"We made it!" Steve cheered.

He was obliterated under the leather sole of a sandal only a split second later.

The sight of Steve disappearing under the thin leather, pale skin, and deep crimson nails shook Mike to his core and dropped him to the ground. He was numb to the pain as his knees hit the sidewalk pavement, and the sewing needle he had used to fend off a feral cat fell from his hands. He didn't even notice the shadow of the giantess roll over him. He was oblivious as her right foot, clad in an identical sandal to the one that had just crushed Steve flew overhead as part of the woman's unaware and uncaring stride. The shade from the giantess was momentary, her leg and sundress quickly passing overhead. Mike was too focused on watching her foot tense slightly in its stride. Her toes, the deep ruby polish just barely visible to Mike from his shrunken perspective, clenching slightly then spreading naturally over the sandal supporting her weight in step. And then the sandaled foot lifted up and was gone, leaving only an unrecognizable smear on the sidewalk as evidence that Steve had ever existed. Mike was still on his knees when another shadow fell over him.

"Hey, Sam! You gotta pay better attention!" Mike heard, just before he saw the hand closing in on him.

The hand seized him with little regard for his comfort, it's bright, almost fluorescent pink nails shining in the midmorning sun before darkness, claustrophobic pressure, and the heat of the giantess's palm wrapped around him. Mike hadn't been picked up since shrinking a day ago, and the sensation of being rocketed up, in a fleshy prison, without warning or finesse caused his stomach to buck and heave. For the first time since he had shrunk, he was relieved he hadn't found any food. The trip ended with the giantess opening her palm, exposing Mike's naked body to the sun at face level for her.

"What are you talking about, Tiff?" Mike heard someone say, probably the giantess that had stepped on Steve.

"You almost stepped on this little guy, Sam."

Mike wanted to scream. He wanted to tell the giantesses that they had stepped on Steve, that Steve was nothing more than a stain under the first giantesses sandals. But the last day, trekking through what was supposed to be Mike's city, fending off all manner of wildlife, dodging cars, and avoiding all of the other dangers that had suddenly been exponentially magnified at his shrunken size left Mike unable to speak, and unable to move. Instead he lay there in the giantess's palm, tears of relief, exhaustion, and grief welling in his eyes. Steve had been right, Mike realized. They had made it, and while Steve would never know it, Mike could finally relax, now that someone had found him, and could help him get to a placement center.

"Oh, Tiff, no. We're almost to the restaurant, and you just found him on the ground." The first giantess said, her tone carrying her disappointment.

"Could be a long wait, who knows when we'll get to eat." Replied the giantess holding Mike.

If he hadn't been exhausted, beaten, bruised, and at his wit's end, Mike may have comprehended the conversation happening above him. But he lay there, content for a brief moment in the comfort of the soft skin of a giant woman's palm.

His first alarm came when the world tilted, tilted toward the giantess's face, and he realized he was sliding down her palm, down her palm directly toward her mouth. There was nothing he could do to arrest his slide, he kicked his legs and he tried to stop himself with his arms, but her palm was slick with a very thin sheen of sweat, it was a hot day out after all, and his descent toward a pair of hot pink lips, framing gleaming white teeth, opening to reveal a nightmare that Mike had never considered, was quickened as the giantess tilted her head back, and raised her palm above her mouth, allowing gravity to do its work.

There was no fall, no sense of weightlessness, the giantess didn't afford him that luxury. Her tongue shot out to catch him, and Mike suddenly found himself dragged into confines that were even hotter, wetter, and darker than the hand that had lifted him there. For a few seconds, Mike's life was nightmarish horror. The mouth that contained him did more to him in a few seconds than the entire journey after his shrinking to find help had done. He was knocked about, smacked against the inside of her teeth, assaulted by her tongue, pressed up against the roof of her mouth, and sucked on, creating a crushing vacuum inside her mouth that left him disoriented and deafened. All the while, Mike coughed and sputtered, trying, and failing, to keep from breathing or swallowing more of this woman's spit. He was so completely at the mercy of this stranger's mouth that he barely registered when the tongue moved him into position onto her molars.

***

Tiffani chewed and chewed and chewed, holding up the pair’s walk to brunch.

“Can you walk and chew at the same time, Tiff?” Samantha prodded. We’ve got a reservation.

“‘Ou’re ‘ust ‘ad.” Tiffani started, then silenced herself, holding up a finger to Sam while she finished chewing. With an audible gulp she swallowed her morsel. “Oh I love how juicy they always are! You’re just mad that it’s my day with Greg.”

“Yeah, it’s not, but I figure letting you keep him inside your panties is the only way to get you to wear them. Can we go now? Or would you like to hunt for more food before we go? To the restaurant? For brunch?” Samantha continued to prod.

“Coming!” Tiffani said, as she adjusted the squirming man in her crotch under her sundress.

"Oh, don't give me that look..." Kate said. “That sad face.”

She brought the dildo, and its struggling, pleading captive, to her mouth where she layered coating after coating of spit through long and prolonged licks from her tongue. Each stroke of her tongue briefly paused the shrunken man's screaming, but he found the strength and breath to resume even in the short period between the assaults from Kate's tongue.

"After all…" Kate continued between licks. “You came up to me.”

She held the dildo in both hands pulling it in hard against her tongue as continued to lubricate it with her own saliva. The entire false phallus, a simply shaped, average length, neon green dildo, that had a built in loop of silicone holding the tiny man under arms. The band was tiny to Kate, but it almost covered the man's entire chest, holding him fast to the side of the dildo just near the tip.

"Begged me…" Kate said. “To help you.”

She plunged the dildo into her mouth, sealing her lips near the base and immediately began fellating it. She kept the tiny man down, so she could feel his feeble protests against her tongue while she pulled the dildo out and shoved it back in. Kate moaned around the dildo, and made sure to keep the little man at least partially in her mouth, never letting him catch a breath outside her mouth. She gasped as she pulled the dildo free with a pop, savoring the feeling of the man passing through her lips and back into the air.

"And I took you in…" Kate continued through heavy breaths. “Into my home.”

Kate delivered one last measure of saliva by spitting on the already dripping man. He had given up, at least for the moment and was hanging limp by the band holding him in place when the glob of spit splattered over him.

"I fed you…” Kate said. “And sheltered you.”

Kate let herself recline back in her bed, spreading her legs as she sunk her head into her pillows. The dildo was allowed to slowly descend, affording the man attached to it a clear and steady view of Kate’s body, and what awaited him. Her right hand moved ahead of the dildo and her fingers began working their way into her bush. She gently rubbed her clit while holding the dildo over it. Her free hand strayed further down and hooked her fingers inside of herself, the squelch of her own lubricant drowning out the squeaking man being forced to watch her prepare. A few trips in and for her fingers were all that was needed to spread her juices, now leaking from her pussy, all over her labia and back up her bush.

"But this is the first private time I've had in a long time…" Kate's voice was losing composure. "And you're going to need to make yourself useful."

A few shallow strokes in her bush, just enough to mix the spit coating the shrunken man with her pussy's fluids and Kate knew she was ready. Every flutter of the little man's flailing limbs sent shivers through Kate's body and she felt herself losing restraint, and felt no reason to delay any further.

Kate bit her lower lip and shook her hair out of her face so she could have a clearer view of her activities. Without any other warning, she flipped the dildo around and buried the first few inches into her pussy. A muted gasp was followed by a short squeak as she felt the little man pushed in under her clit and, even without the whole length of the dildo inside her, the shrunken man's entire body was.

There was no more holding back. Kate pumped the rubber rocket in and out of herself with abandon. Each thrust tensed her legs up more, clenched her eyes harder, and made her breathing more and more ragged as she picked up speed and forced the dildo deeper and deeper with each stroke. Kate lost herself in the pleasure coursing through her body. She struggled to contain her excitement, but found herself letting out louder and louder moans with each passing moment. While her hand holding the dildo got wetter and wetter, her other hand worked furiously at her clit, rubbing it with desperate speed.

She didn’t care as she screamed out when the building pleasure finally crescendoed, cramming the dildo up to its base. She kicked out her legs and unsettled her, admittedly already soiled, bedding. She could feel everything; the sweat under breasts, the fabric clenched between her toes, the pillow behind her shoulders, the soaked bedding under her pussy, but more than anything else, she could feel the little man deep inside her. She could feel his wiggling cease as her pussy crushed in around him, all of his body was pressed between the walls of her pussy and the dildo. She didn’t want the sensation of him being nearly crushed to end, it was almost better than the muscle-clenching electricity surging throughout her.

But Kate could already feel the orgasm ending, she could feel her limbs loosening and that very energy fading away, but the feeling of the little man inside her stayed. Even as she collapsed, spread eagle onto her bed, her vagina didn’t relax its grip on the dildo, not that she wanted it to. Kate spent what felt like minutes, savoring the cool air wafting over her sweaty skin. With a grunt of effort, she pulled herself back up, propping herself up against the headboard as she spread her legs wide. Delicately, so as not to antagonize her sensitive junk, Kate reached between her legs and found the base of the dildo. She gasped as she tugged at it, releasing it almost immediately as the sensation of it pulling out sent reverberations up her spine. She took a deep breath and exhaled long and hard before seizing it again. When she did, she pulled it slowly from her still quivering vagina.

The dildo popped free, and she quickly brought the dripping phallus up to her face. A very quick inspection revealed a limp man dangling from where the band held him in place. He coughed and sputtered, his lungs trying to expel the variety of bodily fluids that had threatened to drown him in Kate’s pleasure. Kate grinned as some sign of life, even a pathetic one, returned to the little man. She warded his tenacity with a deep lick from her tongue.

“Oh, you did so well, my little toy.” Kate cooed. “But I need you to get ready for round two. The girls are over at the Tanner’s house until Sunday night. You and I have the entire weekend to enjoy ourselves. I hope you’re an ass-man, actually, I really care. Take a deep breath, this next trip might be a bit rough and I need you to last for a couple of days.”

"So, I think now is a good time to level with you…" Betty said to the soaking wet, half-drowned, but still very much alive and struggling for freedom, shrunken man under her palm.

With a dexterity that betrayed the evening's earlier accidents, almost crushing him beneath her foot when she greeted him at the door, dropping him into her cleavage and then nearly suffocating him between her breasts before dinner, scooping him up into a soup spoon and giving him a preview of her throat during the meal, for the trickery they were, Betty used her only free hand to begin sliding out of the slinky black slip she'd chosen for the evening.

"I invited you over with very ulterior motives. Hey, pay attention, little guy. People would kill to see me strip right in front of them."

Betty knew her vanity was almost unmatched, but she also knew her physique was equally without peer. As the dress slid off of her chest, her breasts bounced free, exposing what had already been a powerful distraction for her most recent victim; her shield-pierced nipples, each gleaming with polished platinum decoration around her hardening nub and set in contrast to her darker areola.

More than once during the night, Betty had caught the diminutive man staring at the protrusions coming from behind the thin black material of her dress, and she had used that to her advantage. He had been staring at her tits when she finally scooped him up, shoved him in her mouth, and eventually stripped him bare with her tongue.

"But I guess it doesn't matter, you're going to be getting way more of a view in just a moment anyway."

Although she was sure she could strip one-handed, Betty was getting impatient. She had spent hours surreptitiously teasing and antagonizing her guest, all the while her pussy getting hotter and wetter while she anticipated this very moment. When she had finally shoved him into her mouth and filled her mouth with a draught of water, she couldn't resist and began masturbating before she had even stripped him of his clothes.

Or what passed for tiny clothes. Most of the shrunken people she encountered wore single piece garments, little mumus or ponchos, but this one had shown up at her door wearing pants, a shirt, and even tiny little shoes. Betty had stripped shrunken people with her tongue before, plenty of times, and she could remove one of those single piece garments almost instantly from even a struggling victim. But this was her first time working with so much more complex attire, and she was thrilled to learn that she could almost as quickly remove them as well.

While washing him in her mouth, swishing him around and rinsing away any foul tasting soaps or colognes that he had thought to use, she had assaulted him with her tongue, ripping and pulling and shredding the garments he wore until he was naked inside her mouth and she spit out the water and his clothes before letting him fall back into her palm, where she pinned him to the table. It had taken a bit longer to get him naked inside her mouth, and Betty had been genuinely concerned that he might have drowned, but seeing him now staring up at her with an utterly lost mixture of horror and lust as the dress fell off her hips, revealed her complete lack of underwear, made it worth the risk.

Not that the ordeal had been harmless for the shrunken man. Betty hadn't been gentle and, in addition to the effects of nearly drowning, the tiny man had small cuts all over him and if given the chance, would likely be covered in bruises from being knocked against her teeth too many times to count. Betty couldn't be sure, but some bones may have fractured and he might even be concussed. None of it really mattered to Betty, though, he was still alive, conscious, and able to feebly crawl away from her looming form.

Betty laughed at the sight of the man trying to crawl backwards on his palms, with nowhere to flee to on her coffee table. She knew most of the fear in his eyes came from his ordeal inside her mouth, but she could almost guarantee that no small portion of it was attributable to her sudden betrayal. He'd looked relaxed, genuinely off his guard from the numerous scary, but relatively harmless 'accidents' she'd staged over the course of the night, and he hadn't even had time to scream when she greedily shoved him into her face after dinner.

“Aw, you’re shaking. Are you cold?” Betty mocked.

Her hands, now free from her dress, slid back up her thighs, and both found their way into her crotch. While the fingers of one hand rubbed up and down her labia, the two of the other’s fingers slipped inside herself.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got another hot hole to keep you warm.” She moaned. “Hotter than my mouth. Wetter and hungrier too. And don’t worry. There won’t be any water to chill you off this time.”

She didn’t wait for an immediate reaction, instead she swung a leg up onto the table. Her foot slammed into the robust wood surface with a slap that was loud even for her, but must have been deafening to the shrunken man. Her bare sole came down only centimeters from her date’s form and sent him sprawling supine. He screamed and tried to curl into a ball to protect himself, but almost immediately realized how futile that would be and opened back up to the improved view of Betty working double handed at her own sex.

"Do me a solid?" Betty asked. "Try not to die. I want you alive for later."

If the implication of 'later' registered at all with the little man, Betty couldn't tell, but it didn't matter as the threat of death was enough to start him screaming again as Betty's hand pulled itself out of her pussy and lunged down to seize him in a quick, rough motion. Whatever injuries he'd sustained didn't stop him from squirming in Betty's grip, although he was one of the smallest shrinking victims she'd ever encountered and even with his body still dripping with water from her mouth, and her hand still dripping with fluids from her vagina, his struggles were for naught.

As rough as she had been with him in her mouth, and rougher still when she seized him, the disregard for his well-being as she shoved him through her spread labia and into her dripping pussy was almost enough to give her pause. She might have stopped to check on him, except the sudden jolt of pleasure that shot out from the now squirmy man inside of her produced a squeal of pleasure from her mouth and sent her falling back into the couch, laughing with delight as she collapsed into the over-stuffed leather.

Although one hand remained at her crotch, keeping the struggling man half inside her, Betty let go of her labia and used the hand to quickly fish around under the arm of the couch for the toy she had stashed there earlier. Because the arm of the couch wasn't designed for storage, and because the toy in question was much larger than was strictly necessary, she recovered it quickly. She pulled from under the cushion a device as big as her arm, with a round head bigger than her hands put together into a ball, and powered by a stack of D-cell batteries that had been marked as a 'massager'. Betty knew it as the 'Earthquake'.

A quick flick of her thumb woke the 'Earthquake' from its slumber and the initial vibrations almost caused Betty to drop the thing from her still wet hand, but she secured her grip and began to move the humming thing into position. Just before the vibrating head came into contact with her privates, Betty pulled the struggling man free of her pussy with her fingers, coughing and sputtering.

"Hey, you're gonna want to take a deep breath and get ready for the most intense fuck of your little life." She said between increasingly ragged breaths.

If her victim responded with anything intelligible, Betty neither heard no cared. Her warning was less out of care for her living toy and more out of a desire to keep him alive and conscious as long as possible while the ‘Earthquake’ went to work. With only a second’s pause to allow him one deep breath, Betty used her two middle fingers to plunge the shrunken man as deep as she could with a single, determined thrust heedless of the little man’s comfort or safety. Her hand immediately came away and the ‘Earthquake’ dropped into place, it’s buzzing head falling onto Betty’s hood. The combination of the sudden intrusion of her date’s body deep inside her, the ‘Earthquake’’s quivering against her most sensitive bits, and the relief of finally, after hours of teasing, toying, and holding back, getting to slake her lusts until exhaustion brought out a moan of pleasure as her thighs snapped shut around the wand and she rolled onto her side on the couch cushion.

For a moment she lie there, the shaking against her clit and the squirming inside her expressed as deeper and more guttural moans into the fabric of the couch. But Betty was not a neophyte at pleasing herself, and knew there were barriers yet to cross. With the ‘Earthquake pinned between her thighs against her, Betty flicked the device from its lowest setting to its highest. The ‘Earthquake’ responded by going from a quiet hum to a violent buzz, like an entire swarm of angry murder hornets had somehow appeared between her legs. She knew what would follow, but the sudden intensity change was greeted with an increased squirming inside her as the shrunken man’s panic must have kicked into overdrive.

Betty wasn’t passive in her own pleasure. As her victim struggled in vain for freedom inside her, and the ‘Earthquake’ rumbled against her, Betty’s legs rubbed back and forth, just enough to add a bit of sensational variety to her self-ministrations. One brief adjustment of her thighs and the ‘Earthquake’ was pushed slightly away, dimming it’s intensity against her, that same slight scissoring motion the other way and the vibrator was pressed so roughly against her that Betty thought she might snap.

And Betty wanted that snap, the whole evening had been building to this, and with nothing preventing her from indulging, Betty shoved one hand into the crevice of her thighs that held the ‘Earthquake’, and wedged it harder against herself. She found herself on her knees on the couch, her mouth biting into the arm, her hips bucking against nothing as she got closer and closer, but she didn’t care. She was home alone, or at least, the only other person in the house wasn’t in any position to see anything but the inside of her pussy anyway.

Her orgasm finally came after what felt like forever, her other hand shooting down between her legs to help keep the vibrator pressed against her while her knees slipped out from under her. Her legs seized up in that particular way, stretching and shivering all at once. Without any support she buried her face deep into the arm of the couch and let loose a scream of pleasure loud enough that she was sure even her living toy could hear it, muffled as it was by the couch and isolated as he was by her own anatomy. She could feel him, too, inside her, as her pussy squeezed him tighter and tighter.

The almost debilitating waves of pleasure only lasted for a few moments, leaving Betty exhausted, panting, and dripping from several places. Part of her wanted to simply lay there. Just let the night end by passing out into a blissful slumber, and deal with everything tomorrow morning. But this wasn’t Betty’s first time shoving a shrunken man inside her vagina, and she knew better than to leave one in overnight. Sluggishly at first, but quickly recovering, Betty slid back to a sitting position in the couch, letting the ‘Earthquake’ fall away.

As she righted herself, reclining lazily in the couch, she let her legs spread wide, her muscles slightly sore from tensing so hard. Her hand gently caressed her labia, still quivering slightly before spreading the lips so her other hand could fish insider of herself. She winced a bit, as sensitive as she was, but didn’t hesitate reaching inside. She deftly found her target, the still form of her date, and pulled him out of her without pause.

Now exposed to the light of her living room, held aloft by one shrunken leg, Betty could survey the damage her pussy had done. The little man was still in one piece, but was unmoving as he dangled between her fingers. Betty shook him, a little more vigorously than he would’ve liked, but not so hard as to snap anything, just clearing some of her own fluids from his body. When he didn’t respond she lifted him above her face, resolving to dispose of him as she had every other shrunken man that fell victim to her murderous kegels. Just before releasing him into her open mouth, the tiny man pinched between her fingers coughed, and then coughed again, sucking in air greedily as his body spasmed back to life.

“Holy shit, you survived!” Betty exclaimed. “That’s a first!”

For a moment, Betty held the little man above her, considering her options. She’d eaten still conscious shrunken people before, and it was fun on its own, so the prospect of simply following through with her original plan was appealing, but there was something special about someone surviving her masturbation for the first time. Instead, Betty resovled to see what more fun could be had with the tough, little man.

She sat forward and grabbed a pint glass on her coffee table and downed what little stale beer remained before gently, relatively, setting the shrunken man into the glass. The glass was replaced on the table and Betty leaned back into the couch, laying back down on it. She felt her eyes getting heavy, and sleep coming on strong.

“Good night, little man. Tomorrow we’ll try some fun new things.” She said, just before nodding off. 

Jack paced in front of the door to Tara's office. Every part of his first genuine task for this job, six weeks into his tenure, was weird. In his hands he held a surprisingly expensive bottle containing a mix of natural juices. The liquid inside looked radiant like the sun itself. Complicating the matter was its size. Clearly it was for Tara's enjoyment, but  that meant it was nearly seven liters worth of the stuff, more than a little difficult for Jack to carry from where it had been inexplicably stored on floor Minus 11 back up to Tara's office on the thirtieth floor.

Making it worse was Tara's e-mail. Jack paused his pacing for a brief moment and pulled the company phone from his pocket to review his instructions, it took effort to rest the giant bottle in one arm while doing so. He looked over the extremely brief e-mail, trying to discern from the very few words in it some kind of relevance or hidden meaning. But nothing could be gleaned from the e-mail. As in person, Tara had been brief, to the point, and utterly bereft of anything resembling a sense of humor. Just one sentence; Bring me the bottle of Mélangés from the break room on Minus 11 at exactly 2:00PM, not before and not after. That was it. No explanation, no exposition, nothing.

While elevators made the trips between floors relatively quick, it was still a trip of down almost twenty floors, get to the break room on Minus 11 and retrieve a bottle that seemed to contain more juice than he had blood, and then back to the elevator for another trip of up more than forty floors, to arrive at Tara's office at precisely 2:00PM. Jack had made it, and fortunately with a couple of minutes to spare, but it hadn't been fun or easy. He could feel his heart racing, and his adrenaline still pumping, the effects of the physical exertion only exacerbated by the fact that, with the exception of his walks with Paz, this had been his first task in the new job. As humiliating as fetching a bottle of drink was, Jack's natural paranoia and deep seated desire to prove that as a baseline he could be useful, even valuable to his coworkers and his boss, shoved his resentment at the menial nature of the task deep into his subconscious, but it still caused him to be on edge, nonetheless. The phone's display showed the time as well; 1:59PM.

Jack slipped the phone back into his pants pocket and approached the office door, a pair of, to Jack, excessively large industrial affairs. The entire Static Storage Division was built around cold solid state data storage, and so nothing had any of the normal trappings of an office space, at least not on the exterior. Jack adjusted the massive bottle in his left arm while he brought a fist up to the door set to knock. He almost dropped the bottle out of shock when the office's intercom cut in and pre-empted his knocking on the door.

"You may enter." Tara said, unseen.

Although entering a door built for a Titan-Mod wasn't challenging physically, it was always a reminder of what the company, the government, and society as a whole considered to be a disability, as he reached just above his head to the hooked handle and pulled it down, struggling a bit against the robust mechanisms that facilitated the door's latch opening. The door swung inward easily enough and Jack stepped inside.

Jack had been in Tara's office plenty of times, but it was always a bit of a shock. The room had been, as all the rooms that the Static Storage Division controlled on the arcology, a storage room, and had been converted to Tara's office. This meant that the scenic forest visible outside of the truly massive windows wasn't real, and in fact, the windows weren't windows but screens, but it also meant that the office itself was on a scale that was overly large, even for Tara. The ceiling disappeared into the twelve meter range, and the whole office was large enough to accomodate Tara's Titan-Mod desk, two chairs facing it (one of which was Jack's humiliating high chair), Tara's own chaise lounge, a fixture next to Tara's desk that Jack suspected was a Titan-mod drink cabinet, and still had enough empty space on the dark-stained concrete floor to facilitate a non-mod game of half court basketball. It was intimidating at the best of times, but now, with bottle in hand, and the door slamming shut behind him of its own accord, it was a little overwhelming.

"Just a moment." Tara said, without looking away from her typing.

Jack wasn't sure how to handle that. It sounded like an implied command, and with Tara, everything was a command. Without further input from his boss, Jack stayed standing in front of the doors, fifteen meters from where she sat, typing away at her screen. Offset as her computer monitor was at her desk, Jack could see Tara the whole time, her face never turning to him from her screen as she worked. The keyboard she worked on, ancient by modern standards, sent clacking noises echoing throughout her office, each of the tens of thousands of keystrokes per minute sending a small clicking sound out to bounce around as Jack waited, all them coming together into a solid stream of noise, each indistinguishable from the whole. It was another subtle reminder that height and strength were not the only thing denied to him by his bank account's incompatibility with modification.

Jack wanted to check his phone, to see how long had passed since he'd entered Tara's office, but Jack also wanted no part of Tara's ire. Jack wanted to set the bottle down, the strength in his arms was waning and the cold and condensation were beginning to seep in through his shirt as he held the bottle, but Jack also wanted no part of Tara's ire. Jack wanted to walk out of the office, spouting off about how inane the task was, and to call when she needed something of merit, but Jack also wanted  no part of Tara's ire, and he needed the job.

After what seemed like an eternity, Tara sighed, closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples under her augmentative glasses. It was the most frustrated Jack had ever seen Tara, and in truth, the most human reaction he'd ever seen out of her as well. She stood up from her desk with a kind of deliberate slowness, and made her way over to the cabinet by her desk. When opened it revealed exactly what Jack had suspected, and from the dizzying array of drinkware available therein, she produced a lowball glass before making her leisurely way to the front of her desk. In a display of loosened appearance standards that Jack couldn't believe he was witnessing, Tara relaxed against the front of her desk, not quite sitting on it with the heels of her palms supporting her as she semi-reclined against it. Her right hand, sporting the lowball glass, extended just a bit in front of her, and rocked the glass just a bit, from side to side.

"Well?" Tara inquired, her gaze locking onto Jack.

