Yeah he's still under there. No, I don't know what he's doing. Hes probably fuckin dying, but when is he not?
It all started about a month ago. Some guy just keeps messaging me saying how much he wants to be my slave. Its weird, yeah, but it happens. Its gross, and its not my thing, but this guys extra persistent. So, I decide to test out something
new that came into my possession recently. It worked, I shrunk him, and now I can barely feel him underneath my foot. I think he can kind of make out what Im saying, based off of his reactions underneath me when I say specific things. But, the thing is, I don't recall giving him permission to listen in on my private phone calls.
Shut up. I whispered, putting my free hand over the phone. Just
shut up and try not to die! I wanna try something later.
He shut up. I don't know if it's out of loyalty, fear, or if it's just coincidence. Maybe he was just under my toes for a bit too long, and those few seconds sent him careening into the sweet throes of unconsciousness. Or maybe he's proving his loyalty again. He swore it to me when we first met, but after I shrunk him
well, he wasn't so keen on being my everlasting servant after that.
It took a lot to break him in. A lot. First I just tried telling him to behave. I know, I know. It sounds stupid considering I, you know, write about murdering little people en masse on the reg, but hed sworn loyalty to me! I thought that meant something! It didn't, apparently, because hes fucking stupid and doesnt know what words mean.
So then I started yelling at him. I know, that seems like it might not be much different, but, I mean, he's tiny, right? That has to equal something? A whisper versus screaming at that size is probably more like a normal speaking voice competing against a hurricane of sound and fury. A hurricane that probably smelled sweet. Like cookies. As in the cookies I'd been eating only moments beforehand, and refused to share.
Maybe he was just sad?
Whatever. He listens now. Sometimes. I've still gotta step on him sometimes. Really work him under my toes and smother him. I know some part of him still likes it. Even after all we've been through. I've kinda liked it all along, but he's shown some real tenacity to still find some form of pleasure at my dirty feet. So we kind of match up in that regard, though I'll freely admit I do everything possible to make it bad for him. I mean, I'm sure he doesn't like being smothered into unconsciousness while he licks my feet. But, whatever. He has to eat something right? I'm not letting him have anything that belongs to me. That was part of the deal.
You remember the deal, don't you tiny? I get everything you own, and you get to live with me for free. He's not saying anything out loud, but I know he remembers. He's fucked now. He knows it, and I know it, but it's still fun getting him to admit it out loud.
I mean, just really stop and think about it. It's a regular, human thing to have pride. Even the poor have pride. They can say no to some sadistic fuck who offers them a hot meal in exchange for performing degrading acts on themselves or others. But this guy's got nothing. He has no possessions, cause I sure as shit took those as soon as possible. He has no family, because I mean, I had to break him somehow, right? It shouldn't have been a big deal...
Have I ever told you how bad old people taste? What? Oh, sorry. I didn't realize it'd been that long. I was just
thinkin' about stuff again.
He doesn't have anything to really live for anymore. I mean, it's not like he could return to a normal life at this point anyway. After all, the woman he'd professed his love to, and whom he'd had a crush on has rejected him. Now he's just a shapeless blob I manipulate with my toes. Or sit on. He told me he likes butts a few times. I don't see the appeal, but I do it. Not out of any desire to please him, God no. I just like how it tickles. It's a weird sensation having a tiny figure struggle against your butt, and it's all
tingly. You know?
That, and I've got a lot of butt. There's no way he can come close to getting out. That kind of has its own appeal too. Putting him in an inescapable situation, and ordering him to escape. It's an impossible task that he'll nonetheless tire himself out in an effort to complete.
Keep licking or I'll eat you. You know that's not a threat, so I suggest you get to it asshole. What? No, I'm not calling you an asshole. I'm talking to my slave again. God it's not that hard to figure out. If I'm saying sexy stuff I'm saying it to him. If I'm saying stupid stuff I'm talking to you.
He gets the picture though. You only have to show a bug what your stomach can do to someone their size once in order to make him appreciate a threat like that. It's quite been awhile though, and it was rather enjoyable. Maybe I should refresh his memory? He didn't seem like the smartest person around before I shrunk him, and I'd think having a brain smaller than my fuckin' pinky toe would affect that. Besides, reminding him what my stomach is capable of could be fun. It's where he'll probably wind up someday. Maybe even today, if he keeps screwing up.
I'm thinking of getting him a new companion. Oh of course you agree you god damn pervert.
