A Tale Of The Tape   By T

A Tale Of The Tape   By T

A Tale Of The Tape

By T.J. MacAllister

I haven't always been only five inches tall. Once, I was a strapping six-foot,

175 pound man. But that was before I bought that damned tape recorder. I picked

it up at Keyne's Curiosity Shoppe, this little junk store I know just off

Hollywood Boulevard.

I was making one of my frequent collecting runs, scouring the pawn shops and

junk stores along the boulevard for movie and TV memorabilia for my collection.

I wasn't having much luck. I'd hit every place between Vine and Highland and

hadn't found squat. Only Keyne's was left. I liked to save it for last because

old "Honest" Abe Keyne always had something for me.

Abe was a stout, red-faced man who looked old enough to have witnessed the birth

of Moses. He'd been a prop man way back when Clara Bow was still giving guys

hard-ons and he still had a few connections at the studios. Every once in while,

he'd get his hands on some props, or movie posters and would set them aside for

me.

Abe greeted me with an exuberant "Halloo" as I entered the shop. "Been hoping

you'd come in Mr. MacAllister," he said. "Got something special for ya."

With a flourish of his hands, Abe produced an ancient reel-to-reel tape recorder

from behind the battered wooden counter.

"Okay, it's a tape recorder."

"Not just any tape recorder," Abe beamed, "do you remember that old TV show,

Tales from Beyond the Outer Limits Zone?"

"Yeah, the one Ron Sterling used to host?"

"That's the one. There's was one episode, 'bout a writer like yourself, it was.

He had this magic tape recorder. All he had to do was talk into it, see, and

whatever he said, well, it happened, ya know?"

I nodded. The episode was one of my favorites.

"Well, this here's the tape recorder they used. A buddy of mine over in the prop

department at Unreversal Studios found it when he was cleanin' out a closet. I

can't say if'n it's got magical abilities, mind you, but this here is the

genuine article."

I picked up the recorder and turned it over. "Property of Unreversal Studios"

was stamped on the bottom. It was an odd contraption. The reels were larger than

most I'd seen. The tape it used was about a half inch thick. And, along with the

normal play, record, fast-forward and rewind buttons, it had a red switch marked

"erase."

"Does it work?" I asked.

"Course it works. I wouldn't sell ya no piece of junk."

I doubted that, but let it go.

"How much?"

"Well," Abe drawled, rubbing his chin like he was pondering the meaning of life,

"most collectors'd pay quite a bit for it. But, seein' as you're such a good

customer an' all, I'll cut my own arm off and let ya have it for a hunnerd."

"I'll give you a saw buck for it."

"Twenny dollars, you must be jokin'. Sevendy-five."

"Twenty-five bucks, it's all I got on me, Abe."

"Well, I like ya son, so, I'll let ya slide on this one."

I handed him a twenty and five ones, grabbed the tape recorder and headed home.

Now, don't think I'm a sucker or anything. I knew Abe was putting me on, but I'd

been planning to get a tape recorder to record notes for my stories anyway.

Besides, there was always the chance that Abe was on the level. I mean, not

every writer has a tape recorder from Beyond the Outer Limits Zone.

At the time, I was working on a story for one of the "Gentlemen's" magazines. It

was about a group of beautiful Earth women astronauts who land on Venus and

something in the atmosphere makes their tits grow to enormous proportions. To

spice it up a bit, I decided to throw in a Venusian monster to chase them

around, rip off their clothes and try to mate with them.

I switched on the recorder, picked up the mike and started on my notes for the

story.

"The Venusian monster is ten feet tall," I said, letting my imagination race.

"It looks like a giant purple jello salad with eleven green eyes and eight slimy

tentacles sprouting from its head."

I hit the rewind button. Then pushed "play." The description sounded pretty

silly and I was about to erase it when I heard Lucifer, my black cat, howl. I

turned to see what was bugging him and came eye-to-eye, well, eye-to-eyes, with

something that looked like a giant purple jello salad with eleven green eyes and

eight slimy tentacles sprouting from its head.