To Jack, it was a shot from a starting pistol, and he almost tripped over himself starting toward her. Although he'd walked the distance from Tara's door to her desk a number of times, today it felt like the gulf between the two points had grown. Even as he approached Tara, and she began to grow in relation to him, from distant, to equal, to towering over him, he felt that same anxiety and winded status return to his heart and lungs.

As he finally closed the gap, to where Tara waited, he slowed, coming to a halt almost directly in front of her, only a few centimeters away. He couldn't be sure, but he thought as he trekked over, he saw her normally unmoving countenance break into the slightest of smirks, but here, almost in her shadow, she appeared as she always did, stoic without a fault.

Almost imperceptibly, she extended her hand containing the lowball glass. Again, Jack knew, with Tara it was not an idle action, but an unspoken command, but Jack's mind was adrenaline-and-anxiety-addled already, so he was so slow to respond, causing one of Tara's eyebrows to rise in question. It was all the reminder Jack needed as he fumbled with the bottle's cork and quickly, if not smoothly, opened the bottle.

Jack's next challenge, however, was more significant. Tara held the glass at the length of her arm, just about hip level for her, which, like so many things in Jack's life, made it above his own head. Carefully, like pouring wine from an amphora for some ancient pagan deity, Jack began to tip the liquid sunlight into the offered glass. Even before he had the bottle fully raised, Jack could feel his arms shaking. By the time the liquid began to flow from glass to glass, he worried he'd drop the bottle, or worse, spill some on Tara. The fear was only made worse by the fact that he realized Tara's gaze had not broken. Even as he struggled to lift, and then pour, and then steady his charge, Tara's eyes remained fixated on him, and not his task, the entire time.

Still his arms held, shakily, until Tara herself lifted her glass, tilting the bottle away, and allowing Jack to reassert his grip, and desperately re-stopper the bottle. Before she began to lift the glass up her mouth, however, Jack was dismayed to see that all his efforts and straining had barely filled a quarter of the glass. Almost immediately, however, Jack's eyes went back to Tara's who hadn't let her own gaze wander. The sight of Tara's eyes, regarding him from under the rims of her glasses, transfixed Jack as the glass rose higher toward her lips.

At first Tara simply brought the glass to her lips and let the lowest flow of liquid through. Silent sips lead into gradually more of an angle being imparted to the glass in her hand, all the while she watched Jack watching her. Then, when it had seemed almost all the bright orange-yellow liquid was gone, she closed her eyes, lifted the glass high and tilted her head back, swallowing the last of it in one loud gulp. Tara sighed through her nose, bringing the glass back down from her face, and when her head dropped back down, and her eyes refocused on Jack, her lips spread in the faintest of smiles.

"Good boy." She said.

Jack almost lost it. His breathing froze, with his lungs feeling like they had lost the ability to move. Worse still was his pulse now pounded in his ears. His legs almost gave out from under him right there, instead wobbled to keep him upright. It was all he could do to avoid squeaking in surprise, but instead immediately averted his gaze, staring at the floor instead. His legs did attempt to carry him back, his task completed, but Tara's left hand shot out, seizing his chin between her thumb and craning his head back up to meet her stare. The smile was gone.

"And what do you say?" Tara asked. Again, less a question and more a command.

Jack's face may have been caught in her hand, but his brain and his heart were caught between two syllables. ‘Good boy' ran rings around his thoughts, and he felt like his heart would explode out of his chest, it was beating so fast and so hard. Anxiety had fully given way to terror and Jack's mind couldn't focus on formulating a response through its own conflicts. He tried to find some non-verbal clue as to what Tara wanted in her expression, but in addition to her stoic countenance, Jack realized his own vision was blurred with the makings of tears. The delay didn't go unnoticed to Tara who shifted only slightly, her hand lifting up on Jack's chin, and pulling him up to the balls of his feet. It was enough of a shock to bring him back to her question.

"Th...th...thank you?" Jack offered. Unsure of what Tara wanted, but desperate for something to break the tension. Anything before he broke.

Tara's ever so slight smile returned.

"Good boy. You may go. Return the bottle to the break room you found it in, and be back at your desk within five minutes, ready and waiting for your next task." She instructed.

Jack nodded as best as he could within her grip, which let him slip free in response. His retreat out of the room, never once turning away from Tara out of sheer terror, was slow and hindered by the fact that he walked backwards with a heavy bottle in his hand. Even as he closed the door, this time preventing it from slamming shut, Tara watched him as he scuttled out of the office. That thing he saw as the crack in the door closed were her eyes watching him from where she rested on her desk.

With the door shut, and only the echo of her words ricocheting around his skull, Jack finally collapsed. His legs wobbled and though he stumbled to the wall and tried to steady himself, he was forced to set the bottle down with rushed care and fall to his hands and knees, nearly hyperventilating as he remembered to breathe for the first time in what felt like hours. Even as he failed to control his breathing, droplets of sweat fell from his face to cold ground followed by a few unleashed tears, and his thoughts, thoroughly overwhelmed by two simple words, failed to arrange into any sensible pattern. Jack didn't know how long he spent on the floor trying to recover, but the sound of Tara's voice coming from the intercom snapped him out of his reverie immediately.

"Remember, at your desk and waiting in five minutes." Tara said.

Jack's panic took over and he scooped up the bottle, bolting for the hallway and the elevator beyond it. Five minutes was not a lot of time.

Another long, soul-crushing night… Harper thought to herself. And of course, fucking Liam took off early, again. Well, fuck him.

With an armful of reports, folders, whitepapers, graphs, and even printed infographics, all printed in twelve copy sets for the meeting tomorrow morning, all heavy enough, and bulky enough, to make moving through the darkened hallways of the office difficult.

Even the fucking cleaning staff is gone! Harper noted, as the whole office was almost completely dark, save for some exit lights and computer glows. The only light she really had came from the end of the hall, a brilliant white light from the breakroom’s LEDs.

I've gotta do everything around here. Harper, still balancing stacks of paperwork, made her way down the hall toward the offending light. The entire office was fully deserted, dark, and still in the earliest morning. Harper turned the corner into the breakroom and almost dropped her documents.

The breakroom was probably the least furnished room in the entire building, Harper had overheard a member of the HR team talking to a member of the management team about decreasing the amount of time employees spent on break by making the recreational areas of the building as abominable as possible. Despite the company’s recent crack of the billion dollar revenue mark, the breakroom was furnished with a single table, a single chair, a fridge from the sixties, a coffee maker from the seventies, and a microwave from the eighties, but nothing else. The problem lay in the chair, in the form of a pile of clothes, shirt, tie, pants, belt. The shoes and socks seemed to be on the floor at the chair, but otherwise the whole attire was there. The cheap tie, and wrinkled shirt almost immediately identified it as Liam’s.

The fuck is Liam doing? Harper thought to herself.

“God damnit, Liam.” She said to herself. “Get your shit together.”

Harper dropped the stack of documents on the table, which threatened to pitch over from the new imbalance of weight, but Harper expected as much and pushed her documents toward the center of the table. She then turned her attention to the clothes, picking up the shirt first. As she lifted the white collared shirt from the chair when a lump, suddenly mobile in the fabric, came tumbling out. Harper’s first inclination was to shriek, but she held off as gravity pulled the wriggling thing down through the shirt, falling to the chair and then ungracefully bouncing off the too-worn cushion to the miserably scuffed tile floor. Her patience was rewarded as she almost immediately recognized the shape of what tumbled from the shirt, a tiny, nude man. What’s more, she recognized the stupid blonde hair and scrawny outline.

“Liam?” She asked, leaning over the stunned man on the floor. “Is that you?”

“Harper!” The shrunken analyst squeaked. “Thank God you found me! I think I might have hurt something in the fall! Can you take me to the hospital?”

Hospital? With our insurance?

“You look fine, but how long have you been here?” Harper asked, brushing her hair out of her face. She realized the only chair in the breakroom was genuinely empty and pushed Liam’s clothes off it to take a seat, with Liam directly between her feet.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t feeling well, and I came in here to get something to drink, and then the world started spinning, and I think I blacked out.” He said. “That was the last thing I remember before falling.”

"When was that?" Harper asked.

"Are you going to help me?" Liam whined.

"Well…" Harper said. "I would but…"

You're worthless, and I've got better shit to do, and I still need to figure out how to hide fourteen millions dollars in stolen equities. Harper thought. Oh, that's almost too perfect.

“What do you mean ‘you would’?” Liam shouted up to her. He had begun to pace between her shoes as he seemed to be trying to come to grips with his new cockroach-like size. “I can’t do anything on my own.”

“I know.” Harper stated. “Hey, Liam, what’s the password to your work terminal? Oh! And to your phone too.”

“What?” Liam asked, frozen in his pacing.

“Well, let’s be real here, Liam.” Harper said, picking up Liam’s phone and turning it on. “There’s no cure for the shrinking virus. I mean, there’s the vaccine, but it looks like your religious exemption for, what the fuck was it again, ‘spiritual agnostic renewalism’ really paid off for you, although I don’t think there are any crystals that are going to clear this up.”

“I… What… what do you mean?” Liam asked, his confusion quickly giving way to a dawning realization and fear. “You’re not going to help me?”

“We’ve talked, Liam.” Harper said. “At length, about how much fun I have with shrunken people.”

Even at his tiny size, Harper could see Liam’s eyes open wide with fear. During some of the many nights in which She and Liam had been the only two people still working, the shrinking disease had come up many times, and Harper had learned her disregard for shrunken people could shut down a conversation with Liam relatively quickly. They had talked, about the first time Harper had found a shrunken woman alone, on a park bench, and about how Harper had crushed that woman beneath her sneaker. They’d also talked about how Harper had found a shrunken man on the subway station, and smeared him along the floor with her flats.

“And about how I don’t get caught.” Harper continued.

She tapped the toe of her right foot. Gently enough, but it startled Liam into falling off his feet away from the sound, even if that was simply closer to her left.

“And I think, if I remember correctly.” Harper said, feigning deep thought by pressing an index finger to her chin below her lips. “You even once asked me what I would do if I ever found a coworker shrunk, do you remember that, Liam?”

She tapped her left foot, much louder this time. The clack of her toe on the plastic floor sent the panic-addled Liam scrambling right, toward the foot he’d just shied away from.

“You’re joking!” He screamed, even as he crawled on his hands and knees. “You were joking, right? You wouldn’t really…!” Harper guessed some part of Liam’s brain wouldn’t let him finish the thought in his mind.

“Well, I might not.” Harper started, shining the light of the screen of Liam’s phone down on him. “If such a coworker did what he was told. The password to your computer, Liam, and your phone now. Unless you’d prefer…”

Harper finished her sentence by lifting her right foot up and stomping it down. The crack of her shoe on the floor probably would’ve been audible throughout the office, but the only other person to hear it was no more than two inches tall, and less than half a foot from where the sole met the polyvinyl. Liam screamed, but it didn’t bother Harper, this was part of the fun.

“Why?” He screamed after he had almost exhausted his breath.

“I already told you; I get off on it.” Harper said flatly.

No reason to lie, he already knew from our previous conversations.

“Why do you want my passwords?” He shouted, trying paradoxically to scoot away from her.

Harper blinked.

Of course this fucking idiot insect doesn’t know. He couldn’t wrap up an earnings report if it was to save his life. Oh well, no harm in telling him. She realized.

“Oh, I’m going to implicate you in the embezzlement scheme Mark and I have been running for the last six months. So what’s your password?”

Harper lifted her right foot over Liam. It was a bit awkward, sitting in the chair, in her work-skirt, hovering her foot above her shrunken coworker, but the shadow falling over him had its intended effect.

“The phone is 333, and the password is ‘francesca’!” He shouted, attempting to shield himself with his arms from her foot.

“Wait, ‘francesca’?” Harper asked, setting her foot back down. The foot fell right next to where Liam lay on the floor prompting another scream. “That bitch from human resources? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, right?”

“I… wh… no? Why would I be kidding?” He asked, his eyes fixed on her shoe next to him.

“You know she hates you, right? She’d beat the shit out of you if she thought you were looking at her.” Harper said, between laughs.

There was an awkward silence as Harper shuffled her feet a bit, each slight movement of her shoe, however, caused a reaction from Liam. Harper considered spending more time tormenting Liam, but she had already been at the office for hours, and now had more to do before she left.

"Well, Liam, I think it's time to say 'goodbye', I'll let Francesca know you were into her." Harper said.

Liam screamed, but it did nothing to stop Harper’s foot from pinning him to the floor. Even with most of him under the gently rounded point of her wedge’s toes, while he clawed at the thick cork sole, she could see his horrified expression.

Harper took some time with Liam under her shoe. She covered him with her sole, she gently, for her at least, compressed him under her foot, and she rolled him around on the dirty fake-tile floor.

When she felt that he wasn't entertaining enough, she'd poke him into action with the toe of her shoe.

Nah, this isn’t doing it for me. Harper thought. Weird, this is normally the biggest rush. What’s missing?

She didn’t crush Liam, still screaming and crying under the tip of her wedge pump, but neither did she let up, keeping him pinned beneath the pointed tip of a shoe big enough to make him disappear beneath it entirely.

“Oh, I know what’s wrong.” Harper exclaimed. “I forgot pictures.”

Immediately she moved her foot off of Liam, letting it rest right next to him. She plucked her phone from where it rested on the top of her papers, and quickly switched to the camera. A few flashes and clicks later, Harper reviewed the images of her shoe next to Liam’s shrunken form. Each flash seemed to disorient Liam worse than the previous, and none of the photos of him were particularly good, but at least her wedge pumps looked good dwarfing a man.

“So, I’ve done this a few times before.” Harper said, as she leaned down and popped the wedge pump off of her foot, she set the shoe down on the table top. “But I’ve always done it with my shoes on.”

She flexed and spread her toes in the semi-translucent black nylons. Even through the black fabric, her own sparkling black toenail polish shone through against her remarkably pale skin. She set the foot back down next to Liam, and resumed taking photos, this time occasionally moving her toes to cover Liam partially and wholly as she snapped away. Liam didn’t seem to have much left in him to resist, and Harper could barely feel him struggling beneath her foot. But it was rewarding to be able to genuinely feel his struggles. For the first time she could feel the outline of a shrunken person beneath her foot, she could feel his torso and limbs, his head and even his face through the nearly sheer fabric. Harper took her time and made sure to have dozens and dozens of shots of her nylon clad foot abusing the shrunken man.

Still not the best. She thought. Not bad, but it could be better.

"Liam, I'd love to spend all fucking weekend helping you learn to love being under my foot..." Harper said, setting the phone down and letting Liam enjoy a brief moment unburdened by her foot. "but if I'm going to frame you for the embezzlement, you're going to have to disappear, so, buh-bye."

"Please…" Liam said through the pain and tears. "I won't tell anyone."

"I know." Harper answered.

Harper covered Liam's body one last time with her foot. Once more his entire form disappeared under her nylon wrapped toes. This time, however, Liam didn't get the playful pressure of her idle enjoyment. Instead, Harper quickly brought down her weight onto the ball of her foot, trying to savor the crunch and squish that accompanied her shifting her weight onto one foot.

Even in death, Liam managed to disappoint Harper. The sounds weren't as satisfying as she had hoped, and the feeling of his bones snapping under her sole was new and exciting, but diminished slightly by the dismal room she found herself in and the lack of time she had to enjoy it.

As her foot pressed down to the floor, she felt what had been Liam squeeze into a thin film and goo that seeped into the fabric of her nylons and up between her toes.

Next time I’ll have to do it at home. She thought, twisting her foot and making sure that any remains would be utterly unidentifiable. And barefoot! That must feel fucking amazing.

After spending a few minutes ensuing the only thing that could be found of Liam would be a stain, Harper took one last picture of the stain and one of her slightly drippy sole, she spent over two hours to clean the floor, and subsequently re-dirty it with a spilled container of lo-mein over where Liam had been.

I guess you'll at least be useful as a scapegoat. Harper thought as she surveyed the breakroom.

She picked up his clothes and his phone, those would need to go on the chair at his workstation, to give the appearance that he shrunk at his desk, diverting any search for him away from the breakroom. When he inevitably never turned up, having been washed off the floor and sent down the sink drain, and washed off her nylons, he’d be labeled as one of the thousands of shrinking virus victims that had gone missing. Balancing her own work, and now Liam’s thing as well, she made her way back to his cube. She dropped her own work at her desk and quickly set up the scene. She had been planning on using Mark as a scapegoat, so the work to incriminate one of her coworkers was already done, and it only took a couple of hours to fabricate everything on Liam’s computer.

Satisfied with her efforts, it was just as Harper had resolved to finally leave the office when the blue and red lights began to flash over the office walls through the windows.

Shit. Harper thought.

“Shit.” Harper said.

“I hope you enjoyed dinner.” Heather said from above her napkin dabbing the last of the steak’s juices from her lips.

“Yeah! It was great!” Daniel shouted back up to her.

Although they had eaten from the same plate, sharing the same filet Heather had selected, her own side of the plate was clear save for the drippings of each cut of her knife, red pools swirled around the white ceramic. His side, however, still had most of the flesh remaining, the hunk of meat Heather had sawed off of her own being larger than Daniel’s entire body many times over.

Heather couldn’t help but smile. She had chosen the cut of steak because it would seem large by comparison, and offering to share the plate was a stroke of genius she’d have to use again. Every time her fork had come down to pierce the filet, every time her knife’s serrations had glinted above her diminutive guest, she had been treated to a very brief show of deeply-rooted fear. Even as she had brought each severed chunk of flesh to her mouth, Daniel had watched as she licked her lips, painted a deep crimson-and-slightly-purple. He then stared, as she would pull her lips back, revealing her teeth, and very deliberately let her teeth sink into the meat to pull it off the fork. It was only after she’d pull it back into her mouth to chew that his eyes would finally dart back down to his own eye-level meal.

“Was it tender enough?” Heather inquired, setting the napkin down, and leaning in on the backs of her hands with her elbows propped up on the table. “I could practically swallow it whole.”

“I… uh, yeah, i..it was great.” Daniel responded. “It’s…it’s just hard to eat as much when you’re…”

“Two inches tall?” Heather offered.

“One-point-eight.” Daniel said, dejectedly. “The doctor’s said that I was about forty six millimeters or just under two inches.”

“One-point-eight, then.” Heather said. “But still, did you enjoy the seasoning? I prepared it sous-vide, do you know what that means?”

She began to lean forward, although he still stood behind the plate, it wasn’t much of an obstacle to Heather, and as she spoke, her relatively distant position on the table began to slowly loom over Daniel.

“I d… I don’t.” Daniel said.

Heather wondered if Daniel was even aware of his trepidatious step away from her as they spoke.

“Well, it means I took my time with it. You see, I’m all about a big payoff, for the flavor.” Heather started.

“O…oh.” Daniel stuttered.

Despite his tiny size, and even though the plate was still between them, Heather could see his breathing quicken, he had spent a great deal of money, or at least, a great deal for him, to afford himself a tailored shirt, pants, and even some little things passing as shoes. Because it was fitted to his small size, she could see his chest rise and fall ever faster as she leaned closer over.

“The meat and aromatics, with some butter, cooked under a bath of water for four whole hours.” Heather said. “Our whole dinner tonight, even though it was lovely, took less than a quarter of the time it took to cook.”

“T…that’s really impressive.” Daniel said, as Heather’s shadow fell over him. “A…and it was v…very good. Uh, can I borrow your phone?”

“No, I don’t think you may.” She said before continuing. “You see, Daniel, I prefer to take my time with my meals.”

“I…” Daniel started.

“I prefer that every morsel is utterly delicious.” Heather explained. “It makes the wait so much more worth it, wouldn’t you agree?”

“P…please let me borrow your phone.” Daniel pleaded, dread sinking in.

Heather paused, glancing toward her purse, which contained her cell phone, hanging next to her door. Unless she got up and provided him with her phone, unlocked it and likely, dialed too, there would be no way for him to ever reach the outside world.

“Did you know, Daniel, that there are networks someone such as myself can go to, if they were interested in acquiring a shrunken man such as yourself?”

“N…no.” He mewed in her shadow..

“Yes, it’s true. They’re very sophisticated.” Heather said. “You can tell these networks what you’re looking for. For instance, I could say that I wanted a little man, with no family ties, little income, and I’d want him to be, oh…”

Heather’s hand came down on the table, not quick enough to slap the wood, but enough to startle Daniel into collapsing where he stood. Her hand framed his tiny form between her thumb and forefinger, calling his size into stark relief.

“Maybe under two inches tall; a very rare size, very expensive and time consuming to find a man of that small stature, I’m told.” She said, her other hand coming down opposite of the first from where Daniel cowered.

Heather began to slowly constrict her hands together, so slow as to avoid Daniel’s immediate notice, she didn’t need to take this much time, but neither did she need to cook her steak for four hours either. It was worth it in the end, though.

“And then, if the network finds someone matching my criteria, I get a nice little packet in the mail. Name, residence, photos, things that the little person likes or wants, even places or sites they frequent so that I can begin the process of ‘naturally’ contacting them.” Heather explained, still closing in on Daniel. “They can even tell me where the little person liked to eat before they shrunk. For example, if they hadn’t had a good steak since shrinking.”

“Why?” He asked, seemingly unaware of the closing gyre of her hands around him. “Why would you do that?”

Heather had to stop, the sheer naivete of the question caused a body shaking laughter to ripple through her. She even stopped closing in on Daniel with her hands to hold her sides as she laughed.

“You can’t be serious?” She asked through the laughter, wiping a tear from her eye.

In response Daniel just mutely shook his head.

“Oh, that’s almost too good.” Heather said. “I wish I could do this over and over again with you. The reason ‘someone’ would do that is to chat up the little person, invite them over for a nice dinner, and then, once the mood had been properly set… eat them.”

That was the last straw to break Daniel. The shrunken man began to scramble away from her on the table. Not very fast, and not very effectively, his movements panicked and uncoordinated as he attempted to flee from her, even if there was nowhere to flee to.

“I’ve done it before, you know.” Heather said.

She let him scurry away. The worst he could do would be to cast himself over the edge of the table, and even then, she’d be able to catch him with minimal effort. She even considered it might be fun to stomp after him on the carpet, to force him to watch her black nylons drop down from the sky, getting closer and closer.

Halfway through his dash to the edge, however, Heather decided not to let it come to that. There was something to be said for taking her time, but that also meant not drawing things out too long. Couldn’t leave the steak in the pan for more than necessary, it might burn.

Heather used one finger, her index finger, to push down into Daniel’s back as he crawled. This caused him to scream anew, even though Heather didn’t push hard enough to puncture the small man with her nails painted to match her lips. Instead, still screaming, she used that solitary finger to drag Daniel back toward the plate they had shared. Heather made sure it was a slow process, but also an implacable one. Daniel thrashed and screamed and clawed at the table to free himself from under her digit, but had no effect.

“I’ve brought little people like you here to this very table.” She said as he drew closer to the plate.

Although she kept her house, and thus her table, very clean, she could see that Daniel’s clothing was losing its presentability as she dragged him along the wood. Wrinkles, even a few tears, were beginning to show as his diminutive body slid along the surface of the table.

“I treated them to a decent meal, usually something they hadn’t had an opportunity to eat in a while, like a good cut of steak.” She mused as he reached the edge of the plate.

She pulled her finger back, satisfied to see that he’d exhausted himself in the futile attempt to free himself from under her finger. His renewed attempts to crawl away were much slower, even for his size. Each motion was painfully labored and slow. Heather rested her chin on her hands again, content to let him try again if he had it in him.

“And then, once I had enjoyed a nice meal of my own, I ate them.” She said.

Daniel froze where he lay on the table, slowly turning back to Heather.

“That’s right, I ate them.” She clarified. “Some of them I chewed up, crunching their bones in my teeth, before I swallowed them. Others got to experience the most intense roller coaster ride any human being could, a one-way slide down my throat into my stomach.”

“P…please.” Daniel almost whispered, tears forming in his eyes.

“Occasionally I’d even eat them with the meal.” Heather continued.

She dipped a finger into the cooled juices of steak still on the plate, making a path where her finger traced on the white ceramic surface. When she retrieved the finger back up to her lips, it dripped with savory liquid. She tilted her head back and let a droplet fall into her open mouth, before plunging the finger in after it and sucking the remnants off the tip.

“One woman was even tangled up in spaghetti as I slurped…” She paused to noisily mimic the act of slurping noodles, complete with pursed lips and obnoxious sound. “Her up with the marinara.”

“Please don’t…” Daniel tried again.

“A man very nearly drowned in my wine glass.” She said, reaching for the glass on the table, still unfinished from dinner. “But he was still wriggling when he washed down with the rest of the pinot.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Daniel sobbed. “I swear!”

Heather paused for a moment, as though she was considering the offer. She responded by snatching Daniel up from where he cowered next to the plate, much to his shock. He screamed as she lifted him up, but didn’t have much time to catch his breath before she used his whole body to resume where her fingertip had left off on the plate. With no care for his comfort, she pulled him, writhing and screaming, pinched between her thumb and forefinger, through the leftover juices of the steak. By the time she lifted him, now again exhausted, to her face, his shirt and pants had been soaked in delicious smelling liquid. His shirt had been stained from a white cloth to browns and reds from the meat.

“But I’ve learned, in all these times.” She said, bringing him closer and closer to her lips as she spoke. “That the most rewarding way to eat a tiny person, is to be restrained with the seasoning, and take the time to prepare them properly.”

“I don’t want to die!” Daniel screamed.

“Oh dear! It looks like your shirt has been stained.” Heather mocked. She afforded herself a deep sniff of Daniel’s soaked form.  “You’d better take it off.”

She set Daniel back down, this time on the plate, and waited with a sinister smile on her face.

“Well?” She insisted. “Strip.”

Daniel didn’t respond fast enough for her wants. He tried not to meet her gaze, and spent a few precious moments looking around, as though someone else would magically appear, or some escape vector would materialize.

“If you won’t take care of this, I will.” Heather said, plucking him back up from the table between her fingers.