I made sure to say that bit about a new, shrunken friend extra loud. He didn't react as much as he has in the past though. Normally it prompts a surge of activity, and he'll just start licking and dry humping his worthless fuckin' dick against whatever part of me is fucking with him that day. Not this time though. I think I underestimated his memory.
Did I tell you what happened last time I got someone new? I promised him I'd bring him a companion, someone to share his struggles with. He didn't believe me at first, and I had to pretend to be nice to that sack of shit for a day. I asked him what he was looking for, and even made some notes! It kinda reminded me of you actually! Hold on, I think I've still got them.
No sooner do the words leave my mouth that I feel the licking at my toes slow down. Naturally, I find this disobedience
disagreeable. So I do what I always do when a slave is being disobedient. I stomp his tiny, worthless ass like he's
something. I'm not a fucking poet. Leave me alone.
I've broken some of the others doing this before, but he seems to be holding on okay. After the first stomp I feel like I almost hurt myself with all the pressure, and I can feel him crack just a little bit. I don't feel any wetness under my toes though, which is a good thing. The last time he bled without my permission I broke both of his arms and wore him in a shoe after. He wouldn't stop screaming like a bitch though, and it started to draw some unwanted attention in public. So I put him away into a more quiet, and secure place. Of course, I knocked out of a bunch of his teeth afterward, but he learned his lesson.
I know that sounds bad, but it's okay. I gave him permission to bleed that time.
The second stomp isn't all that different from the first, sadly. I don't know if he's maneuvered himself into relative safety under my foot, or if I just broke all I'm going to on the first step. It's always better to be thorough though, so I give it about
ten? I think it was ten, so I'll go with ten. I give it ten more tries. There's a few more snaps mixed in, but they're pretty minor. He was broken immediately, and he'll need some time to recover.
Found it! No thanks to this guy. There's no response from him this time. I'd like to think he's haunted by the memories I'm about to dredge up, but, really, he's probably trying his best not to vomit blood all over my toes. He knows what happened last time he did that. I didn't want to cut his hand off. It sounded super gross. But I'd threatened to do so, and had to follow through.
He had a tough time adjusting to life with one hand, but what does he even need the other one for? He's just a fucking slacker who licks my feet all day. I should be doing more to him because his puny tongue doesn't come close to making up for the cost of room and board these days.
Oh man. This is neat. Are you ready? He wanted a girl who was tall, and slender. Someone with long, flowing brown hair, and pale skin. He- wait a fucking second.
Oh he's in for it now, if he did what I think he did. I mean, I'd idly thought about it before, but this is pretty specific. He was hoping I'd shrink my best friend, and not Random Mall Girl. He wanted to steal my friend away from me while he spent his tiny days wasting away underneath me.
Hey. Shithead.
His broken form writhes slightly, and I squeeze my toes around him. It's done more as a test than for any kind of pleasure. I've learned a lot about how a pained individual feels when squished between my big toes and the ball of my foot. There's a distinct jerkiness that an individual in their death throes goes through, so it's good to know that this guy's just a broken, horrible mess of a former-human. Not dead, or dying. Yet.
At his size though, it's really ticklish. I make some efforts to keep my feet in good condition, so it's kind of weird to feel such tiny limbs sink into the skin so much. Besides, he'll heal eventually. Why shouldn't I enjoy his everlasting torment?
When you told me you wanted a tall, leggy brunette to spend time with under my feet, were you secretly referring to Sarah?
The pitter-patter of his heartbeat stopped for a split second against my toes, before picking up speed dramatically. I'd hit the proverbial nail on the head. This guy was in for it now.
So if you like her so much, why did you pick me to shrink you? Huh?! I'm nothing if not passionate, and after about a half second without an answer I took matters, and his tiny form, into my own hands. My own, comparatively huge hands. The hands that had permanently ended the lives of many of his kind. The hands that were responsible for a good deal of the mutilation he consistently endured. I'm not pale at all. I'm a healthy shade of brown! I don't have long hair, it's totally medium! My hair isn't brown at all, it's black! Why am I so drastically different from what you were really looking for?!
I'm squeezing now, and I don't know why. It's hard to restrain myself when I'm this fuckin' pissed, and I made a mental note the last time I did this to never do it again. Yet here I am, refusing to learn any lessons, and squeezing the shit out of him. I'd like to say that things turned out okay, but I'm perfectly fine with admitting when I've fucked up, and, sure enough, a disgusting, deep red fountain explodes from his mouth and covers my fingers.
Ugh.
