It was a nice, hot summer day. The air was still, the weather sunny, and Brett had just gotten back home with his prize in hand. Clutched firmly, though not too firmly, within his grasp was a tiny woman. She struggled against his hand, but he held her just tight enough to not drop her and not give her any room to escape. Already his head was pulsing with ideas. For a moment, he mused about how things had lead up to this.
The spell had been less than easy to find. Some searching on the dark net, a few weeks of effort, following a the trail of data and rumors. Then he'd found it, someone claiming to sell actual shrinking spells. The price was pretty high, but everything pointed to it being true. Money changed hands, and after a few days for the snail-mail to arrive a rather innocent-looking package appeared at his doorstep. In it was a small black book. Upon opening it, Brett lost consciousness. Or at least, it's the last thing he remembered before waking up a few hours later on the floor of his apartment. But even as he awoke, he knew the spell. It was as if it was etched into his mind, it was so crystal clear to him. He could describe how it worked, accurately, and could already feel the intuitive control of the magic that he had, yet he could not begin to fathom how he might put it into words to explain to a person. It made sense...yet didn't. He'd found the little book again, dismayed to find all its pages had been cleanly burnt away save for the very last one. It had one simple phrase: "Secrecy remains paramount. You have been warned."
He'd taken the warning to heart, and had told no one of what had transpired (though this required him to come up with an excuse for missing his shift that day), and set himself to practicing his ability. He'd tested it on various objects, finding he could reliably change their size pretty well by just focusing on how big or small he wanted them to be, with an automatic default that snapped the object back to original size. He could even affect himself if he wanted, and he considered growing himself giant and rampaging around, wreaking havoc. The very thought made him so hard just pondering it, but he knew that would likely be none too subtle, and he decided against it. Secrecy remains paramount, after all.
So instead, if he could not make himself big, he could try instead to make other things smaller. He loved the idea of something tiny being subjected to whatever cruel, twisted desire he had, unable to stop him. At the same time, he had to think about who he would target. At that size, he wasn't sure how easily they could be hurt; with no known scientific explanation for how this magic even worked, nor anything within himself answering that question, he'd have to find it out by testing it firsthand.
His girlfriend was a likely candidate. She was very submissive to the point of near servitude and would probably enjoy the experience, but he loved her enough that he didn't want to risk her getting hurt. And some of these fantasies were not the sort of thing he wanted to do to anyone he cared about. He considered someone he didn't like, such as that annoying bitch from work who was always out back talking on her cell phone instead of helping. The thought of doing something to her was pleasing in two regards, but he didn't know her in any way beyond work and work had too many cameras for her to just shrink out of sight without someone noticing. So then it came down to picking a stranger.
He'd taken the bus to the next town over, and had loitered on the streets picking a target. Finally, he decided on a particular couple that he came across in a back alley in the evening. The woman was buxom and beautiful, at least by society's standards, with an air of bitchy authority. She had long, straight brown hair and vaguely latina features. She had huge tits, a nice ass, and an attitude that knew how much those meant to people. The man was a crass, thuggish looking bodybuilder-type, with a scowling face and loud voice. The two had not taken kindly to his studious glances in their direction, and had taken to goading him when no one else was around. It was then that he'd decided they'd be good test subjects.
The shrinking was not instant, but it was amusing watching them shrink down as their clothes slumped off to either side. Brett found his erection throbbing just watching them dwindle down, the man struggling to pull out whatever gun he'd tried to keep hidden on his person while the woman struggled to keep herself covered. Both failed miserably, their possessions slumping to the ground around the two bewildered people. He'd looked them both over, deciding. The man seemed angry, and was shouting in his now-tiny voice various expletives and threats. The woman however...she was cowering. He could take both of them, but the man wasn't quite as appealing as the woman was, and Brett knew he could get her even more afraid of him fast.
