GITJ Post 403: Sock Puppets

“Gooood morning…good morning Dr. Jjjjjjj…” I was awakened by, of all things, a boop on the nose. My face scrunched up, Melissa's voice cutting through the fog of my deep slumber. When I dared to open my eyes, just a slit at first but then wider, what I saw wasn’t Melissa’s face greeting me, but instead the thing that booped me on the nose. “Time to wake up for me, Mr. Sleepyhead!” it said.

A sock, one of mine. On her hand. A sock puppet.

Melissa giggled, and booped me again, this time grabbing my nose like the sock puppet was biting me.

“Rrrrr!” she growled, pretending to be the puppet, speaking for it in a weirdly comic voice and using her fingers inside it to open and close like its mouth, “Me hungry!”

My body ached, arguing and unwilling to be pulled from its stupor. It was an abrupt awakening, and I was trying my best to blink myself awake. Morning, maybe soon after sunrise. The sock puppet - thin, light gray, from the dress pair I’d worn yesterday for the photoshoot - danced and wiggled in front of me. I was laying on my back, she on her right side next to me on my left. I couldn’t help but smile a little at her antics, trying not to think too much that this was like a mother with a two-year old.

“Me want breakfast!”

She giggled again, delighted at her little game. It was so early!

“Want you for breakfast!” it said, and dove into my neck.

“Melissa!” I laughed, “Stop!” That tickled!

As I struggled to come more to life, I was aware of a weird taste in my mouth, like I hadn’t brushed my teeth in a long time. Which I guess I didn’t last night, but this was particularly…I don't know…sour? Also, wow, I was exhausted. I could barely move and - double wow. My nethers were sore. Like I’d been put through a wringer. How many times last night had we..?

“Nom nom nom, nom nom nom!” the sock puppet sang, taking nibbles of me, tickly, making me squirm and laugh. My neck - “nom nom…” my chest - “nom nom…” and, having pushed the covers aside, my morning wood - “nom NOM!”

“Nnnnghhh…ughh…!” I was sore. “Melissa, ouch,” I pleaded, half-laughing, my hand reaching down to stay her, grabbing her at the forearm. My sock, built to fit my size-6 foot, barely made it to her wrist.

“Oooo Melisssssy is so sorry!” the sock puppet apologized, backing off my how-the-hell-can-I-still-be-hard cock, “She made you do sexy too many times? When you sleepy-sleep?”

When I slept? “Wait what?”

“Yes yes Melissssy eat, eat you, five times, nom nom nom!” the sock-thing announced, dancing animatedly above my face, “and you getted to do milk. Melissssy eat, you eat, but sock hungry still!!”

‘Getted to do milk’? And…? “F-five times?”

“Yes, sweetie, five times <giggle!>, while you were sleeping,” Melissa answered, now in her own voice, “You seemed like you needed it. You were so full up!”

Oh my god what the hell.

“But I’m sorry if it was too much,” she apologized, her pout not able to hide a proud little smirk, like she wasn’t really all that sorry. She started to peel the sock off her wrist. “You slept right through them.”

So…she’d given me blow jobs? In my sleep?? Five of them?!? “Jesus, Melissa…” I muttered, incredulous..

“Language,” she scolded.

What? Now I’m not allowed to swear?

“Did the monkeys disturb you last night?” she asked, sock now off her hand.

“The…what?”

“The monkeys, the boys I had come over to fix things downstairs. We made a mess, you and me,” she answered, pausing for a second. Listening to something. “They’re still here, I’m pretty sure. Finishing up.”

She’d taken the sock, unrolled it again

“‘The boys’? Like, the construction guys from the office?” I asked. Maybe I did hear them? I seemed to recall vague dreams, men chanting. “How d- Nnngh!!”

I groaned when she slid the sock down over my erection.

“M-Melissa what-?”

“Shhhh…” she giggled, smoothing the thin sock over me, “You’re sore. This is soft.” She grabbed my sock-sheathed sword, causing my hips to buck. “Feel nice?”

I groaned again, eyes fluttering. Oh my god yes but I’m so tired.

“Noooooo…!” she sang, suddenly scooching up and leaning in, bringing her face to inches from mine, above me. Her hair, a huge, huge thick blanket of it covered us. “No sleeping! Not just yet!” she whined, pouting again, “Talk to me. Just for a minute. I’ve been laying here all night looking at you, but I have to go to work soon.”

