Matthias was dead…

Laura was dead…

Finnigan was dead…

And now Lucas wasn’t too far behind in joining his fellow unfortunate souls… and for fucking what… some lady’s entertainment? What massive joke this all was.

His life

His efforts and struggles. 

All ending in one wrong step.

Years he fought to survive, a beta in a world where size determined everything. The small only survived if they had someone ‘normal’ to take care of them, and even then safety was never guaranteed. But less people died that way. They had protectors, guardians, someone who would look out for them even if the only reason why was thanks to a substantial paycheck waiting in the mail. 

But not Lucas. 

No, no, no he was too prideful for that. He’d rather live on his own, rely on his own dwindling strengths rather than someone else, someone bigger and better equipped. Instead of maintaining his fragile ego he was evicted from his own apartment, fired from his job, and blocked off from friends and family alike; people he thought would have had his back. Weren’t close ones supposed to come together in times of crisis?

What a great big joke that was…

His first week on his own, living at only an inch tall, and what happens to him? He gets plucked off the street by some lady. 

A towering, voluptuous vixen. Outrageously gorgeous, their qualities were only magnified thanks to their titanic stature. Someone he most certainly would have tried to pick up just a year prior. Even if they were a beta, their silver hair and red eyes being a dead giveaway, Lucas wouldn’t have been opposed to seeing how that beauty moved in bed. His hands running down the curves of her body, feeling their soft, velvety skin… it would have been paradise. 

Instead, and rather insultingly, he was kept as a pet. An accessory, a simple, meager means of entertainment alongside others less fortunate than their captor. All betas were treated with some manner of discrimination. The smaller one was the less they were treated as a person. Normally the large ones lived much the same way then they had before. Maybe even better if they were a beauty like the She-Devil here. It wasn’t uncommon when those of a larger stature treated their smaller brethren like bugs. 

Lucas was never given his Captor’s name… none of her pets were. There was no need. It wasn’t a necessity. They could only ever refer to her as Mistress, Goddess, or Queen. Those who didn’t died without much in the way of a protest. Then again, Lucas already knew he was as good as dead the moment his ‘Goddess’ threw him inside some old shoebox along with the rest of her property. Call it a well founded hunch, as well as a glimmer seen in his captors’ eyes. She enjoyed their fear. The way they trembled. Their little squeaks when she pinched their bodies just a smidgen too hard. 

She called them adorable at one point, only to flick one of Lucas’ ‘cell mates’ so hard their upper body just… just turned to a fine red mist. Some youngblood named David if he recalled correctly. Not a friend or anyone who had any real importance to him. Just another unfortunate soul who he had talked to once or twice, but never more than three times. They didn’t even do much, just a minor complaint against their owner. A single wrong step out of line. That was all it took to sign a death warrant. 

It was something of a miracle Lucas could even recall their name. 

Not like the others though. Certainly not like those whose company he had actually come to enjoy, even if Lucas wouldn’t consider any of them friends. More people who just needed each other to remind themselves that they were all human. A fragile illusion that was immediately shattered upon the start of each night when their Queen needed an accessory for her usual outings. 

Lucas was never much of a night person. He got all his work done in the day only so that he could sleep the night away in preparation of the next. That said, he wasn’t unaware of how some people were very active in the cloak of night. 

And his owner was very active at night. 

Parties

Night clubs

One night stands

Just about anything a young party-goer lived for fell under this Vixen’s heel as she partook in any vice she could think of. It was apparent early on that she lived for the excitement, and each of her little victims was just a tag along that wouldn’t survive whatever her plans were. 

Without fail, not a single beta who went out with their Goddess ever came back. That is, unless you count the red stain which was once their bodies. Viscera clinging to boots, smeared across her soft yet world shattering thigh, or splattered helplessly against the Vixen’s bountiful chest. 

If memory serves, that was how Mathia’s went out. Stuffed between two mountain sized tits trying to fit into a dress that was perhaps two sizes too small. Now, while the attire did look immaculate on the Goddess’s body, the black fabric pairing wonderfully with silver tracings, it must have been absolute hell for poor Mathia’s. Contrary to many a popular belief, that which is soft does not remain so when pressure is applied. A hundred tons of bricks or a hundred tons of tit flesh, it made no difference. Lucas could only imagine what they must have gone through during the night. 

They all knew Mathias survived the initial travel to some nightclub. Why else would she wear something so extravagant? When one of the small little betas died, their Queen often made note to point out how and when they died. There was no end to the ways some of them popped, and many a poor bastard have found themselves reduced to mush when forced to plunge this woman’s deepest depths. A slight twitch of her innermost muscles, that was all it normally took to crush the life out of any hoping to survive the Vixen’s caverns. Of course, Mathias wasn’t one of them. Forced to attend a club, they likely just popped in the middle of some dance. No one can be certain how long he even lasted. Personally, Lucas wanted to believe that they made it a fair way into the night itself before one wrong step move did him in. Give that hope that maybe SOME of their torment was survivable. 

A fruitless thought, but something to latch on to in times of despair. Though it was wise to known when you were just… fucked. Clinging onto false wishes only breaks down an already broken person; just as Lucas saw with Laura. 

If ever there was a more stubborn person then they were unknown to Lucas. Laura took that prize and then some. Wthout a doubt the loudest of the group of prisoners and toys, she was what many might call a leader. Defiant, brave, if not at times a little crass. While still not considered a friend they were certainly someone Lucas could look towards and find themselves inspired by. They… actually talked quite a bit before she was done in. About their pasts, their families, but generally about what could have been. The lives they wished to live instead of just being stuck in some fucking shoebox. Laura hated it more than anyone else. 