Heather had long since stopped caring, but she also knew she wasn’t ready yet. Or rather, her morsel hadn’t yet been prepared properly. With practiced precision, Heather brought Daniel’s squirming form to her teeth and with an uncharacteristic gentleness, bit down onto just the dripping wet cloth of his shirt. Less gently she pulled him away, shredding the front of the shirt into tatters. She lowered Daniel back down to the plate and spat the cloth stuck to her teeth away.

“That’s a start.” She said. “Now strip, unless you want my help in finishing the job.”

The threat of her teeth ripping more of his clothing, or being that close to him, seemed to encourage Daniel and his shirt, now mostly just sleeves and rags, was quickly pulled off. He stood on the plate, now looking up at her, his arms wrapped around him, probably growing colder since he’d been soaked in steak drippings.

“The pants and shoes, too, darling. Let’s be quick about it, you don’t want me becoming impatient again, do you?” She asked.

Daniel followed quickly and soon, he was nude and shivering on the plate.

“That’s much better.” She said. “I really did mean it when I said that I hoped you enjoyed the meal.”

“Please, I won’t tell anyone. I swear I won’t.” Daniel pleaded.

“I know you won’t.” Heather said.

The grin on her face must have been enough, because Daniel screamed as her hand came down around him. This time there was no more foreplay, and the shrunken man was brought screaming and fighting up to her lips. She did savor the opportunity to press him into her pursed lips and then, using just one finger pushed him between them. The same practiced care came into play as she worked him between her lips, never letting him fall or even slip a millimeter from her plush lips, but instead, slowly and steadily shoving him between those purplish red gates.

When she felt confident he’d be unable to squirm out from between her lips, she brought her tongue underneath him, sliding it out, letting him not only feel its passing under him, coating him in saliva, but also letting him see it emerge in front of him. She removed her finger and curled her tongue up, the wet organ slapping him in the face and silencing his screaming. Like a giant, wet serpent, she used her tongue to pull him back into the darkness of her mouth.

It was always special to Heather when one of her victims was small enough to fit into her mouth entirely, and Daniel was proving to be very special. She could feel all of his limbs as he fought in futility against her tongue. She used it to press his body to the roof of her mouth, then into her cheek as she sucked on him. Over and over she passed his body over her teeth under her tongue, between her cheeks, anything to feel him inside her mouth. She even opened her mouth to take moaning breaths, making sure he wouldn’t pass out.

When she had had her fun, she carefully manipulated Daniel’s body back toward her lips, it was such a pleasure to be able to feel his head being pushed out from her lips as she held him in place. The blade of her steak knife provided a mirror for her to view him. His head emerged from between her lips, his hair now matted and soaked through, his face wracked with horror and the pain of coughing up what to him had to be an ocean of saliva. Heather gave him just enough time to really clear his lungs, enough time for his coughing to cease and remind him of what the world outside of her mouth looked like before she tilted her head back, and sucked him back inside.

There was nothing more to it, her tongue pulled him to the back of her mouth, her hand came up to her throat, her fingers resting just under her chin as she braced herself. One deep swallow was all it took. She could feel Daniel slide out of her mouth, down her throat, traced by her fingers along her neck, and then disappear behind her chest where he plopped into her stomach.

Heather exhaled a massive sigh, she hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath. She lay her hand just below her chest and closed her eyes. The sensation never lasted long, but it was always clearest just after swallowing. Sure enough, there came the tickles, the light sensations of movement not her own.

“Oh, I need to work quick. Can’t have your efforts go to waste. Keep struggling in there!” She shouted at her stomach.

With that, and her meal done, Heather got up from the table and made her way to her bedroom. She knew from experience that Daniel only had a few minutes of air, and she wanted to be able to capitalize on it with her favorite vibrator.

With his cup of mostly-brandy eggnog in hand, wrapped in a remarkably fluffy robe, and sitting in front of the roaring fire in the mountain cabin, Chad reclined into the arm of the couch and considered his good fortune. At roughly twelve and a half million dollars, the word cabin may have been a bit of a misnomer. Six bedrooms, six bathrooms, a pool, a poolhouse with its own bedroom and bathroom, and a four-car garage, spread over three floors and a basement, Chad found himself enjoying the view of the Rockies in the living room, sporting floor to ceiling glass of eighteen feet windows. The snowfall outside was constant and heavy, but still allowed enough off the moonlight through to cast a brilliant pall on the mountains.

Chad was just about to sink into the peaceful oblivion of an alcohol induced sleep when there came a thumping from up above. With his glass still in hand, Chad rose from the couch to try to track the path of the sounds coming from the roof. It started on one side of the house and moved, steadily, toward the side of the house with the fireplace where it was replaced with some newer, odder sounds.

The fireplace stuttered as the sound moved into the chimney. For a brief moment, Chad considered calling the police, until her recalled that the nearest town was seventy minutes away with good road conditions, and, from the chimney down into the fireplace came something that stunned him into further inaction; a pair of brass buckled, dark black leather, and exceptionally large, boots. The boots, kicking and fighting, were joined by the sound of unhinged swearing.

“Fuckin’ automated flue-cleaning…” The voice shouted, muffled through the chimney and wall. “Piece of floppity donkey cud blowing…”

Chad regarded the scene before him with awe, and more than a little concern for the contents of his cup, especially as the boots fell from the chimney into a cloud of dust and smoke as the person wearing the boots finally slipped free of the chimney and crashed into the fireplace with an astonishing shout, and one last exclamation;

“Fuck!”

Through the smoke and ash, a shadow rose up, and up, and up. By the time it had finished standing, it reached far above Chad and stretched its limbs up toward the sky. Chad was horrified to the dark fingers almost touch the ceiling before the whole figure settled back down on those black leather boots.

The ash and smoke settled with surprising speed, but more alarming was the fact that a quick shake of the figure cast off all the soot and dirt from shimmying down the chimney. Chad didn’t know what to expect, but as he followed the brass buckled, leather boots, which ran all the way up the the knees, the pale skin from the knee up to the white fluffy hem of a short red velvet skirt, the wide black belt and brass buckle, the generous cleavage on display behind the red velvet and fluffy white trim, the bare shoulders, the long black leather gloves running up to her elbows,  and on top of her crown of snow-white hair, with a pair of curved horns, like a ram’s. A red velvet stocking cap, with white fuzzy trim and a happy fuzzy white ball at the end rested between the horns. The giant woman in front of him was more than double Chad’s height, even though she couldn’t be his elder, or human, for that matter.

“Sonnova bitch, that never gets easier.” She said.

“Who… what… how… that chimney’s only like seven inches wide!” Chad said, after struggling to form a sentence.

“Haven’t even been introduced and already calling me ‘fat’, see how you are.” The woman said.

The woman snapped her gloved fingers and a roll of parchment appeared in the air above her hand, she snatched it before gravity could take it and unfurled it. She spent a moment squinting at it, before rolling her eyes in recollection, reaching into her deep cleavage and producing a pair of rimless reading glasses. Thus augmented, she continued.

“Are you ‘Chadwick Burnswell’ of Denver, Colorado?” She asked, looking down her nose, and glasses, at Chad.

“Who’s asking?” He retorted.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” She said, releasing the scroll which popped into a cloud of smoke and immediately dispersed.

She placed her fists on her hips and stood tall, taller even than it had seemed to Chad as she announced herself. A confident smile on her face and her head held high.

“I am the only Christmas spirit of a kind with Kris Kringle! The Bringer of Birch! The goat herself! The righter of all the years’ wrongs!” She almost shouted to an house empty save the two of them.

Chad’s only response was a slackjawed look of confusion.

“Krampus.” The woman said, her shoulders slumping with dejection. “I’m Krampus.”

“What the hell is a ‘Krampus’, and why is it, are you, in my living room, driving up my maid bill for the month?” Chad asked. “Do you know how much it costs to pay someone to come out here and clean soot out of the carpet?”

“Well…” She said, reasserting herself and walking closer to Chad.
She stopped just in front of him, towering over him and forcing him to crane his neck up to meet her gaze. She was close enough for Chad to realize with some discomfort that she was wearing nothing under that short red velvet skirt.

“It’s my job to visit all the people dear old St. Nick doesn’t on Christmas eve and give them their just desserts.” She said.

She leaned down, her hands on on her knees, pressing her breasts together right in front of Chad’s face as she spoke.

“So, Chadwick, have you been naughty or nice this year?” She asked, with a breathy tone.

“Uh…” Chad said, mesmerized by the almost uncheck display of tits in front of him. “Nice.”

“Ha!” Krampus shouted, standing back up. “Works every time!”

A gloved hand caught Chad around the neck as she stood, and hoisted him into the air, suddenly hanging by the neck and being strangled, Chad began to kick uselessly and try to pull the giantess’s fingers from around his throat.

“I’ve got to give every naughty soul one last chance to admit their misdeeds and swear to me that they'll mend their wicked ways, but if they insist on lying to me…” Krampus said, grabbing Chad’s robe. “They’re mine!”

The giantess punctuated her claim on Chad by ripping his robe away. The soft and fluffy fabric, meant to resist the cold, failed to offer any resistance to a thirteen foot tall spirit of the holidays and was ripped to shreds right off his body. His cup of brandynog flew from his hand, shattering spilling all over the carpet, and he was left nude, suddenly very sober, and struggling to breathe from feet off the ground.

“B...but I said I was ‘nice’!” Chad managed to get out through Krampus’s fingers.

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit.” She replied.

Another snap and the parchment appeared in her hand again, this time already unfurled.

“Chadwick Burnswell, Denver, Colorado. On January second of the year, you deliberately parked your car in a handicapped parking spot, despite being, in your own words, a peak physical specimen.” She said, reading from the sheet.

“I was only there for a minute!” Chad protested.

“To buy four hundred dollars of pixie sticks and porno magazines!” Krampus corrected. “On February twelfth, you withdrew a donation of five thousand dollars to a child’s cancer research fund! Holy fuck, that’s evil!”

“I…” Chad struggled, more with breathing than anything, but he had managed to get a secure purchase on the gloved wrist holding him up and used that leverage to ease his own hanging. “I reinvested it in another charity!”

“Your own charity that you then used to funnel money into your private accounts, who do you think you’re lying to?” Krampus said. “Speaking of your lies.”

The giant woman walked the two steps it took to cross the large living room and spun to sit down on the couch. The wood and metal snapped and screamed under her weight, collapsing in at the center as she sat down, but she sat, nonetheless. In one smooth motion as she dropped to the leather and foam, Chad’s naked body was flung prone over her lap, and the hand that had strangled him pressed into his back, pinning him in place.

Chad was too disoriented from finally being able to breathe again, so when the giantess’s palm came down like a meteor on his exposed butt, he didn’t even have the sense to scream. He did for the second and third spank though. Even as he fought against her unwavering strength, she delivered slap after slap to his buttcheeks, after about a dozen leaving him cold, stinging, and out of breath.

“There, anymore lies and you’ll get more punishment. If I need to, I’ll break out the birch branch.” She said. “Now where was I? Oh yeah, March. On March seventh you actually fired a single  mother who worked on your cleaning crew.”

When Chad didn’t object, maybe at the threat of another round of spankings, Krampus took it on herself to prompt it with a pre-emptive spank.

“Ah! She wasn’t performing!” Chad reasoned.

“She did more for your company than you do and had a hundredth of your salary!” Krampus almost delighted in recounting the deeds.

“Well, I lost the shit-list, but let’s be honest, if I visited everyone who was just a jerk on Christmas eve, I’d never stop.” She said.

A snap of her fingers on the hand that had spanked him conjured a new item, a long black leather riding crop.

“So about that birch branch? A little bit difficult to keep in one piece. You use that one naughty bottom and it snaps after only a few thousand lashings.” She said, cracking the crop against the leather arm of the chair. “But this thing? I can go all night long with this, speaking of…”

“You wouldn’t!” Chad shouted from under her palm.

Krampus responded by delivering a vicious slap of the crop across Chad’s thighs, causing him to scream anew.

“I would.” She said. “And now for the reason I’m here. You, Chadwick Burnswell, on December twenty second, fired seven hundred employees!”

The crop came down again.

“Over a virtual meeting!” She continued.

Again it fell.

“From the deck of a private yacht!”

Again the crack of leather on skin.

“In Ibiza!”

The crop fell for a final time.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Chad screamed, tears running down his face as his thighs and butt spread with a purple bruise from his back to his knees. “Please forgive me!”

“Oh it is far too late for you to apologize, you naughty, naughty boy!” Krampus said.

She stood up suddenly and dropped Chad to the floor, where he rolled onto his back. Paralyzed with pain, he could only watch as she snapped again, this time producing a woven, lidded basket from nothing, which fell to the ground.

“Now you’re mine!” She said, reaching down to pluck Chad from the floor by his ankle.

He dangled for a moment, still wracked with pain and confusion, but he could see her bringing him over the now open basket. Some part of his mind told him that the basket wouldn’t be large enough, but that didn’t stop him from being lowered down into it. His suspicions proved right as he found himself half in and half out of the basket. Krampus solved the problem by forcing Chad into the small space, pushing legs and arms into a tight, deeply uncomfortable curled ball. With his legs blocking most of his vision, and his head crammed down near his crotch, Chad couldn’t even utter a protest as the woven lid to the basket began to eclipse the light in the cabin.

“But don’t worry your naughty little mind.” Krampus said as he savored the look of silent horror on Chad’s face. “I only get to keep you for a hundred years for each unforgiven sin against your fellow man.”

She sealed the lid onto the basket and hoisted it onto her back.

“So you’ll be out roughly around this time in a few thousand years.” She laughed as she spoke.

Even with a grown man in a basket on her back, she had no problem walking over to the glass window and delivering a swift, destructive kick with the heel of her boot, shattering the impressive pane of glass in one motion. She took one moment to turn back to the cabin, snapping her fingers to prompt a spark from the fireplace to jump across the room and catch on the pine Christmas tree, which began to burn almost immediately, spreading with alarming alacrity to the variety of combustible surfaces around it.

“Merry Christmas to all!” She called out, walking out into the darkness. “And to all a goodnight!”

There, collapsed in front of her door, shivering in the winter cold, naked, bruised, bleeding, covered in dirt and mud and debris, and curled up in a ball to preserve what little warmth he could, was William.

"Oh my goodness, Willy!" Helena exclaimed. "What happened to you?"

She didn't wait for his response, squatting down in her black bathrobe, tossing her coffee cup aside and gently scooping the sixty millimeter man into her hands, taking care not to let her black-painted nails scratch him as she did.

"Oh you look terrible! We need to get you inside and warmed up!" She said.

Even as her hands wrapped around him, she could see a bit of life return to the shrunken man. He uncurled, crawled over to and wrapped his arms around one of her thumbs, hugging her tightly.

“You poor thing! Let’s get you cleaned up.” Helena said.

William hadn’t responded, but she was at least relieved to see him conscious and moving. It was the middle of winter, and he had decided to be independent a week earlier, declaring himself a member of an independent shrunken community. He had packed up his things, small in number and nature though they were, and set off, with that shrunken woman he’d met.

With grace and care, not to jostle or drop William, Helena moved swiftly to her master bathroom and began procuring things from her cabinet; her favorite soap, a few fluffy washrags, and a special basin that would let water through, but allow Helena to bathe William effectively. It was a bit difficult doing all of that with one hand, the other lovingly cradling the still shivering William, but Helena had practice.

She started the water running, not too hot, but enough to steam, and set the basin, then one of the more comfortable cloths into it. She squirted a healthy amount of the liquid soap on it and set it into the water, almost immediately the bathroom began to fill with the warm, comforting rose-water scent she so adored.

As soon as the cloth had been soaked through, and the water came up to temperature, Helena gently set William down on the cloth, out of the stream of water, and almost immediately began using her finger to divert a comfortable stream of water onto the shivering shrunken man.

Even before the dirt and grime began to wash away, she could see his body slow its shivering. His breathing, before ragged and shallow, deepened and steadied. But he hadn’t stopped weeping.

“There, isn’t that better, Willy?” She asked, guiding the water over him with one index finger and beginning to rub some of the soap over his naked form with the other. “Come on and tell me what happened.”

It took some time, but the warm water, the soothing scent of rose-water, and Helena’s gentle massaging eventually seemed to coax William back to a semblance of life. It was enough to set him crying again and he grabbed Helena’s finger as he spoke.

“She’s dead!” William screamed. “She’s dead and I couldn’t do anything to save her!”

“Oh, there, there, Willy…” Helena cooed. “Who’s dead?”

“Sybil!” William bawled. “We had barely made it out of the street with our lives! A dog nearly got us both, and we were left naked and running!”

As he spoke, Helena dutifully tended to him, making sure to rinse away the dirty water and keep him warm.

“We had just made it off the sidewalk, we were headed back to the community when… when…” William couldn’t find the strength to finish. He began sobbing uncontrollably into Helena’s finger.

“Come on, now, you can tell me.” Helena offered. “What happened?”

“O…out of n…nowhere…” William struggled to say. “A j…jogger just came out of nowhere! Sybil didn’t even have time to see it coming!”

“Willy, baby, what didn’t she see coming?” Helena asked.

“The jogger deliberately crushed her!” William screamed and broke down sobbing in Helena’s hands.

“There, there, Willy.” Helena soothed. “It’s behind you now. You’re safe with me.”

Helena began to gently stroke William’s back, her fingertips only just caressing his skin as she had before he had abandoned her. She was relieved to see that most of his injuries appeared to be superficial, nothing crippling or life-threatening, still, she would need to treat them appropriately.

“Surely it was an accident?” Helena said, moving a finger to guide the water to wash over William in a final rinse.

“No!” William shouted through the deluge. “We weren’t even on a sidewalk! And she even stomped on Sybil a second time just to be sure!”

Having finished rinsing William off, Helena brought a fresh, fluffy towel over and scooped him out of the basin, cradling him gently as she patted him dry.

“How horrible, did you get a good look at who did it?” Helena asked, more concerned with drying than asking.

“No.” William sniffled, his tears finally stemmed by exhaustion. “It happened so quickly, just a flash of bright colors and then gone. I got lost trying to make it back to the community.”

“Well it’s all behind you now, Willy.” Helena said, picking up William in the fluffiest of towels she could find. “You need to rest now, let’s get you into bed.”

“Okay.” William said with a sorrow that stung Helena.

The trip back into the bedroom, and over to the glass enclosure Helena had made for William was brief and uneventful. The enclosure was a thing of awe, at least to Helena, an aquarium like set of walls, a locking lid, comfortable, hand-made furniture, including the bed she had fashioned from an old memory foam slipper of hers, as well as fixtures for running water, and a food dispenser if William got hungry. Everything William could ever want, in Helena’s mind, except for Helena herself, who slept next to the enclosure on her own bed. She used the key to unlock the enclosure and then slipped the key into her robe pocket before lowering William in.

“Here you go, Willy. I made sure everything was ready for you, in case you came back to me.” Helena said, depositing him right on the bed, oversized for him, but still a source of comfort.

"Okay now, Willy, I'm going to let you get some rest." Helena said sweetly. "Oh, I almost forgot!"

She leaned down and procured from under the nightstand with the enclosure a, to her, small teddy bear. It was truthfully a crude facsimile, even as teddy bears go, but it was also a much more personal comfort. Helena had sewn 'Mr. Bear' herself from an old, brown, flannel shirt that she had worn around the house when it was cold. ‘Mr. Bear’ was likewise stuffed with the scraps of some wool socks of hers that she could no longer justify wearing for the holes in them. Even the buttons that made up ‘Mr. Bear’s eyes had come off her own clothing. Every night William had been away, she had slept with ‘Mr. Bear’ clutched to her chest, just to make sure that when she got her Willy back, ‘Mr. Bear’ would be ready.

The stuffed animal was small by teddy bear standards, but to William, ‘Mr. Bear’ was massive, many times larger than William himself. Helena deftly reached down, and with one finger, lifted Willy up just far enough to slip ‘Mr. Bear’s arm under him as an impromptu pillow, and then lay William back down wrapped in ‘Mr. Bear’s embrace. With cautious care, she pulled the sheets and comforter, what had been one of her old t-shirts and another sock respectively, of the tiny bed up to William’s neck, and draped it over him, tucking in the sides and making for a very snug fit.

“There we go.” She said quietly, not wanting to disturb the serene scene. “Everything the way it should be.”

Helena stood up and began to lower the lid to the enclosure.

“Okay now, Willy, I’m going to lock your enclosure for…” She trailed off, letting William vocalize the sentiment for her.

“For my safety.” William said through closed eyes, with a mixture of pure exhaustion, defeat, resignation, relief, and acceptance.

“For your safety.” Helena confirmed.

The lid came down and clicked shut, with Helena sliding the locking mechanism into place and sealing it against unwanted access or exodus. She backed slowly away, until she reached the door to her bedroom, and stood for a moment in the doorway, one hand on the light switch.

“Goodnight Willy, I love you.” She said.

“I love you too.” He said. It was muffled by ‘Mr. Bear’s chest, the distance between them, and his size, but still, Helena heard it.

Gently, so as to make as little noise as possible, she dropped the light switch and pulled the door closed.

For a moment, Helena stood outside her bedroom. Standing in the hallway, she could almost still feel William shivering in her hands, his arms clinging to her in desperation, fear, and pain. Her hands could still almost feel him finally relax, his breathing normalized as her fingertips rubbed away the dirt, grime, and exhaustion with love and hot water. She could even still feel him as she clutched him to her chest when she carried him to bed. Everything was finally right.

But she only allowed herself a moment. There would be more time to savor William's return, and enjoy his presence later on. She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out her cellphone, quickly getting to the application she wanted. Immediately the phone screen lit up with a night-vision of her own bedroom. The first image was a wide-shot, showing her almost the entire bedroom, but she quickly swiped through with her fingertip and got to the desired image. Mounted discreetly in the lid of the enclosure, a camera looked down on William's sleeping form. It showed her shrunken boyfriend in stark clarity, tucked into bed, and sleeping. She clicked a button, and the microphone inside 'Mr. Bear' relayed the soft sounds of William's breathing as he slept.

Happy to see William sleeping so peacefully, Helena turned off her phone, replaced it in her robe, and set about her work. It was only mid-day, but she now had things to do.

After cleaning up the bathroom where she had bathed William, and checking to make sure there was nothing left outside where he had arrived at her door, Helena made her way to her garage, closing the door behind her. She checked her phone one last time. The cameras she had installed in her bedroom confirmed that William was still safely tucked into bed, wrapped in ‘Mr. Bear’ arms. Even though she had no worries at this stage, Helena didn’t get what she wanted by being careless.

The garage was colder than the rest of the house, but Helena only planned to be outside for a few moments. Still in her slippers and her bathrobe, she grabbed an empty trashbag from the shelf near the door as she made her way to the trunk of her car and popped it open using her keys. Inside the trunk she quickly retrieved the gaudy neon pink sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt, the similarly neon green balaclava, and of course, the blue trail runner shoes, stuffing each article into the trashbag as she pulled it from the trunk.

She paused for a moment as she got to the right shoe. Both were dirty, mud and soil clinging to them, but the red stain on the right shoe’s sole caught her eye. She checked the trunk lining to make sure that it hadn’t also stained the inside of her car, and satisfied that it hadn’t lamented the amount of money she had spent on the outfit, so very much not in keeping with her preferred monochromatic color palette, almost bothered her. But checking her phone again, seeing William tucked into bed, locked safely in his enclosure, wrapped in her love, she decided the expenditure had been more than worth the price paid.

"Sorry," Helena said to the stain. "But it had to be this way."

She stuffed the shoe into the trashbag, and tied a knot in it, sealing it, and tossed it, with the rest of the garbage, into the garbage can to be wheeled out to the street for collection the next morning.

The sharp sting of rubber against her wrist was quickly losing its efficacy.

Miranda closed her eyes, and tried to focus on something other than the idiot sitting across from her. She pulled the band out and let it snap back into her wrist again. Even with her eyes shut, the blathering moron could still be smelled, his cologne doing a disservice to fine smelling arboreal scents by being associated with such an infuriating man.

In her brief, dark, reverie, Miranda knew that, once shrunken and shoved against his will into her mouth, the pleasing scents of his cologne would translate to a slightly bitter, but not altogether unpleasant taste, one that would be washed away by her tongue and saliva after a few minutes of savoring him.

She bit her lower lip and drew the rubber band out again, letting it bite her wrist again. She had to focus on something else. But even if she hadn't been able to smell him, she couldn't easily shut out his droning on and on.

In reality, he was explaining to her why he had violated the law again, how his violation of the law was not only reasonable, but just as well. Somewhere in the winding narrative of incompetence and arrogance, a jab at her responsibility as his attorney was woven in, and suddenly Miranda couldn't hear his words.

Instead she heard the muffled sound of him screaming from inside her mouth. He'd run out of air, only for her to open her lips just enough to let him take a breath and start screaming all over again. Each time the screams would grow weaker, softer, laced with weeping, and even sometimes, most wonderfully, desperate pleading for mercy from her.

Miranda almost cursed as she recognized another descent into her bad habits, and pulled the rubber band again. She barely felt its sharp bite on her wrist, all she could feel was his shrunken body in her hands, fighting against her fingers, each stronger than his entire body as she lifted him to her mouth. Even inside her mouth, her tongue could feel his struggles as she overpowered him with ease. He'd even make for a wonderful sensation tucked into her cheek for a moment or two. Until it was time to end it, and he'd be too exhausted to stop his quick drop through her throat down into her stomach.

This time Miranda cursed under her breath, and tried the rubber band again. The sting had gone completely out of it, and only a slight, almost gentle, crack reached her ears. She opened her eyes and glanced down, to find the rubber band snapped and fallen from her wrist.

Consumed with his own self-aggrandizing tale of inept financial chicanery, Miranda's client didn't seem to notice her stand up. Or walk around her desk to her office door. Or even the deadbolt lock being thrown. If he'd even heard her approach him from behind, he gave little indication.

