(Tiny Izuku / Ochako of different sizes)

Izuku–

The warmth of Ochako's body enveloped me as she rode me with an intensity that sent waves of pleasure through my entire being. Her movements were wild, her rhythm unrelenting, and with each bounce, my hands gripped the soft pink fabric of the bed beside us, fists clenching in an effort to maintain some semblance of control. But it was a losing battle.

My gaze was locked onto her, mesmerized by the sight of her breasts swaying rhythmically, the supple curves of her body illuminated by the soft, golden glow from the string of lights that lined the top of the shoebox.

I could feel the slickness of her sweat dripping onto my chest, each drop mingling with my own, adding to the heat that radiated between us. The plastic bed creaked beneath our combined weight, not designed to withstand the force of our passion, but it held as we continued our frenzied dance.

Every time she came down on me, the feeling was almost too much to bear, her warmth and tightness pulling me closer to the edge. But it was her eyes that truly captivated me—the way they gleamed with a mixture of desire and something more…something darker.

Her pace began to slow, and the wild rhythm that had been driving us both toward the brink softened into something more deliberate, more controlled. My breath hitched as I noticed the shift in her expression. The wildness was still there, but now it was tempered with a dominant, almost predatory look that sent a shiver through me. She stared down at me, her gaze piercing, as she slowly ground her hips against me. I couldn't help but moan, the sound escaping me involuntarily as she continued her torment.

She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue sliding out just enough for me to see before she bit down on it lightly, her eyes never leaving mine. The teasing gesture, paired with the slight bite, sent a fresh jolt of arousal coursing through me. My hands, almost of their own accord, reached up to grab her waist, seeking some way to ground myself in the overwhelming sensations. But she was having none of it. With a quick, almost dismissive slap, she knocked my hands away, her expression shifting to one of stern control.

"Who owns you, Deku?" Her voice was low, sultry, each word dripping with sensuality as she continued to ride me at a torturously slow pace.

I could barely think, let alone speak, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. My body writhed beneath her, desperate for release, but her steady, measured movements kept me teetering on the brink without allowing me to tip over.

I tried again to grab her, needing to feel the firmness of her hips under my palms, but once more she slapped my hands away. This time, she sank down on me completely, her heat engulfing me as she came to a complete stop. I let out a strangled cry, my head falling back onto the tiny pillow beneath me as my entire body quaked with need.

"Well... I asked you a question, Deku," she purred, leaning down so that her lips were close to my ear, her breath hot against my skin. I whimpered, my mind foggy with pleasure and the remnants of pain. Every second of her lingering stillness was agony, but I knew better than to defy her now.

"You… Mistress Gravity… you own me," I finally managed to gasp out, my voice hoarse and broken, my submission as complete as the surrender of my body to her control.

A satisfied smile spread across her lips as she moaned softly in response, the sound vibrating through me, adding to the maelstrom of sensations overwhelming my senses. Then, without warning, she began to move again, slowly at first, the gentle slide of her body against mine reigniting the fire that had been building inside me. But it wasn't long before her pace quickened, her hips rolling with renewed vigor as she resumed her ride. The feeling was indescribable—each thrust, each rise and fall of her body, pushing me closer to the brink of oblivion.

But even in the midst of this ecstasy, her voice cut through the haze like a blade. "You better not finish inside of me, Deku… or else." Her warning was as sharp as it was arousing, a reminder of the consequences should I lose control.

I gritted my teeth, fighting with everything I had to hold back, the pressure building inside me to an almost unbearable degree. Her movements became faster, more erratic, as she chased her own release, the sensation of her inner walls tightening around me almost too much to bear. I could feel her reaching that peak, the tension in her body, the way her breath caught in her throat, and then, with a final, guttural moan, she climaxed.

The sensation of her walls contracting around me as she came sent a white-hot wave of pleasure crashing over me, and it took everything I had not to lose myself entirely. I was teetering on the edge, the temptation to give in almost overwhelming, but her words echoed in my mind, a lifeline that kept me from going over.

Finally, she collapsed onto me, her body heavy and warm as it pressed down against mine. Her breath was ragged, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch it, and I could feel the slickness of her sweat mingling with mine, our bodies a tangled mess of limbs and exhaustion. My heart was pounding, each beat reverberating through me, but there was a sense of relief too—a sense of triumph that I had managed to hold on.