Work? oh man. It’s like, what? Thursday?

Her left hand was aside my pillow, supporting her weight, her right hand still held my overworked cock. She gave it a squeeze.

Nnngh oh god Whoah. Stars in front of my eyes, my lids fluttering again.

“I don't like how sleepy you are,” she complained, girlishly, “I have to learn not to feed you so late.” She shook her head of hair a bit, settled it even more luxuriously about me. This woman knew how to keep a man interested, but what was she saying?.

My brow furrowed. Feed me? What did she mean by that? I’d barely eaten anything last night, right? Though, this weird taste in my mouth?

Whatever confusion I had around these cryptic comments quickly faded as I looked up at her. Here, in the morning, sunlight filtering transcendently through her soft dark hair, she was absolutely stunning. Gorgeous, and she knew it. I could tell by her smile. Plus she smelled great. Was it a shampoo? It gave me a little energy, when I breathed it in.

She giggled, seeing me so taken by her, and gave my cock a gentle stroke. She backed up, away from me just a bit, her face now maybe a foot or so above mine, eyes locked on me, stroked me again. Still, her hair was a thick curtain all around us, thick and glorious and….long. Really long.

“God, you have a lot of hair,” I marveled, “Like…yikes. A real lot.” It wasn’t this long yesterday, was it?

She giggled, smiling down at me enigmatically.

“How’d it get so long, s-so fast?” I asked, admittedly confused.

“I told you, baby, I’m changing into what you like,” she replied, plainly, “You like long hair.”

”I do?”

“Yes, apparently,” she continued, shaking out her mane again, thick waves of it shimmering around us, “so mine grows really long, really fast.”

“Like, overnight? But that’s impossible…”

“Tell that to my scissors. I cut it every morning.”

What?? “You have to cut your hair every morning?”

“Yeah, unless I want to look like a hair monster.”

“A-and you think that’s because of me??”

“Shh it’s okay, I don’t mind,” she said, thinking I was apologizing. No! This was just crazy talk!

“No Melissa I don’t want-“

“Hey it’s okay lots of guys don’t even realize their preferences, or where they come from,” she said, smiling tenderly down at me, “But, a lot of times they come from, well…<giggle!>…I have some ideas. Lemme guess - your mom had long hair?”

Just then, a memory flashed. It was one of the few I had of my mother, who’d left me when I was a toddler. She was leaning over me in my crib, her huge waves of dark hair making a little private space for us…

Melissa was looking at me, seeing my eyes widen as I recalled it.  She looked intently at me, and I had the feeling she was looking deep. “Big boobs too, huh? Your mom?” she asked.

God help me, yes. In the memory, my mother was wearing a scoopneck, I could look right down her top. Her breasts were big.

<could do dreamy cleavage image>

“So, breasts as big as Mommy’s, huh?” she said, enigmatically, as over me her upper body shifted, her bare, glorious chest rising over me, “That’s what you want?”

What was she saying?!?

“M-Melissa no I-“

“it’s okay. It’s natural, for men to want what their mommies had,” she said, her hand starting once again to slowly stroke my cock through my thin wool sock. Melissa’s enormous bare breasts now filled my vision. “Men want Mommy’s boobs, Mommy’s hair, Mommy’s hips,” she purred, “Maybe even Mommy’s hands…”

“oh-oh my god M-Melissa n-n-no-…”

My protests sounded small, half-hearted - even to me.

“Stop complaining, baby, I don’t mind,” she cooed from above me, now more firmly stroking my tender erection, “Let mommy do this for you…”

”w-wait wh-what?!”

“Oh hush…don’t try to deny it. I know I’m a bit of a mother-figure for you,” she giggled, bringing jiggles through the massive mountains that hovered over me, “And you loved when I called myself mama last night.”

“oh my g-…” I groaned, my whole body shuddering as her stroking was having its intended effect, along with the view she was affording me, the bulging undersides of her breasts, “J-Jesus Christ, Melissa…”

“Hey, language,” she reprimanded, “But shhhh it’s okay, I love that I remind you of her, make you feel safe and warm and well-taken care of.” She stroked me, stroked me, the fabric of the sock only heightening the sensation. “But I’m going to do it better than she did. I’m going to be the best mommy-girlfriend for you. The best mommy ever for my good little boy.”

