Shrunk and Stolen by the Kinky Couple

Breakfast at the hotel this early was quiet and empty. Even your spouse was still asleep in the room. You just couldn't sleep, so you came down early to sip some coffee and wait for the sunrise.

The first other guests to enter the restaurant after you were that couple that you had started to recognize after your last few days here. They were an interesting pair, biracial and physically polar opposites, with a particularly unusual dynamic that led you to believe that the woman was the dom and the man was the sub. Leading the way was an unusually short, dark-skinned woman with shoulder-length black hair, probably Blasian based on her looks, who moved with an easy grace between the empty tables. Her matching purple sports bra and yoga pants seemed to have a metallic sheen to them, showing off her thin frame and small breasts. Her husband loomed behind her, nearly two feet taller, with pale skin despite the days spent in the Miami sun, and a messy head of red hair. His plain white tanktop and grey running shorts weren't as eye-catching, but they made his iron-framed, muscular build impossible to miss.

The way that this hyper-fit giant, who could very easily break you in half, followed such a slight little thing around like a puppy always struck you as a little strange. It made you wonder what their relationship was like, and also what kind of things they got up to in that room down the hall from yours. Suddenly aware that your gaze had lingered for a little too long, you looked back down at your phone to be polite.

As a result, you didn't notice the fact that they were walking straight towards you, in your lonely corner of the restaurant, until you heard their approaching footsteps over the quiet background music. You looked up, mid-sip of coffee, and accidentally met the short Blasian woman's eyes. She had been staring at you the whole time, you realized, with frightening focus and intent.

Just then, your stomach cramped violently, and the world went black.

For a moment, you thought that you had blacked out. You didn't realize that you had shrunk into a pile of your own clothes, nearly instantly, until the redheaded man ripped the pile off you, revealing your naked body sitting on the now-massive seat of the dining chair. He stuffed your discarded clothes into a backpack, and the dark-skinned woman leaned forward over you. "Hello, little tiny," she said, white teeth beaming in a broad smile. "Aren't you lucky? I think you're going to enjoy your new life."

Her slender fingers, each as long as your entire body, scooped you effortlessly off the chair, enclosing your body in the dark skin of her palm. "Tom, you take {{obj}} first," you heard her say, her voice carrying a tone of comfortable authority, "Put {{obj}} in your underwear, {{sub}} should make your routine much more fun."

In a cacophony of motion, you were transferred from one dark-skinned, soft, lotioned palm into a paler, harder, meatier one, framed with the abrasive edges of calluses. "Yes, Monique," the man replied. His voice was a powerful baritone, but he sounded for all the world like he was being scolded by his mommy when he spoke.

Your heart was racing. It was all happening too fast to take in. You had shrunk? How? This couple was expecting it? How long did this last? What did the Blasian woman mean by 'your new life?' Did she just say to put you in his underwear?

The redheaded man, Tom, didn't wait for you to get your bearings. Effortlessly, almost carelessly, he shifted you around in his hand until he held your torso between his finger and thumb. You could just barely see over the bulk of his fingers as he pulled open the front waistband of his running shorts and the underwear beneath. Without so much as a pause to taunt you, he dropped you in feetfirst.

You fell only for a second, just long enough to see that the dark pit you were falling into was shaven clean of pubic hair. Your feet hit the bulk of the man's penis, and slipped out from underneath you. Your body tilted mid-fall, and your face slammed into his cock next. Momentum and the curve of the giant's underwear forced you further down, until you settled somewhere near the crotch of his underwear, with your torso hugging the tip of the man's dick, and your feet and legs trapped underneath his balls. You had fallen far enough that there was almost no part of your body that wasn't smothered in his junk. Only your head was free, just barely able to see through the open waistband as the giant looked down at you.

His gaze wasn't one of hunger, or excitement, or really anything. Terrifyingly, his expression was completely disinterested, as if he was just tying his shoes. Satisfied with your position, he let go of the waistband, and the elastic of his underwear and running shorts snapped shut. His form-fitting boxer briefs were just tight enough to keep his package supported and in place without crushing it. Your unsubstantial size was a negligible addition to the springy, elastic fabric, so you were pinned between the fabric of his underwear and the weight and the heat and the stench of his dick and balls.

Then he started to walk, carrying you helplessly to 'your new life.' The pounding of his feet, the flexing of his thighs, and the bouncing of his junk with every step buffeted you with relentless motion and brutal pressure. Then you heard the distant and quickly receding sound of your phone ringing with your spouse's personal ringtone. The giant couple ignored it. Left behind on the table, you realized that it was the only evidence that remained of your kidnapping.

Nobody else in the world knew what had just happened to you.