I was happy I hadn't come inside her, a small victory that meant I wouldn't face her punishment again, though the memory of it was still fresh in my mind. But with her sweat-slicked body lying on top of me, her skin so warm and soft against mine, it was hard not to think about it, hard not to let my mind wander back to the edge. My erection, still trapped inside her, twitched involuntarily, the residual tension making it impossible to fully relax.

Ochako shifted slightly, the small movement sending a ripple of sensation through me, and I bit down on my lip, trying to suppress the urge to move, to take control. But I knew this wasn't the time, and I was content, for now, to simply lie there with her, our bodies intertwined in the aftermath of our shared passion, the soft pink fabric of the bed beneath us a comforting reminder of the strange, tiny world we now inhabited.

And as the lights above us continued to cast their soft glow, I allowed myself to close my eyes, letting the warmth of her body and the soft hum of our shared breath lull me into a state of contented stillness, the promise of more yet to come hanging in the air between us.

Lying there beneath the weight of Ochako's body, I struggled to regain my breath, the air around us thick with the remnants of our shared passion. Every inhale filled my lungs with her scent, a blend of sweat and something sweeter, something that was uniquely hers.

I tried to focus on anything else, anything that might help to quell the persistent throbbing of my erection, but every slight shift she made—whether it was the subtle movement of her hips as she adjusted herself or the light brush of her skin against mine—only served to keep me painfully hard. My mind raced through images and thoughts that might distract me, but nothing seemed to work.

Minutes ticked by, agonizing in their slowness, until finally, Ochako stirred. She glanced at the watch strapped around her delicate wrist, a tiny detail that, at our current size, seemed almost comically oversized. "I have to go," she murmured, the sound of her voice pulling me out of my spiral of frustration. "The boys will be home soon."

I groaned, a low, tired sound, as she pushed herself up off me. The loss of her warmth was immediate, the cool air of our little pink-walled world rushing in to fill the void she left behind. I watched as she stood, the light from the string above casting a soft glow across her bare skin.

She moved with a grace that was mesmerizing, bending down to gather her clothes from the floor of the box. The sight of her bending over sent another pulse of desire through me, but I forced myself to stay still, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides.

Ochako dressed quickly, each movement efficient, practiced. She slipped her arms into the sleeves of her shirt, her back to me, but before she pulled it down, she glanced over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. Her eyes darted toward the corner of the room, where a few Polly Pocket dolls lay strewn about, their plastic limbs frozen in perpetual poses. "You know, Deku, if you're still feeling… frustrated," she giggled, the sound playful, almost taunting, "you could always finish with one of these lovely ladies after I'm gone."

I could only stare as she pulled her shirt over her head, the fabric falling to cover her slender frame. The suggestion hung in the air, a reminder of the strange reality we lived in now. Ochako finished getting dressed, her movements a blur as she fastened the last button on her blouse. I took a breath and rose from the bed, taking a few steps toward her, desperate for something—anything that might change her mind. But before I could even begin to speak, she held up a hand, halting me in my tracks.

"No, Deku," she said softly, her tone firm but gentle. "I know what you're going to ask, but the answer is still no. I'm not going to make you regular size."

The words hit me harder than I'd expected, a heavy weight settling in my chest. I opened my mouth to protest, to argue that maybe things could be different, that maybe this wasn't where I was meant to be, but before I could get the words out, she was already moving toward me. She closed the distance between us in a few quick strides, her hand reaching up to cup my cheek. The touch was soft, affectionate, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as she leaned in close.

Her lips brushed against my ear, a light, teasing kiss that sent sparks flying through me. Then she nibbled, just enough to make me gasp. "You know this is where you belong, Deku," she whispered, her breath hot against my skin. "Here… as my pet… forever."

Her words wrapped around me like a vice, each syllable tightening the hold she had over me. As she spoke, she guided my hands to her hips, then lower, until they rested on the firm curve of her ass.

I could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her clothes, the softness beneath the strength. She pressed against me, her body aligning with mine, her thighs brushing against my still throbbing erection. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and I could feel my resolve crumbling under the weight of her touch.

But just as quickly as she had closed the distance between us, she pulled away, giggling softly at the groan of frustration that escaped me. Her laughter echoed in the small space, a sound that was both comforting and infuriating.