“oh…god…Melissa…”

“mmmhm that’s right,” she purred, “You like that idea, don’t you? Mommy girlfriend?”

“nnnngh M-Melissa, wait…” Was I ready for this? “h-hold on..”

“Shhh it’s okay. I like doing it. Like, last night, I loved feeding you your bottle.”

Again: ”What?!?”

This time I was really incredulous.

With a giggle, Melissa bent down low towards me, causing me to inadvertently back up as much as I could into my pillow as her face looked into me. Suddenly she seemed so huge that it felt like if she were to open her mouth she could eat me. Raven hair, again, piled around us warm and soft, and her full voice was barely above a whisper as she purred down into my face.

“My little man was so fussy and moaning in his sleep,” Melissa explained, with both sympathy and amusement dancing in her eyes, “And I felt so, so bad for you. You had a bit of a scare yesterday, didn’t you? With those mean men trying to come take you away?”

“Oh…y-yeah…” I replied, recalling the attorneys. There was no way I was going to argue with her on this point. That had stressed me out.

“And so I figured, my baby could use a little warm milk, to help him sleep nice,” Melissa continued, kissing my cheek now with her soft lips.  “And so I went downstairs, came back, laid down on the bed and fed you some.  And guess what, it settled you right down!”

“Wait. So you…came in and…gave me milk!?” I asked already squirming in the indignity, even as her left hand held my solid cock.

“Mmhm. With a baby bottle,” she answered matter-of-factly, “I had one of Katarina’s in the fridge.”

“You f-fed me from a baby bottle!?!” I exclaimed, the shock, the emasculating humiliation of it making me nearly disintegrate…especially as I realized it was probably-  “Was it her breastmilk again?!?” Last weekend I’d been - I figured as a joke, right? - tricked into drinking milk that Katarina, my new Polish migrant employee and a new mom, had pumped. “Please don’t tell me it w-“

“mmhm of course,” Melissa replied, “Of course it was Katarina’s.”

“Y-you can’t do th-that!!” I sputtered, feeling the humiliation just piling on me.

“Oh, but it worked so well! You drank it right down. I think you liked it,” she said, “In fact, I think you loved it.”

And I loved watching you get smaller - I didn’t know it then, but I know it now: that's what she was thinking. Katarina, by some strange ability, was able to infuse her milk with these effects.

“Melissa!! What the hell?!?”

“Hey milk is the only thing you can easily stomach, it makes you relaxed, makes you feel good,” she offered.

“Ahhg! But it’s breastmilk!!! Katarina’s breastmilk!! ” I looked in her eyes, and it was like I could hear exactly what she was thinking at me, in a voice as clear as if she was speaking it:

Would it be better if it was mine? Would you still refuse that?

My mind started reeling

“You looked like such a precious little baby,” Melissa cooed, picking up back into a slow rhythm of her hand, my cock. She looked right into my eyes, examined my face. “Ugh…it almost hurts how cute you are sometimes!”

She seemed to consider something for a moment, and then leaned in, closed her eyes, and engulfed my mouth in a long, slow, deep kiss.  Like yesterday, she wasn’t playing around, this was no small smooch. Her big lips wrapped around my entire mouth, sealing it shut completely, and her tongue pushed into me and utterly took over.  I stared helplessly into Melissa’s eyes as her tongue threatened to go down my throat. I began to see stars and hoped for the first few seconds that she would pull away from the kiss and let me breathe, but then almost immediately melted right into the kiss. If I need to breathe, she’ll do it for me. And yes, when she finally did push air into me, a moment later, I tried hard not to groan in the deep pleasure I felt.

My eyes fluttered, and I began to think. Adjusting to this new world represented a constant challenge. My mind was deprived of all the oxygen except hers, but in that moment I could see it. Like a tiny sunrise in the back of my head,  light shone for me, allowing me to see and consciously accept our building dynamic. Melissa was sweet, at many times almost childlike, but seeing what she could physically do last night, the wonders her body showed me evidenced a level of power to which I could never come close. I knew that, if I let it, it could be a power that would consume me. Despite her obvious physical superiority though, she had never raised her voice, let alone her hand to me.