The hex was already in her mind, and she could feel the power swelling and being channeled through her body, down her right arm, and coalescing in her raised palm. Finally, at the end of his narrative, her client turned around in the chair to ask.

"So how about it, toots? You think I'm goin' away for this?" He asked.

Miranda's hand fell and struck his face with a blinding flash, all of the spell's energy discharging into her oblivious client.

She reached down to the cushion of the seat, where her client hadn't recovered from being shrunk to barely an inch tall and seized his naked form, quickly lifting him above her head. Her tongue ran between her dark red lips once, wetting them in anticipation as her mouth opened wide.

"So much for quitting cold turkey." She said to herself, as she dropped him in.

"Oh my gahd, he's so cute!" The woman marveled at Sierra's living jewelry. It was made only slightly awkward by the fact that Sierra didn't know the woman who was leaning in to get a better look, and was only inches away from Sierra's left nipple.

"How d’ y’ get him to stay in place? Tape?" The tipsy party goer inquired.

"No, uh, it's magnetic. His manacles are made of mild steel plated in platinum, and under the dress I have a small magnet pierced to my nipple instead of my normal jewelry. It allows me to have him displayed without me walking around with one tit hanging out, or any real danger of him falling and getting stepped on."

"Thas’ amazing! How did you come by him?"

Even with her mouth just below Sierra’s tit, Sierra could still smell the booze wafting up from every half-uttered word. She could only imagine what little Weepy must be going through. True to his name, Weepy appeared to be crying and moaning through the gag, he’d been uncooperative since Sierra had acquired him in a trade, but tonight it worked to her design. Weepy’s fallen countenance, his tears and even his barely audible woeful noises complimented Sierra’s dark makeup, and darker dress. Although the woman hanging from her left ear, and the second man adorning the index finger of her right hand, had been silent all night, the trio really allowed Sierra to stand out, even among the more expensive, and exclusive, attire sported by some of the wealthier party goers. Including the inebriated woman sporting the haute couture dress marveling at her work.

"I actually make this jewelry," Sierra offered, dodging the question of where she had acquired Weepy. "All of it bespoke, with a tiny set in place, and support provided for those inevitable unfortunate incidents.”

Sierra produced one of her business cards, a beige affair with her logo, a stylized woman’s neckline with a stylized shrunken person in much where a pendant necklace would be, the woman’s hand almost obscuring the shrunken person in raised red ink. On the reverse, her e-mail in similar red ink, and nothing else. She made sure to offer the card with her right hand, the ring with the small man bent backwards around her finger over a platinum band on full display. The woman's eyes lit up and fixated on Sierra's ring, as she plucked the card from Sierra's fingertips.

"That's so lovely!" She said, surprisingly adroit and gently waving Sierra's card. "Ah'll be in touch!"

Sierra waved back politely, but was already shuffling away from the woman toward the balcony for some air that didn't smell of booze or sound of haughtiness. The party had likely been fruitful, she was out of business cards, and several of them had made it into hands that could likely afford Sierra's exorbitant prices without balking.

The balcony was uninhabited, the night was starting to chill, and most of the guests were inside making as much of their opportunities to be seen as possible, so Sierra found the privacy she sought in the darkening evening sky. The balcony afforded Sierra a wide railing to set her drink and handbag down. She leaned over on her crossed arms and savored the silence and cool air as the city began to light up against the setting sun.

A heavy sigh escaped her as Sierra allowed herself to relax. The whole night had been a mix of adrenaline, anxiety, and apprehension even as she bluffed and cajoled her way through what had amounted to an extremely high-stakes advertising venture for her. But here, in the peace of the balcony, it all seemed worth it.

From inside her handbag, Sierra could hear her phone buzzing in short, frequent bursts of activity. She didn’t bother standing back up as she pulled the phone out to see the notifications of incoming e-mails to her work address. Clients, dozens of them from inside the party, all placing the initial inquiries for commissioned pieces of jewelry with living, shrunken people as the centerpieces instead of gems. Sierra smiled to herself as some of the requests in the titles translated in her mind into asking prices.

“Well, it looks like I’ll need to start hunting on the weekends too.” She said.

Tana heard a squeal of protest as she slipped her foot into her winter slipper. It was the same squeaking complaint she'd heard dozens of times before. She ignored it completely as her toes caught the tiny man's body and pushed him along the deep wooly fleece that lined her favorite, well-worn, leather winter slippers. His body disappeared into the slipper only moments before her own robin's egg blue toenails vanished into the fleece and leather. Even as his voice was silenced, Tana could feel her toes carry him into the deepest part of her slipper, losing their grip at the last moment and depositing him just beneath her toes as she pulled the slipper over her heel.

With her slippers donned, Tana threw herself back onto her bed and began scrolling through her apps. The foot that shared a slipper with her date was held aloft, gently bouncing up and down in the air as it rested, crossed over the other leg. Although this wasn’t her favorite part of acquiring new toys, that would come later, there was still something undeniably wonderful about feeling someone fight for their freedom against her teal painted toes, fight and utterly fail. She was only half-focused on the sensation, but every few moments his body would shift, and she’d clench or stretch her toes inside her slipper, reasserting her toes’ control over him.

Tana lost herself in her scrolling, and her idle toe torturing of the man who had, at the start of the night, been taller than her and some short time ago, been under her as she rode him. Tana only snapped out of her scrolling when her phone alerted her to its low battery. After sitting back up and connecting her phone back to the charger, Tana crossed her legs and pulled the foot containing her date up over her opposite thigh.

She pulled at the heel of the slipper and it slid off without too much resistance. Tana was careful to make sure that the toe of the slipper stayed down, and that her captive wouldn’t tumble out before she was ready. The heat coming from her freshly released skin and the smell coming from the slipper suggested she may have allowed too long to pass, but she was confident that she could still feel him moving prior to taking off the slipper.

“Hello in there.” She called into the footwear. “Are you ready to obey now?”

Tana didn’t wait for a response, she turned the slipper over in front of her and allowed the tiny man to haphazardly tumble free, onto her bed’s comforter. Tana smiled at his condition, and her concerns about being overzealous with his first time in her slipper faded. Although he looked so much worse, covered in her foot sweat, red skinned from either the heat or being played with by her toes, panting with exhaustion, and visible streaks of tears running down his face, he was still very much alive, if very less active than when she’d entrapped him inside.

“So, how about it?” Tana asked. “Are you ready to be a good, little toy and obey me?”

“Change me back!” The shrunken man screamed, although to Tana it wasn’t much of a scream. “I’m done! I want out! Change me back right now!”

“Hmmm...” Tana mused with a patronizing tone. “No."

Tana loved the look on his face as she flat out denied him.

"And besides, that’s the wrong response. That means you get to spend more time with Righty here.” Tana said.

Tana held her bare foot over the shrunken man, causing him to squirm as he tried in vain to get away from it. Tana savored the expression of horror on his face as she wriggled her toes above him, her foot eclipsing his view and many times him in length. The shrinking spell was never very precise, but this time it had reduced a man that had to have been near six and a half feet down to, at most, two inches. She’d have time to properly measure him later, but if she was right, that meant that he was, at most, just under one-fifth as tall as her foot was long.

“You can’t do this!” He screamed, while trying hopelessly to scramble over the comforter.

“Oh, I very much can, and I’m going to.” Tana replied.

She dropped her foot down, her toes trapping the little man under them.

“But since you don’t seem to comprehend your new lot in life, let me spell it out for you.” Tana said. She couldn’t help her jovial tone. “You belong to me now. You are my toy, a thing for me to use and abuse however I see fit. I require perfect, unflinching obedience from my toys. If I tell you to lie down under my foot so I can crush you, you need to ask me if I want you face up or face down. If I tell you to climb into my mouth so I can eat you, you need to ask me if I want you raw or flavored. If I tell you to hold onto the side of a buttplug so I can bury you inside of me for the rest of your short life, I expect you to ask me which one.”

After flexing her toes, just a bit, Tana lifted her foot off the tiny man and scooped him up in her hand quickly. She hovered him over the opening to the same slipper.

“You don’t actually get a choice anymore.” She said to the man on her palm. “But right now, I am giving you the option of submitting completely to me now, or extending out the process of breaking you.”

She dropped him into the slipper and tilted it, sending him back into the toe-section of the slipper. Held up, she could smell that the slipper had not had a chance to dry, or cool, or dissipate any of the stench of her unwashed foot being wrapped in its fleece-lined grip.

“Now, I’d suggest you make up your mind this time.” Tana said toward the opening of the shoe. “I’m going to binge a new show, and you’re not coming out this time until the season break. If you’re ready to be an obedient little toy then, you can spend the rest of the night in a jar. If I detect any hint of disobedience from you, you’ll keep my foot company until morning.”

There was some kind of sound coming from inside the slipper, but Tana couldn’t tell if it was words or simply wailing, either way it didn’t stop her from slipping her foot, light blue painted toes first, into the slipper. The slipper felt good as she pulled onto her heel again. Unlike last time, she devoted some manner of attention to the man at her toes, vigorously squeezing him and pushing him around the toe of the slipper. She leaned back in her bed and flicked the television on with her remote, her streaming service came up by default. She tucked her legs under her sheets, blanket, and comforter, and rested against her pillow.

“Oh, twenty six episodes.” She said, squeezing the little man under her toes. “This should be good!”

There was little to do.

The snow had blanketed everything in a layer of white so thick that Okk could identify neither the natural landmarks that he had noted on the early morning trek to the more fertile ground nor make out any tracks at all. The snow descended with such blinding fury that Okk could not even see the mountain to get a sense of his direction.

Even so, Okk had not ever laid down to die, and today would be no different. If some of the freezing peoples were to find Okk, they would find him striving forward. Or backward. Whichever way Okk’s feet were carrying him through the thick freeze.

Okk's fingers and toes were long since numb, but he was beginning to lose feeling in his limbs rapidly. The heavy furs he had simply couldn’t contend with the relatively sudden snow storm that had fallen. Ice and snow found their way between his layers where they melted and then re-froze, leaving him a shambling, rime-encrusted husk of a man. Just as he thought he might buckle under the cold and his own exhaustion, in the midst of the flurry in front of him there grew a shadow. The dark form gave Okk pause. Okk was moving slow, even stopped now, but the shadow was growing in size as though he were running toward it. Even standing still, the shadow continued to rise up in the blur. Worse still, against the howling wind, Okk could hear a steady, rhythmic thud, accompanied with subtle shuddering of the earth beneath him. As the sound grew, the shadow itself grew taller and wider still, and for a moment Okk considered that the mountain may be falling on him.

The instinct to flee welled up in Okk with an unexpected suddenness, but his legs would no longer respond. Despite his blood pumping faster and faster, Okk could feel his vision fading. As darkness crept into the sides of Okk’s vision, he watched the world rise up around him, and the snow jump up to catch him. Okk was vaguely aware of the ground continuing to shake, and the sound that it accompanied growing louder, but his eyes had shut against the cold.

Okk had expected the embrace of death to be cold and weighty, like ice covering him, but the sensations he distantly felt couldn’t have been more different. Warmth wrappeed around him. And even though he was still exhausted and his limbs felt unbearably heavy, he found himself floating, even flying. Finally a darkness that cradled him in a comforting heat.

The drums of the freezing peoples were well known to Okk. The freezing peoples kept to themselves, they ducked out of sight and avoided all contact. In his time around the valley beneath the mountain, Okk had only caught glimpses of their shapes at a distance, each dressed in their heavy furs and animal horns, both cut from the massive beasts that roamed the mountainside and valley. Okk had thought them beasts or spirits at first, so thick was their attire and accoutrement. But the drums couldn’t be avoided. In the morning the drums began, echoing through valleys and off the hills, and seeming to call the sun up from its rest. They sounded again at the peak of day, and then finally at night, continuing long after the sun itself had gone to sleep.

In the pitch black of sleep, the drums of the freezing peoples came to him. Distant, like an angry sky’s rage at first, every beat grew in strength, the rhythm seizing on his own heartbeat. Before long, the peace of sleep was itself a dance, spurred on by the pounding of drums.

Warm light in Okk’s eyes joined the thundering drums in his ears, and the sensation of warmth flooded over him. He could feel his limbs, his toes, his fingers, even his face felt as though a gentle stream cooling him as the warmth around him encouraged him to remain asleep. Okk’s eyes fluttered open, allowing the orange and yellow glow to seep between his lazy eyelids. The blur around him slowly coalesced into something recognizable, and cool water continued to delicately pour over his forehead.

In front of him was a smile. Okk couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been out, as the smile appeared overly large, and worse, the face that bore the smile seemed to have eyes set into a void above the smile. It took a few fear-paralyzed moments for Okk’s eyes to adjust to the light and recognize that the face of the woman looking down on him wasn’t that of some evil spirit, but was half-covered, from the nose up, in an opaque ash, leaving the relatively paler skin below to seem alien. The smile, however, seemed genuine in its relief and kindness. Her face was framed by a deeply dark wreath of hair that fell free of any impediments over her neck and shoulders.

It took many more moments for Okk to process the other unusual attribute of the woman who squeezed a cloth of water over his head. She wiped away the excess water with a single hand that more than covered his entire face. The water was cleared from his face and an oversized thumb swept any excess from his eyes.

The giant woman turned from Okk and called out in a tongue that was alien to Okk. Almost immediately another joined her hovering over Okk. This one was a man, and to Okk’s initial relief, seemed to be more in line with Okk’s expectations of another human’s size. It was less relieving to see the man, easily Okk’s equal in height and bulk, next to the woman who was even more easily more than double Okk in height. This man’s face also sported ash, spread across its top, from his nose up to where it even colored the roots of his hair.

The man brought with him a bowl, deep and curved in a manner that Okk had never seen, but large enough that he had to carry it with one arm wrapped around it, and another beneath it. The bowl was less of a challenge for the woman who took it from the man and brought it before Okk, delicately tipping the massive reservoir as she lifted his head to bring Okk’s lips to the bowl’s edge. Okk drank the liquid that poured into his mouth without hesitation. Even before collapsing in the snow, it had been too long since he’d had anything to drink, and even longer since he’d eaten. It was what had prompted him to set out in the relatively clear early morning to seek food and water.

The stream of water that poured into Okk’s throat was a welcome relief, and Okk may have attempted to drink the entire bowl, if the woman hadn’t pulled it back from him. The water worked to clear Okk’s head even further, and he became aware of the sounds other than the drums surrounding him. The world around him was alive, singing, cheering, drums, rattles, pipes, all swirled around. Okk was suddenly aware of the environment he found himself in.

Okk found himself in a cave like he’d never seen. The walls were higher than any he’d ever encountered, and from where he reclined, he could see into the deep structure. Immediately catching his attention was a giant fire, burning in the center of the cave, the column of smoke, thicker than any tree, disappearing out of a hole in the top of the cave. Around the fire, people danced. Men and women, wearing cloth at their waists and little else against the heat of the bonfire, moved around the bonfire in a celebratory, uncoordinated dance. The difference in size and faces half covered in ash Okk observed in his two caretakers carried through to the dancers in the cave as well, with women towering over and next to the men as they danced.

Smaller fires burned throughout the cave, casting illumination and warmth to smaller groups or individuals, some had spits built over with foods of various sources being turned, there were a number of permanent huts of grass, mud, and wood constructed that seemed to offer some kind of privacy, there were also drying and smoking racks set up. Scattered around, hanging on walls of huts or on the cave, Okk recognized the fur and hide garments of the freezing peoples. Okk had seen villages on the open plains with less space and less development. But it wasn’t the village, contained seemingly entirely within the confines of the largest cave Okk had ever beheld that caught and kept Okk’s attention. Instead his eyes fell on something that he could scarcely believe.

Across from the bonfire, still visible despite the flames reaching hire than even the women dancing around it, Okk could make out the face and shape of a single, gigantic woman. Although she sat at the fire, she still dwarfed everything around her, the difference between her size and the other women greater than that of the women and the men. She alone sported no ash across her face, which laughed, smiled, and talked with the much smaller people around her. Even from where he lay, on what felt like cured hides and furs, Okk could see dozens if not more of the freezing people’s attending to this absolutely titanic woman. Some offered her food and items, others danced for her entertainment, more still attended to her physically, their smaller hands and arms diligently massaging and kneading her skin.

Ok was given no more time to gawk, as another member of the freezing peoples approached. This woman, equal in height if not taller than the one caregiver treating him, was older, with the ash on her face disguising some of the greys in her hair, but she still stood upright, and carried herself with the airs of a huntress. The huntress wore her hair in a braid down her back, and unlike most of the other freezing peoples in the cave wore cloth over her shoulders and chest, down to leather shoes. The huntress spoke to the caregiver, in the same tongue that the caregiver had used, but clearly with authority. The exchange between the two was brief, but from the somatic clues, Okk began to dread what was coming. The huntress had indicated Okk  where he lay, and then the titaness across the cave.

The caregiver seemed to acknowledge and turned back to Okk. Okk had little hope of understanding their language. It sounded nothing like the tongue of the river people he had come from, nor the plains nomads he’d trekked with, but the caregiver’s speech was calm, steadying, and gentle. Even more helpful, she was effective at miming her thoughts, and Okk was made aware that he was being asked or instructed to attempt to stand. Most effective still, the caregiver had little trouble lifting Okk, with the delicacy of someone helping a infant to stand on two limbs, from where he convalesced.

The fear and anxiety building in Okk’s chest couldn’t be ignored, but because he couldn’t see an exit anywhere, and because the only reason he could stand with any efficacy was that he was also being held aloft by a pair of giant hands, Okk didn’t even make the attempt. Instead, as his legs shakily lifted him up, he was suddenly aware that he was completely naked. Okk’s hands instinctively shot down to cover himself, and whether due to the water still clinging to the caregiver’s hands or the gentle nature of her support, he arms slipped free of her and he felt his legs threaten to buckle from under him.

Okk would’ve found himself collapsed back to the bedding had the caregiver not been ready and caught him as he fell, steadying him and pulling him back to his feet. The motion itself was enough to refresh feeling in his legs, and through her chuckling the caregiver spoke to the man that had brought the water, who quickly darted off and returned just as the caregiver let Okk attempt to remain upright under his own legs again. The man returned with one of Okk’s cloaks, a thin thing that he kept for hotter weather, but it was enough to cover himself, and he sloppily wrapped his waist in the cloak.

Slowly, very literally under the watchful eyes of the caregiver, Okk was escorted through the cave. The huntress joined, and Okk was reminded of his relatively short stature as the caregiver behind him and the huntress in front of him worked to keep him hidden from the revelers and people in the cave. He moved slowly, every step taking longer than he’d hoped, and made worse by the strides his two escorts took. Each swing of the caregiver’s legs, as long as he was tall, almost overtook him, leading to a chuckle from above him every time, his caregiver clearly enjoying the spectacle of his wobbly march.

Despite the efforts of the huntress and, less so, the caregiver, Okk still caught the eye of several of the freezing peoples tribe that reveled around the fire. If they cared, they showed little as one even attempted to pass him some instrument that seemed a blend of hand drum and rattle, but the huntress quickly shooed her away, back to her celebrations. The path was relatively direct, around the bonfire, but still reinforced Okk’s marvel at the size of both the fire and the freezing peoples’ settlement.

It also served to reinforce Okk’s terror and awe at the titaness, who had taken notice of the trio approaching. Okk was suddenly transported back in his mind to the blinding snow storm, and the growing shadow that he had seen in the distance, and the thundering of footsteps. Even now, in the warmth of the cave, next to the blazing fire, Okk felt the cold of the snow seep in. Recollection flooded back into him, and the dawning realization that he lived only because this titaness who regarded him from above with interest, had plucked his half-frozen body from the snow and carried him back to the settlement.

As Okk was brought closer, he became suddenly aware of the cave around him. The cave stood still and silent. The singing and chanting, the drums, rattles, and pipes, even the shuffling of feet and din of the freezing peoples’ tongues had fallen silent. Only the crackling of flames behind him made any discernible noise. Okk looked around to confirm what he dreaded, as he stood now between the bonfire and the titaness, with the caregiver still standing over him and the huntress in front of him, the entire freezing peoples had turned to silently observe.

The huntress spoke, kneeling in front the titaness sitting idly with one knee up and one down, and looking amused at the situation playing out before her. One hand from the huntress pointed back at Okk as she did. The titaness seemed to acknowledge her, and Okk felt the caregiver’s hands on his shoulders again. This time she guided him forward, closer to the titaness as the huntress stood and stepped aside. When he was almost within his own arm’s reach of the titaness’s massive foot, the caregiver stopped him and he felt a growing pressure on his shoulders. At first, Okk was confused, but it became clear that the caregiver was pushing him down as subtly and gently as she could. Okk took the hint and allowed himself to fall to one knee, as the huntress had done, but the caregiver’s hands pushed him further down, onto both knees, and then one hand pushed his head down until his face was nearly in the dirt.

Okk felt the sweat beading on his skin, he tried to prevent his limbs from shaking, and he worked to control his breathing, to varying degrees of success. Moments passed into an agony of waiting. The huntress spoke, the caregiver spoke, the titaness spoke, their conversation occurring while Okk could see nothing but the dirt of the cave. When the titaness spoke again, this time with more finality, Okk was relieved to feel the caregiver’s hands come off him, although he didn’t budge. The titaness spoke again, the same words it seemed, but this time the caregiver’s hands found their way under Okk’s arms and without warning he was hoisted up. The ground pulled away from him, and Okk found himself hanging from his underarms, the caregiver lifting him up in offering in front of the titaness, who chuckled in amusement.

It was then, hanging in the caregiver’s hands, that Okk was able to see the titaness without impediment. No smoke or flame stood between them, no distance separated them, and certainly no snowstorm obfuscated anything in the cave. Still looking down on him, Okk could make out the green eyes, the skin like a dark wood, and the hair of thick, dark curls, spreading out around her. She wore what the revelers around her and attending her wore, naked save for a garment of many furred animal hides sewn together around her waist. She reclined

Okk’s fear must have been clear as day in the light of the fire, but was only greeted with the titaness’s amused grin. A grin that only grew wider as the titaness’s hand moved from where it rested on her knee, toward Okk. Some animal part of Okk’s brain wanted to flee, and for a flash of instinct, he tried to squirm from the hands of the caregiver, but more forcefully than they ever had, the caregiver’s hands held him fast. He was powerless to stop the titaness’s fingers from wrapping around him, and plucking him from the caregiver’s hands.

The titaness lifted Okk up, higher still from the ground than Okk had ever been. She brought him before her face, up to her eyes. The deep green eyes fixed on him, while Okk tried to cling to a finger or thumb to give himself some sense of security in the air. Okk was turned and tumbled in her hand, his was spun and rotated, while laid out over just her fingers, seemingly ready to be cast into the fire, the fingers of her other hand pinched at the cloak wrapped around his waist and pulled it free and tossing it into the bonfire, leaving Okk naked in the titaness hand.

She rolled him back onto his back, relatively stable on her palm. Okk had only a moment to savor the feeling of feeling relatively safe before he was rocketed up toward her face. Her hand pressed him into her lips and just below her nose where she drew in a deep, prolonged sniff. The force of it was enough to disrupt what little consistency his hair held, and as she released it only to take in his scent again and again, Okk was buffeted the by titaness’s respiration over and over. Moreover there was no abating her scent. Pressed between her palm and her face, Okk was overwhelmed with the woman’s scent and her breath washing over him only reinforced it.

When she finally pulled him away, Okk was out breath, and dazed, limp in her palm. The vortex of her nostrils had left him trying to make sense of everything that he’d been subjected to, but the titaness didn’t give him long to rest. The hand pulled him right back to her face, but this time Okk wasn’t to contend with the titaness’s nose, instead he was pulled into her parting lips and emerging tongue. A scream was immediately stifled as the giant tongue hit him like a wave from an angry sea, but kept at him. The tongue slid between his legs, and under his arms, leaving a thick, pungent coating of saliva as it went. For short seconds, it would retreat, only to return, freshly coated with saliva to resume it’s probing. Even when the tongue wasn’t assaulting him, the titaness’s breath felt like he was drowning inside her, leaving him no comfort, or succor from her mouth. Eventually the probing actions of the tongue were replaced with broad, heavy licks from the tongue, pressing the air out of him with each stroke.

As the titaness pulled her hand away, and Okk with it, he was left with a thick layer of spit, leaving strands of trailing liquid behind. Okk coughed, sputtered, and finally panted, laying in her palm exhausted even more so than when he had collapsed from the cold. There was barely strength in him left to raise his chest with each breath, and he hung limp as she inspected him again.

Barely conscious, but still aware, Okk was almost relieved as the titaness’s fingers wrapped around him again, squishing a bit of the spit, but securely holding him in her grip with only his head above her fist. Holding him at eye-level, Okk looked the titaness face to face through thoroughly defeated eyes.

Her other hand appeared in front of him, and Okk saw his end. He saw her fingers coming together around his head and twisting it effortlessly from his neck, or simply pinching until his head was reduced to nothing but a smear between her thumb and forefinger. Okk clenched his eyes against the inevitable, but no violence came. Instead, Okk felt the thumb of the giantess press into his face and slide over the top of his face. As the thumb left him he opened his eyes to see motes of ash falling from both her thumb and his own face.

The cave erupted into cheers and shouts and a cacophony of drums and other music. The freezing peoples elated without restraint as Okk was lowered back down, where the caregiver was waiting with literally open arms to receive him from the tribe’s living goddess. The caregiver caught him in her arms and squeezed him in a tight, almost painful embrace spinning around in her own celebration. In the crazy crescendo, Okk caught a glimpse of the titaness tearing into the roasted haunch of some massive animal, he caught a glimpse of food and clothing being brought toward him, but mostly he felt a rare security and safety. Just before he passed out, Okk found himself grateful he’d been found by the living goddess of the freezing people.

"Didst thou not wish to bear witness to our royal magic?" The fairy queen asked, still mercilessly working Justin into her companion. "Fear thee not, the spell laid upon thy form shall keep thee from the reaper's scythe, for now."