I watched helplessly as she activated her quirk, her body lifting off the ground with a grace that was uniquely hers. She floated up toward the ceiling of our little world, the light casting her in a golden halo as she maneuvered herself toward the small gap that would allow her to leave.

I watched her go, a part of me longing to call out, to beg her to stay, but I knew it would be futile. The hum of the machine that controlled the box filled the air for a brief moment as she adjusted the lid, sealing me inside. I was left alone in the pink-lined interior of what had become my home.

I took in my surroundings, The walls were lined with a soft, pink fabric that muffled sound and gave the place a surreal, almost dreamlike quality. The Barbie bed where we had just been was in the corner of the room, its pink blankets tangled and tossed aside. Nearby, a small plastic couch, not much larger than a toy, sat in front of an equally tiny plastic television.

The Polly Pocket dolls were scattered about the room, their plastic faces frozen in expressions of permanent cheerfulness, a stark contrast to the complex emotions churning within me.

This was my world now—a world of pink walls and plastic furniture, where I was kept like a toy in a box. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow, a deep sense of loss for the life I'd had before. But at the same time, there was a strange comfort in this place, a sense of belonging that I couldn't quite explain.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, the pink fabric crinkling softly beneath me, and let out a long, slow breath. The scent of Ochako still lingered in the air, a reminder that, for better or worse, this was my life now. My hands moved absently over the blankets, smoothing out the wrinkles, as I tried to make sense of the emotions swirling inside me.

This was my home, I reminded myself. And in some twisted way, it was exactly where I belonged.

Ochako—

As I floated up through the small gap in the shoebox, I couldn't help but feel a rush of exhilaration, the way I always did when I used my quirk to defy gravity. The space inside the box was tight, but as soon as I emerged, the world opened up around me, vast and expansive, reminding me of the difference between the life I led in my room and the one Izuku now lived within his tiny, pink-walled home.

I pressed a few buttons on my watch, feeling the familiar sensation of my body expanding, limbs stretching back to their full length, skin adjusting to its natural size. With a deep breath, I settled back into myself, the full weight of my body once again grounded in the real world.

Turning back, I adjusted the lid of the shoebox, making sure it was snug and secure before strapping the lid to the box and giving it a few light taps with my fingers. The sound was faint to my ears, but I knew inside the box it would be thunderous to Izuku, a small reminder that I was still there, still in control.

A giggle escaped my lips at the thought, the absurdity of the situation always tickling me. Satisfied, I retrieved the small remote from the top of my nightstand, a peculiar-looking device with a few buttons. Without hesitation, I pointed it at the shoebox and pressed down.

A thin, green beam shot out from the remote, striking the shoebox dead center. I watched in fascination, as I always did, as the box began to shrink, the shoebox compressing down until it was no larger than a lego brick. I released the button and bent down, picking up the tiny box with ease, the weight almost negligible in my palm. It was strange to think that my Deku, was inside there, experiencing all this from a completely different perspective.

With a quick glance around, I opened the drawer of my nightstand and casually tossed the shoebox inside, its landing softened by the satin interior. It came to rest right next to a collection of my sex toys, a detail that I knew would make Izuku blush if he were aware of it. The thought brought a smile to my lips as I prepared to close the drawer.

But just as my fingers brushed the handle, the door to my room swung open, and before I could fully turn around, I felt the familiar warmth of Katsuki's presence behind me. His arms wrapped around my waist, strong and possessive, and I couldn't help the giggle that escaped me as he pressed his lips to the curve of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. I leaned back into his touch, the drawer temporarily forgotten as I let myself melt into the comfort of his embrace.

"Did the kids have fun at the movies?" I asked, my voice light, casual, as if there wasn't a tiny, shrunken box hidden in the drawer beside us. With a nudge of my knee, I pushed the drawer closed, the soft click of it shutting barely noticeable in the background.

Izuku—

The moment Ochako floated up and out of the small gap, leaving me alone in the shoebox, I felt a familiar sense of dread settle over me. Without her presence, the room seemed to close in on itself, the silence almost deafening. I knew what was coming next, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. As the lid above me shifted into place with a soft click, I felt the first tremor beneath me. It was subtle, but I knew it was just the beginning.