She breathed for me again, her eyes still locked on mine. I could see reflected in them the truth: that with all her strength she would never touch me with anything but tenderness. In that moment I accepted her again as the alpha, and took another step in accepting this new reality and forgetting the old world. I would not only let Melissa be my anchor and shield in this new one, if she wanted to be my mother figure that…that was okay too.

She broke our kiss, looking deep into my eyes and feeling exactly what I was thinking. When she spoke again her voice was wracked with emotion.

“Oh, baby, yes,” she said, pushing herself up again to rise over me until her gigantic breasts hovered over my face, “I love you so much.”

I stared up at her, in absolute love. These are the greatest tits god ever created, and they’re all for me.

“Yes, sweetie, yes” I heard her say, “but God’s got nothing to do with it.”

Suddenly, her nipple was in my mouth, the great mass of her right breast mashed into my face. Her hand pumped now, pumped at my sock-covered cock. I sucked, sucked on her but soon mmmph… mmmph… ”MMmph!!!”

“Can’t breathe, honey?” she giggled, pulling up off me to allow me air.

“N-n-no I…I…” I could barely form words, but managed to speak after a moment. “It’s…it’s like The Attack of the Blob.”

Melissa giggled, her hand slowing for a moment down between my legs. “The what?”

“The Blob? The movie monster?” Oh god I hope she doesn’t think I’m calling her fat.

“Like Godzilla?” she answered, “The big, big monster?” She began to sit up, rising higher above me.

“Yeah kinda,” I answered, lost now in appreciating the incredible physique of her now towering torso. Her underboob was astounding, it alone dwarfing my head.

She’d paused, letting me look up at her.

“Feeling small, baby?” she purred.

“y-yes,” I answered, without a thought.

“Mmmmm good,” she growled. She’d begun, again, to stroke my cock through my gray dress sock. “And you’re okay with it now, getting smaller?”

That set me back a bit. “Uh…wh-what do you mean.”

“Last night, sweetie,” she said, languorously stroking me now, indulging me, “last night you said you wanted it, to get so much smaller than me, so I could hold you and keep you safe like you were inside me.”

My face flushed. “it’s…it’s always been a fantasy,” I managed, shrinking down under the ignominy of it.

“Oh, sweetie, I know,” she said, shifting her body now, moving, pushing covers out of the way and spreading my legs. My cock still in hand - and still in my thin gray dress sock - Melissa now kneeled down between my knees. Her breasts were squashed between her arms, giving me a mind-numbing amount of cleavage to stare at. “How about now you start thinking about living out your fantasies? Can you do that for me?”

“oh my god okay,” I agreed, not having the will to do anything else, watching as she shifted again, leaning down, positioning herself and her glorious chest right behind my huge, throbbing organ in its thin woolen sheath.

“Like Mr. Sock here,” she said, referring to my cock, who had now taken over the role of the sock puppet, “He knows what he likes, and he's not afraid to enjoy it, are you Mr. Sock?”

At that, she pulled him - it, I mean ‘it’, or, uh, ‘me’ - back into her cleavage. He vanished, all but completely, maybe just the fabric-sheathed head mushrooming out near the top. “There we go…” she purred, moving her body just enough so that now maybe more of him pushed up out of her tits, then slid back in to disappear. The sleeve of wool sock around my shaft, the rubbing of its fabric over my skin, only added the sensation of the muscular caress of her tits around me. “There we go….”

I groaned. Holy shit.

She giggled. “Yeah, Mr. Sock knows what he likes,” Melissa began, rubbing herself up and down my length again, and then again, so slowly, “He doesn’t mind being so much smaller than me, he doesn’t mind at all…he knows it only makes it better.”

“oh god, oh god, oh god yes,” I groaned, watching as my 6’8” superhuman girlfriend with tits the size of watermelons began to titfuck me with consummate ease. My sock-puppet cock slid in, and out. In, and out. The soft, rhythmic motions up and down my overly sensitive erection left me speechless.

“The Attack of the Blob, right?” she chuckled, squashing her chest even more bounteously around my shaft, until I couldn’t see him at all. Her voluptuousness was everywhere. “He doesn’t seem to mind getting eaten by the Blob, no. No, not at all…”

Still she shifted on me, moving her torso, her shoulders and arms in just the right way to titfuck me, up and down, up and down.

“He seems happy being surrounded by me, hm?”

