It should come as no surprise that once Dianne Trent took office international relations with the vast majority of the civilized world crumbled fast. Turned out most countries weren’t fond of a ban being placed on men entering the United States. The long time allies of the US began to denounce the nation for its gross human rights abuses and the United Nations attempted to call the President to task for her fundamental violation of basic human dignity. Naturally, President Trent didn’t so much give them the time of day.

However there was one nation that, while the US had been on cold terms with for a long while, now had become lukewarm. Russia, or more specifically its leader, President Varya Praskov. The media had long spoken since before Trent was in office of the blonde’s supposed admiration for the authoritarian president. Well, back when the media was allowed to talk about anything bad about Dianne Trent. Probably because President Praskov was more eccentric than she was, posing half naked while hunting and riding a horse, demonstrating judo prowess with the Russian nation teams, and holding press conferences in a literal gold palace. She exemplified a strong leader. A strong woman.

So it was that just after a year in office, Dianne invited the Russian President over to discuss bettering the relations between the two countries. The international community was in an uproar as the President’s plane touched down at Reagan National Airport. Dianne was waiting to greet her with the whole nine yards. There was a band playing the Star Spangled Banner, the red carpet was literally rolled out and Trent herself was dressed in her finest dress suit. There was one thing that Varya Praskov probably noted the second she stepped out of her plane. In all of the crowd, not a single man was seen.

The Russian President was around Dianne’s age and, despite what she tried to have people believe, was actually of average height. Nowhere near Dianne’s towering form though her musculature made up for that. Her dark hair lacked any spots of grey though whether this was genuine or not was hard to say. Her face was sharp, hawk-like, not looking a day over 35 really. Her piercing blue eyes looked over the whole dog and pony show with neutrality. She was also dressed in a man’s suit, pants and tie which certainly added to her rather odd image.

She made her way down the plane’s steps, her own little entourage following after her. As she did the band finished their song and started playing the Russian National Anthem. If she noted any off key notes she didn’t show it. The dark haired woman did wince at the clumsy Russian from the vocalists. The lack of males there also hurt it.

The pair met finally at the end of the red carpet where both shook hands and greeted each other. The act was for the benefit of the flashing cameras of course. Dianne towered a full ten inches over her russian counterpart but actually winced at the strong grip of President Praskov, drawing a barely perceptible smug smirk from the shorter woman.

“Pleasure to meet you face to face, President Praskov. Welcome to the United States. I just know we’ll do tremendous things together. It’s going to be huge.” Dianne said.

The president’s smirk vanished as though it had never been there and she affected neutrality. Unlike Dianne’s eyes hers were less piercing and vastly more calculating. “We shall see what our two countries can offer one another. There are many grievances on both sides from past dealings. For now, it was a long flight.” Her english was naturally flawless though thick with accent.

So it was that the historic meeting between the leaders of two superpowers ended up being taken to the White House. There was a large and lavish dinner naturally. A mix of American and Russian cuisine. Praskov had to give Trent credit, she certainly knew how to send a message. One without any form of subtlety mind you, but subtlety wasn’t exactly a trademark of her administration.

The very next day Praskov was invited to a private meeting with the president in the Oval Office. Fairly forward but it got to the point. So far there had been a lot of bluster from the blonde, a lot of talk of cooperation between them but no real indication on what she had in mind. Or maybe big talk was all she had. Considering her media appearances and actions, like actually kicking a journalist live on TV, she was fond of grandstanding.

The Russian President sat across from the taller woman, no one else around. If the goal was to make her uncomfortable Praskov’s easy posture put a pin in that one. The woman was cold as ice. The two stared at each other for a while before Dianne broke the silence first, clearing her throat uncomfortably and slightly squirming in her seat. A petty victory.

“So Varya, mind if I call you Varya? Anyway, those sanctions against Russia have gotta go. Been a disaster. An absolute disaster on trade.” Dianne started.

Praskov nodded. “I would not have bothered coming if that wasn’t automatically on the table, Miss Trent.” She kept it formal, forcing Dianne to make the offers here.

The blonde sighed. “I’m not going to lie here. We got a buncha whiners and losers over in Europe that don’t like us. For what? Being strong women. Being hard on corrupt media control over politics. See they don’t like that, they’re afraid of us winning.”

More rhetoric. “Get to the point, woman, what do you want? Save the kinship talk for the masses. I am not dumb.”

The looks that chased themselves across Dianne’s face were priceless, like a form of mental constipation. Like many others Praskov had to wonder if she was just that dumb or a genius of acting. “Hey, hey, no need to be rude here. We’re on the same side here. Can’t let the media’s lies turn us against each other. Anyway, I’m looking to establish stronger trade relations with Russia. As well as joint military efforts in regions of common interest.”

