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Story Notes:



Author's Chapter Notes:

This was written in one hour and forty three minutes. 

The three keywords of the day were:
>unaware, sweaty, and milf


Crazy Odorous Bizarre Shrink was written in mid-May and contains micro unaware shrinking, smelly body exploration, feet content, and an older female giant in Japan. Armpit entrapment was lobbied for hard so that was added in as well. Humor is rather present in this one and it is primarily written in a first person perspective.


“She’s moving over again!”

It happened without an explanation.  Ms. Tanabe’s house was last on the milk delivery route and my run was proceeding as though it were just another dull day. Nothing ever happened in Maizuru, anyway so you'd think a change of the norm would be welcome... Well was I wrong. I’d brought the two bottles inside to place near the right of the genkan by her historically disorganized arrangement of shoes; she’d insisted on not leaving her parcels outdoors and for good reason: she was transitioning into a bit of a drunk and the embarrassment of wandering out was beginning to take its toll on her.

Atsuko Tanabe’s salad days were rather exciting and she’d oftentimes regal me with tales of her adventures with her now adult daughter attending University. She’d trounce bar patrons in games of ‘Osama’ and end up getting cut off forcing the then young Emi to escort her back home; she’d helped her daughter rob their neighbors of their system for refusing to turn down their awful music… the two of them were adventurous to say the very least. Emi eventually grew up to pursue a medical career, however, and the now 32 year-old home maiden sought out comfort in the kindness of strangers, suitors, and pitifully inexpensive sake.

None of that mattered currently, though. Before me the beautiful beast laid in rest atop her futon, dressed only in a thin blanket, a far-to-small ill-fitting pair of panties, and a single hole-filled sock on her left foot.  The giant form of Atsuko dwarfed my frail body and even in while asleep, her subtle and unconscious movements spelled out nothing but peril to all insignificant pests that dared disturb her. I had to get her attention somehow, though. [Besides, who the fuck would keep reading if the MC just took the responsible option and decided to wait patiently by the milk bottles he’d only just delivered and grab her attention once she went to retrieve them?]

Trekking the climb to the top of the futon proved relatively simple: the cotton material yielded to my actions quite easily despite my size and the only difficulty lay in avoiding the slowly swaying (and fairly odorous) socked soles of Ms. Tanabe. Before too long, I was face to crotch with the living mountain. A giant foot with unpainted nails lay just behind my scope of vision, two toned legs with puzzlingly thick thighs towering over me on either my right or left, orange laced panties enticing me with the faint smell of her sex directly before me, and the slightly aged, albeit gorgeous face of inebriated unkempt titan even further away. It was time to take the first steps forward…


Barely registrable to any being larger than a cricket, Atsuko shifted in her sleep only slightly and muttered to herself about something on the television or another equally unimportant topic. Crossing her legs instinctively to alleviate a pesky itch near the ankle of her socked foot, her bare one directly behind [Your self-insert MC] presses against his tiny body, leaving him to find himself caught into the fray between flesh and sweaty cotton. The soft scratches sounded akin to powerful slashes on his scale and the unfortunate mant finds himself entangled in the cotton on her socked foot’s upper rim; a miasma of malodor surrounding him on every side.


“Shit...! My wrist got [somehow] caught in the threads…! Can she feel me down here?!"

I had to rock back and forth as hard as I could to get free but it wasn’t proving fruitful fast enough. The cotton wasn’t difficult to break out of at all, but the nylon that I’d gotten [inexplicably] encircling around my hand wasn’t budging. In addition to all of this, the sock had a certain dampness that was re-awakening itself with every motion I made. The pungent odor of sweat was enveloping me on every turn and my mind was reeling and taking me to bizarre places. This entire event was warping my psyche. It’d only reminded me of having to rip open one of those American plastic pickle bags with my mouth to eat the salty treat withi- -




“Oh for fucks sake…”


Having exhausted all other options, biting at the powerful threads seemed to be my only option. It worked decently enough... but the progress made itself apparent quite slowly. With each ripped nylon string, I was one step closer to freeing myself and simultaneously another step closer to ripping out my tongue before the revolting taste of Ms. Tanabe’s foot sweat became a permanent stamp on my buds.

Freeing myself near the ankle, I was able to clamber over the bottom part of her legs with just a bit of trouble. ‘Foraging’ through her leg hairs (invisible to anyone of normal scale) I’d taken a short break and noted that I had made my arduous trek near the inner region of her mountainous left thigh. A faint odor of sex made its way towards my nose and I couldn’t stop myself from engaging in a one-sided staring contest with her panties again. They taunted me and something compelled me to inspect them more thoroughly, if for only just a moment.

“Insertion wasn’t one of the three keywords,” I rationalized to myself aloud. “I’d better keep heading upwards and ignore them for this story's sake.”

The darkness made it impossible to tell how much time had passed and being beneath her thin, white comforter only sought to amplify this mystery. After no longer hearing the gurgling of what I assumed (and hoped) was her stomach and finding myself nearing a slope of   immaculate, smooth skin, it was decent enough to assume I’d made it to the lovely woman’s breasts.

“Maybe… maybe I'll take just a peak since we didn’t check things out downstairs…”


Once again thwarting his efforts, Atsuko shifted from laying on her back to laying on her right side. Tumbling down in a futile struggle with gravity, the poor self-insert hero finds himself pinned between flesh once again. Very, very warm flesh.


“Damn... I’m baking alive!”

Once again, I found myself trapped by the unnoticing Atsuko and cursed the unknown forces that shrunk me down and subjected me to such a torture [I blame the anons and refuse to take full responsibility for my circumstances. I felt like writing cute, gentle shit today.].  I was pressed up against something rather… rough on my face but smooth and hot towards my neck and back… and the smell! Shit! It’s horrible. A comparison to a well-populated locker room with cheap, inefficient fragrance spray comes to mind. Each of the bristles that subtly cut and nipped at my face assaulted me with slight pain and a collection of fetid underarm sweat molecules. As time slowly passed, I’d resigned myself to fate and found myself adhering to a particularly ‘curly’ one of Ms. Tanabe’s armpit hairs. Despite essentially becoming “one with her” and having been subjected to it all for so long, the smell refused to dissipate. Without warning, however, the soft wall on my back unsheathed from me, leaving me in place with against my illicit hair lover, and a light beamed blindingly against me.


Atsuko Tanabe found herself awake again at the bright time of 05:00.

“I’m never going to get my schedule back on track…” she sighed dejectedly followed by a light belch. Drunkenly stumbling towards the genkan, she’d noticed her milk had been delivered.

“Ara ara ~” she beamed, >because I couldn’t resist writing that into the script, “That cute milk boy came by again and I JUST must’ve missed him,” she mused despite the fact that he’d dropped them off hours ago. Looking towards the analog clock atop her makeshift bedroom's entrance, she’d taken note of the time.

“Shit, I’ve got to clean up and get to ‘work’ soon…”  Forgoing any sort of washing or other preparation, Atsuko simply grabbed the prior day’s uniform, a light application of eye make-up and a new layer of deodorant. Sadly, this was the most she’d probably prepared herself all week.

Exchanging gazes with an oval shaped, giant white tube, the >self-insert young man's fate was sealed: the deodorant bar crushed him out of existence with his tiny beaten body pressed into the pit of the hottest, most promiscuous milf in the prefecture.



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