The dripping, oozing monstrosity slithered toward me. A long tentacle snaked at

my head. I jumped back and my arm smashed into the recorder. I must've hit the

erase switch because the reels started turning and the Venusian dessert platter

faded into oblivion.

It took me a few seconds to figure out what had happened. Of course, Abe had

been right. It really was the magic tape recorder from Beyond the Outer Limits

Zone. I got an idea . . . I hit the record button. "Her name is Krystal," I

said, the reels spinning slowly as I spoke. "She is five-feet, seven-inches

tall. She has long blond hair that cascades over her shoulders and hangs down to

her ripe, muscular ass. Her skin is bronze and smooth as marble. She has dark

blue eyes that shimmer like cold steel. Her measurements are 45DDD-24-36."

I stopped the recorder and thought for a second.

"Make that 55DDD," I corrected. "And, she's horny as hell."

I rewound the tape and played it back. As my tinny voice floated out of the

speaker, the air began to crackle with static electricity. Shimmering waves,

like the kind you see hovering over an asphalt road on a sweltering summer day,

rose from the floor. Then, with a sudden flash of light, Krystal appeared before

me in all her buck-naked glory.

She was just as I'd described her, even better. Everything about her was

perfect. Long sleek legs. Full, rounded hips. Svelte, waspish waste. Flat firm

stomach. And what tits. Those glorious gazombas jutted out a good foot and half

in front of her. They surged from the sides of her chest like over-inflated

basketballs and her protruding, thumb-thick nipples nearly brushed the furry

blond triangle between her legs.

"Hi, I'm Krystal," she said in a soft purring voice. "And, I'm horny as hell."

She came toward me with her lips puckered and her arms outstretched. With each

step, her huge knockers rocked and swayed like twin bags of jello. (Hell, they

even shimmied when she stood dead still.) Before I knew what was happening, her

hot tongue probed my mouth and her delicate hands unsnapped the buttons of the

jeans. She pushed me down on the floor and kissed her way down my chest and

stomach to my rapidly hardening dick. With a soft moan of approval, she popped

my rod into her mouth.

I'd been given blow jobs before, but never like this. She explored every of my

dick with her tongue, starting at the base and slowly inching her way up. When

she reached the top, she traced circles around the bulbous throbbing head until

my dick was as hard as a baseball bat and felt twice as long.

I watched as she formed a perfect O with her lips and slid her mouth down my

pole, over and over, sucking harder each time she went down. I could feel the

spunk churning in my balls, ready to blow, and moaned loudly, trying not to cum

too soon. After several minutes of agonizing pleasure Krystal suddenly stopped.

"We don't want you to lose it just yet," she said with a sinister smile. "I've

got other plans for this magnificent meat of yours."

She lay down on the floor and cupped her left tit in her hands. The jiggling

flesh overflowed her tiny fingers as she hoisted it to her mouth and took her

thick nipple between her full lips. My dick jumped as she sucked and slurped at

the engorged teat.

"Would you like to try?" she said, offering up other tit.

She didn't have to ask me twice. I was on her in a second, wrapping my lips

around her huge nipple and sucking like a hungry babe. The rubbery nub seemed to

grow impossibly large and fat in my mouth. She moaned and bucked, delicately

caressing my cock with her soft hands I felt a gentle tug, on my iron-hard dick

and instantly knew what she wanted. I straddled her chest, my legs shaking in

anticipation, and she laid my schlong in her gaping cleavage chasm. She squeezed

her tits around my dick and it disappeared into the expanse of soft, pillowy

flesh. My cock was nicely lubricated with Krystal's own juices and slid in and

out of the magnificently warm cavern with ease. Each time my cockhead popped out

from between her mams, she flicked out her tongue like a snake and licked the

head.

Krystal erupted in a beastly wail and with surprising force she pushed me off

her chest and wrestled me to the floor.