The assurance did little to quell Justin's panicking.

"Sybil is a fine vassal of our realm, and her depths shall prove fitting enough gaol for the likes of thee until a proper trial can be called." Said Titania with vicious glee.

From where she had been deposited, atop Sybil's raised ass, Leah had an unobstructed view of Justin's entombment in Sybil's rectum. As royal fairy fingers forced him deeper into Sybil, Justin's screaming became incoherent, his pleading and begging turning into mindless wailing. The tears that had been welling in his eyes flowed freely down his face, and what little energy he could still muster to resist was ultimately useless against the queen's fingers. As the fairy queen deftly slid Justin down to his hips inside her vassal, tucking his arms in at his side, Sybil panted with pleasure, but managed to maintain her grip on her own cheeks and kept them spread. In no time, it seemed, Justin had been submerged in Sybil down to his shoulders.

"Now I think it time to seal thy cell so that we may abscond to my court." The queen announced.

She hovered her face over Justin and pursed her lips. Leah knew what was coming, but still was shocked to see the amount of spit that flew from the queen's mouth as she lubricated Leah's rectum. The spit clung to Justin, turning his screams of horror into sputtering and coughing. The queen licked her lips clean and a sadistic grin spread over her face.

Before Justin could acclimate to the assault, two of the queen's fingers found their way to Justin's shoulders and unceremoniously pushed. Sybil squealed as her queen's fingers buried themselves, and Justin, down to the knuckle in one swift, uncaring stroke. Even still, Titania twisted her fingers, deep inside Sybil, and tried, however in vain, to push her hand even deeper. Her noble, bare-bottom squire’s squeal dropped a few octaves into a moan, and Titania rewarded it with a very sharp slap on the ass.

“Hold thyself together, naive!” Titania barked. “The cretin is nearly secure in thy rump.”

Sybil didn’t so much respond as futilely attempt to mute her moans, while she drooled onto the leaf the whole ceremony had taken place on. The smaller fairy did seem to be having difficulty both staying up, or rather, keeping her ass up, and keeping her cheeks wide open as her liege’s hand, Titania’s hand, no longer her fingers, threatened to breach what little resistance she had left between her cheeks.

Leah could do nothing to stop the grisly affair, but it seemed to have reached its climax as the fairy queen’s hand began to recede from Sybil’s anus. The two fingers that had plunged so deeply into Sybil slid out with seemingly no resistance and glistened with Titania’s own spit. The fairy queen took a moment, and met Leah’s eyes before sucking her own fingers clean of the excess fluid. In that stare, Leah thought she heard a scream come from under where she stood on Sybil’s tailbone, from deep within Sybil, but couldn’t be sure.

“Sybil! Comport thyself!” Titania ordered. “Thou lookest like the common cur in heat, with thy cunny and ass on display for all of my kingdom to witness.”

“Yes ma’am.” Sybil panted, finally releasing her cheeks and sealing Justin between two mounds of fairy fat and flesh.

“And as for thee.” Titania said to Leah. “Since thy tongue did not wag as disrespectfully as thy companion’s, we shall not condemn thee to the same gaol."

Leah's hope surged from a fear she had only half-allowed herself to feel. The sudden thought of being trapped, at a fraction of an inch tall, inside the ass of anything was not a fate Leah had ever even contemplated.

"But thy lack of proper deference to our royal person must be punished still." Titania stated. "And thy trial shall align with his."

Leah had no time to flee, as the fairy queen's hand, the same hand that had just shoved Justin deep inside her vassal's butt, caught Leah in it's grasp.

"And for thy own holding…" Titania said, pulling up the waist of the short dress she wore. "We have chosen a method of securing thy form and magnanimously affording thee an opportunity to show thy penance."

Leah screamed as Titania brought the shrunken wildlife photographer down to the fairy queen's already glistening sex.

"As I told thy companion, fear not." Titania said, wasting no time in plunging Leah inside herself.

Leah fought back with all her diminished might, but had as much success in freeing herself as Justin had. The lips of the fairy queen accepted Leah with little resistance, owing mostly to Leah's extremely small size, but also to Titania's hurry to feel the shrunken woman inside her. Once Titania's fingers had pressed Leah into the vagina, and Leah's struggles only served to please her, Leah was left alone in the dark, hot, flooded confines of the royal pussy.

"Thy life will not end for lack of breath…" Titania said, unknowing and uncaring if Leah could still hear her. "Now, come Sybil, we must to the skies if we are to reach our castle by break of dawn."

"Ma'am?" Sybil asked, perplexed. "It's only late in the morning, and your castle's right there. I can see it."

"Don't wag thy tongue in defiance to us, Sybil." Titania said as she flitted from the leaf on glinting wings. "We are in the mood for a brief tour of the kingdom's natural grandeur."

"Yes, ma'am." Sybil said, making sure to clench before taking off to join the queen.

"Well, Micah, since you wouldn't eat pussy, I'm going to have to let my pussy eat you."

Micah screamed, Christina could hear as much, but he was already in her hand, suspended in front of her vagina, which she had been playing with for the last few minutes and held open with her other hand. His screaming was almost immediately silenced as Christina shoved his shrunken body as deep inside herself as she could manage, using her fingers to push him deep. Only his legs from the knees down, kicking in uncontrolled panic, remained unclaimed by her pussy.

"Nnng, that's such a better fit for you, Micah. I should have done this as soon as you shrunk."

Christina knew that Micah didn't have much time, and so, neither did she. She grabbed her favorite vibrator, already next to her on the bed. A simple, purple thing, it was instantly recognizable for what it was, but it's uncomplicated build also meant the little silicone pussy rocket never failed. Even without the aid of the dildo, Micah's attempts to escape her were already working in her favor.

“Micah, if you had been this useful before you shrunk, I might’ve been tempted to… oh my god… keep you around a bit longer.”

She knew Micah couldn’t hear her, not that she cared. The dildo was in her hand with the kind of deft skill that came from many nights finishing herself off after Micah had fallen asleep, and plunged into her sex after her ex with unrepentant speed and force.

Christina moaned as the silicone shaft slid home, slamming into Micah’s wriggling body and driving him even deeper into her than she could manage with her fingers. It was almost too much to bear, but Christina willed herself to keep going despite the pleasurable electricity coursing through her. She turned herself over and climbed to her knees, burying her face into her pillows so she could work the dildo even deeper into herself.

"Shho good!"

She turned her face was deep in her pillows because she couldn't help but scream as her wrist shoved the vibrator in and out herself. Each thrust bumped Micah's body deeper and deeper into her even if getting him much deeper would be impossible. Every time the tip of the dildo slammed home, Micah’s struggling renewed, and so rewarded Christina with a burst of body shuddering pleasure. The hand that had been occupied with holding open her labia to ease Micah’s insertion moved to her clit and began feverishly working to accelerate the process.

Christina could still feel Micah’s body, battered and beaten by the dildo over and over again, although she could no longer feel his struggles. Some distant, small part of her mind, separate from the berserk lust and hungry vengeance that continued to move her hand in deep, violent thrusts of the dildo recognized that Micah’s inactivity could only be a sign of his body being too pulverized to even twitch, but that part of her mind was not in control.

The part of Christina’s mind that was in control was far more concerned with enjoying herself. Although she felt her legs kick out from under her, laying flat prone on her bed, that didn’t stop her hands, one with fingers still gripping the base of the purple dildo, and the other still rubbing over her clit, remained tucked between her legs under her. Even as she felt the orgasm approaching its fruition, Christina couldn’t care less about the risk leaving Micah inside her as she brought herself over the finish line.

Christina’s body tensed, her sheets caught in her curled toes, and while the overwhelming sensation of heat, almost, but not quite, painful in intensity, pulsed out through her body, Christina could distantly feel something snap inside her. The brief, almost imperceptible sensation inside her was overwritten by the orgasm almost immediately. The orgasm lasted only a few moments, and left Christina face down on her bed. Panting, exhausted, and feeling the heat disperse into a kind of sublime bliss throughout her entire body, Christina allowed herself to lay in her soaked sheets.

She felt the dildo, no longer held in her hand, finally slip out of her, but didn’t care. She did roll over, out of the wet spot on the pillow at her head and the sheets at her crotch. Even though she could feel the dildo against her outer thigh, Christina could still feel a foreign object inside pussy. Not wanting to risk an annoying infection, Christina reached between her legs and sunk a pair of fingers into her very sensitive labia. She found what she was looking for almost immediately, and with a little effort, and some discomfort as her pussy sent needle like tingles through her, and dredged Micah from inside her.

Holding him up, pinched between her fingers, Christina’s lust addled mind could very clearly see a broken, mangled husk of what had been her boyfriend. Micah’s limbs were broken and bent at unnatural angles, his back was twisted almost a full turn, and his head, also pounded into an unrecognizable state, hung limply from what was clearly a broken neck. Christina couldn’t stifle a laugh.

“Oh, Micah, you look like shit! I guess I really was too much woman for you, wasn’t I?”

Christina was still laughing as she tossed the tiny corpse blindly into the trash bin next to her bed, where it made a quiet splat on the wall of the bin, before sliding down in with the rest of the forgotten refuse.

“I’m so happy you decided to join me.” Kiarra said.

In the shadow of the giant woman, Theo wasn’t as happy with the decision. Kiarra had been indulging in the electric lettuce since before he’d arrived and had only continued to smoke while he was over. He’d only been over to her apartment for a half hour, and had already almost ended up as a smear beneath her freshly pedicured toes three times, crushed under her microfiber wrapped ass twice, and he’d even come dangerously close to being improbably scooped up on a chip with a one-way ticket to the bottom of Kiarra’s stomach.

All of those close calls flashed before Theo’s eyes as Kiarra adjusted herself on the couch. The ratty t-shirt she wore looked like it would’ve barely contained her massive chest, if it hadn’t been stretched, ripped, and softened by what looked like a decade of almost constant use. The distorted image of some indecipherable metal band’s logo threatened to bulldoze him under as he scrambled to avoid being buried under her tits. The couch wasn’t helping matters, instead of a comfortable, worn leather surface, Theo found it to be a sinking morass of softness that made escaping Kiarra’s looming chest a desperate climb for safety. For her part, Kiarra didn’t notice Theo’s potential end under her tits, and instead focused on retaining maximum comfort laying on her side while packing her next bowl.

As Theo reached the peak of the couch’s cushion, Kiarra brought the renewed bong off the coffee table and back into position. Theo found himself staring up in awe at Kiarra’s deft manipulation of the glass monolith that was dozens and dozens of times Theo’s size. She’d clearly had plenty of practice with it as she lit the bowl and pulled a long drag into the chamber. The chamber percolated so uproariously, Theo was certain it would explode into a fountain of foul smelling bong water, but quickly realized that he’d never been so close to a bong in use since he’d shrunk. The chamber filled up with a dense smoke, up the tube and to where Kiarra had her mouth sealed against it. She pulled the stem out and with the kind of draught that comes from years of practice, emptied the entire tube in the blink of an eye.

Theo stood still awed as she set the bong and lighter back down on the table, all the while holding a breath that would’ve filled his lungs hundreds of times over. It seemed like her capacity to hold in all that smoke was endless, as she finally took notice of Theo, looking up in stunned silence at her.

A grin spread across her face, and before Theo realized what was about to happen, Kiarra pursed her lips and let out a stream of smoke from her lungs. Theo was overwhelmed instantly by a torrent of smoke that choked the breath from his lung and smelled of the pungent strain that Kiarra had cultivated for today. Theo flailed desperately in the billowing cloud, trying to clear the air, but succeeded only in getting disoriented, and tumbling down the couch into Kiarra’s chest, where the smoke only grew thicker and heavier around him. He coughed and sputtered, sure it could not get worse as Kiarra shifted and her massive chest dragged him under. The soft cloth, soft breasts, and soft couch still made for a hellish prison as he was submerged under an ocean of Kiarra’s tits.

While it felt like he was racing to see if he could drown in boob-flesh, choke on smoke, or be crushed under the inattentiveness of his classmate, Theo was quickly assaulted by something new from between the couch and Kiarra. A pair of fingers, Kiarra’s fingers with those immediately recognizable glitter-and-dark-purple nails, forced their way into his fleshy tomb and snatched him free of the crushing depths.

“Hey now!” Kiarra said, a lazy smile on her face. “If I had known that’s what you were after I don’t know if I’d have invited you over.”

Theo didn’t respond, he was still too busy trying to breathe again, and cough up all the weed smoke that had invaded his lungs.

“Hmmmm…” Kiarra mused. “I’m not necessarily opposed to it, but if we’re going to have fun let’s really have some fun.”

“Wha…?” Theo asked, his head becoming fuzzy as the cannabis began to work its magic.

Kiarra rolled over on her back and set Theo down in the slight valley of her overly taxed t-shirt. Theo found himself on a pliable, soft surface, still disoriented. He thought better of trying to move and fell backwards, sliding perilously down until he came to rest on her stomach.

“Just wait there a little moment, little guy.” Kiarra said.

With an impressive amount of caution, so as not to disturb Theo from where he lay, Kiarra managed to pick up the pipe next to the bong, set a small flame on the herb already loaded into it, and bring it back to her. She also plucked Theo up from where he rested, making the world fall away in addition to spin.

“Okay, I’ve always wanted to try this…” Kiarra said, an ominous amount of mischief in her grin.

She took a long, sucking drag from the pipe, but even from where he hung in her fingers, Theo could see that her chest remained still. She wasn’t actually inhaling any of the smoke, just pulling all of it into her mouth. Theo couldn’t make sense of anything as she pulled the pipe, completely spent, away but kept her mouth shut. He dreaded the thought of being unable to run, suspended between her fingers, if she were to blow the smoke at him a second time.

As he dreaded the oncoming cloud of smoke, he was horrified to feel like he was falling, as Kiarra instead brought him to her face. He had no chance to object before she pressed him into her lips with her index finger, and heedless of his comfort or safety, began to roughly push him through her sealed lips. Suddenly flooded with adrenaline, the haze of the weed was cleared in a moment of horror, but it did Theo no good as he passed between Kiarra’s lips, squeezed through in what might have been the least gentle way he could’ve imagined, until the world around him was pitch black, soaking wet, stifling hot, and of course, filled with inescapable smoke.

Theo couldn’t differentiate between any of the forces assaulting him. The intense pressure from Kiarra’s tongue, treating him like nothing so much as a morsel she’d savor during one of her binges, the heat from being inside another human being’s mouth, the unyielding tide of spit that was everywhere like an ocean, or the smoke that filled his lungs every time he attempted to scream. Agony wrapped in agony assailed Theo inside Kiarra’s mouth, and he quickly felt his grip on consciousness slipping. The final, insulting cherry on top of all of it were the sounds Kiarra was making while subjecting him to the world’s most intense hotbox experience. She moaned and giggled in equal measure, every utterance a roar even over the cacophony of squelches and gurgles of her mouth.

Although he had no reference for time, he was sure that days had passed inside of Kiarra’s mouth when those same fingertips that had pushed him into the hotbox reached in and plucked him back out. In the maelstrom of smoke and saliva and heat, Theo didn’t realize that his clothes had been completely ripped from him, but he was aware as he hung between Kiarra’s thumb and forefinger in the cooling air, naked except for Kiarra’s spit still dripping from his body. His mind was awash in drugs and adrenaline and his body was exhausted.

“That’s better.” Kiarra said. “Now, let’s get this party started for real.”

She didn’t wait for a response before bringing Theo down, past her chin which shone with a bit of her own drool, past her massive breasts, which were now moving a bit faster, past the expanse of her stomach, a little exposed as the shirt had rode up on her, down to the waistband of her supremely colorful, rip-laden, elephant print pajama pants. Realization dawned on Theo too late as her other hand lifted the elastic band, revealing a forest of dark brown pubic hair, glistening in wet anticipation.

Just as before Kiarra wasted no time in using Theo how she saw fit. He was plunged down under her pajama pants where he was dragged roughly over her bush and then down over her labia in one, nauseatingly swift motion. For a moment, she seemed content to use him just to rub over the entrance to her wet pussy, and Theo was subjected to a violent up and down ride, but she quickly tired of that and shoved Theo as deep as her fingers would allow inside herself. Kiarra moaned in pleasure and let the waistband go, one hand staying in her pajama pants to masturbate, while the other went back for another hit off the pipe.

“Oh, fuck, Theo…” She moaned. “I am so happy you decided to join me.”

"Excuse me." Sarah said, covering her mouth's unexpected belch. "Sorry, something I ate. As I was saying, no, I haven't seen your friend, but I'll be happy to help you look for him."

Sarah wore her favorite cork soled sandals, her favorite sunflower print sundress, her favorite straw hat, and her favorite disarming smile.

"Where did you last see him?" She asked.

Sarah did her very best to make herself look as non threatening as possible, hands behind her back so her bright yellow fingernails were out of sight, her bright yellow toenails pointed slightly inward toward their opposite, giving her an awkward, but approachable, stance. And her smile was wide but sealed to show no teeth.

"And what is he wearing?" She followed up.

The tiny man in front of her, who couldn't have been taller than Sarah's pinky finger was long, nervously shouted an answer. Describing the modest pale blue attire his friend wore, outlining the path the two of them had taken from behind where Sarah stood, the shrunken man seemed to shy a little further from her with every word.

"Tell you what, I'll look over here…" Sarah said, pointing to where she'd found someone who'd perfectly matched the tiny man's description. "And you look over there."

Sarah watched as the little man turned around and began to call out for his missing friend by name. She waited a moment until he was out of sight, searching behind an opaque black bag of trash. When the shrunken man was completely obscured by refuse, Sarah turned herself back around and took the three steps back to where she had encountered the described, missing, tiny man.

It didn't take Sarah long to find the shredded, unrecognizable scraps of stained, light blue fabric she had carelessly discarded only moments earlier. It took her a few moments of crouching and discretely pinching slightly damp frayed patches of what had been a shirt and pair of pants, but she was satisfied it had all been recovered, all the while still calling out for the man that she knew to be digesting in her gut. She quickly made sure that the tiny man was still out of sight before dropping it into a trash can, and standing up. She quickly walked back to where she had left the latest shrunken man, and found him still searching through relatively mountainous mounds of refuse.

“Hey, I don’t think he’s around here…” Sarah lied. “He may not have been able to hear you, but there’s no way he couldn’t hear me.”

Sarah leaned over, she loved to watch shrunken people panic when she did that. She brushed her hair over her ear with one hand, and offered the other to the shrunken man, not to take, but to climb onto.

“How about you come with me?” Sarah offered. “I can get you home, you can take a nice hot shower and bath, eat some food, and sleep in, well maybe not a real bed, but the best one I can make out of clean bath towels, or something?”

Sarah fought the urge to just snatch the little man up, but didn’t fight the spreading grin as he began to awkwardly climb onto her fingers, and then into her hand. She slowly stood up, and even more slowly closed her fingers around the tiny man in her hand, until his movements were entirely restricted by her digits.

“There we go…” Sarah said. “I’ve got you.”

Sarah smiled wide, her teeth gleaming even from under the hat, as she set off for her home, knowing full well how the night would end.

"Is that what you like?" Mike said, delivering another slap to the gigantic nipple in front of him.

The squeal from Amanda was pronounced, but it felt a little forced. Even as she shook underneath him, forcing him to focus on keeping his footing, perched atop her breast, Mike couldn't help but feel that Amanda was performing more than reacting. That didn't diminish the awe of standing atop her chest and beholding her naked body spread out around him, from her toes all the way in the distance, to her smiling face, visible as she craned her neck to watch him discipline her.

"I'm sorry, master!" Amanda said. "Please don't hit me again!"

Mike sighed, and delivered another slap with the very tiny crop, and this time, lost his footing with Amanda's jiggling reaction. He tumbled down the fleshy hill that was made up of Amanda's left breast, down into the valley of her cleavage. He'd taken this same fall many times, and as he came to a rest between Amanda's breasts, Mike could feel her giggles through her chest.

"You okay down there?" Amanda asked through her giggles.

She sat up, moving her hands from where she had been holding them, as though tied, behind her back, cupped under her breasts as she rose. The act allowed Mike to roll into her waiting hands, as he'd done many times before. The second fall was as gentle as the first, and Mike didn't fear for his safety as he came to rest in Amanda's waiting fingers.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Mike admitted. "It's just…"

He was only a little perturbed when one of Amanda's fingertips came into view. He grabbed in instinctively, as she lovingly stroked his chest.

"Hey, come on, you can tell me." She assured.

When he had first shrank, the prospect of a giantess’s finger coming this close to him, touching him, and even so repeatedly, would’ve sent him into a panic attack. But having lived the last year with Amanda and under her care, Mike had learned to trust Amanda.

Mike enjoyed the reassuring stroking of Amanda's fingertip on his chest. The gentle caress of Amanda's fingers had come to be a reliable source of calm in a fairly crazy world of giants. But even as he felt her calming presence sink into him with every soft stroke, he felt even less involved in the roleplay that had been put on pause.

"I just don't think this is working for me, babe." Mike sighed, resting his head and arms against her finger. "I'm sorry, I know you wanted this, but I'm definitely not having the intended effect, even if you're willing to fake it for me."

"Well I have something that might cheer you up!" Amanda beamed. "Wanna see?"

"Sure…" Mike acquiesced.

Although he was unprepared for the sudden drop from her hands to the comforter, it was a fall he’d taken many, many, times, and was almost familiar enough to be comfortable with both the fall and the cushioned impact on fluffy, cottony bedding. By the time he’d landed and managed to roll back up to sitting, Amanda had already practically leapt off the bed and toward the dresser where she dug through her purse to produce a number of objects. She hurried back to the bed, hands full.

“Look!” She said with a grin wider than a kid on Christmas. “Nipple clamps!”

Sure enough, contained easily in one hand were three things. A pair of matched, chrome metallic and black plastic clamps, distinct only for the ‘L’ and ‘R’ stamped into them, but much bulkier than Mike would’ve expected nipple clamps to be. The third object, Mike couldn’t identify, was much smaller.

“I mean, they’re nice looking clamps, babe, but I don’t think I’m big enough to even get them on your nipples.” Mike noted, with some disappointment.

“Ah, but these aren’t just any nipple clamps!” Amanda proudly announced.

With one hand, only two fingers, she did what Mike would likely have been unable to do, pinched open one of the gleaming metal clamps, and, taking a brief moment to tease her right nipple with it, released it onto the protruding nub. It was enough to elicit a very subtle moaning hum from Amanda, as she closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. When she had opened her eyes, her left nipple was already eager to receive its own clamp, but Amanda made sure to put on a show for Mike, deftly tweaking her exposed nipple before clamping the second toy on it and gasping just a little.

“These…” Amanda said, extending both hands in offering, now free of the clamps only containing the third thing Mike couldn’t identify. “Are remotely controlled, electrified nipple clamps!”

As her hands pushed the object toward him, Mike could finally make out what she held. Small, very small, so small as to be immediately obviously designed for a shrunken person, the remote she held in her hand was still likely too big for Mike to use in one hand comfortably, but with both hands he took it from her offered palms.

It only had four things, a large, to him, dial above four buttons. The dial was marked with numbers, one through ten, and the buttons were labeled ‘L’, ‘R’, and a ‘+’.

“The clamps can be controlled with a bluetooth app on the phone, or…” Amanda said. “I can give master this remote, and master can control them as he sees fit.”

Mike was still studying the remote when Amanda’s hands wrapped around him and cradled him from underneath. Although he generally disliked being picked up without permission, Amanda was the exception and she always made sure he didn’t feel like he was going to fall. Even as she tossed herself to the bed, relaxing against the pillows, Mike still felt safe, if a bit nauseous at the impromptu rollercoaster ride. She set him down on her stomach, looking up at her mischievous grin between her clamped nipples.

“So, how does master feel about some light shock-play?” Amanda asked.

Mike didn’t need to give it much thought.

“Okay, but you have to lay down, and keep your hands behind your back!” He almost shouted with a smile.

“Yes, master!” Amanda said eagerly.

The world tumbled around as she shifted to lay flat on the bed, one hand gently covering Mike to make sure he didn’t roll off her as she did.

“Good!” Mike announced when her hand receded. “Now, hands behind your back!”

“Yes, master!” She said and immediately tucked her hands beneath her.

"And before we go any further, what's our safe word?" Mike asked.

"Placeholder!" Amanda shouted.

"Good girl." Mike said.

Mike punctuated the compliment by pressing the ‘+’. Both clamps buzzed, audibly, from where Mike was perched on Amanda’s stomach, causing a brief, delighted squeak from his girlfriend that turned into a low hum and a bit lower lip as Amanda craned her head forward to see him.

"Master, it tingles!” She said, squirming a bit under him.

“Stay still!” Mike commanded.

To enforce the command, Mike dialed the shock up to its second level and pressed the ‘+’ again, this time tapping the button in rapid succession. Each tap was rewarded with a discrete buzz, and a laughing squeal from Amanda.

“Yes, master!” She said, stilling herself.

“Now that we’ve got ourselves established…” MIke said, brushing his hair back. “Let’s talk about your poor behavior over the last couple of weeks.”

“Poor behavior? What are you talking abo…?” Amanda was cut off with a buzz from both clamps as Mike pressed the button again.

“Don’t interrupt me.” Mike ordered.

“Yes, master!” Amanda conceded.

“That’s better.” Mike said. “Now about that bad behavior…”

Mike took his time, he could feel her heart race from under his soles. She rarely got this excited, and Mike couldn’t hide his own excitement, standing out in front of him like a flagpole. With no hurry, Mike walked from where he had been, on her stomach, up toward her face, he only paused when he reached her breasts, leaning casually against her right breast.

“If I recall correctly, you left the seat down on the toilet yesterday…” Mike said, a sly smile on his face.

“What?” Amanda said, genuinely confused. “What does that have to do with anything, you can’t even get up to the toilet without…”

She squealed as Mike retaliated with a level three shock delivered to her right nipple.

“And now you’re talking back to me?” Mike asked.

