Fast Food Cashier

TAGS: F(20)/m(43), ¼ in, Vore, Unaware

It was hour nine of Clarissa’s five hour shift, and the third time a customer had come back to the front counter to complain about the food. With the way these people were acting you’d think they’d just had their food spat in at a Michelin Star restaurant, but no- this was Shake House, the dingiest drive-thru fast food chain since Long John Silver’s. 

“No, you listen to me, you stupid bitch. My girlfriend asked for a vanilla shake with a chocolate swirl. NOT a chocolate shake. What about that is so hard to understand?”

“I’m sorry sir. That was our honest mistake,” Clarissa droned, dead eyed. She’d reached the point in her shift where giving a shit was no longer on the menu. “Would you like us to replace that for her, free of charge?”

“I don’t like your attitude, little miss. How about you give us another shake and a refund for the food we had to wait an hour for!?” the man barked, pointing a finger right in her face. He was a typical boomer- in about as bad of shape as you can imagine, touting a “Don’t Tread on Me” t-shirt, and socks with sandals.

Clarissa didn’t have time for this.

“Ok, sir. We can do that for you,” Clarissa said with a smirk, “As long as you don’t mind helping me out.” 

The man fumed, tripping over his own words. in an attempt to find any recourse to insult her further. This gave Clarissa just enough time to glance around the restaurant. Perfect- no one in line of sight. She snapped her fingers and the man was instantly reduced to nothing- or so it would seem. She snuck around the counter and reached down to the grout in between the greasy restaurant tile to claim her target- a tiny yellow speck on the ground, thrashing with fury. He was smaller than her usual prey! Clarissa couldn’t see any discernible features as she squatted and pinched the enraged customer between her thumb and forefinger, careful not to crush him.

“Hey little buddy!” she whispered into her fingers, “Here’s how you’re gonna help.”

Clarissa quickly mixed another milkshake- vanilla with a chocolate swirl- from the machine, and jammed one of the jumbo straws inside. Gently, she  lifted the man over the straw, and casually dropped him in. She glanced down the tube of the straw- he was firmly trapped in a river of fudge. 

Clarissa sat the milkshake on a tray and brought it out to the man’s girlfriend in the lobby. She’d seen the two come in together, but now that she was giving the woman a second look, she realized she couldn’t be any older than her early 20s. She was a short girl, with a brown pixie cut, a sundress and flip-flops to match. 

“So sorry about the wait!” Clarissa grinned, “Here’s that shake for you.”

“Oh my goodness, thank you so much!” the girl beamed, “I’m so sorry about Ted. He can be such an ass about these types of things. Thank you for being accommodating and I’m so sorry he yelled at you.”

“It’s really no trouble!” Clarissa lied, eyeing the shake as she saw a faint lighted silhouette attempting to climb the length of the straw.

“Well, don’t worry- I’ll talk to him later about it. He’s always so rude to service workers, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Clarissa simply grinned. It wouldn’t be happening again anyway. The girl raised the straw to her lips and the milkshake climbed towards her mouth, captor and all, who quickly disappeared behind her lips. She swallowed with delight, damning Ted to a grave in her gullet.

“Wow! I don’t know what you put in it this time, but this is fantastic!”

Actor:

TAGS: M/m(½ in.), Gentle, Feet

He sent in self tape. His agent got him not one, not two, but three auditions for various parts in this commercial. He knew the casting director personally. And yet here he was, on the set of a R.A.D. Bug Spray commercial, a ½ inch tall, sitting in between his best friend’s toes, dressed in a miniscule foam cockroach costume.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” the Production Assistant Janice spoke, her titanic form looming over him, “I know you were hoping for CGI, but the producers want practical.”

“Janice, it’s not the god damned effects that’s the problem!” he said, rubbing his temples, “It’s this fucking cockroach costume. And, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I have to be stepped on by Wes’s fucking bare feet. Maybe that’s the problem. Did you think about THAT, Janice?” Janice frowned politely, nodding. 

“I understand how you feel. The shoot should be over pretty quickly. I’ll talk to the director- we’ll try to get as few takes as possible.”

Jack didn’t dignify the platitude with a response. He’d been on sets using a compressor before but he wasn’t enjoying being the size of an insect next to his fellow actor. It was humbling to say the least. He could overheard Wes popping his toes as he scrunched his feet against the linoleum floor. His friend was wearing jeans, leaving pretty much the only thing Jack had contact with to be Wes’s toes, which were easily as tall as he was and some taller. The giant’s voice boomed from above.

“Sorry about this, Jack,” he said, grimacing with embarrassment. “Hope the smell isn’t too bad. I’ll be gentle. The, uh- the stuff we do for this industry, am I right?”

“I didn’t think four years at Julliard would put me in the position of a literal insect, Wes. But yes. The smell isn’t too bad. That Old Spice?”

“I don’t know, actually. It’s whatever my girlfriend uses. I think Suave, actually.”

“QUIET ON SET!” the PA barked, her friendly demeanor gone in an instant, “Sound. Lights. And… rolling. And… take 1, action.”