"Enough fucking around," she snarled, "I want that beautiful fat cock of yours

inside me." She impaled herself on my rigid spear and pumped furiously. I tried

to join in, but couldn't keep up with her frenzied rhythm. Her pussy squeezed my

dick like a fist, the smooth muscles milking my cock like a cow's udder. My head

swam and my whole body quaked. I didn't know how long I'd last at that pace, but

I prayed I wouldn't come too soon.

Nearly helpless, I gazed up at Krystal as she rocked back and forth on my cock.

The half-crazed mask of pleasure she wore was more animal than human. Her tits

bounced and wiggled, slapping loudly against her stomach. My breath came in

gasps as she pumped, faster and faster, building to climax. The minutes seemed

to stretch into hours, until finally, Krystal cried out as my body went rigid

and my cock exploded.

Krystal convulsed, then crumpled onto my chest. As we lay there, cradled in each

other's arms, I remember thinking that I had definitely gotten a deal on that

tape recorder.

Over the next few days, we fucked and sucked each other every way imaginable,

stopping only to grab a bite to eat and a few well-earned z's. But, believe it

or not, after about two weeks, I got bored with Krystal. It was time to move on.

I felt kind of bad when I erased her. But, hell, I had more boner-popping

fantasies running around my head than I could ever live in a dozen lifetimes.

And, Krystal would have just gotten in the way.

After that, I guess I went wild. I've got a pretty fertile, if not slightly

warped, imagination and that magic tape recorder had it churning along at full

steam. I created and fucked a different woman nearly every day--tall ones, short

ones, fat ones, skinny ones, white, black, Asian, hell, I even a had big green

alien bitch like Captain Dirk screwed in the that one episode of Space Trek--and

they all had one thing in common, big, bouncing watermelon-sized tits that just

begged to be sucked and fucked.

It went on like that for almost six months. I'd tried just about everything I

could think of, lived every sexual fantasy I'd had since my first wet dream. I

kept creating women with bigger and bigger tits, but let's face, there's only so

big you can get, and I figured I'd pretty much reached the limit with Megan,

whose tits dragged on the floor even when she stood. There wasn't any further

go. Or so I thought . . . The idea came to me while I was watching Movies Til

Dawn. They were showing coming attractions and one was The Attack of the 50 Foot

Woman. I ran to my room and fired up the tape recorder. I was about to speak

into the mike when it struck me . . . how the hell was I going to fit a

fifty-foot woman into my cracker box apartment? There was no fucking way. But, I

wasn't going to give up that easily. Maybe I couldn't create fifty foot woman,

but I could shrink myself so that regular-sized woman would seem as if she was

fifty-foot tall.

I'd never tried the tape recorder on my self. And, I wanted to make sure there

wouldn't be any nasty side effects. I needed to make a trial run.

"Lucifer," I called.

My cat lazily strolled into the bedroom and rubbed up against my legs.

"I've got a surprise for you little buddy."

I switched on the tape recorder, "My cat Lucifer is only five inches long," I

said.

I played it back. There was a smell like burning matches, followed by a puff of

smoke. When it cleared, Lucifer was no bigger than a mouse. Judging by the way

he was yowling, he wasn't too happy about it either. I hit the erase button and

one puff o smoke later Lucifer was back to normal.

It worked. Now, all I needed was woman. Since Krystal had been the first (and, I

have to admit, the best, ) I decided to recreate her. It was good to see her

again--her massive mams bursting from her chest like twin zeppelins.

"Did you miss me?" she asked.

"You better believe it baby. You'll always be number one."

"So what did you have in mind today?"

I told her. Her face lit up with a devilish smile. I switched on the recorder

and said "I'm only five inches tall," then played it back.

