TRENT MEETS WITH RUSSIAN PRESIDENT! SECURES TRADE AGREEMENT!

With vague disinterest Michelle noted the scrolling headline along her television screen. She didn’t need to listen to the details to figure how the meeting went. Dianne had a way of getting what she wanted. Which conveniently was also what Michelle wanted. So it all worked out in the end. Things were all proceeding even better than the Vice President could have hoped.

“Harder.” She grunted with a glance downwards. Down beside her feet a pathetic thing was desperately licking away at her toes. A collar wrapped around his neck and connected him to a toe ring along her second toe. “Honey.” Michelle added with a faint smirk.

Michelle’s husband was quite an attractive man; a trophy husband some might say. Although none would say that now. The last year had taken a deep toll on the man. Sweat and grime had his hair matted and his skin was bruised to the point most of it was some variation of blue or purple. Still, his three-inch high frame did indeed begin to lick harder to pleasure his all-powerful wife.

“Good boy.” Michelle said with the same affection one would offer a pet. She looked back to the TV, boredly cycling through channels. They’d be arriving soon, but the wait for them was rather drole.

“Miss Pierce?”

A voice broke the monotony of Michelle watching TV. Her green eyes flicked over to where a maid had just slipped into the room. A dainty little thing. Cute. Probably the reason she was hired. “Yes? What is it?” The brown-haired woman replied with a hint of impatience.

The maid bowed to her. “Your guests have arrived Ma’am. Shall I bring them in?”

Finally. “Yes of course.” She waved a hand to dismiss the woman.

“And-”

The maid yelped as Michelle’s eyes looked back at her, more glaring really. “Yes?”

“One of the male servants was caught stealing food again. W-What should I do with him?”

At that Michelle just smirked. “Punish him of course. He’s all yours.” She gave a meaningful look to the maid’s petite feet. “You deserve a bit of a break. Now go fetch my friends.”

“Y-Yes Ma’am!” The maid bowed once again with a happy smile as she hurried away. “Got me a toy~” She squealed happily outside of the room just out of view. Michelle fought back the urge to smile for her.

A minute or so later a number of figures entered through the door, all women naturally. A literal who’s who of all the biggest names in extremist feminism. Andrea Horkin, a women’s advocate who once suggested the castration of all men. Sharon Rock, a woman accused of being a female supremacist; and Sheila Monin, head of the feminist group B.O.W. All women whom in years prior society had deemed progressive to the point of being extremists. Although to Michelle they were simply her friends.  

“Come in.” Michelle smiled at the three woman, gesturing to the plush seats that filled her rather spacious guest room. “How’ve you all been?” There was a faint yelp near her feet as her toes unconsciously jerked and knocked her husband over.

“Better and better.” Sharon replied as she took a seat. The mature-looking blonde quickly adjusted her hair and dug into her purse for something. After a few moments she pulled her own three-inch tall husband and set him near her feet. Like Michelle’s, he wasted no time in kissing her feet once her shoes were removed.

“You all are so lucky to be married.” The rather plump Andrea sighed and took a seat all to herself, wasting no time in propping her worn feet along a foot rest. “Can’t find a good man to take care of me. Then again, can’t find a good man.” She snorted.

All the women in the room chuckled as Sheila silently took her spot beside Michelle. Unlike the others she didn’t get comfortable right away. “I’ve been doing quite well Michelle. I saw some more laws passed through Congress this morning. Congratulations.” The auburn-haired woman gave her youthful-looking friend a smile. One that highlighted the crows feet beginning to emerge at the sides of her eyes.

“All credit goes to our dear Madame President.” Michelle dismissively replied as she adjusted her brown hair. She was easily the youngest looking person in the room, but even so she kept up her meticulous appearance almost obsessively. “I simply relayed some of your gracious suggestions. She happened to agree.” The maid came rushing back in, a notable smile on her face, and a tray of drinks in hand. Each woman grabbed a fine glass of wine and she left with a bit of a pep in her step and something akin to a groan from under her foot.

Michelle held her glass up proudly. “Come next week the new minimum size for Third Strike Offenders will be one inch.” She chuckled.

“Still think it should be Two Strikes.” Andrea huffed.

“I’d settle for One personally.”  Sharon chimed in.

“Guilty ‘til proven innocent?” Sheila added much to everyone’s laughter. The women all savored a nice sip of their freshly delivered wine, everything silent save for the gasps and wheezes of the two overworked men attending to feet.

“Well at the rate everything is going…” Michelle broke the silence with a meaningful smile. “Got got a report at the White House. A hundred percent of all males in the country are two feet tall or smaller. Almost all jobs are run exclusively by us now. Well, save for Congress I suppose.” She took another meaningful sip. “Did I mention that the Primaries are coming up?”

“Gee, I wonder who’ll be elected?” Sharon mused as she peeked over her knee to her husband. Her smirk grew as her foot swung out and knocked him over, settling on his struggling form nicely.

