The bathroom door creaked open, and in walked his cousin Abigail. She was 21, a year younger than him, with long, curly brown hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall. Her tall frame, carrying about 135 pounds, was a familiar sight at family gatherings. She had always been a bit of a tomboy, but today she was dressed more femininely than he had ever seen her, wearing a red Christmas sweater that clung to her ample D-cup breasts and a pair of tight-fitting jeans that hugged her round, firm ass. Her nipples, already erect from the cold, poked out like tiny pebbles beneath the fabric.
"Oh, thank goodness," Abigail sighed, not noticing the miniature human on the toilet seat. She reached behind her and unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them down her legs with a practiced ease that only comes from years of doing so in the same place. The sight of her pink, cotton panties made Zachary's already-small penis throb with excitement. He watched, his eyes wide, as she stepped closer to the toilet, her size 7 feet oblivious to the fact that they were mere inches from crushing him.
With a swift motion, she sat down, her plump, round ass slamming onto the seat just shy of his face. The sound echoed through the bathroom, and for a moment, Zachary thought she had seen him. But she continued as if nothing was out of the ordinary, lifting her sweater to reveal her bare, porcelain-white stomach. Her panties hugged her pussy, the fabric dark with anticipation. He could see the outline of her thick, juicy lips beneath the fabric, and he felt his cock harden even more, reaching its full half-inch length.
"I can't believe I ate that much," Abigail murmured to herself, shifting slightly. Her panties began to slide down her legs, and she stepped out of them, revealing the tight, clean-shaven mound of her sex. Her labia were plump and pink, and her clit, a tiny pearl atop a swollen bud, begged for attention. Zachary watched, his breath held in his throat, as she leaned back against the sink, one hand playing with a nipple while the other slid down to her mound.
"Oh, God," she whispered, her fingers delving into her folds. She was wet, and the sound of her slickness was the only sound in the room other than her soft moans. She began to masturbate, her index and middle fingers circling her clit in a way that made Zachary's tiny cock throb in time with her movements. He couldn't believe his luck—or his situation. He was about to witness his cousin's most intimate moment, and there was nothing he could do to stop it or even to alert her to his presence. What does he do?
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