This time the shock went to the left nipple, and Mike was happy he’d walked between her breasts, because her writhing on the bed would have tossed him off had he still been perched on her stomach. As it was, he got to enjoy the feeling of her chest jiggling beside him.

“Ah! Sorry, master!” Amanda said, half laughing and half moaning as she spoke. “I won’t do it again!”

“Won’t do ‘what’, again?” Mike asked, delivering a shock to both nipples.

“I won’t leave the seat up, master!” Amanda shouted.

“That’s a good girl.” Mike said. “And what else?”

When she failed to respond immediately, Mike dialed the shock up to four and sent it to the right clamp only.

“Ah, and I won’t talk back, master!” She shouted.

“Better…” Mike said, finally leaving his place between her breasts.

He strolled idly back down toward Amanda’s legs, savoring her unease as he went. Almost nonchalantly, he dialed the intensity of the clamps back down to their lowest setting, and worked the buttons without a care for pattern or process. Each time his thumbs found one of the buttons, he could feel Amanda quiver beneath him, hear her stifle a moan that threatened to slip out of her throat, and see her legs rub together. Mike smiled and stopped just at Amanda’s belly button. He sat down cross legged and turned the dial up to five before placing a thumb over each of the left and right buttons. With no further warning, he pressed the right. Amanda’s control failed and she almost jumped as she squealed. The clamp buzzed louder than before and Amanda nearly tossed Mike from her stomach with the jerking spasm that shot through her body.

“Hey now!” She said, after settling back down. “Was that a ten?”

Mike smiled and looked over his shoulder at her, staring back down at him from between her breasts. She might laugh if she could see her face, flushed red and almost sweating.

“Would you like to try a ten?” Mike asked. “And I didn’t hear a ‘master’ in there…”

Mike applied the punishment to both nipples, resulting in a moan from Amanda, and another bucking of her back. Mike managed to keep low enough to prevent from being flung off, but he could feel her getting hotter, breathing faster, and her skin beginning to sweat.

“Master!” Amanda said, through her moans. “Please, master!”

Mike relented, and Amanda lay back on the bed panting in relief. Mike couldn’t help but notice that despite her protestations, she still ground her thighs together throughout every shock and in between.

“Could uh, could master please go a bit easier?” Amanda asked. “I don’t think I’m ready for an eight or whatever that was…master.”

“Why, babe…” Mike said, standing back up. “That was only a five, and besides…”

Mike strolled further down, until his feet no longer tread on Amanda’s bare skin, but began to walk through the groomed fibers of her pubic hair. Even stepping onto her pubis, Mike could feel the heat and humidity coming from between her legs.

“It looks like you’re enjoying it quite a bit.” Mike said “So, if you want me to stop, you know what you need to say.”

Mike lifted the remote up, so Amanda could see it from where she watched him and delivered an extremely brief shock to both nipples to hammer the point home. Whether having just grown accustomed to the shock, or being prepared for it, Amanda’s reaction was less severe, but definitely not completely subdued. Her moans came through a clenched jaw, her body seemed to attempt to slither out of the clamps themselves, and again, her thighs rubbed together while her hips rolled gently under Mike.

“P…please master.” Amanda moaned through her teeth, prompting Mike to let up.

“Okay, but I’ve got an idea. Bring out your right hand.” Mike ordered.

“Yes…yes master.” Amanda said through panting breaths.

“Good. Now, you’ll be taking the remote, but you have to keep the center button pressed down at all times.” Mike ordered.

“All times?” Amanda asked incredulously, but one quick shock to both nipples quickly changed her tone. “Yes, master! At all times, master!”

“Good.” Mike said. Although a bit difficult, he handed the remote back to Amanda, but not before pulling the intensity of the shocks back down to two. “Now, let’s see that button pressed.”

“Yes, master.” Amanda said with some apprehension, but pressed anyway.

Although she flinched with the press, when it became apparent that the remote’s intensity had been scaled back, she sighed a heavy sigh of relief that quickly turned into a low chorus of contented hums and moans accompanied by the clamps buzzing away at her nipples.

“See? I knew you’d like it.” Mike said. “What do you say?”

“T…thank you, master.” Amanda said from between her pleasurable throes.

“Good girl.” Mike said. “Now, both hands behind your back, keep that button pressed, and open your legs.”

“Yes, master.” Amanda said.

She complied immediately, spreading her legs in a shaky, almost struggling motion. It was clear she was eager for some kind of stimulation, but with her hands behind her back under her, and Mike unable to reach the top of her favorite dildo, her options were limited. Still, Mike had a plan.

With her thighs parting, shaking as they went, Mike lay down on her crotch. Down in her pubic hair, everything was Amanda. The air was hot and heavy with her lust, and had it not been for the ample practice Mike had navigating his girlfriend’s sex, he might have slipped precariously from all the moisture that had accumulated on her pubic hair. But Mike had the practice, and stayed where he meant, slowly lowering himself further down, millimeter by millimeter to his destination, Amanda’s clit.

Her clit was pronounced enough, almost peeking from under the hood, a clear sign that despite her protests at the level five shock, she was enjoying this a great deal. Mike secured himself the best he could with his feet and legs and, although awkwardly, seized the clit with both hands and dove his face in, beginning to suck and lick at Amanda’s clit.

It was enough to send Amanda in a squirming frenzy, as she almost snapped her legs shut around him. Fortunately for the both of them, Amanda kept enough control to keep her legs spread just enough, and Mike had secured himself well. He didn’t relent, taking as much of the clit, admittedly not much, as he could between his lips, and treating it to the most intense tiny oral sex he could manage.

Mike didn’t forget about himself, while not the best he’d ever had, Mike humped away at Amanda’s nethers. His own erection rubbing against her pubis, through her hair and in her sweat and sex to great effect.

Although it was difficult work, preventing himself from being tossed off the bucking body of his girlfriend, keeping a hold of an increasingly wet nub, pleasuring himself, and remembering to breathe occasionally, Mike’s efforts brought about his goal. Amanda’s toes, still far in the distance, curled into a tight clench, her hips rolled to the side and almost threatened to toss him to the bed, but most notable for Amanda was the ear-shattering groan that turned into a scream. Her orgasms never lasted long, a few seconds at most, but while laying flat in her pubic hair, half hanging off her crotch into her vagina, Mike always felt like they lasted minutes if not longer. For Mike the release was even briefer, but no less intense. As she came down, panting, sweat-soaked, and laughing, Amanda sat up, reached down and plucked his exhausted body from where he lay sprawled out.

“Oh, that was fucking phenomenal!” She said, still out of breath but taking time to plant kisses all over his body. “You did so good, baby!”

“I…” Mike started, interrupted by a cushion of lips pressing into him. “Love…” Again, interrupted with a kiss. “You, babe!” He finished.

“I love you too, baby!” Amanda said, still exuberant, finally relenting in her affection. “But seriously, that five setting was intense.”

“Well, here, hand me the remote and we’ll see what six through ten feels like.” Mike said with more than a bit of mischief in his voice.

“Oh?” Amanda said. “I think we’re done with this game for the evening. Now, what’s our safe word, baby?”

Mike blinked.

“Uh, ‘placeholder’?” He said, sure of the safe word, but less sure of Amanda’s intent. “But I don’t see what…”

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence as Amanda’s hand carried him back down between her legs. This time, there was no pretext, he was pressed against her vagina, and her thighs closed shut around him, sealing him in.

Above him, he heard the buzzing of the clamps and wondered how long this night would be.

John was doing everything in his power to calm himself down, to slow his heartbeat, to regulate his breathing, even just to stop shaking. Unfortunately, none of it was happening.

The fall from the desk had been bad enough. To his study partner, Mary, and his chaperone, Chloe, the fall was caused by Mary's careless opening of a musty reference tome they'd decided to research, and only a couple of feet down. To John it has been like being knocked by hurricane force winds off of a cliff.

Pure luck had knocked him into Chloe's jacket, hung over the back of her chair, slowing his fall, and then onto a backpack that was mostly empty, save for air, to cushion his fall.

But it hadn't been the fall that had John in a state of barely restrained panic. It was what he glimpsed while on the floor, after tumbling free of the backpack.

Both Mary and Chloe had been astonished, and Chloe worked to scoop him off the ground as delicately and quickly as she could. Her job, after all, was to be a kind of all purpose caretaker for John since his admission to the college. She had carried him to and from classes, she had helped facilitate opening and reading of textbooks that hadn't been adapted to his size yet, once, she had even saved his life from an aggressive squirrel while the two of them ate lunch outside, although to do that, she had shielded him by entrapping him in her almost empty glass water bottle, slamming the vessel over him just in time to prevent the rodent from attacking him.

Still, even before she got him in her hands, John saw something in the sole of her flats. Unmistakable, and clearly defined against the black leather sole was the outline of a human being, about the same size as John himself. It has only been for a moment, and even though the tiny caught in Chloe's shoe was half obstructed by her foot, the dangling heel of the flat clearly revealed a shrunken man.

"... alright?" Chloe asked.

John snapped back to attention, with both Mary and Chloe hovering over him where Chloe had set him back on the table. Mary's expression was wracked with guilt and worry, Chloe's was harder to discern.

"I said, 'are you alright', John?" Chloe asked again.

"I…" John started.

“Hey, Mary, why don’t you head home?” Chloe said, interrupting John. “I’ll get John cleaned up and take him home so he can rest.”

“Are you sure?” Mary asked. “I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, accidents happen.” Chloe said. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll reach out a bit later on.”

“Oh, okay.” Mary said, packing her things and heading toward the door. “I guess I’ll see you guys later?”

Chloe stood and followed Mary to the door of the tiny, windowless study room. Chloe ushered Mary out the door with an unusual haste.

“Sure thing, Mary. Take care.” Chloe said. “Goodbye.”

With Mary already on the other side of the door, Chloe shut it, waited a few moments, and locked the door. John stared wide-eyed, fully conscious that something out of the ordinary was happening, but stranded as he was on the table top, less than able to do much about it. Chloe sighed, standing next to the door, without turning back to John immediately.

“You know, I really like these study rooms.” She observed. “The university never bothered to remove the locks on these really old ones, which means that if you wanted to get freaky back here, as long as you were just a little bit quiet, you could have all the privacy in the world.”

John didn’t respond as Chloe made her way back to the table. She sat back down in her seat and, to John’s horror, leaned back in the chair and threw her feet up on the table. John screamed briefly as her feet traveled overhead, and crashed back into the table top, ankles crossed, with her left foot hanging over her right. The soles of her flats were worn almost to the point of being garbage, but that didn’t stop her from wearing them. She idly bobbed her feet over John, while crossing her arms over her chest.

“Why John, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Chloe observed. “Or could it be that you saw something else that has you…scared?”

“I…” John stumbled with his words. “The… the fall, I’m just shaken up from the fall!”

A painful silence persisted between them for a few moments.

“No.” Chloe said flatly. “I’ve been your caretaker long enough to know this is different. You’ve taken a couple of falls worse than that, and had closer calls with getting stepped on or worse.”

John wanted to be anywhere else, but the door was locked, and even if it had been wide open, he knew there would be no outrunning Chloe. Chloe rocked in the office chair, the old metal frame squeaking as she did. Her feet, still crossed on the table where they towered over John bobbed idly.

"I suppose now is as good a time as any to introduce you." She said. "That idiot Mary won't be bothering us."

Her right toe dug into the back of her left heel and worked to pry the black flat away from her foot. The shoe didn't come off of her foot, just the heel. She hung the bare heel above John, and shook her foot slightly. Even though the shoe remained on her toes, the game in the heel was enough to allow the shrunken man John had glimpsed earlier to slide out, down to the table top, almost hitting John.

His body was weathered, and coated in what couldn't be called sweat any longer, it was more of a slime. Chloe had walked everywhere she and John had been today, from the classrooms in the morning, to the bookstore and cafe at lunch, around the campus in the afternoon and here to the library as the sun set. The man that fell lifelessly out of her shoe had been subjected to its confines the entire day, and dirt, dust, grime, and of course, Chloe's sweat had coated him all over. The shrunken man hit the table with a sickly wet sound, and except for a bit of breathing, he didn’t appear to John to be moving.

“Well, John?” Chloe asked, pulling John’s gaze away from the pathetic creature that had slipped out of her shoe. “Is this what got you so riled up?”

John couldn’t find the words. He hadn’t wanted to believe it when he’d caught the glimpse of the man earlier from the floor, but now he wanted it to be a lie, a joke, a trick, something other than what it was.

The shrunken man, his hair matted, his skin reddened and waterlogged with her sweat, stirred ever so slightly. John expected him to plead, but he stayed silent. John expected the man to attempt to run away, or at least to crawl, but as the shaky limbs shuddered back to motion, the man curled himself into a ball on his hands and knees, prostrating himself on his knees before Chloe’s feet.

“See?” Chloe said. “He gets it. The question is; do you?”

“What the fuck?” John finally found the words to speak. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Chloe bobbed her foot, letting the flat bounce against her sole. She chuckled a little as she did. It was a genuine laugh, but it was also one that John had never heard. It made his whole body shudder, like her laugh itself was shaking him to his core.

“You see, John… Hold on a moment. Worship.” Chloe ordered the man that had emerged from her shoe.

The weathered man almost leapt forward, and immediately began kissing, licking, and massaging Chloe’s foot. He threw himself into the devotion with more fervor than John had ever seen a human being give to anything, let alone the sweat-drench, stench-laden, hot sole of another person.

“That’s better. Now John…” Chloe said. “While I wanted to do this in a bit more private setting, and after a few more months of conditioning, I guess we’ll have to move the schedule up a bit.”

“Please, Chloe…” John said. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Oh John, that’s okay, you don’t need to understand it completely right now.” Chloe assured him. “But the short version is, you’re going to become my little plaything, like this guy here.”

To emphasize her point she simply lowered her foot a bit, allowing the flat to slip over the man worshiping her foot. It had the effect of trapping him against her sole, but did little to stop his adoration. When she raised her foot a moment later he slipped out, stumbled a bit, but resumed his worship just as fervently as before.

“I… I will never…!” John started.

“Oh, but you don’t get a choice.” Chloe interrupted. “And you should be happy! Hold on a moment. Back in.”

The tiny man worshiping her foot embraced the stinking sole in front of him, spreading his arms wide in an embrace that didn’t even extend to the edges of Chloe’s sole, and pressing himself as firmly against her skin as he could manage. Chloe, simply slid the flat back on over him, tucking her heel in and sealing the weathered man back into her shoe, where he had spent the entirety of the day.

“As I said…” Chloe began, taking her feet off the table and procuring something from her backpack on the ground. “You should be happy! I’m going to take away all your worries, all your doubt, every responsibility you’ve ever had or would’ve ever had.”

The object hit the table with enough force to knock John's feet out from under him. A large black cylinder, devoid of features and, like virtually everything in John's life, massive to him.

“But hey, I can promise you that you’ll come to accept this, even love it!” Chloe said. “That little guy fought me for days before I finally broke him, and now he thanks me every day for subjugating him, and you will too.”

She pushed the giant black cylinder forward, closer to John.

"Now, you're not ready to ride in my shoe yet." Chloe explained. "Too much of a chance you'll be crushed to death, or maimed beyond usefulness."

She gripped the top of the cylinder and twisted, revealing a seam that spun around, and eventually a lid. The whole thing was a jar, or container of some kind with a deep, screw on lid.

Chloe tipped the container over toward John. Inside was nothing, a black void of darkness, even in the light of the study room. What little John could make out looked like some kind of padding or foam, lining the interior. Chloe also set the lid down next to the jar.

"This is the 'Quiet Jar' and it's the best way to transport my newest acquisitions." Chloe said. "Completely opaque, such that even under direct, intense lighting, no one can see in or out. The lining is thick enough that I could chuck it down a flight of stairs and the shrunken person inside probably won't get hurt, but that also means no sound gets through the walls."

Chloe held up the lid, revealing odd lines in the underside of the lid.

"And this, I'm particularly proud of this…" She said. "The lid has similar padding, but also baffles to allow air in and out, but no light or sound."

Chloe brought both pieces toward John, the deep recess of the jar only slightly more visible.

"Once someone goes into the Quiet Jar, that's it." Chloe said with a smile widening on her face. "No sound, no light, no one will ever know that there's a small person inside. It lets me discreetly move my toys around, or even bring new ones home. Once you're in the Quiet Jar, no one can hear you, no one can see you, and no one ever finds you again."

John tried to make sense of everything.

"Please Chloe, just take me home." He begged. "I won't tell anyone what I saw!"

"Oh, I know. And don't worry, I'm going to take you home, to your new home." Chloe explained. "And you're going to be mine too, just like the insole you met. So get in."

For the first time since the jar hit the table John looked up from the void in front of him. Chloe's look was chilling, unlike anything John had ever seen.

"I don't want to go into the jar, Chloe." John protested. "I want to go home."

"You don't have a home anymore, John. You're mine now. I'm going to take you home and turn you into a little toy, just like the one you saw in my shoe." Chloe outlined. "But, if you don't get in the jar, I'm going to have to keep you silent some other way…"

"What do you mean by that?" John asked.

"Well there will certainly be an unfortunate, messy accident. You'll get caught underfoot, turned into a red smear on my shoe. Or you'll fall down to the seat of my chair just as I sit down, that's always fun. But I'll be honest with you," Chloe said, leaning in. "When the problem is as small as you are, the best way to remedy it is to just slip you into my mouth, chew you up, and swallow you down. A few hours and one flush later, you're gone."

"If I don't go into the jar, you'll kill me?" John asked, too stunned to really process information.

"Let's call it 'disposal' instead." Chloe offered. "But yes. I'll try to make it fun, though. Probably more for me than you, but oh well. So, what's it going to be John? The jar, or the end?"

"I… I…" John stammered.

"Time is short, John, the library will close soon, and if I need to dispose of you, I'll need to do it quickly." Chloe prodded.

John wanted to crawl into any other dark hole than the one in front of him. But there was nowhere to go on the table, in the locked study room, in the back of an almost empty library, with the one person who was supposed to be his first and last resource who had just revealed herself to be the last person he'd want to be locked away with.

Chloe didn't seem to be willing to wait, as John was cast into shadow. Chloe's hand obscured the light and began to grow larger as it dropped slowly from on high. It was a sight that John had grown to fear, like few others. Those trained in interacting with shrunken people tried to avoid panic, confusion, and fear. Up until now, Chloe had been the perfect opposite, allowing John to step into her hand willingly.

"Wait! Wait!" John screamed. "I'll go! I'll go into the jar."

The hand paused in it's descent, allowing John to shift to his hands and knees and begin crawling forward. Even as slowly as he progressed, the mouth of the jar grew larger and larger before him.

Doubts and fears warred inside him, but John didn't have time to dwell on those as Chloe's hand dropped down before him, suddenly and frighteningly barring him from the jar.

"Strip first." Chloe ordered.

“What?” John asked, equally stunned by the hand like a wall that had dropped in front of him, and by the command.

“You’re going to need to learn to obey without questioning me.” Chloe said, a bit of venom in her voice. “I said strip. You won’t need your clothes any more.”

John didn’t reply, but the threat of Chloe’s hand alone was enough to prompt quick action. He began shedding clothing. Fear and trembling caused him difficulties in removing even the simple clothing that had been fabricated for him. Once he was completely naked, still shivering, from fear not cold, he stood up, next to the pile that was his shirt, pants, and shoes.

“Good.” Chloe said simply.

Her hand finally moved out of John’s way, but instead of simply allowing him to gracefully walk into the jar, Chloe’s hand was joined with its counterpart and delicately picked up John’s discarded shirt. Lifted up between two thumbs and two fingers, like a display model for shrunken persons’ clothing store, right up until Chloe’s fingers pulled the shirt in opposite directions, shredding it instantly. She didn’t stop there, her fingers reasserting on the scraps of the shirt and pulling it apart again, and then a third time. When the mere fibers that remained of his shirt fell from her fingers, they were unrecognizable for what they had once been. John’s pants followed, until everything he had been wearing was reduced to a heap of fibers and scraps.

“There we go. Nothing to hold you back.” Chloe said. “Now, get into the quiet jar.”

John began to shuffle toward the jar when Chloe’s hand again stopped him.

“No. On your hands and knees like before.” Chloe ordered.

John fell to his hands and knees and resumed trudging forward, until he came to the lip of the jar. It wasn’t much of a climb up the lip, a steep step at most, but it still because he was on his hands and knees, felt like climbing in.

“That’s it.” Chloe said. “All the way to the back.”

The padding was thick, it was certainly enough to cushion him and prevent sound from getting in or out, but it made it difficult to trek along. Every crawling step took him deeper and deeper into darkness, and what little sound there was to be heard grew fainter and fainter inside the jar.

John was unprepared when the world upended. Chloe had either thought he was at the base, or just grown impatient, and righted the jar. John tumbled over and over into the base of the jar, where he came to a rest on his back, looking up to a harsh light. It didn’t take long for the light to fade, as Chloe’s face moved into view above him. With her looking down into the jar, there was nothing but Chloe’s face, framed by her blonde hair.

“There we go. That’s a better look for you, John.” Chloe said. Deep in the jar, her words didn’t sound the same, there was no bounce off of walls. “But I don’t think that name fits you any longer. My insole doesn’t even know his old name, and honestly I forgot it myself. I’ll come up with something new for you.”

Chloe’s face turned into a smile, her lips slowly spreading wide.

“But for now, let’s help you get adjusted to your new position in the world.” Chloe said.

John didn’t have to wait to learn what she meant as her lips pursed. A globual of spit formed between her lips, building in size very slowly and steadily. At critical mass, the blob of saliva fell free of her lips and crashed accurately into John down at the bottom of the quiet jar. Coughing and spasming followed.

“Perfect.” Chloe said. “It may be a while before you see or hear anything again so enjoy the scent and flavor of my spit. It’s a long walk home. But the next time you see me, you’ll be in your proper place.”

John was still busy coughing, trying to clear Chloe’s spit from his eyes, mouth, and from deep within his lungs, as the world dimmed. Through her saliva, John caught just enough of a glimpse of the lid being moved into place before everything became utter, uncontested blackness. For a split second there was a brief scraping noise, as the lid was screwed into place, and then nothing but the rapidly cooling, pungent stench of Chloe’s spit to keep him company in the silence and darkness.

“I know…” Michelle mused. “Let’s put it to a vote. Who thinks I should put this pretty little lady down, and focus on the desperate man stuck between my legs, instead of showing him up by making his wife cum again?”

The man she referenced, his blonde hair matted down in a lube-soaked mat, with most of his body inextricably stuck inside a male sex toy, held between Michelle's thighs, as a punishment for attempting to pleasure himself, shot both of his hands in to the air, only to immediately drop them back down to catch himself on the realistically styled labia, to prevent himself from slipping into the recesses of the sex toy, dripping as he was with a flavored lubricant. He struggled to prevent himself from sliding between the tight silicone lips that just barely held him in place. Michelle loved the panic on his face as he fought against gravity and a lack of grip, knowing full well the promised penalty if he were to fall into the toy.

“Well that’s one vote for. And how many votes against?” Michelle asked, looking to the tiny, panting, exhausted woman in her right hand.

The redhead in her right hand barely moved, save the rising and falling of her chest and the slight shivering that came from being thoroughly soaked. Her skin was flushed from head to toe, and suffused with her own sweat, Michelle’s saliva, and some remaining honey that Michelle’s tongue and lips had missed in the many, many, many licks and sucking kisses they had delivered over the last few minutes. While she lie, panting in Michelle’s palm, her legs spread wide and her arms submissively at her side, she did manage to elevate her hand just enough to cast a vote in the matter.

“That’s one against.” Michelle said, smiling.

“And two…” She said, holding up her left index finger for the man to see.

“Three…” Her middle finger joined the index.

“Four…” The ring finger followed suit.

“Five…” Her pinky stood at attention.

“And six!” Michelle said, her thumb sticking out. “It looks like the total tally is one vote for playing with the little man, and six for me to keep having fun with this little lady.”

Michelle celebrated the win by bringing the woman back to her face, soaking the tiny woman in an unnecessary and hot breath, accompanied with a gentle moan as Michelle let her tongue roll out in a preview of what was coming. She pressed the tiny woman to her lips, making sure there was enough pressure to elicit a groan from the exhausted woman, before dragging the woman down, slowly, over her tongue. The relatively massive organ left a trail of fresh saliva on her own palm, and absolutely drenched the tiny woman as it passed roughly over her. As Michelle brought the tiny woman near the tip of her tongue, Michelle paid special attention to flick the tip of her tongue between the tiny woman’s legs, letting the tip linger in the tiny woman’s crotch, squirming as vigorously as she could manage. The feeling of the shrunken woman's arms and legs attempting to wrap themselves around her tongue only made Michelle want to go in for another lick, but even as durable as the Tiny Tinder app made her playthings, Michelle knew it was better to draw out the fun. She pulled her tongue up and completely over the shrunken woman.

Michelle let her hand carrying the tiny woman slowly fall away. As she brought the woman away from her mouth, Michelle could feel the drool run down her hand and chin, but she didn't mind. She wiped the excess from her lips and chin with her free hand and hovered it over the struggling man.

"Here you go…" Michelle taunted. "There's probably some of your wife's juices in there."

The fluid dripped from her hand and fingers in inconsistent blobs and drops and strands, coating the silicone lips and the tiny man fighting not to be swallowed down into the artificial pussy. The added effort to avoid the deluge of mixed bodily fluids raining down on him caused the husband's grip on one of the folds of the silicone vagina to fail, with one arm slipping into the pit, and he sunk up to his chest into the toy, barely supported by the other.

"And what did I tell you about keeping your hands where I can see them?" Michelle asked with feigned scorn. "I'm going to have to discipline you for that!"

Her dripping fingers still hovering over him, the tiny husband shook his head in desperate protest, but it didn't stop two of her fingers from slowly descending onto him. Her index and middle finger wiggling in an expression of her own delight, Michelle let her hand linger with her fingers gently in contact with the husband's shoulders.