She wanted more of life.

She demanded more of life.

Lucas supposed that was a part of her defiant personality, just could never take no as an answer. 

…Their Goddess ate her. One step out of line and they were swallowed whole, but not before burning the hole between her legs shut with the red hot tip of a needle. No particular reason behind that horrible act other than to get something out from between Laura’s lips other than shouting demands. No doubt the Goddess wanted to hear their anguished cries and watch their futile kicks in retaliation. Both of them… pointless. No amount of crying or fighting could stop Laura’s eventual descent down the Vixen’s throat. 

She described every second of it… every damn second… 

Laura’s struggles within her mouth and how she still fought against the ivory walls that were teeth, or against the pink leviathan that was just a normal tongue. The Shrew described how her mouth had been pooling with saliva, anticipating the moment where she could actually try one of her little “cuties”.  Enough saliva to undoubtedly drown any beta small enough to view such a body of liquid as a lake. For a time it seemed like that would be the case, as though it were some form of mercy compared to other executions. Of course something like that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, Laura was sent on a one-way trip to the Vixen’s waiting stomach. 

Worst still, they were too small to pass out from a lack of oxygen. They all were. Just a little bit was enough to last them at a time, and so there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that little Laura, confident and brave Laura, was melted down right to her bones before she was allowed to pass out. The cruel Goddess explained how she wished her “snack” was just a tad bit bigger only so that she could actually feel their struggles continue on until the very end. You could only feel so much from someone the size of your pinky nail after all. 

That was a month ago now, and Lucas could still hear the gurgles from his Goddess’s subsequent digestion of his fellow prisoner. Quiet to someone of a normal size, but they weren’t given that sort of luxury. Every night after that one event they’ve been forced to sleep on their owners stomach, made to hear the grotesque cacophony of their body’s machinations. Horrible, yet hypotonic all at once. 

In the present though it was safe to say Lucas wouldn’t have much time left to hear that nightmare inducing symphony, nor would he have to see anyone else go. His time was up. The next in line of a bloody chain of torment. 

His Goddess was going out again, dancing once more just like with Matthias. This time however she wanted two treats rather than one. Himself and Finnegan, a coward of a man who was only known for his whimpering. Lucas wasn’t sure if he’s actually ever heard Fin say anything even remotely tangible. 

‘Spose it didn’t matter now seeing as they were done for. 

Unlike with Matty or Laura, Lucas and Finnegan were given the unenviable task of staying close to their Master’s feet. 

As insoles for her nyloned soles. 

As though there was much good they could do at their pitiable sizes. Compared to their Goddess it was like having the weight of a mountain on top of them. But did she even consider such a disparity in size? Or better yet, did she even care? No, of course not. She just wanted to feel them pop. 

Finnegan had no trouble with that. The man was already fragile as is, looking just a few days away from totally starving themselves. One trip into the worn interior of a boot, coupled with just the slightest bit of force as his Mistress stood up, and they gave in; no effort, no difficulties. Fast and simple, there was hardly anything for the She-Devil to enjoy. It was maybe one of the few times Lucas had ever seen her pout in disapproval, which only meant she would make him work extra hard so as not to die straight away. 

He was carefully placed on top of the insole of her remaining boot and kept in a position she knew he wouldn’t die in. At least not right away. She’s done this before, several times, that much was clear. She knew just the right way to squeeze her nylon covered toes to edge out the pain Lucas felt, as well as how much force she needed to exert when pressing her foot against the ground without ensuring she broke her toy. 

She knew what points inside her boots smelled worst, and worked to inch Lucas towards those specific spots to make sure he filled his lungs with her scent. When she allowed it of course. 

She knew how long to walk before Lucas needed a break as their body could only take so much torture. 

She knew what dance moves to risk. The ones where her little toy wouldn’t be found underneath the ball of her foot or underneath her beating toes. 

She knew so damn much that it was a wonder anyone could die under her care. But that’s where her torment came from. The knowledge and control over the fact that she could do so much more for those she takes away, yet only ever decides to treat them as insects.

No, less than that.

Property…

Disposable 

That’s all Lucas was. That’s all any beta would ever be. Those too small to fend for themselves and not the ones who were still practically full sized. Life was unfair and had dealt the worst of hands to so many people. 

It wouldn’t be a concern for long however. Not his anyway, there were still plenty more to suffer an excruciating existence. 

Though trapped in a shoe and unaware of events going on outside, Lucas knew the hours had to be dragging on by. With partying came dancing, with dancing came drinking. 

He wouldn’t be around for much longer. 

At some point his Goddess would forget about him just as she forgot about all those she toyed with, broke, and did away with like trash. 

Just one small move, that’s all that was needed. 

One wrong step and everything would be over. 

Gracious, he even wished for it now. An end to this pitiable existence. For what life was there to be had in this? What purpose was there in the grand scheme of things that could allow for something so deplorable to happen on a daily basis. 

He was done. 

Done with all of it. 

The most he wanted right now was at least a quick end. Something that would leave him with his tattered dignity. 

But as the hours continued to pass on by, and as his body slowly became more bruised and beaten as his Mistress slowly forgot about his existence, he knew such a luxury wouldn’t be granted. He’d be given broken bones… twisted limbs… and ripped skin. 

It was all the same in the end he supposed. 

Pain aside, it was still what he wanted.

What did it matter if it was a slow, painful death or a fast, visceral one? Dead was dead, and soon enough he’d be walking side by side with the reaper. 

Just one wrong step… and then all his troubles were over.