Sarah wouldn’t necessarily call herself a gambler, but she did like making bets. More precisely: bets where she had a high probability of winning and an extreme likelihood of humiliating someone else. As she got older, the ability to shrink the losing party only made these wagers more enticing.

It was a few years after graduating college, and Sarah was in her first long-term relationship. Marc, was in his mid-30s and he was handsome enough, but Sarah was really only in it for his money. She knew she’d eventually get bored with him and dump him.  

It happened quicker than she expected. After about six months of dating—including two European vacations—Marc began devoting much more of his time to video games. He’d become obsessed with Madden and would spend hours playing after work and on weekends, neglecting Sarah unless he wanted to fuck. She decided to end things, and hatched a devious little plan.

Sarah had been watching Marc play Madden and realized it was exceedingly simple; he just sucked at the game. So, she used his credit card to buy her own gaming system and set it up in her apartment. Every night after teaching a yoga class, she’d play, practicing her skills against online opponents. Some of them were actually good—far better than Marc—but Sarah got to the point where she was regularly able to win. She took a distinct pleasure in telling her opponents she was a girl and then crushing them, taunting them along the way.

Sarah decided to put her plan into action one Friday night.

She was supposed to meet at Marc’s apartment for dinner after yoga class. And as she walked in, sure as shit, he was stationed on his couch playing Madden. Sarah chuckled to herself; this would be too easy. Marc hadn’t even noticed her coming into the apartment, and Sarah padded over to Marc, her flip-flops slapping against the hardwood floor. She was dressed in long dark blue leggings, pulled down over her heels—almost midway up her foot—and a crop-top revealing her toned stomach.

“Hey, so what about dinner,” Sarah said, interrupting Marc’s daze.

“Oh, um,” stammered Marc, realizing he’d never ordered the food. “I uh, have some leftovers from yesterday if you want.”

“Forget it. I’m not hungry,” Sarah answered coldly. She sat down on the couch next to Marc and draped her leggings-clad legs over his lap. “Can I watch you play?”

“Really?” Marc said. She had never shown an interest in his games before. Sarah nodded. “Uh, sure. I’m just about to start a new game actually.

“Oh fun!” Sarah exclaimed, her voice dripping with fake enthusiasm. “I have an idea. How about I play you? You’re always playing these games, so maybe it would be a fun way to spend time together?”

Marc hesitated. He did realize he’d been playing a lot of Madden lately, but if Sarah was interested in playing too it’d be like a dream come true for him: his hot girlfriend playing video games with him.

Sarah sensed his nervousness and bit her lip in anticipation. She casually flicked off each of her sandals and placed her feet directly on Marc’s crotch.

“We can even make it interesting,” Sarah said, smiling at Marc as his dick sprang to life. “A wager if you will.”

“Wh—what kind of wager?” Marc asked.

“Well, if you win, you get something, and if I win, I get something,” Sarah said. “How about this, if you win, I’ll give you an amazing footjob. Right here on the couch.”

Marc smiled. This was turning into a good Friday night. He wasn’t great at Madden, but he knew he’d handily beat Sarah.

“And if—,” Marc started.

“When I win,” Sarah interrupted with a big smile. “I get to shrink you.”

“You can’t shrink people,” Marc said as Sarah smugly glared at him.

“Then take the bet,” Sarah said. “Every time I score, I’ll shrink you smaller and smaller. If I really run up the score, you may be the size of an ant!”

Sarah again pressed her foot down onto Marc’s crotch. He was getting hard.

“Fine. Deal,” Marc said.

“Yay!” Sarah yelled, grabbing the extra controller from the table. “I’ve been practicing, so you might be in trouble.

Marc gulped.

“Yup,” Sarah grinned wickedly. “I got my own system and I’ve been playing online! Some of those guys are really good, but I’ve won my last 12 games.”

Marc was really nervous now. He rarely played online and when he did he got his ass kicked.

“Last game I won 56-3,” Sarah said, relishing the nervousness growing on Marc’s face. “I’m pissed I let him score that field goal.”

“Wait, what? 56-3. Jesus,” Marc exclaimed, realizing he was in real danger here.

“Oh that’s nothing,” Sarah said, as she slid down into the couch, getting cozy, flexing her toes as her feet hung over Marc’s leg. “I beat some high school kid 72-0 a few weeks ago. I always go for two and he got sooo pissed. Okay, let’s play. You pick the teams!”

Marc chose the Patriots, hoping to give himself a slight advantage, and gave Sarah the Browns.

Sarah chuckled to herself. This would make her eventual victory even sweeter.

Marc won the coin toss and elected to receive. But he began to panic as he realized Sarah was setting up for an onside kick.

“Wait, you can’t.”

But before Marc could finish his thought, Sarah had already kicked it and recovered it. She just grinned over to Marc as she crossed her legs on his lap.

Two plays later and Sarah was in the end zone. Marc was shocked as she easily converted the two-point conversion.

“Eight-nothing. Time for you to get…smallleerrrrr,” Sarah said, dragging out every syllable with glee as she felt Marc shrink beneath her legs. He only lost a few inches, but it was noticeable. He began sweating. “At this rate you won’t even be able to hold the controller for much longer.”

Sarah turned back to the screen and once again began setting up for an onside kick.

“Hey, this isn’t fair,” Marc protested.

“Dude, just recover the kick,” Sarah said. “It’s not my fault you suck and you’re getting stomped by a girl.”