“Can’t believe I ever had my doubts.” Andrea mused after watching the scene unfold. “Feels good to finally wake up in the morning and to be proud of this country. Men are finally in their rightful place.” She sipped her drink. “Just makes me a little annoyed mine keep having accidents.”

“You really must watch where you walk Andrea.” Michelle chuckled.

“More like they need to watch where my feet land.” She retorted.

“Well you can’t expect men to do too much. They are men after all.” Sheila reached down for one of her heels and slid it off, revealing a man embedded into her mature sole. With a few flicks of her foot he came off and landed along the floor with a thud. “You can have that one.” She said to Andrea.

“Your husband?”

“No no no. That’s my brother.” Sheila smirked and lifted her other heel up. “This is my husband.”

“An easy mistake when they’re both so small.” Sharon laughed.

The four women all enjoyed their merriments and each other’s company, none paying any mind to the newly freed man. He fell along the floor a disgruntled mess, his appearance mangled and his eyes bloodshot. Once he was a respected politician, but now he was little more than a servant. He looked around him nervously. All four women loomed like Gods. Living mountains who held complete and total power over his fate. Not even cared enough to look at him, too engrossed in their chatter about how inconsequential his gender was.

Although that wasn’t completely true. One did look at him. Andrea, the plump brunette who looked right at him like he was an especially vile creature. Her bare feet were on the floor awaiting him. The woman’s eyes were silently ordering him to keep coming. Like it was his duty. Moreover, like it was a privilege.  Unable to disobey his female masters, the man crawled his way towards Andrea and her worn feet. He knew what his job was, and he set into running her tongue along her sole slavishly. Seemingly satisfied, Andrea looked back up to her friends and resumed talking.

For over an hour this happened. The four women all talked happily about the new state of affairs. The wonderful changes Dianne Trent was ushering in. New changes to be implemented. Before long Sheila’s husband came out to join in the fun, assuring that all four women each had a man attending to their weary feet. Not that any one of them so much as took a second to address any of their male counterparts. A single look was all it took to get what they wanted from the smaller sex.

“It really is too good to be true isn’t it?” Michelle mused as she finished off her fourth glass of wine. Her cheeks were a nice rosy shade, just like her friends. Even the frightening brunette could have fun when behind closed doors.

“Getting harder to come up with ways to make things better.” Sheila admitted with a bit of a slur. “Crime’s down. Businesses are booming. Plenty of food, homes, money…” She sipped from her sixth glass of wine.

“Could start a church.” Said Andrea who was a real champ at nine glasses. “Make those little men worship their betters.” She sagged in her chair, visibly drunk.

“Sounds like someone’s had a bit too much to drink.” Michelle laughed and glanced down at the man on the verge of exhaustion at her feet. Admittedly it was a pretty appealing image to see herself on a pedestal and him bowing to her. Maybe in the bedroom later.

“No no, I’m serious!” Andrea always was defensive when she was drunk. “Make those tiny little fuckers worship the ground we walking on!”

Sharon, little miss lightweight at four glasses, laughed her pretty little blonde head silly. “And kiss our feet all day every day. Oh wait, they already do!” Her toes wrapped around her husband’s body and lifted him up along with her leg. There were a few pops from between her toes but all the women were much too drunk to notice or care. “Hear that Sweetie? You better get down on your knees and get to worshiping! Who’s your Goddess? Lemme hear it!”

The shrunken man cried out as his body was pinched between the two shapely toes of his wife, the blonde quite carelessly not holding back her immeasurable power over him. “Y-You are! You are!” He screamed as tears formed in his eyes.

“I think that’s enough wine for the night.” Michelle mused as she set her glass down. Just shifting to do that made the world spin around her. Yep, definitely drunk. “No churches. Least not yet.” She chuckled. “Got a few bills getting worked on right now.” She’d have said more, but even while utterly wasted she wasn’t quite that irresponsible.

CRA-CK

A sobering noise pierced all their ears in an instant. All the women in the room paused their festivities to turn. Surprisingly, the source didn’t come from Sharon and her wailing husband, but from Andrea.  Down by her feet they all could see the spurt of red from between her toes and the man rolling on the floor screaming and holding his arm. At least, what was left of it.

“Fuck, I broke another one!” She cursed.

“Definitely no more wine.” Sheila shook her head and looked down at her husband. At least he had the sense not to stick his arms between her toes. “You can keep him Andrea. I don’t need another broken sla-” She caught herself and cleared her throat. “Man.” She glanced down at the screaming form of her brother. “He may need a doctor though.”

“He’ll be fine.” Michelle snorted. “Men are tough right? Just tell him to suck it up. Like they told all of us.”

With that the room erupted into laughter again and the festivities continued. As they would for many hours before the women would all drunkenly find themselves into their respective beds; but not before a long, hellish night for their four respective male escorts.