"Just think…" Michelle mused. "If you had been obedient earlier, and just avoided cumming in here, you'd still be normal sized. Or, at the very least, you wouldn't be in danger of swimming in your own spunk."

Michelle let the tiny man attempt to clutch at her fingers. In his panic, he failed to grasp the fluids coating them made each digit almost as slippery as the prison he attempted to keep himself out of. Michelle enjoyed the feeling of his hand sliding down her fingers to the tip, only to slip off entirely and try again in a desperate gambit. In the end, his efforts only served to stall the inevitable.

"Now use this time to think about what I'm doing to your wife while you're trying not to drown in your own cum…" Michelle said, knowing full well the shrinking effects of the app wouldn't allow him to drown.

With no further delay, she firmly, but slowly,  pushed the shrunken man deep into the sex toy, and was immediately rewarded with a brief, squeaking scream, followed by the squelching of all the fluids, semen, spit, lube, sweat, and even a bit of quim from his wife's pussy moved around as the husband was crammed into the sex toy.

Michelle loved the feeling of the inside of the sex toy, having spent more than a few hours contemplating what it must be like to have a penis and to feel the ribs and nobs and flanges built into the shaft of the silicone sleeve pushing and pulling at her imagined dick. So when she got the opportunity to subject someone else to it, she wanted to ensure they got the full experience.

Michelle's fingers didn't quite grip the tiny man, but they did manage to push him down, roughly against the many-textured walls of the toy, then pull him back up. She could feel his body writhe as she forced it back down into the cool, gooey pool that he himself had left about twenty minutes prior, then back up through a gauntlet of different protrusions and textures. Every stroke of her fingers also resulted in a deeply satisfying squelch of mixed bodily fluids reaching her ears as her fingers could feel the thick goop that she had buried the tiny husband in move with her finger's every quiver. Even when she felt him slip down into the bottom of the pleasure tube, Michelle didn't let up, continuing to knead her fingers after him and prevent him from ever growing accustomed to the constant assault of her fingertips.

"While he's busy contemplating his misdeeds…" Michelle said to the wife in her hand. "You're going to help me out and give him an image to jerk off to later."

The wife had recovered her breath, and though still tiny, soaked, and tired, she had watched with eager intent, her hands hanging onto Michelle's fingers like railings at a concert, as Michelle abused her husband in the depths of the sex toy he'd enjoyed earlier in the evening. The wife looked up at Michelle, a mix of awe, lust, enthusiasm, and fear on her face, and nodded furiously.

It was all the confirmation Michelle needed to bring the tiny woman down between her legs. She had been playing with her tinies for hours, and as much as she tried to project an aura of aloof detachment to her games, antagonizing the husband while forcing him to watch her pleasure his wife had been more arousing that Michelle had let on and she was already very eager to get herself off.

The little wife seemed just as eager, as Michelle rubbed the shrunken woman's form up and down her meticulously shaved snatch, the tiny woman did her best to help provide stimulation. It didn’t matter to Michelle that the tiny woman’s limbs weren’t very effective, at least nowhere near as effective as some of Michelle’s mechanical toys, the feeling of someone shrunken and helpless against her sex was more than enough to help Michelle get off.

Still, it wasn’t an instant process. Michelle’s left hand continued to torment the husband deep inside the artificial vagina, it felt like he had given up fighting against her fingers, which allowed her even better control in bullying him deep in the goo-filled crevice. Her right hand introduced the wife inside herself and began to help her in and out along with Michelle’s own fingers. Before long, Michelle abandoned the husband to the depths of the sex toy and used both hands to pleasure herself. Even though she felt the tiny wife lose the enthusiasm that she’d had as she was first shoved into Michelle’s pussy, Michelle continued, and when the orgasm hit, she felt her back tense up into an almost painful arch. The orgasm was relatively swift, but powerful enough to cause Michelle to have to muffle her own squeaking cries.

Michelle was quick to pull the wife from her nethers, and wasted no time in bringing the wife over her mouth. Her orgasm has left the wife soaked in even more juices, and in fact she had spilled some of it into the sex toy adding to the soup the husband was soaking in. Michelle dangled the even more exhausted woman over her lips and lowered her slowly down toward her mouth, gently sucking some of the excess cum from the shrunken woman and tenderly licking her, if not clean, at least cleaner.

“You look lovely, dear…” Michelle said. “But I think it’s time you spent some time with your husband. Be sure to fuck him really good.”

The shrunken woman didn’t respond, but Michelle didn’t need her to. Michelle brought her down to the sex toy that contained her husband and immediately shoved her in. It took a bit of effort, blindly guiding the wife into the tight, sticky, and claustrophobic environment with her slick fingers. After many minutes of fiddling, Michelle was satisfied that the couple were firmly locked in each other’s embrace. She even felt the beginnings of one of them, she really couldn’t tell which one, beginning to grind their hips at the other.

Michelle pulled out her fingers and smiled. The couple was one of Michelle’s favorite clients, and were always willing to try new things. Having them both be tiny at her mercy was a new one, but it was one that Michelle could tell they’d request again and again, and she’d happily oblige. Michelle grabbed a specially formed dildo from the side of the bed and pushed the purple pussy rocket into the silicone pocket. The dildo pressed the couple into each other and forced them into a tight, tight embrace between the walls of the artificial vagina and the artificial penis.

“You two enjoy the night…” Michelle said to her clients through layers of plastic, silicone, and bodily fluids. “When the morning comes, we’ll unshrink you, and talk about next time…”

With no regard for his comfort or safety, Nina pulled the tiny man she’d been savoring from her mouth with pinched fingers. She dragged his body out from between tightly pursed lips, preventing too much of her own spit from coming out with him. She mostly succeeded, with only a thin strand of saliva connecting the tiny man’s battered, bruised, and limp form to her own lips. Nina cut the fluid tie between them off with an idle shake of the tiny body, which was enough to jostle the shrunken man back to consciousness.

Almost immediately, following a desperate gulping of air and coughing fit, the tiny man began to plead again. The same begging, the same appeal to Nina’s mercy, the same attempts to stoke inside Nina some kind of empathy for his spit-soaked plight. But Nina heard none of it. Even if it hadn’t been for the earbuds, lodged in each canal, streaming a steady supply of thundering drums, pounding baselines, screaming guitars, and almost paradoxically melodic vocals, Nina would have paid little attention to the man’s words. Nina had decided hours ago how her relationship with the weeping man between her fingers that had been a boyfriend would end, and nothing at this stage of the relationship would change that outcome.

Only sparing the tiny man a brief glance, torn from her tablet’s display of steel-clad armored sorts attempting to stab and bash other armored sorts to a background of overwrought special effects, Nina lowered the tiny man back down to the bowl containing what remained of her cheesecake custard with raspberry and chocolate syrup. The man's pleading never ceases as he was dropped, to him, hundreds of feet, back to the bowl where Nina dragged him through the various sticky, gooey, sugary substances that filled the bottom few inches of her bowl. Nina pulled him through the thick morass of sweetness, and then back up to her lips in one fluid motion.

For a brief moment, Nina savored the smell of cheesecake and fruit and chocolate coming from the squirming morsel between her fingers. Nina let herself enjoy the scent, and without taking her eyes off her fantastical music video, pressed the living morsel to her lips, and slid her tongue between them to taste the sweet flavors suffusing the tiny man. Her tongue probed and prodded into the little spaces between the little man’s limbs, around his crotch, over his face, anywhere that might hide a bit of the sweet sauces she sought.

When Nina felt she had licked as much from him as she could, Nina pushed him deeper between her lips, not far enough to clear her teeth, but deep enough to facilitate sucking and slurping up and any remaining syrupy goodness still clinging to the tiny man. Every available drop was pulled as vigorously as Nina’s lips, tongue, and lungs could manage from the shrunken man. Every moment a violent vortex of nonchalant sucking and slurping with no regard for the little man’s hearing or skin or limbs.

After only a few seconds the tiny man was seemingly stripped of all sugary substances, and Nina decided it was time.

Unceremoniously, without allowing for her morsel to recover from the impossible assault she’d put him through, Nina pushed him back between her lips and into her mouth. If he recognized that he’d been sealed back insider her mouth proper, Nina gave him no chance to come to terms with it, and a brief, sharp scream, that Nina more felt through her palate than she really heard, was the only thing he was able to utter before Nina’s tongue rolled him to the back of her mouth, and swallowed.

The lump wriggled just a bit as it entered her throat. Nina, suddenly very conscious of the tiny man she was swallowing had a brief, horrific flashback to the first time she’d attempted to swallow someone whole. The woman had been a particularly difficult customer at the shop, and although Nina had cast the spell correctly, she had been unaccustomed to just how much she could take. She learned that day that actually swallowing something that was four inches in length was radically different than a blowjob of any substance. Still, even though that first woman had required a self-administered heimlich maneuver, Nina had gotten her down with the aid of a bottle of water. Nina reached to the side of her couch for her tumbler of water and followed suit. The deluge of water worked and the squirming mass that threatened to arrest itself in her throat passed with her drink from the top of her throat, she felt the tiny man that had been her boyfriend slip just passed her breastbone before disappearing inside her.

For the first time since she sat down, Nina paused the music video in front of her and traced her fingertips over her skin just below her breasts. It was rare, but occasionally an exceptionally feisty victim could be felt one last time before they succumbed to drowning or asphyxiation or even her stomach acids doing their work. Just as she felt he might have passed out during the constricting squeeze down her throat or drowned before anything else, Nina felt the most satisfying of almost delicate bumps from within her. Nina rested one hand over her stomach and smiled, her other hand slipped beneath the waistband of her sweatpants.

Nina began to feel herself when the rumbling from her stomach rushed up and out her throat in an explosive, hot, wet belch that shook her whole body, and startled her, despite coming from her. The mood broken, Nina pulled her hand from her pants, and wiped her hands relatively clean on her shirt before standing up and heading toward her bathroom to clean up.

"No, this is going to keep coming up. We're going to address this problem, and we're going to address it right now." Harper said.

She didn't heed Olivia's barely whispered attempts to hold her back as she stood up and walked over to the dresser. Less than gently, she lifted the top to Liam's enclosure. She reached in and tipped over his house, exposing the shrunken man cowering in what had been the corner of his 'home'. She quickly snatched him up with one hand and marched back over to the bed where Olivia still waited, all the while the only thing she wore, a strap on fixed securely to her hips, waving around with her gait.

“In order to move on from this toxic little shit…” Harper said. “This little shit is going to need to go away, and the best way to do that is to send him down the hatch and say goodbye your final ‘goodbye’ with your next flush.”

“Olivia! You can’t let her do this!” Liam screamed from between Harper’s fingers. “You can’t let her eat me!”

Harper silenced him with a quick squeeze, and Olivia was sure she heard something crack as she did, not that Harper likely cared. Harper kept the pressure on him, her fingers constricting him tighter than he’d ever been held, to keep him quiet as she sat back down in front of Olivia.

“You’re going to eat him?” Olivia asked, her voice shaky and unsure.

"I would love to." Harper admitted. "And I've already thought about just chewing him up, but this isn't a me-problem or even really a him-problem"

Olivia looked at her ex boyfriend being squeezed into agony and silence by her current girlfriend, then up to meet Harper's eyes, sternly looking down at her. Even both sitting on the bed, Harper towered over Olivia, more than an entire foot taller, but this close and with Olivia backed up against the headboard, she felt even smaller in Harper's shadow.

“No, I'm not going to eat him.” Harper said flatly. “You are.”

Olivia’s eyes shot open wide. Her surprise at the revelation of Harper’s plan almost as potent as the shock as Harper leaned in, seizing Olivia’s head with her other hand, and pressed their lips together. Olivia didn’t fight as Harper slid her tongue between Olivia’s lips. Olivia felt herself getting lost in Harper’s kiss, in Harper’s tongue. It was one of the reasons Olivia had first invited Harper back home, that and the aggressive energy Harper displayed.

Olivia squeaked a bit as Harper's hand disappeared from behind her head and with a barely audible click, the oversized bullet that Harper had taped directly onto Olivia's clit buzzed to life. The rather indiscrete toy ran through a rollercoaster of intensity, beginning as a muted buzz that almost felt like a warm tickle, and building to a violent ego-melting whine that was more akin to a tiny creature fighting for its life between her legs. By the time Harper had settled over Olivia, straddling Olivia and looming over her, Olivia could feel her crotch beginning to seep through her legs.

"Open." Harper ordered.

Olivia knew what was coming, but still felt her jaw slowly start to fall open. When there was just enough space between her teeth, Harper’s free hand hooked into her lower jaw and opened it further. Olivia felt herself quiver under Harper attention, but eager to see Harper’s plan through.

With one hand still in Olivia’s mouth, Harper lifted Liam up to her own face and smiled at the shrunken man. He still looked as though Harper’s grip prevented him from breathing, with his mouth gaping and only small gasps coming from him.

“This is going to be the most useful you’ve ever been, you little shit.” Harper said.

An unexpected spit from Harper left Liam stunned, so when she shoved him unceremoniously into Olivia’s open mouth. Released from Harper’s grip, Liam was free to attempt to breath, although most of his initial attempt was interrupted by Harper’s spit still clinging to his face. Harper’s fingers pushed Liam deep, deep into Olivia’s mouth, so far that Olivia could feel him at the back of her throat.

Harper's fingers slid into Olivia's mouth, one thumb hooked into her cheek, two fingers from the other hand propped open Olivia's other cheek. Together, Harper's digits spread Olivia's mouth open and gave her a clear view of Liam's futile efforts to claw his way out of Olivia's throat. Every moment that passed left Olivia wanting it to be over, but her thoughts kept steering toward swallowing the wiggling thing at the entrance to her throat, not spitting it back out.

"You'll need throat lubrication to make him go down smoothly." Harper observed. "Beg me. Nicely."

Harper was almost directly above Olivia, looking down into her mouth, and holding Olivia's mouth open. Olivia wouldn't have moved, even if her girlfriend hadn't been on top of her, pinning her to the bed as the vibrator toiled away between her legs, but tears were beginning to form in her eyes just from the overwhelming sensation coming from her ears, eyes, her lips, her pussy, and her tongue and throat.

"Please… please lube up my throat." Olivia tried to say with her lips spread and her mouth occupied and her tongue being hugged by her ex while his legs tickled the back of her throat. Unfortunately it came out more as "'Ease… 'ease 'u u' 'y 'roat."

The attempt at speech was enough to revitalize Liam's struggles inside her mouth, and his attempts to climb out only served to heighten the feeling of power as his legs, kicking in desperate fear, occasionally slipped completely free and dangled in her throat. Olivia was surprised to be able to understand a bit of Liam's screams. Between the wordless howls of horror and his coughing and gagging on her own saliva, the occasional pain 'no' and 'please' and even Olivia's name reached her ears from inside her own mouth.

"Good girl." Harper said.

The much taller brunette loomed over Olivia, pursing her lips. Olivia knew what was coming, but with Harper’s fingers in place, she had nowhere to go, and even welcomed the blob of drool that formed at her girlfriend’s lips before spilling out and down to her own open mouth. The spit landed true, and the trail of saliva that followed it continued to dump fluid into Olivia’s mouth, and more consequently, all over Liam stuck deep inside her mouth. Harper let enough of her spit pour into Olivia’s mouth that Olivia could feel it pooling at the back of her throat.

Olivia looked up to Harper with the tears in her eyes beginning to dry. This was the kind of kinky play Olivia loved, the kind of thing Liam refused to ever participate in. Harper had immediately shown a willingness to walk down a path of more indulgences with Olivia that Liam had always insisted were beneath him, and instead pushed for the most vanilla of sex and fun. But here Harper was, pushing Olivia to enjoy herself, and engaging in the exact manner of depravity Olivia so desperately wanted.

“Now, I want you to watch me when you do it.” Harper instructed. “Keep your eyes open and on mine while I watch him. Are you ready?”

Olivia could only nod in affirmation. The pool of her girlfriend’s spit was too deep, the nearly drowning form of her ex-boyfriend too big, all of it too much to attempt to speak through it. Still it seemed to suffice. Harper’s eyes were still on Olivia’s as Olivia nodded, and Harper smiled.

“Good, now, deep breath in through your nose.” Harper ordered.

Olivia did as instructed, she felt her lungs swell up, even with her mouth full. Liam’s screaming and begging reached a new and fevered pitch of horror and desperation. No doubt he’d heard Harper’s orders and knew what was imminent.

“Swallow him.” Harper instructed.

Olivia couldn’t help but notice that Harper’s eyes had fallen, only a bit, from meeting her own gaze to a cruel smile directed at Liam, but Olivia did as she was instructed and kept her eyes open when she swallowed, and swallowed hard. The mass in her mouth, a mixture of her girlfriend’s saliva and her ex-boyfriend welled up very briefly, but then, like a mouthful of gelatin, compliantly slid into her throat.

She’d never swallowed anyone before, even if she’d fantasized about it more than enough, and certainly never attempted to swallow anything as large as Liam was, or still living for that matter. For the briefest of moments she was panicked when she felt the lump that was Liam arrest itself in the middle of her throat, but almost immediately swallowed again reflexively.

A brief squeak, the final sound Liam’s voice would ever make that any other person would ever hear, emanated from Olivia’s mouth as the writhing lump inside her throat slid freely from her mouth completely and down into her stomach. She could feel her impromptu meal for a second, a kind of solid mass that still quivered as it slid through her and to its final destination.

Harper’s fingers slipped out of Olivia’s mouth and her eyes returned to Olivia’s even as Olivia was focused on herself, just below her breasts. She could feel Liam inside her, like the final bite of a huge meal.

"Do… do you think he's still alive?" Olivia asked, not looking up from her own abdomen.

"Probably." Harper observed. "He might even still be conscious for a couple of minutes, but after that…"

As though he had heard them speak of him, over what Olivia only imagined to be the deafening sounds of her own gut, she felt a tiny, almost imperceptible motion inside her stomach. The feeling was so alien, novel, and simulating that she squealed with delight.

"Fuck me!" She said, returning her gaze to Harper.

"Well, somebody's suddenly feeling extra…" Harper started.

"Quit wasting time! We don't have long and I want you to make me cum while he can still hear it!" Olivia shouted. "So fuck me already!"

Olivia's eyes, and Harper's, shot wide open in shock. Olivia's hands both clamped down over her mouth in surprise at the words and tone that had erupted out of her. Harper blinked in stunned silence before recovering.

“Yes, ma’am!” Harper said.

With that, Harper leaned into Olivia, one hand brushing Olivia’s arms out of the way as Harper’s lips found their way to Olivia’s neck. Harper’s other hand was focused on piloting the strap-on to Olivia’s already wet vagina. Olivia tilted her head back to give Harper’s lips better access to her neck, and spread her legs to give the strap-on better access to her own lips.

A moan escaped Olivia as Harper’s hips pushed the dildo into her, while Harper’s lips began much more aggressively tending to Olivia's neck. Between the two of them, Olivia kept one hand over her stomach, applying just enough pressure to call into sharper relief feelings inside. The bullet on her clit buzzed away while her girlfriend settled into a familiar and effective rhythm. She hadn’t forgotten Liam, certainly not as she felt the lump inside her start to move gently with every powerful thrust of Harper’s hips, but she had certainly moved on.

“Ugh, no!” Beverly said.

“What? I haven’t even said anything!” The tiny man said.

“I know, but you’re tiny and crawling around in the dirt, and you’re going to ask me to help you, and then I’ll have to take you to that creepy place where all the tiny people get processed and I’m trying to read and I’m not doing it, so just… I don’t know, go away!” Beverly said.

“There’s no one else here!” the tiny man pleaded. “I think my wife may be looking for me, we were picnicking not far from here, when the wind caught a paper plate and… if you could just take me to her, I’d…”

“I said ‘no’, you fucking bug!” Beverly shouted. “What part of ‘no’ do you not understand?”

"But if you'd just listen…" the tiny man said, taking a few diminutive steps toward Beverly.

"I told you I'm not interested!" Beverly interrupted, raising her foot off the ground and over the tiny nuisance. "My sister's into all that freaky tiny person shit, but you little shits gross me out, so I'll tell you one last time; go away!"

An awkward silence hung between them. Beverly's foot hanging over the shrunken man, leaving him in a deep shadow as he looked around. Even from behind her sunglasses, Beverly could tell he was near a breaking point. She knew he likely couldn't see much, the park was mostly hills, trees, and ankle-high grass. Ankle-high to Beverly, it had tickled as she'd walked barefoot from her car, well out of sight, to the quietest, remote corner of the park, and came to rest under the largest tree she could find. To the little man under the threat of her foot, however, the grass would be taller than him.

"Please…" the tiny man said, hanging his head.

"Wrong answer!" Beverly said.

His scream was immediately cut off by Beverly’s foot slamming him into the ground. She wasted no time in showing her displeasure by rolling him under her foot. His body tumbled between the dirt and her toes, then the ball, under her arch, and finally ground under her heel, before she pulled the foot back and sent him rolling the other way. She could feel his limbs trapped and rolling under her, but cared little for his safety. When she felt he’d tumbled enough for a moment, she squeezed him with her toes, and pushed him into the soil, sparing no part of him from either her foot or the ground.

Beverly continued tormenting him, leaning back against the tree. Having traveled so deep into the park, almost against the edge that lead into the woods proper, and sitting under a tree, Beverly had hoped to not be disturbed. She reached into her bag and pulled out her accouterments for the afternoon; her most recent fantasy-horror-romance novel, a tall glass bottle of kombucha, and a cigarette case containing a few pre-rolled joints.

She lay the book on her lap while she occupied herself with lighting her first joint of the day. She pressed the tiny man into the soil with her toes as she pulled a long, potent drag off the joint. A practiced smoker, she didn’t cough as she exhaled the smoke, but went back in immediately for the second lungful, a few minutes later she felt her calm being restored through chemical assistance.

"You know, my sister's really into this shit…" Beverly said, rolling the tiny body beneath her sole. "When she graduated from CU of NT, she had a whole fucking drawer full of you little things."

The tiny man had given up screaming, either out of breath or too overwhelmed by the dirt and grime from being rolled and stomped under Beverly's sole. He still managed a few grunts and squeaks as she continued to idly knead him into the increasingly broken earth beneath her foot.

“But she’s got an unhealthy obsession with you little shits.” Beverly observed as she tormented the tiny man. “She uses you all to masterbate, she eats you, she stomps on you just for fun, she even had her boyfriend rail her with a tiny woman strapped to him one time. That’s why he broke up with her, well that and she told him about her fantasies if he ever shrank. Freaked him out real good.”

Beverly opened her book back up, and found where she'd left off; a chapter wherein the heroine learned of the monster's true nature, a welcome respite from her studies. The man under her sole did everything in his power to prevent himself from being reduced to a broken bag of pulp and bone fragments, but he had almost no agency under her foot.

“Now, I came out here to read…” Beverly declared, feeling the effects of the cannabis as she settled in. “And I’m going to read.”

Minutes passed into an hour, and then the hour passed into many. The sun began to fall toward the horizon. Beverly drank her kombucha, smoked her cannabis, read, and occasionally switched feet while ignoring the tiny man's pleas for mercy and release. By the time Beverly looked up from the last chapter, and the heroine had subdued the monster in her bed and in combat, the dirt beneath her feet had been dug up, and the tiny man utterly coated in both the grime from Beverly's feet and a staggering amount of dirt. She had spent so long grinding the annoyance under and between her feet that where her feet rested, the grass had been completely worn away, leaving a small pit of moist earth for her feet and her victim.

Beverly clutched the unmoving little man in her toes and lifted him up for a better look. Almost no part of him was distinguishable through the caked on dirt, soil, and what was left of the grass that had been at her feet. Similarly, both of her feet were absolutely encrusted with soil, looking like she had trudged through mud rather than sat reading for a few hours. Still, caught in the grip of her toes, Beverly could still see the little man's body shudder with pained, ragged breathing.

Shrugging, Beverly let him fall back to the dirt. She packed her kombucha bottle and her book back into her canvas bag, and got up to stretch. It was a lengthy process, arms, back, thighs, calves, even stretching the soles of her feet, but when she stood upright from the final stretch, hands slightly dirty, she adjusted her shorts and was surprised to feel so relaxed. Despite being caked in dirt, her feet felt as though she’d just had a great massage from Robert, even though he was so usually unwilling to provide.

“You know, maybe my sister actually has the right idea.” Beverly observed, scrunching and relaxing her toes in the dirt. Her feet felt better than they had in a very long time. “But don’t think I’m going to follow her example and shove you up my holes…”

Beverly slung her bag over her shoulder and leaned down, fishing the tiny man out of the dirt. She shook him off, less gently than would have been considerate, but gently enough to leave him in one piece and still breathing when she dropped him into one of the pouches of her bag. She dusted off her hands on her shorts, re-adjusted those same shorts, and turned around for the long walk back to her car when she almost crashed into the sobbing woman who had just walked around the tree.

“I’m sorry…” the sobbing woman apologized. “I’m looking for my husband, he’s diminished.”

“Uh huh…” Beverly said, stepping deftly around her. “Best of luck.”

“I’ve looked all over the park!” the weeping woman continued. “Have you seen a shrunken man around here anywhere?”

Beverly didn’t even break stride as she turned and shrugged her shoulders.

“Sorry, no.” she lied. “I hope you find him before someone else does!”

With that Beverly turned and began walking back to her car. The park’s grass in the early evening felt good on her bare feet, and she hoped that by the time she made it back to her vehicle some of the excess dirt would have wiped or rubbed off, but even if it got her Sonata dirty, she didn’t care. She patted her bag, feeling the outline of the unconscious shrunken man inside it through the thick canvas.

“Still... when I get home, I might need to call my sister…” Beverly said to no one but herself. “Maybe she has some ideas on how you can prove useful.”

Once, Estelle would have never even considered the best way to shove another human being into a third’s anus. The very concept of her current task, a task she had become alarmingly familiar and comfortable with, would have simply been so far outside the realm of reality that she wouldn’t have even been able to formulate an opinion without the aid of time and some considerable hallucinogens.

