially felt give way as she relaxed in his arms.

  “I’m proud of how good you were,” he said, looking into her eyes as he walked. Tiffany let her head fall on his broad shoulder, smelling for the first time the scent of him, so masculine and fresh. In the reception area, he sat down on a sofa and held her on his lap.

  “You know that the cleansings are more than just for your health, don’t you?” he asked.

  “They are?”

  “Yes, princess,” Lance replied. “I know from what you’ve told me that Nick wasn’t only too stupid to keep you, but too stupid to take full advantage of that beautiful ass. He never fucked you there, Tiffany, but his loss is my gain. I get to be the one to take that virginity.” He moved his mouth to his ear, and his next words caused Tiffany to shudder. “I’m going to train your ass to accept my cock, princess. I can’t tell you how much I look forward to seeing my cock slide into that beautiful, plump ass. I’m already hard just thinking about it.” He slid his hand up her skirt and under the panel of her panties, stroking her just-shaved pussy that was growing wet from his words. “Do you want daddy’s cock inside your ass, princess?”

  “Oh, yes, daddy,” she said. “More than anything in the world.”

  * * *

  The house was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. By the time they reached the sunny parlor, Tiffany was feeling much better. The experience of such full submission had made her feel more like a little girl than ever, and meeting Fiona Baxter only made the day better.

  Fiona was as trim as Tiffany was lush. In fact, Tiffany thought it would be quite easy to mistake the diminutive brunette for an older child. Her figure was so lithe as to appear pre-pubescent, and her large eyes and heart-shaped face gave her a doll-like appearance.

  It was clear from the outset that Dr. Baxter doted on his little wife, who also differed from Tiffany in her extroverted enthusiasm.

  “Is this the new friend you told me about, papa?” she asked, leaping to her feet from where she’d been playing on the floor. Tiffany wasn’t used to being hugged by strangers, and shot Lance a nervous look as Fiona ran up and threw her arms around her neck.

  “I like her! She’s soft!” the smaller woman exclaimed.

  “I like her for the same reason,” Lance chimed in.

  “Uncle Lance!” Fiona turned and launched herself at Lance then.

  “Someone’s excited,” Dr. Baxter observed, then his voice adopted a tone of mock consternation as he took hold of Fiona and pulled her away. “Now, now,” he scolded. “Let’s curb the enthusiasm a bit, shall we?” He looked at Tiffany. “My little one can be a bit overwhelming at times. Your daddy knows all about that.”

  “Your daddy’s my uncle. That makes us cousins and my papa can be your uncle, too!”

  Tiffany was feeling overwhelmed. She knew Lance was friends with the couple, but had no idea they were this close. She thought about the handsome doctor being her uncle and flushed.

  “Let’s have some dinner, shall we?” Dr. Baxter was turning and heading from the room now as the others followed. In the dining room, a table was set for four, but for the women there were pink plates, adult-size sippy cups, and pre-cut food. The meal was delicious, though, and Tiffany noted that Dr. Baxter—like Lance—obviously followed a healthy regimen for himself and his little.

  “So how is business?” Lance was asking.

  “Busier than I could imagine,” the doctor replied. “I don’t know if it’s the open-mindedness of the region or an interest in age play or both, but I can barely keep up with the number of clients I’m getting. I’m hiring a nurse and she starts next week. But I’m thinking it may be time to do something even more ambitious.”

  “Oh?” Lance asked.

  “I’ve been in contact with some people on the East Coast. They run a prog
ram—the Eden Institute. Have you heard of it?” When Lance shook his head, his friend continued. “I’m not surprised. It’s pretty hush-hush. They started by selecting and screening inmates from minimum security correctional facilities—non-violent white collar crime types or people on drug charges—and they recruit those inmates for training as partners for men and women like us. The sentences were waived and every couple that’s been matched at Eden has remained together. It’s quite a few.”

  “Is that legal?” Lance asked.

  “Well, it’s definitely dicey, even with some heavy-hitting government contacts covering for them,” Dr. Baxter replied. “But the heads of Eden are thinking it’s time for a change. They’re considering making a move to something a little less risky.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like a planned community—a place where couples can live, and other couples can come.”

  “Where?”

  Dr. Baxter smiled. “Here.”

  “Here? In Washington State?”

  “Why not?” Dr. Baxter leaned back in his chair. “The Eden folks are wealthy and would appreciate the cultural progressivism of the area. As you know, my parents left me not just this house, but lots of land. I’ve been thinking of something to do with it, and why not develop a community?”

  “A new Eden,” Lance mused.

  “Not a new Eden, but something different. Something better. And it would be much larger than Eden since it would include couples from here.” Dr. Baxter smiled at the two women who were listening to the conversation. “What would you girls think about that? Living in a community with other couples just like us?”

  “It would be neat,” Fiona said.

  Tiffany nodded, thinking of a world within a world, where she never had to even pretend to be an adult.

  After dinner, the couples retired to the parlor again. The men continued to talk about the possible community while Fiona took Tiffany over to show her some of her toys. Tiffany could not help but marvel at how Fiona adopted all the mannerisms of a little girl.