It was too much. I was already completely spent at this point. I’d barely found the strength to wake up, my body shocked awake by Melissa and her ‘little friend.’ I was tender from god knows how many ejaculations yesterday and last night, and the emotions of the morning were already exhausting. I found myself - despite being subsumed in the pleasure of the world’s greatest titfuck - a bit concerned. I could take it, now, sure…but for how much longer? How will I handle this if she’s still growing? And, even worse, if I was still shrinking? In “The Blob”, the creature absorbed its victims. Was Melissa slowly doing that already, to me?

“Mr. Sock likes it so much, being in there, doesn’t he?” she spoke, her voice beginning to take up the urgency of her task. She was intending to make me come like this, her eyes locked on my open-jawed face as she pumped her spectacular torso up and down on me. “Tell me, Mr. Sock, tell me you like being in there, surrounded by Melisssssy.”

“y-yes…yes I do,” I said, for the love of god answering for my dick, whose head popped for a second here, a second there, out of her upper cleavage near her collarbone. I could see the dark stain of a wet pre-come on the light gray fabric of the sock. “yes please…”

Her eyes flashed. She  wanted more. “Tell me you like being in there, where it’s so soft, inside Mommy.” <pump, pump>

“Oh uuuggh…Oh my god yes,” I groaned.

“Tell me again.” <pump, pump> “Tell me what you want.”

“I…I want to be inside you.”

Now she groaned herself. “Ohh…oh god yes sweetie yes of course you do.” <pump, pump> “Tell me your mommy has big boobs, tell me she has big hair, just like Melissssy.”

“oh my god…she had…”

My voice failed me. I couldn’t say it.

But Melissa pressed on.

“Tell me you want her to feed you like she did last night, tell me you want the bottle.”

“oh god Melissssy yes..”

“Tell me you want the breast.”

“yes..! yes..!”

“Yes, baby, Yes Yes,” she moaned, “Come for Mommy!”

“NNNNNGGGHHH!!!” I groaned, “NNNNGHHH!”

“COME!”

NNNNGH! NNNGH! NNNNGH!!! Right into her, right between her breasts. Right in her magnificent, pillowy cleavage my cock exploded into the sock-condom each pump lubricated by my own jucies, into the fabric of “Mr Sock” making him-

NNgh! NNgh! NNNgh!

-making him - oh god oh god oh god - fill up, the wet slobber of my juices already heavy and thick and making the thin wool darken darken darken, each time it appeared above the swell of her breasts the come stain blossoming bigger and bigger and bigger and-

She pulled it off....

<<<IMAGE REMOVED PER PATREON GUIDELINES>>>

NNGh! My bare skin, now, sliding up between her tits.

She squeezed the sock, drools of come bursting forth from it onto her chest, lubricating us.  “Come! Come on, Mr. Sock, come!” she still urged, she still commanded me.

Still orgasming, still spurting - holy god how am I making this much?!? - I dumped more, more, more onto her chest, into her cleavage - slippery, slippery, slippery.

“oh oh oh god…” I moaned. Pain! My loins, tendons, thighs all screaming. But also so much pleasure!

Nngggh….nnnngh….nnnnnngh….

She eased me through it.

“Come on baby, come on honey, that’s right,” she cooed, “come for Mommy…”

“oh my god…oh my god…”

“That’s okay baby, get it out, get it all out.”

“s-so much…” I whined, as my climax waned, “so much…” My vision had already begun to darken.

“Mmm hm…” she purred, “so much for me.”

She began to rub my come into her skin, with the palm and fingers of her left hand smearing the spent, sodden sock all over her chest. I watched, and felt my eyes becoming heavy.

“There you go baby, all better now,” she consoled me, using the wet sock to gently stroke my member, which still twitched in her cleavage, little spasms, “all better for your day.”

“Mmm hmm yeah…” I murmured, feeling sleep quickly approaching.

“I have a busy day at work,” she told me, “we canceled your patients for today, it’s better if you stay home here.”

“h-home?” I repeated, tremulous of voice, “b-by myself?”

“Oh, sweetie, no, you won’t be alone,” she said, still stroking and gently squeezing me, “Randi will stay with you today, babysitting.”

“Babysitting..??”

===================================================

Thanks for sock-puppet idea from long-time reader Sherlock, Titfreak for the base image and RiF for his editing help.

<<EDIT - IMAGE REMOVED PER PATREON GUIDELINES. SORRY. Contact me for help prn>>