I'm self diagnosed with logorrhea, so it's pretty rare that I'm speechless. But the mixture of bile, blood, and who knows what else dribbling down my fingers is beyond description. I can't even look at him anymore. I don't even remember what I was talking about before, I just know that he has to be punished for this latest, ultimate betrayal. Something with a little more finality than anything that came before. But first, it would be rude of me to leave the phone waiting, so I CAREFULLY pick it back up to my face.
I'll call you back. is all I can think to say. Idle thoughts of going after Sarah come into my mind, but is that really fair? I'll worry about it later. First I have to deal with Shithead. Little, pale-skinned, little-dicked shithead. What do I do, though?
You will no longer be allowed the privilege of serving me if. Now kiss my big toe like you really, really mean it. If you do a satisfactory job I'll let you go back to normal, but you can never come back. If you do a shit job? Well, let's just say the best case scenario is you leaving, broken bones and all, and never coming back.
He hobbles up to my excited toes as quickly as a broken man can, and plants two tiny lips onto the round flesh of my big toe. His chest is covered in quickly-drying blood, but he doesn't seem to notice any problem with this. I do, though, and frown when he wraps his arms around my toe like it's a long lost lover, painting the front a rather deep red. I put up with it though. Normally that'd be deserving of punishment, but his fate has been decided. He's not getting out of here alive. I just want to break him down one final time. Really let him experience that true, inescapable despair.
You're doing a good job. I'm lying, of course. He's doing shittier than normal. His lips are quivering, and he seems to be taking short, sharp breaths. Maybe I punctured his lungs when I stepped on him earlier? Or maybe he's in love with my scent. Maybe there's some sort of crazy pheromones in the sweat down there that are driving him crazy with desire. Either way it's not creating a sensation that is pleasant for me, the only entity in this relationship that actually matters. I actually can't help but roll my eyes at how selfish he's being right now.
Keep it up. You have my word that you'll go free. My word is shit. He should know that by now. I don't have any qualms about lying to a person who's small enough to be swallowed whole. But he believes it. I don't know what kind of naive nonsense the idiot was raised on, but all it takes is some vague reference to a promise and he'll believe anything I tell him.
Okay. That's enough. I can't hold back anymore. It was only like a minute, but I'm fucking pissed and I can't keep up this charade anymore. It's not fun for me. What would be fun is sentencing him to his death. So I bend over, and pick up his tiny, wounded form. He's gritting his bloody teeth in pain, and his eyes are clenched shut. He almost looks asleep.
I can't have that, now can I? He needs to be awake. So I inhale deeply, offer him a warm smile he doesn't see, and spit on him.
He doesn't like that, but is too weak physically to do much about it. He also doesn't like when I start rubbing the saliva into his shattered form with my shirt to clean that shit off of him. It's not much, but giving him clean water is a luxury that I've never believed was necessary. No, not even right now, moments before I end him. Although it means he's not as clean as I'd like.
You did an excellent job, and now you look almost presentable. You can go free now. I announce, then pop him into my mouth.
I mean, I thought it was funny. He doesn't seem to agree. His cries of protest reach an almost audible level, but, well, I'm hungry. So fuck him. A loud, strained gulp and he's moving down my throat. Sort of. I'm not used to swallowing things his size without a drink, and I have to stop and massage the stubborn lump down my throat. It's a bit embarrassing, really, but not too bad. I mean, no one saw me almost choke on a guy I'd just been torturing. And who's he going to tell? The cookies I had earlier? Maybe the toast I had for breakfast, if that's still hanging around.
Though there's a nice surge of finality and emotion towards sending the guy to a torturous end in my stomach, I don't feel any better. Call me petty but I've always been the type to get jealous easily. Eating him really only put a bandage over the problem, but didn't solve it. I needed to go after the source of the problem. A certain someone who had been getting too big for her britches. A certain someone who has been moving onto bigger, and better things while I'm still where I've always been.
I could always make new friends. Or maybe I could just get new pets. Maybe someone with big glasses, and black hair. Someone to break up the monotony of all the shitty slaves I've had to deal with lately. Someone small, and easy to work with. Someone who would show my toes the love they deserve if, or rather when I shrunk them.
And if they don't work out, well, it's nice not having to worry about a meal. They can always prove their worth to my digestion tract if they fail elsewhere.
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
A story about a girl who has a tiny pet who just can't seem to meet her demands. It's got shrinking, feet, some vore, a lot of humiliation, and is in first person.