In other words a formal alliance. The Russian president scratched her chin slightly, considering it. If the blonde was sincere then stronger ties with the United States could bring Russia closer to being truly great again. Once more the true superpower it had been before the collapse of the Soviet Union. Of course, it was important not to be subordinate in this situation. Praskov wouldn’t tolerate that. There was also one other matter.

“I would say the Russian people would be cautiously optimistic in allying ourselves with a country that shrinks its men. As well as a woman who reportedly likes to ‘grab them by the dick’.” She responded.

To Dianne’s credit she didn’t seem shocked by that statement. Instead she simply shrugged. “Since when is it illegal to crack down on crime? And see? There it is again, more of that fake news. That's why I’m doing this, have to make people actually pay for their crimes. Besides, it’s not like we’re killing them or anything. There’s still a legal process in place. America is still a civilized country. The best country. I mean, Russia is great. Some of my best friends are Russians. But America is the best. Because I’m here and I’m making us win.”

So it was clear she was actually that stupid. That was now firmly established. Still, an idiot could still be useful. She kept her skepticism on her face of those claims, drawing a sigh from Dianne. “Okay, okay. Here, I’ll show you. Not like our men have just disappeared.” She moved over to her desk. “Hey, Jenny, yeah send my husband in would ya? Thanks hon.”

Praskov frowned. “I thought this was a private meeting.” She said stiffly.

Dianne waved a hand. “Pffffft. Who’s he gonna tell?”

The russian president was about to protest further before the door cracked open and her eyes actually widened by a fraction. It was one thing to see it over TV or read about it in reports, it was another thing to actually see what had become of 99% of all men in the country. Mark Trent had always been something of a shorter man by all accounts, though at three inches tall short was something of an understatement. The man, probably fifteen years younger than Dianne if Varya was a guessing woman, looked around nervously as the door shut behind him.

“See? Still around. Worried over nothing, Varya.” Dianne chuckled.

The towering woman’s steps boomed loudly and shook the floor as she walked up to her husband. The well dressed man tugged at his collar and swallowed hard as he looked up at the blonde towering over him. She cast a long deep shadow upon him, the man looking nervously at her heels. A cold sweat broke out over him much as it did whenever his wife was anywhere near him. He could see she was with company though so he plastered on his fakest smile. Had to give a good face… or else.

“Hey there, honey. The kids okay?” She asked with a big grin, looking down at her miniscule husband over her breasts.

He opened his mouth to respond but she cut him off before he got out a peep. “Great, great. Fabulous. So great. Anyway, got someone I want ya to meet. This fine, stunning lady over here is President Varya Praskov. We were just talking about men in the country. Figured you could tell her how great things are still for men.”

The tiny man barely kept from trembling as the shadow of his wife’s hand fell over him, keeping his whimpers as dead as possible as Dianne’s soft fingers wrapped around his form. She could definitely feel the trembling though and the sweat on his form. Which was why, as she lifted him up she gave him a threatening look. One that promised punishment if he didn’t keep to the script 100%.

Clutching her pretty clearly terrified husband in her hand in a totally not threatening way the blonde walked back over to her guest and dumped him out on the table between them. The man sprawled out on the table pathetically, standing between two women infinitely larger than he was. Dianne relaxed, reclining back in her seat and crossing her legs. Her foot bobbed in the air, just close enough that it sent a nicely scary message to Mark. A trick of the light probably, but one could swear her toes curled slightly.

Mark swallowed hard and dabbed at his sweating forehead, the bronze skinned dark haired man turning to face the massive form of the president of Russia. The raven haired woman’s blue eyes were unsettling as they looked down at him curiously, like he was some kind of strange species of bug she’d never seen before. With Dianne’s presence palpable behind him he plastered a fake smile on his face.

“I-It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Praskov. You look stunning.” Mark managed to get out.

Varya smirked. “A pleasure to meet the First Gentleman. You look well for your size.” He in fact did not look well at all. He looked like a frightened mouse before a bear. Easy on the eyes though so she had an idea why Dianne married him.

“Doesn’t he though? Like I said, men are still citizens of the United States. All that talk of dehumanization is just media propaganda. Besides, heck, some of them like it. They tell me all the time, being small isn’t so bad. 60% of men, I’ve heard numbers as big as 75%, even 80% of men think the punishments are fair. 80%, Varya. Now you’ve got the 20% of losers and whiners out there but I can tell you my hubby isn’t one, isn’t that right, Mark?” Dianne had a smug smirk of her own.

“O-oh yeah! It-its really great. W-way more convenient than being normal sized ya know?” He squeaked out.

“Really? Seems like it would be difficult to do day to day things.” Varya noted.

“Well, my wife, she uh, is really patient with me and helps me around or gets her aides to do it when she’s busy running the country.” Mark cast a glance over his shoulder, praying he got it right for her satisfaction.