Riana looked on at the towering man in front of her in horror. Simple sneakers, blue jeans, and a grey hoodie weren't threatening on their own, but when they were that size, it was a whole new level of terror she'd never felt. The man himself had appeared small, lean-framed, with dorky-messy hair that she didn't like. Now, he was towering over both her and her latest fling, Dylan, staring down with this smug grin. Normally, she'd slap a man for shooting her such a nasty, snide smirk; it made her feel lesser and she hated that feeling. Now, though, she felt like a bug that could be squashed at any point, and it sent shivers of terror down her spine.
Around her, noises seemed both louder and muffled at the same time. It was strange, this perspective, and across what seemed like a whole basketball court's distance was Dylan, also naked and shouting angrily up at the titan that stood before them. She'd always liked strong men, and something about this display of bravery strengthened her own nerve. She cast her gaze back to the man, her confidence returning a bit and with it her glare, when her blood went cold. Hovering high overhead was the huge sneaker, its bottom caked with grime, dirt, and general street refuse. He'd moved so fast...how? It creaked loudly, swaying slightly before beginning its descent, and for a split second Riana was sure this man was going to crush her under his foot. She felt herself fall backward, scrambling as his foot came down. She looked away, covering her face with outstretched arms and screaming.
Instead, she heard a sickening, muffled crunch as his foot came down on Dylan instead. She'd been looking toward him, and watched as his form was distorted by the descending foot, breaking and crushing as it came down and stomped him flat with a wet crunch. Dylan's blood seeped out from under the titanic man's shoe, soaking into what used to be Dylan's shirt and pants. There was a second of sheer horror and terror where Riana wondered if possibly Dylan had survived, but then the giant lifted up his shoe, revealing the crushed, unrecognizable mess where Dylan used to be, and then dropped it down again. He repeated this several times before finalizing it by grinding his foot, much like one would put out a cigarette.
Dumbfounded, she half-lay shivering in fear as her gaze went to the giant, who looked down at her with a wicked sneer. He crouched down, his form leaning over her and making her feel even smaller, as if he surrounded her. "Did you like that, little one?" He asked, his voice dripping with cruel malice. He had to have been talking quietly, but to her he sounded normal. He then cast his gaze just to the side of her, she watched as he seemed to look right through her for a moment, which made her even more afraid. "That was a nice dress, wasn't it?" He asked, as if remarking about the weather. She found her mixture of dumbfoundedness and sheer terror too much to speak through, and his question went unanswered. This seemed to irritate him. "Tell me, how much was this worth? Was it important to you?" His tone was promptive, but she wasn't sure how to answer. The truth was that the dress was several hundred dollars, a gift form a rich fling and one of her personal wardrobe favorites, but she felt like there was something more to this question. She tried to puzzle what he was on about when he cleared his throat, bringing his foot closer and making her squeal in fear. "I will not ask again. These are simple questions you stupid little bitch."
"It's a very v-valuable d-d-dress s-sir, worth s-s-s-s-several h-hundred doll-lars." She stuttered, her voice breaking with fear and sadness. "Its o-o-one of my f-f-f-favorites."
"Oh, wow." He mused, raising an eyebrow as he lifted a corner of the fabric up, eyeing it. "I'd never even dream of buying my own girlfriend something that expensive. I almost feel like I should take it home to her as a gift, but then..." He dropped it, his voice trailing off for a moment. "On to the next, then." he reached down, plucking up her panties from around her, holding them above her. They were simple but sexy, a seventy-dollar pair she'd bought herself. "How much are these worth, and do you like them?" She answered, replying that she liked them. This process repeated itself once more with her shoes, and then finally her bra. All expensive, all things she liked very much. She'd come out tonight to impress her new fling, after all.
"Wow, you sure spend a lot on clothes, don't you?" He sneered at her, as if mocking her. "Well, I'm sure that the craftsmanship was worth it, wasn't it?"
"Yes." She replied meekly but loudly.