The quakes started soon after, each one stronger than the last, the entire shoebox vibrating with the force of Ochako's movements outside. I braced myself against the side of the bed, trying to stay upright as the ground beneath me trembled.

The pink blankets slid off the bed, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor, and the plastic couch shifted dangerously close to the edge of the room. Everything seemed to be moving at once, and I struggled to keep my footing.

Then came the hum—a low, mechanical sound that I recognized all too well. My pulse quickened as the walls around me seemed to vibrate in response. But instead of the room physically shrinking, I felt a strange, subtle pull inside myself, as if my very essence was being compressed along with the box.

It was disorienting, like my sense of space was being warped, but I didn't feel the walls closing in. Instead, the sounds outside grew louder, more intense, as if the entire world had suddenly become massive compared to me.

The quakes became more violent, each one accompanied by a loud, booming sound that resonated through the shoebox. It was as if a giant was stomping around just outside, each footstep sending shockwaves through the room. I stumbled, my balance thrown off as the floor tilted beneath me, and I grabbed onto the nearest thing I could find—a Polly Pocket doll that had been lying nearby.

As the box shifted and swayed, the doll and I were thrown into the air, tumbling helplessly as gravity lost its grip on us. I held onto the doll for dear life, my arms wrapped tightly around its tiny plastic body. It was ridiculous, I knew—clinging to a toy like it could somehow protect me—but in that moment, it was the only thing that felt stable. We crashed down together, the impact jarring but not painful, and I found myself lying on the floor, still clutching the doll like it was a lifeline.

The box shifted again, this time more violently, and I felt the ground lurch beneath me as Ochako lifted it. My stomach churned with the motion, the sensation of being carried like a toy in her hand both nauseating and terrifying. The quakes continued, each one a reminder of the immense size and power of the world outside my tiny prison. I could only imagine what was happening—her casual movements, her effortless control over my world—but I was trapped, unable to see or understand what was going on outside.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the box came to a sudden stop. The force of it sent me sprawling onto the floor, the Polly Pocket doll slipping from my grasp as I landed hard on my side. I lay there, dazed, trying to make sense of the disorientation that still clouded my mind. Everything felt… different.

The world outside seemed so much more distant, yet the sounds and tremors were more intense, as if I had been pulled further into a realm where every movement, every sound, was amplified.

I didn't have long to think before the box jolted again, this time accompanied by a loud, echoing crash that reverberated through the walls. I rolled onto my back, gasping for breath as the realization hit me—she had tossed the box. We were no longer sitting securely on her nightstand but had been thrown into the drawer, the impact rattling everything inside. The pink fabric lining the box softened the landing somewhat, but the force of it still sent the plastic furniture tumbling over.

The drawer closed with a soft thud, plunging me into a near-complete darkness that was only broken by the faint glow of the lights strung along the ceiling. I sat up slowly, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I tried to regain some sense of control.

The Polly Pocket doll lay beside me, its plastic face frozen in a cheerful smile, completely unaffected by the chaos that had just unfolded. I reached out, pulling it close to me once more, needing the comfort of something solid, something that hadn't been shaken to its core.

As I sat there, hugging the doll to my chest, I tried to calm the racing thoughts in my mind. The drawer was a vast, dark cavern compared to the shoebox, and even though the walls around me hadn't physically changed, the sensation of being so incredibly small, so insignificant, weighed heavily on me. The sounds outside were muffled now, but still present, reminding me of the world that existed beyond my tiny pink prison.

The realization of what had just happened settled over me like a heavy blanket. I had shrunk with the box. I hadn't noticed at first, too caught up in the quakes and the strange sensations, but now it was clear. The world outside hadn't grown—it was I who had become even smaller, even more vulnerable to Ochako's whims. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a cold, creeping fear that I couldn't shake.

This drawer, this shoebox, this world of plastic and fabric—this was my reality now. A reality where every sound, every movement from the outside, was a reminder of how small and powerless I had become. And yet, despite the fear, despite the overwhelming sense of helplessness, I couldn't deny the strange comfort that came with it.

I was hers—completely, utterly hers—and in some twisted way, that gave me a sense of purpose. As I hugged the Polly Pocket doll tighter, I let that thought settle in, trying to find solace in the knowledge that, no matter how small I became, Ochako would always be there, the one constant in my ever-shrinking world.