Wes cleared his throat and swooped his long brown hair back, and smiled a deep grin exposing his pearly whites, “With R.A.D. Insect Spray, you can stomp out pests of any size!”

“CURSE YOU!” Jack cried, falling to his knees with his arms shaking above his head. It was a positively Shakespearean performance as the micro-camera zoomed closer into Jack’s face. Had to keep it straight- don’t give it away- 2 more hours and he’d be $2,500 richer. His eyes drifted upwards to Wes lowering his meaty sole down slowly but surely. It had accumulated chunks of dirt and dust from the studio floor. Great.

The thick foot collided with Jack and pressed him deep into the hard floor, face up, giving him a faceful of Wes’s sole. Production had promised this to be the better option versus getting stepped on with a shoe, but Jack begged to differ. He got a bath of dirt, sweat, and pliant foot skin while being pressed into the ground with gargantuan force. At least his moans of agony were muted by being totally surrounded by feet.

Wes lifted his foot up as the director roared “cut”. Jack indignantly peeled himself off his fellow actor’s foot.

“You okay down there buddy?”

“I’ll live.”

“QUIET ON SET! We’re gonna try that again, thanks,” the PA roared.

It was going to be a long day.

Swimmer

TAGS: F(30)/fm(various), Giga (2 miles), Feet, Crush, Unaware

THOOM.

The water rushed across Diane’s back as she surged through the Atlantic, cutting through the frigid water like a knife. She was exhausted, sunburnt all across her back, and had swallowed plentiful mouthfuls of seawater. But more than that, she was determined. Determined to be the second woman ever to cross the Atlantic Ocean by swimming, with raw strength and determination alone. 

Diane had been at this for days now, thrusting her body through the water with heroic force. Luckily enough, the water was shallow enough for her to stand- every once in awhile. She’d had the fortune of getting enough sponsorships in her home country of Great Britain to make her crossing of the Atlantic an international affair, and so a company had agreed to use their Expander technology, normally reserved for wealthy pop stars and celebrities, on her. It made keeping track of her easier, and cameras and checkpoints could be set up all along the route to check on her progress. 

She was by far the largest living thing to cross the ocean, standing well over two miles tall. Blue Whales could fit comfortably in the palm of her hand, and she was causing ocean currents to change flow with her sheer body mass. A few shipping boats had to redirect their routes to account for her titanic frame. 

Just keep moving. Just keep moving. There was strange tranquility in Diane’s mind as she swam. She certainly didn’t have any deep sea fish to worry about, and didn’t really need to worry about sinking into a bottomless abyss- it was more like the deep end of a public pool for her now. She found herself coming to a shallow spot- the perfect place to rest! She ripped off her goggles and swimming cap. It was time to get some well deserved relaxation.

Unfortunately, not every ship got the memo about Diane’s path. Namely, the Castaway Cruise ship that was directly in Diane’s path. Their captain had tried and failed to make evasive maneuvers as they saw the overwhelming waves embracing Diane’s form approaching, but it was all for naught. A form so tall it nearly pierced the clouds above slowly began to rise above the decks of the ship.

The guests, unaware of the danger, were gathered on the main deck to watch the goddess maneuver across the landscape. Many waved at the giant, hoping for a reaction. Wealthy husbands explained to trophy wives the finer details of her trip and the ins and outs of Expander technology. Others didn’t pay her hardly any mind, save for passing glances like one might to whales off the side of a fishing trawler.

But Diane didn’t return their attention. Because she didn’t see them. The water here was several hundred feet deep, but that barely crested past her ankles at this size. One foot fell before another, steadily rocking the cruise ship as the guests roared with delight and excitement as the boat jostled. Then, the unthinkable happened. 

A foot started moving towards them. 

The screams of joy and delight fell to terror and fear as the ankle of a mountain-sized bare foot slowly crept out of the water towards the boat. The guests, in their fear, began to trample each other in an attempt to get belowdecks and avoid the threat, but it was no use. Within seconds, Diane’s sole had crested the top of the water. 

The sole of Diane’s foot was wrinkled with overexposure to the water around her, but otherwise it was a beautiful, delicate foot. Her soles were bright red from exposure to the sun, and the guests on the main deck could make out every fine detail- every crack, wrinkle and crevice, every stray bit of detritus hanging between her toes- as sweaty brine rained down on them from above. 

The sole came crashing down on the Cruise Ship with a sickening crack. Diane’s flesh was soft enough that for a brief moment her supple skin merely squished on the main deck, but the sheer weight of her mountainous form was enough to shred every level of the ship, in sequence, to splinters. Hundreds of guests, level by level, found themselves plastered to the toes of the world’s next star athlete. The last of the ship was pushed underwater so fast that the remainder of the survivors drowned in seconds.

Diane felt something poke in between her big and second toes.

“Agh! Must’ve been another one of those bloody little archipelagoes out here. Damned things are always so pointy.”

She absentmindedly wiped off the sole of her right foot behind her without bothering to look. A woman didn’t have time to pursue such trifles, pursuing worldwide renown.