Nothing happened at first, then my whole body began to tingle. A sharp pain, as

if someone was had stuck an ice pick into my ear, pierced my skull. I fell to

the floor screaming and clutching my head, then blacked out. When I came to, I

was staring up at the biggest tits I'd ever seen in my life. Krystal's gigantic

knockers loomed above me like twin Matterhorns. Even flat on her back, her

massive 55DDD breasts stood tall and firm, rising a good six or seven inches

above my head.

I started my ascent of the left mammary mountain, scuttering up the warm, silky

flesh until I'd reached the turgid nipple perched on top. Even by normal

standards Krystal's saucer-sized areola was extraordinarily large. But, at my

diminutive size, it looked like an enormous round bumpy pink blanket.

I tiptoed across the knobby flesh to her nipple, which, to me, was as big around

as a telephone pole. I gently licked and nipped at the swollen nub, sending

spasms of pleasure through Krystal's body. The behemoth breast swayed and

shimmied under me like a giant waterbed and I wrapped my arms around the nipple

and hung on for dear life.

When the spasms subsided, I slide down the back side of the breast, bounced

across Krystal's firm stomach, nearly falling into her belly button, and landed

deftly in the "V" between her legs.

The warm, musky scent of Krystal's muff filled my nostrils as I made my way

through a forest of blond pubic hair to her swollen clitoris. With long,

languorous strokes, I lapped at her love button which was nearly as big as my

head. Krystal shuddered and squirmed with delight and I feared that she might

crush me between her creamy thighs.

As I kneaded her cunt lips with my tiny hands, her pussy grew moist, then wet.

Her sweet honey streamed over my hands and arms. I kept on twiddling her until

she came in gushing sobs, drenching my body from head to toe with her love

juice.

With a gentle hand she lifted me to her mouth and licked me clean.

"My, you have a big dick for such a tiny man," she said. "It looks like a little

candy stick. And you know I have a sweet tooth."

She carefully took my minuscule member between her lips and began sucking. It

felt like my dick was caught in a vacuum cleaner and it wasn't long before I

blew my load between her sizable lips.

"Time for baby to rest," she purred, tenderly laying me down in the crevice

between her towering tits. I spread out in that gaping cleavage chasm and fell

asleep.

When I woke, I was in a Mason jar. And Krystal was staring at me with her

menacing blue eyes.

"What the hell is this shit," I yelled, my voice echoing off the smooth glass

walls.

"I figure I can keep you out of trouble in there," she said. "I wouldn't want

you to escape."

"Cut the shit and get me out of here."

"I don't think so," Krystal said, her voice boomed in my ears like thunder. "You

look cute in there. And, definitely harmless."

"I'm gonna erase your ass when I get out you get."

"I doubt it. You can't climb the walls, they're too slippery. Even if you could,

you're too small to move the erase switch without my help. And, I'm certainly

not going to help you. Not after what you did to me. That wasn't very nice what

you did to me. Creating me like that then getting rid of me. I like being alive

and I want it to stay that way."

I called her every dirty name I could think of. Not a smart move. She got pissed

and screwed the lid shut.

"I'll let you out when you learn not to use such nasty language," she scolded.

That was three months ago and I'm still only five inches tall. Krystal's gotten

tired of her "little lover," as she likes to call me. Sure, every once in a

while she uses me as a living dildo, (trust me, it's not as great as it sounds,

a guy could drown in there), but most of the time, she picks up guys in bars,

brings them back the apartment and "does" things to them with the tape recorder.

She's a wicked one. She made one guy's tongue grow 12 inches. She gave another

guy two dicks so he could fuck both her holes at the same time. And one poor guy

she turned into a hermaphrodite with tits that rivaled her own.

When she's through playing with them, she shrinks them down to five inches and

keeps them jars on a shelf in the bedroom. She's got quite a collection now. I'd

say there's about fifty of us all together. And she's still going strong.

So, take my advice, if sometime, somewhere, you happen to meet a gorgeous blond

named Krystal with tits like basketballs and a devilish gleam in her eye, think

twice about going home with her. There's still room on the shelf for a few more

jars.

A Tale Of The Tape   By T

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