“Exactly. I’m first and foremost a family woman. I love my husband and all my kids, always make time for them when I can and make sure they are well taken care of. Plus men have found plenty of ways to thank women for going out of their way to help them. If anything, I’d say men and women are closer now than ever in our history.” Dianne beamed a photogenic smile.

Varya was amused now more than anything. “Oh? How do you thank your wife, Mr Trent?”

The man opened his mouth for another quivering response before Dianne laughed. “Looking for juicy bedroom blackmail? Here, I’ll show you.”

The Russian president was about to say that was unnecessary quick. Bloody Americans and taking things too literally. However the blonde reached down and pulled off her heels, tossing them onto the floor carelessly. She then set her stocking clad feet up on the table, each one towering over Mark hopelessly. He fell onto his ass as her heels thudded atop the table, toes wiggling and writhing above in the freedom from their shoes. Dianne reclined back further and relaxed.

“Go ahead Mark, why don’t you show Varya here how close men and women are in this day and age?” The president invited, licking her lips as she shifted her foot aside just enough that her blue eyes could pierce Mark.

The man quailed before the massive feet of his wife, looking up at them as they towered over him. He whimpered pathetically, staring up at the stocking clad toes looming over him from on high. Part of him wanted to refuse but he knew what the consequences were for defying his wife on anything or talking back. His mind ran through the almost PTSD levels of torment Dianne had inflicted upon him.

Cramped and stuffed into the sole of her heels, her toes sliding in above him as he was pressed down upon by the soft doughy flesh of her foot. Pushing up against the unyielding wall with tiny hands and crying out for help that no one would hear. The agonizing humiliation as she walked around, carrying about her job with him plastered against her soft sole. The salty taste and scent of her sweat that was now quite familiar to him flooding his senses. Then when the day was done, sliding out with her foot, adhered to the bottom of her sole by sweat and nearly unconscious. His eyes subtly glanced to her discarded heels now, as he all but fell over herself to rush to her feet.

“Y-Yes Honey! S-see? Everything is okay, I-I love Dianne.” He got out for the benefit of the Russian president.

His tiny hands pressed into the abrasive fabric of Dianne’s stocking, the scent of her sweat mixing with her perfume creating a salty sweet smell that lingered on his nose. He put his back into massaging and kneading at the Madame President’s foot, his fingers running along the fabric and pushing against it hard. He tried not to sob. This was where his marriage had landed him. At least he wasn’t Pierce’s husband. That was a hell he’d never wish on any man.

Dianne sighed and beamed a smile at the Russian President. “I love you too Mark. Oh, don’t forget to get under the stocking as well. You forgot last time. Need to get between those toes.” The blonde said.

Varya was frankly both amazed and halfway horrified that the blonde could turn a man into that. A whimpering, quivering wreck that massaged at her feet. Her eyes widened quite a bit when he actually started licking the bottom of Dianne’s feet. This- this blonde idiot with clearly no idea how to really run a country had the ability to reduce men to animals that licked at her feet. How? How did she do it?

The contemplation must have shown upon her face as Dianne grinned. “Want a bit of masculine American hospitality, Madame President?” The blonde inquired.

“Ah, I really don’t think-” When did she become the on the defensive here?

Dianne waved a hand. “Pshaw! Mark, give the Russian President a proper American welcome!” The blonde bellowed.

The tiny form of her husband froze at the order before hurrying with almost indecent haste to the other side of the table. Varya looked down at him, hesitating. Refusing would be a sign of weakness. The woman was quickly forced to revise her stance on the blonde sitting before her, she was quite clever. She had her trapped in a corner where her only real option was to accept her hospitality.

Wordlessly the dark haired woman reached down and pulled off her dress shoes, removing her socks as well before setting her feet up on the table. The pale pair of feet were notably smaller than Dianne’s however they still managed to tower over Mark’s inconsequential height. Her toes flexed and curled in the freedom of the air, getting a chance to breathe after a rather long day for her.

The woman couldn’t quite describe the emotions welling up in her as the tiny man at her feet pressed his hands against the bottom of her foot, or when he started dragging his little tongue along her bare flesh. The foremost one was surprising pleasure. It wasn’t easy for a woman in Russian politics. Getting where she had today was no mean feat, some had called it impossible. Having a man forced to service her, underfoot, it was quite something.

“See, that size also makes crimes so much harder for men to commit, know what I’m saying?” The blonde remarked. “People tell me I should make them smaller, I mean, we could just make them all ant sized but three inches is fair don’t ya think?”

Vayra had visions in mind of her political enemies at the size of ants and licked her lips. She was drawn from her thoughts as Dianne pressed one of her feet against hers, sandwiching her husband between them. She could feel him squirming, and a wetness at her feet indicated tears. The woman licked her lips and pressed slightly back against Dianne before meeting her blue eyes with her own.