“I am not getting stomped,” Marc said, trying to sit up a little taller.

Sarah recovered the kick.

“Nope. Definitely getting stomped,” Sarah said, placing her feet on Marc’s hard dick and pressing down. “And no wayyy are you getting that footjob.”

Three plays later and Sarah scored again, followed by the routine two-point conversion. And then Marc again lost three inches.

“Gosh, this is too easy,” Sarah said.

The game was barely three minutes old and Sarah held a commanding 16-0 lead.

“Okay, I forfeit, you win,” Marc said.

“Nuh-uh,” Sarah said, wagging her finger at him. “You’ve been fucking obsessed with this game for months, while ignoring me. We’re finishing this.”

Sarah coldly turned back to the screen and prepared for another onside kick.

Once again she recovered it. And once again she quickly scored. The rout was on at this point: 24-0, 32-0, 40-0, the points piled up for Sarah as Marc dwindled. Sometimes she shrank him a little. Other times, he would lose a foot.

By halftime it was 64-0 and the former 6-foot-three-inch Marc was now just over three feet tall.

Sarah was beyond giddy at this point. She still had her legs draped across Marc and his shrinking but still hard penis. Before the last snap of the first half she placed her foot on Marc’s face, covering his eyes while she waltzed easily into the end zone as time expired.

“Kiss the foot that’s going to stomp you,” Sarah said, pushing a little bit. “Yeah, I’m not just going to shrink you into oblivion. I’m going to stomp your tiny little body too. Imagine you’re the size of an ant, and you see my colossal leg raise high into the sky, I’ll daintily play with my foot, maybe rub my leggings a bit, and then BOOM. SPLAT. You’re a goner. Just. Like. That.”

Marc tried to get up, but Sarah pinned him in place with her foot.

“Kiss the foot,” Sarah said again. “Kiss it. I’m gonna cum after I crush you. I’ll grind your body into the floor while I cum in waves. Smaller.”

“Hey, wait,” Marc said as he dwindled.

“I’m tired of playing. I want to do some crushing,” Sarah said. “Smaller. Smaller.”

“But that wasn’t the deal,” Marcus protested, as he dwindled to 18 inches. “You can only shrink me when you score.”

“Are you an idiot?” Sarah said, now standing over Marc’s quivering body, suddenly dwarfed by the couch cushions. “I can fucking shrink you. You think I care about the rules of some arbitrary bet? That was just added fun for me. Now get fucking smaller so I can obliterate you.”

Sarah continued shrinking Marc until he was six inches tall. Then she drew back her right foot and swept him off the couch, sending him careening to the floor. She leaped off the couch landing with a thundering boom next to Marc.

“Let’s count that as a field goal for me. Final score 67-0,” Sarah said triumphantly with her hands on her hips. She stood there for a few moments, drumming her toes against the floor. Marc was curled up in the fetal position next to her feet. She bent to adjust the bottoms of her leggings, pulling them farther down her feet. She then rocked back and forth—forward on her toes, back on her heels—humming as she pondered her next move.

“You never kissed my foot,” Sarah said coldly, as Marc turned to look up at her. She rolled her right foot to the side, so the sole was facing Marc. “Show them some love and maybe I’ll show you some mercy.”

Marc didn’t budge. “Y-you’re crazy. You’re gonna stomp me anyways.”

“That would be murder,” Sarah said, looking down at what remained of her boyfriend. “Just kiss my foot, offer your surrender, and you can run free, to find a new girlfriend”

“Wait, you’re breaking up with me?” Marc asked, beginning to cry.

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“I just explained it five minutes ago. Are you that oblivious?” Sarah asked. “Now kiss my foot. Right there at the bottom of my legging. A little peck.”

Marc cautiously walked over to the foot. It smelled like a mixture of sweat and lotion. The legging was smooth. He kissed it.

“Beg my foot not to stomp you.”

“Please, don’t stomp me,” Marc said, his eyes welling with tears. “Just let me go.”

“Close your eyes,” Sarah commanded.

Marc did.

What he didn’t hear was Sarah almost silently muttering the word smaller.

“Open your eyes.”

Marc opened his eyes expecting to be face-to-face with Sarah, but instead he looked up to see a giant blue pillar. It was Sarah’s legging-clad leg and it stretched to the sky. He couldn’t even see her face. He was a speck on the floor. Then Marc heard laughter and a simple command: run.

Sarah raised her right foot high and waited. Marc could run for hours, but at his size she wouldn’t have to move to obliterate him.

“Keep running,” Sarah yelled. “I told you I’d let you run free!”

Sarah kept her foot raised, smirking at Marc’s barely perceptible progress. Occasionally she would shrink him even smaller. Finally she dropped her foot down next to him.

“You’ve been running for ten minutes and made it barely a couple of inches,” Sarah said. “That is truly pathetic. But it’s a nice final reminder of just how much better I am at life than you are.”

With that, Sarah raised her right foot high again. She ran her hands up and down her smooth and tight leggings, and rotated her foot at the ankle a few times. Then she stomped. Hard. Marc disappeared under the ball of her foot. Sarah twisted her foot a few times even though it was wholly unnecessary. Marc was obliterated. She slowly turned up her right foot and chuckled. He had barely left a mark.

With a satisfied sigh Sarah plopped down onto the couch and crossed her right leg over her left, looking at the spot where Marc’s miniscule remains were plastered. She smiled as her right hand crept into her leggings.