Brett was sporting a throbbing erection as he looked down at the pile of clothes and the tiny woman cowering within. He had already decided what he was going to do next, and the anticipation was killing him. Part of him figured it a bad idea, since they were valuable and he could maybe sell them, but he didn't want to risk anything tracing back to him. At least, nothing trace-able. He took a moment to focus his attention on the pile of bloody clothes that were what the man had been wearing before Brett had crushed him flat. That feeling of power was so very intoxicating, he was still riding it out, but he wanted to do something more with her. But first, he had to dispose of the evidence. "Stay there, and don't move." He ordered to the small woman, her attentive freeze telling him he had total control over her. He then sat down, taking his shoe and wiping it off on the shirt that had belonged to the man he had crushed. Though mangled, it came off easy, and the white fabric absorbed the blood and cleaned the black sole of his shoe enough that he felt satisfied that no one would be able to tell. He then shrank all the clothes down even further, until they were little specs he could barely see, and then blew in their direction, sending them flying off somewhere into the side of the alley, lost amidst the debris and muck.
Looking around quietly, Brett was pleased to see no one had happened by; he didn't want to take too many people tonight, or it might get tricky keeping his trail untraced. Then he turned back to the small woman still frozen still with fear. He laughed his sinister, domination laugh as he began to move his hand, his gaze transfixed on the awestruck face of the smaller woman.
Riana looked up in puzzlement and horror as the man finished discarding everything that had been Dylan. It couldn't really be so easy to get away with, could it? He crushed another human being like a bug, and cleaned it up nearly as easily. And to watch all of the evidence shrink to the point where even she could not tell what it was, and then see it tossed away like lint, it was mind-breaking. But it was nothing compared to what she saw him doing next. He was reaching for his fly.
He wasn't going to seriously take out his dick right now, was he? She imagined all the horrible things he might do to her. She felt her body stand up as if to run, but then she could not move, could not tear her eyes away. He'd said not to move, and she felt herself unable to defy someone who held so much power over her. He could probably catch up to her and crush her just as easily, and the thought was dreadful. No, she'd bear whatever sick sexual things he'd do with her so that she wouldn't end up a smear on the ground.
He stood to his full height, which unnerved her. He towered over her like a skyscraper as he brought his fly down, the metal parts making a scraping noise as they did so. Then, with a (to her) loud rustle he moved aside all the material and brought out his dick. Proportionately, it was a fairly large penis, and Riana knew because she'd seen many. Not huge; she'd had far bigger, but it was at least larger than average, and at this size it was massive. The surreality of the situation coupled with her sexual nature and his commanding posture had Riana feeling a tingling in her crotch, getting horny despite herself. This faded quickly, however, as he began to speak once more, his voice dark and full of the haughty tones of someone who was used to domination.
"Go on," He goaded commandingly, "Ask me what I'm going to do."
"What will you do?" She asked, her voice barely maintaining enough to not stutter.
The stream came forth with a rush, glinting dark yellow as it descended like a laser made of water next to her, splashing down with a sound like a waterfall. The gasses released by it began to sting her eyes and his urine was hot to the touch. The stream moved forward toward her as he adjusted his aim, and before she could move it was coming down on top of her, soaking her and burning her skin as it knocked her down and pinned her. She held her breath as best she could as she shut her eyes and flailed against it, but could not manage to find anything to give her enough purchase to escape. As quickly as it began, the pressure was gone again, the noise telling her that he'd moved past her to piss on the rest of her outfit instead of just on her.
As the puddle he'd made soaked into the fabric, Riana tried to get the urine out of her eyes enough to be able to open them without burning. With some bit of relief, she found her efforts successful, and was able to look around at what he was doing. Now he was urinating on her best shoes, not that she cared as much so long as he didn't bring it back toward her. The fumes already made everything smell horrible and she loathed to think what horrors it would be to have the stuff in her mouth.
It was not long until his stream began to waver and die, his bladder having emptied itself easily. With a shake of his organ the remaining drops flung off, and he tucked it back into his pants. The zipping of his fly was just as sharp and metallic as the last time, and it caused her to flinch. "Oh, little one, don't be afraid." He cooed, reaching down and plucking her from the urine-soaked mess that was her fancy, expensive dress. "I have no plans to hurt you." He claimed, his voice soft and full of soothing kindness that she could not even for a second believe to be real.
As he stepped collected her things in silence, he shrunk them down and pocketed them, rather than discarding them, though to what end she could not fathom. As he turned to leave, he shot her a nasty, evil grin.