Javier struggled against her. He always struggled. The first few times, he’d even managed to slip out of her grip once or twice with a mixture of fighting and pulling on her heartstrings. The man who had been her boyfriend, now just another toy in Gabriella’s toybox, albeit one a step lower than Estelle in the hierarchy, had begged, and pleaded, and bargained, only to attempt a desperate dash once he’d managed to snake his way out of Estelle’s hands. The threat of disappointing Gabriella had overridden Estelle’s sympathy, and she’d chased Javier down, tackled him with no regard for his safety, dragged him back, and fulfilled her task.

His fighting now, so many weeks into their enslavement, was familiar enough to Estelle, and she was much more experienced with preventing his escape, and with forcing him into their mistress’s waiting hole. Tears poured down his face, contorted into a wailing visage of horror, dread, and misery. Once, that pitiable mien and wailing would have had a much greater effect on Estelle. Today, it just made her want to work faster.

Estelle dragged Javier’s flailing form, less than a third her own in height and much, much lighter, between Gabriella’s legs. Their mistress lay face down on her bed, with her legs spread, and her hands gripping her ass cheeks and spreading them wide, to better facilitate what was coming. Gabriella has been as gracious as she ever was and spread a dollop of lube at the entrance to her rectum, but other than that, left Estelle to do the work. As Estelle approached, Gabriella’s deep black fingernails stood out against her skin, digging into what could best be described as a voluptuous ass, and presenting a ready receptacle for Javier’s punishment.

"Don't keep me waiting, pet…" Gabriella ordered. "Unless you'd care to join him for the weekend?"

Once, when they had been recently shrunk, Estelle had resisted this very task. In her misplaced mercy she had hesitated and Gabriella had noticed. Estelle's punishment, for failing to heed her mistress's orders fast enough, had been to accompany Javier deep inside Gabriella as she went about her day. The crushing pressure, the suffocating heat, the blinding darkness, and all of that would have been miserable enough without the smell.

Estelle shook herself out of the flashback and approached her mistress's cheeks. Her mistress had been clear, Javier was to go in headfirst and be pushed too deep to escape without assistance. Without further hesitation, Estelle reached down and hoisted Javier up. He was too small to reach Gabriella's waiting hole on his own, but Estelle could lift him to it. Estelle dragged Javier up between Gabriella’s spread cheeks, despite his fighting. He’d given up trying to appeal to her mercy, but was still weeping as Estelle grabbed the back of his head. Estelle’s hand completely eclipsed the back of Javier’s head as she aligned his face with its destination, Gabriella’s rectum.

Javier was able to scream one last protest before Estelle shoved his head in, muffling him into almost silence. There was something in Estelle’s stomach that turned as she buried her hand up to the wrist, and Javier’s head as well, into Gabriella’s rectum. Estelle could feel Gabriella's sphincter twitch and her mistress's moans floated over her. For a moment, Estelle was horrified as it seemed Gabriella's fingers might let her cheeks slip and come crashing together around her, but the fingernails held and the massive cheeks eclipsing Estelle's vision merely jiggled as Gabriella savored the sensations of Javier's resistance.

With his head in, Estelle used her other hand and pressed his shoulders against their mistress's sphincter. He was trying to brace himself with his hands against the glistening skin of their captor, but Estelle knew that wouldn't help him. With a small pop, she pulled her hand out of Gabriella's hole, leaving Javier's head in it, and put both hands under his armpits. With a mighty shove, Estelle thrust Javier's shoulders through Gabriella's brown ring. The wider breach elicited a moan of pleasure and before Estelle could move, Gabriella's hands let go of her cheeks.

The giantess's ass came crashing together and pinned Estelle in place. It had been hot standing next to Gabriella's ass, but being smothered between her cheeks was another matter entirely. The jiggle of the cheeks earlier was gone, and in it's place was a smothering, tone ass that squeezed Estelle harder than anything she'd ever experienced.

The crushing hug from Gabriella's cheeks only lasted a moment before her mistress spread her cheeks again, but the sudden impact and pressure left Estelle disoriented as the light and, relatively, cool air came back to Estelle.

"Hey! Get to work, back there!" Gabriella said. "The sun isn't going to last forever!"

Estelle shook her head and resumed. The massive ass-clap hadn't dislodged Javier in anyway, his shoulders still stuck into Gabriella's anus. Estelle rushed forward and shoved him deeper in, her hands pushing him by the ass. In one, great push, everything but Javier's legs were swallowed up into Gabriella's rectum.

Gabriella's shuddering moan didn't slow Estelle at all. Estelle pushed deeper against Javier, her hands and wrists and forearms disappearing with Javier's thighs into Gabriella. A quick, sucking sound followed as Estelle pulled her hands out and grabbed Javier's flailing ankles. Holding the legs still, Javier's fight became more violent inside Gabriella and her ass slipped a bit through her fingers.

"If you don't fucking get him in there in five seconds, I'm going to shove you in after him!" Gabriella said.

Estelle wasted no time as she pushed forward, holding Javier's ankles and ramming him into Gabriella's waiting hole. The thrust was strong enough to bury all of Javier up to his ankles in Gabriella’s rectum. The only thing remaining outside of Gabriella were Javier’s wiggling feet. Estelle seized each foot and pushed again. Her own hands disappeared into Gabriella’s rectum up to her elbows as she shoved her ex-boyfriend as deep into her mistress as Estelle could manage. Estelle panicked for a brief moment as she felt Gabriella’s sphincter clench around her arms. Gabriella had experienced the strength of her mistress’s holes in the past, and knew that if this went on too much longer, she might very well be stuck inside Gabriella with Javier. Estelle braced her feet against the darker skin next to the sphincter and pushed with all her might against Gabriella, popping free and falling away from her mistress’s ass.

Gabriella sighed and let go of her cheeks just as Estelle cleared them. Estelle scrambled to get out from under Gabriella as the titanic woman shifted up on her knees.  Even as she shuffled backwards, away from Gabriella, Estelle had a clear view of Gabriella pulling out her favorite glass plug. The plug went to her ass and Estelle caught Gabriella's eyes watching her as Gabriella worked. Gabriella smiled as she pushed the tip of the glass plug into her hole behind Javier.

Gabriella had shown an expertise with her butt plugs, and had no difficulty as she slowly sank the glad cone into her ass. The plug, almost as large as Estelle herself, slowly disappeared into Gabriella, and for a few moments, Estelle could hear the pleading of Javier deep inside her. But as the widest part of the plug sank out of view, the last of Javier's cries were completely silenced.

The plug finally cleared the widest part, and Gabriella's rectum clenched down on the neck, preventing the plug from going into her any further. Gabriella sighed and sat up straight, towering over Estelle as she did. Gabriella looked over her shoulder, at her own ass and at Estelle. Gabriella kneaded her ass cheeks, savoring the feeling of the bulbous plug, and the squirming of Javier's desperation inside her.

Gabriella ignored Estelle as she climbed off the bed and left the tiny woman as she walked to her closet. She selected a pink two piece bikini. She donned the top of the bikini and then looked back to Estelle as she stepped into the bottom, with each leg, flexing her ass for Estelle to see Javier's unwitting prison.

With her bikini on, Gabriella walked back to the bed. Every step closer to Estelle reminded Estelle that while Javier was the smallest among them, Gabriella was still an unchecked titan to Estelle. Estelle didn't even struggle when Gabriella reached down and picked her up. Gabriella's fingers wrapped around Estelle's body and lifted her up to look Gabriella in the face.

"Not a bad job, but don't think you're done." Gabriella said with a smile. "I'm going sunbathing, and you're going to be applying the oil. If even one spot on me is burned, you'll wish you were shoved up my ass with him."

Estelle didn't get a chance to respond as Gabriella dropped her arm and began to make her way out to the pool. As she swung in Gabriella's hand, Estelle resigned herself to her mistress's service, content with the knowledge that her mistress's apathy was preferable to disappointment.

The doorbell rang out through the townhome, bouncing off walls and through the halls until it reached Callie, reclining on a beanbag chair deep in the basement, savoring the end of a long play from a long disbanded sludge metal trio. She ignored the doorbell. It was rare that she made time for herself, and having only recently discovered the now defunct, French band, ‘Conflagration of Time and Space’, she didn’t want to waste any of it dealing with people stupid enough to interrupt her personal time. A small snarl crossed her lips as the bell chimed again, and she suddenly had a vague, terribly vague sensation that maybe she'd ordered curry, and had forgotten about it in her reverie.

With a souring mood, and a sudden, driving desire for lamb in spicy gravy, Callie paused the stereo, almost causing her ears to ring as the sounds of harmonic bass and discordant guitar came to a jarring halt. She extricated herself from the cloying grip of the beanbag chair and began making her way up the stairs, her fuzzy slippers noisily slapping against her bare heel with every step. At the top of the stairs the doorbell chimed for a third time just as Callie threw open the door.

“What do you want?” She said, without even waiting for the door to reveal her visitor.

What it revealed wasn’t the usual driver from ‘Mumbai Munchies’, which darkened Callie’s mood even further, but her humors quickly buoyed when she recognized the already shame filled face of Steve, one of her previous clients. Steve wore a white t-shirt, and ratty jeans, but it was his face that intrigued Callie more than anything else. He was already looking down, avoiding her gaze, and Callie knew what that shoegazing, shameful look meant.

“Heeeey… dork. What brings you to my door?” Callie said with a wry grin, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“Um… Callie, hi…” Steve said, kicking invisible rocks on Callie’s doorstep. “I was… I was in the area…”

“Oh, really?” Callie said, leaning against her door frame. “You were ‘in the area’? Don’t you live on the other side of town?”

Steve was silent in response, his face down, but his eyes trying to gauge Callie’s mood. Callie’s grin widened into a sneer. She held out a hand.

“Phone, now.” Callie ordered.

The timid man, only a few inches taller than Callie, and clearly cut from a lifetime of athletic pursuits, almost jumped as her gesture. When he recovered from his shock, he immediately begin to fish through his denim pockets to produce the brick of plastics and electronics that she had demanded, only to wither as Callie’s grin momentarily faded.

“Unlocked, dweeb…” Callie ordered.

“Oh! Right!” Steve said, fumbling with his phone.

Once he’d thumbed in a few digits into the device, Callie snatched it from his hands. She stayed reclined against the doorframe as she pulled up Mumbai Munchies’s website and ordered a dinner portion of spicy lamb tikka masala, naan, laasi, and a backup order of chicken korma. She let the phone autofill the credit card and expiry date before hitting the security code.

“Code for the visa?” Callie asked, without looking up.

“Uh, it’s uh… ‘nine, nine, nine’...” Steve responded, rubbing his arm.

“Great.” Callie said, finishing the order and tossing the phone back to a startled Steven who just barely caught the phone after almost fumbling it three times. “You know the price, right?”

Steve, almost crouching as he caught his phone, looked up with a stunned look of relief, joy, and terror all at the same time. He nodded furiously as he met Callie’s eyes for the first time since ringing her doorbell. The look that Callie returned wiped all relief and joy from Steve’s face as he was suddenly confronted with his choice, having already made it with a short nod of his head.

“But I…” Steve started.

“Don’t care, dweeb.” Callie said.

It was done before Callie had even pushed herself away from the doorframe. Steve was gone, and where he had been, only a pile of clothes that he had worn. Callie continued to lean down and began to sift through the now derelict fabric until she found what she was looking for. There, clinging desperately to the waistband of his boxers, was Steve, shrunken down to only a half an inch tall, naked, and left with only his cell phone shrunken with him.

“I hope you’re ready…” Callie taunted. “Actually I don’t really care, but either way, you’re staying this way for at least the whole weekend.”

The diminutive face was hard to make out, but Callie had enough experience with shrunken faces that she recognized the look of abject horror when she saw it. She ignored the look on Steve’s face, or the completely inaudible sounds he attempted to make as she brought him to his new home for the weekend.

Lifting her heel, she revealed her sole, and the deep, dark recesses of her slipper’s toe. She casually dropped the shrunken Steve in, feeling him hit her arch, and slide down, over the ball of her foot, until he landed under her toes. Callie lifted her foot completely off the ground and tapped the toe against the floor, setting Steve into a comfortable, for her, position that she could squeeze and apply pressure to as she saw fit.

Almost immediately her phone began to vibrate with notifications. She chuckled as she pulled it from her pocket and saw Steve’s name show up, and then again, and again, and still more times. ‘Nothe whole weeknd!’, and ‘pls I have work!’, and ‘ur jokin rit?’, followed by many, many more similar messages from Steve on his only lifeline outside the steamy, sweaty depths of her fuzzy slippers. Callie replied with a curt, ‘don’t waste your battery dweeb’ before setting her phone to ‘do not disturb’ and then replacing the phone.

She descended the stairs, making sure to squeeze her new captive with every lift of her foot, and to press down with every footfall. She resumed her place on the beanbag, and resumed the screaming metal that filled the entire house, content to wait for her dinner, and enjoy the dual pleasures of obscure French sludge metal and the squirming sensation between her toes. By the time the track finished, she had forgotten who it was between her toes, but still enjoyed the wriggling well into the following week.

Stephanie laughed as she typed in the words…

"I don't know…" she mimicked her own typed words as she typed. "I've never really done this kind of thing before."

She rolled over on her back on her bed and paused her communication with some pseudo-anonymous guy through the app as she reached into the drawer of the nightstand next to her bed. It took a bit of fishing to find what she was blindly feeling for. Her fingers felt her beads, a wand, a couple of bullets, and finally, she found the desired toy. The dildo came out of the drawer with a clatter as she pulled it from among the other toys in her 'by the bed' collection.

She held the dildo up to her face and smiled at the shrunken woman inside. At one point, the tiny woman with a horrified expression on her face, had been an annoying classmate of Stephanie's. Stephanie had been forced to partner up with her for a project, and over the course of two weeks, chipped away at her inhibitions until the grating overachiever had handed Stephanie her phone and unknowingly gave Stephanie the ability to seal her away into a sex toy indefinitely.

"Did you hear that?" Stephanie asked through her giggles. "I've never done this kind of thing before"

Four hours later, Stephanie's plan was coming together nicely. Her latest victim had been tricked into handing her full control, and after dooming him to a slightly slower shrinking and a lifetime of nigh-immortality, Stephanie had blindfolded him with her panties and managed to tie his hands to the headboard with his own trousers. A sock from her laundry basket made an effective gag as she drove her former classmate, now her favorite dildo, into the man's ass again and again.

With every thrust, Stephanie had to reassert her grip on his hips. Even though he'd given up fighting her minutes ago, his shrinking was just quick enough to make keeping a grip on him an active task. But as he shrank, it also became easier and easier to slam him back onto her classmate-dildo.

His shrinking form slipped free of the bonds holding him to the headboard relatively quickly, but by that point he was far too powerless to do anything to stop Stephanie as she continued to rail him with a kind of berserk abandon. All he could do was watch as each thrust of her hip produced a larger and larger bulge in his gut, until the living dildo she violated him with was almost as large as his entire torso, and then, very shortly thereafter, larger. Stephanie switched to one hand, gripping her new cocksleeve with one hand and pumping him up and down the shaft of her dildo as he continued to shrink down to his final size, an appropriately thinly-stretched living condom, animated over the already wriggling form of her classmate-dildo.

A quick slip of a few buckles and the strap on rig came undone, releasing the dildo with it, leaving the warm, squirming gestalt sex toy Stephanie had engineered in her grasp. Stephanie knew from interrogating her other toys that being stretched rubber thin like that was an impossibly surreal experience, the eyes in particular didn't work the way they did as relatively round orbs, and all vision was distorted.

What remained, in fact what was heightened due to being stretched out like a condom, was the sense of touch. Every nerve in the body at the surface, everything feeling at a hundred percent. Stephanie brough the pair up to her mouth and pressed her lips into the shaft of the dildo, enjoying the feeling of the woman’s struggling under the man’s squirming and his tiny limbs flailing in panic, confusion, and horror, and the warmth that they brought with being living things.

Stephanie knew she didn’t have much time, but there was prep work to do before the final member of her planned orgy arrived, and if either of the toys in her hand could see, they would be greeted with her open mouth as she plunged the two toys deep into her throat. Instantly, Stephanie knew she'd made the right decision. While her throat was a poor analogue for what she had planned, it did confirm that sheathing one unwilling toy inside another yielded amazing results in both textures and motion as she could feel both of them come energetically alive inside her.

The doorbell rung, and Stephanie quickly pulled the dildo out her mouth, gagging and gasping with delight as it popped free of her lips while she seized her phone just in time to see the message from her final participant pop up on the screen. She gleefully texted out a response, while her new favorite playthings writhed against her thighs in her lap.

"Walk around to the back door, transfer full control to me…" Stephanie said as she typed it out. "then stand next to the door and wait for me."

She slipped her phone into the waistband of her underwear and took one moment to address her toy.

“He’s here! I cannot wait for this!” She practically squealed. “Just be thankful you two are going in the front door instead of the back!”

She placed a kiss on the toy, what she could approximate was a protruding penis, and then tossed it to the bed, walking around to the back of her home. On the way there, her phone buzzed again, as the Tiny Tinder app notified her that her most recent match had done as she’d instructed and transferred full control to her. A quick checklist marked off the necessary adjustments. She switched the size down to a much more manageable two inches, the durability up to the max setting, and the consciousness setting to an inhumane ‘always on’. The time to shrink was set to instantaneous, and finally, the duration was set to indefinite. Stephanie accepted the current settings, and then slammed the button to proceed. By the time she arrived at her backdoor seconds later, unlocking it and throwing it open, all that greeted her was a pile of clothes on her back porch.

“Well done…” Stephanie said, standing over the clothes, which began to show the faintest signs of motion underneath. “But I’ve got some bad news…”

The tiny man finally crawled out of his collar, more than a little disoriented. In their original texts, she had hinted at a much more gradual shrinking, and much, much less loss of height on his part. He had probably expected to only lose half his height in the process, so viewing the world from his almost insignificant size, coupled with Stephanie’s bare feet on either side of him, rising up her impossibly tall legs, to her lace panties and beyond, where she looked down on him, clearly stunned him. He didn’t even run as she reached down and plucked him from where he stood in his clothing. Her other hand quickly shuffled all the clothing inside, but she didn’t have much more consideration for it than that, standing up and quickly making her way back to her bedroom.

“So here’s the thing…” Stephanie said to the squeaking, clearly distraught tiny man in her grip. “I know I said we were going to do this BDSM thing, and you were going to get to experience ‘snu snu’, but I lied…”

Stephanie tossed herself onto her bed, an insane rollercoaster ride for the man in her hand, and an only slightly less insane bounce for the two that she had tossed there earlier. With a skill that came from regular practice, she reached into her nightstand with her freehand and produced the final two elements of her oft-fantasized one-person orgy, a bottle of lube, and her thickest plug, meant only for someone who had experience with such devices.

The sight of the butt plug was too much for the tiny man in her hand, and his protests became incoherent screams of horror, while he began to fight to free himself. His efforts had no effect, however, as Stephanie lifted her legs up, and back toward her head as she’d done many times before.

The bottle of lube and plug were set aside for a moment as both hands were used to begin working the tiny, screaming, struggling man between her cheeks, and into her rectum. It wasn’t slow work, she was practiced at the task, and whatever resistance he could muster amounted to nothing against her strength and dexterity. Within seconds he’d been positioned, and in under a minute, the pleasing sensation of his squirming against her asshole slipped into the even more enjoyable feeling of him writhing inside her.

With a quickness again honed from practice, Stephanie blocked his exit with one hand, as the other moved the plug into position, its tip quickly replacing her hand as the seal against the tiny man’s attempts to escape. The other hand seized on the bottle of lube and quickly squirted a stream of unscented, warming goo all over the plug, which Stephanie helped coat by spinning it slowly against her hole. Thoroughly lubricated, Stephanie capped the bottle and tossed it aside, returning both hands to the task of sliding the large, black rubber plug deep inside her.

By far this would be the most time Stephanie would take with her toys all night. The process of inserting her largest plug was not something she took lightly, even having experienced it before. But against her caution, and her better judgment, the feeling of her latest Tiny Tinder date struggling to free himself from the confines of her colon almost pushed her to recklessness.

Still, she exhaled, and controlled her breathing. The tip slowly began to spread her ring. The moan that escaped her throat was involuntary, but she let it ring out through her house anyway. She’d inserted this plug a dozen times, but never had there been a small, desperate man caught between the plug and the depths of her guts, and as the plug slid further in, bulldozing his tiny body deeper inside her, Stephanie only regretted having not done it sooner.

Just when it felt like her sphincter might actually be stretched beyond its limits, the strain and resistance of the plug at her hole suddenly vanished as the largest part slipped inside her, and shoved the tiny man against the walls of her colon, pinning him between the plug and her guts as it slid home.

Stephanie lay on the bed, her legs collapsing in a quiver of exhaustion and pleasure as she clenched and relaxed involuntarily around the plug. Every movement made her more and more aware of the shrunken man caught inside her and almost crushed under the significantly more massive bulk of her largest plug.

Stephanie lay as still as her quivering insides, and clenching sphincter would allow for several minutes. She was tempted, in that moment, to forgo her plan for the night and simply rely on her fingers to masturbate, but the sensation of her gestalt toy against her thigh prompted her to commit to her plan.

Her hand shivered with anticipation as she picked up her toy from earlier. The pair of victims that made up the dildo seemed to recognize something had changed, and she could feel their wriggling increase. That only served her purposes as she brought the toy down and let the length of it slide through her bush, then over her clit, and let the shaft cleave her lips. She shuddered as she felt its warmth and vibrations play over her most sensitive areas, fully aware that even before she had introduced the toy to her nethers, the butt play had her as wet as she’d ever been.

With as much restraint as she could manage, Stephanie slid the toy back up and down, allowing the tiny man-condom’s limbs to brush over her clit, and to feel her former classmate’s struggles as almost electric sensations against her labia. It was enough to remove any restraint she had left, and send her into lustful abandon.

Having given up on subtly, Stephanie slammed the dildo home, burying both her earlier Tiny Tinder date and her classmate as deep inside herself as she could manage. She was instantly rewarded with the novel sensation of a double-layer of unwilling toys unwittingly pleasing her in ways that a penis, or even the most alien of her toys, could manage. And there was something to be said for the warmth the living dildo provided, that would scarcely be reproduced by silicone, metal, plastic, or glass.

With a fury born of an entire week of fantasizing about this very moment, Stephanie drove the dildo in and out of her, heedless of any concerns other than building the heat in her loins, and the shocking waves of pleasure that radiated out from them with every pull and thrust back in, into the best orgasm she’d ever experienced.

The process didn’t take long, thee unwilling toys, two inside her pussy, and one crowded into her ass by her largest plug, combined with her own efforts, turned a firestorm of pleasure into an almost paralyzing seizure of electricity that curled her toes, tensed every muscle in her body, and even resulted in a bit of spittle running out of her mouth. The orgasm itself was so intense, Stephanie found herself stripping the sheets from her bed with an involuntary spasm of her legs, although she cared far less for the cleanup that would be necessary, than prolonging the experience that caused her ass to clench up harder than ever before, and her pussy to clamp down on it’s unfortunate occupants.

Moments later, still wallowing in her own discharge, her pussy still greedily squeezing on the pair she had shoved up it, Stephanie’s limbs relaxed enough to push herself up on the bed. Every few moments the aftershocks of her efforts would stifle her breath, and occasionally cause an involuntary twitch of her thigh, but they were diminishing in strength, and growing longer and longer between. Stephanie idly played with her clit, stimulating the overly sore organ just enough to prolong the magic, but she made no effort to retrieve any of her toys.

Stephanie considered, for a moment, going in for a round two. She recognized that she'd already be doing laundry for this, and given how good it had felt the first time, she was eager to learn how much she could do, slightly dehydrated and a little sore around the lips, when her phone buzzed. She picked the phone up and her eyes lit up.

“Oh fuck yes!” Stephanie exclaimed. She didn’t know if any of the people trapped inside her could hear or understand her, but that didn’t matter to her. “It looks like this four-way is going to get a new player! And she wants to try getting vored!”

The top half of the silicone prison clasped into place without issue, trapping her husband inside of it. Only his head, hands and feet stuck out by design, but beyond that and several drainage holes that ran the length of the toy, he was completely imprisoned inside the custom made toy.

It had cost thousands, not only to simply make, which had required her husband to remain perfectly still for hours to create the mold so the finished product would be as form fitting and inhumanly restrictive as possible, but also to buy the silence of the artisan she'd hired to make it.

Secured inside the brightly colored silicone prison, her husband begged and promised and apologized with tears running down his tiny face. He'd experienced this bespoke chastity cage only once before, right after it had been delivered, but it had been enough to instill in him a potent fear of what was in store for him.

"You should have thought about that before you forgot the sugar in my coffee…" Gabriella said with a wry grin. "Now you're going to stay in there until I feel you've learned to be better."

Gabriella ran her fingers over the silicone's ridges and bumps. The underside of the prison was almost flat, curving in slightly and meant to be laid down on a sturdy surface so her husband could experience his imprisonment with as little agency as possible, but the front was a work of horny beauty. Along its length, double that of her shrunken husband, were ridges, bumps and other textures meant for her.

When it had been initially completed, Gabriella had used it to play with herself, the textured lid had proven to be a phenomenal stimulus to her nethers even when held in her hand and bereft of a tiny, unwilling prisoner. Just thinking about how it would feel was warming her pussy. It was a little awkward but Gabriella managed to climb onto the kitchen counter without incident. She set the silicone prison down on the smooth grey surface and pressed just enough to create the seal as the bottom of the prison suctioned to the countertop.

She leaned over her imprisoned husband, still fighting against his confines, and smiled before pursing her lips. A steady stream of drool spilled forth from between her lips. The spit flowed into the ridges of the silicone trap and then over her husband's face. He coughed and sputtered as she continued to let her saliva fall on him.

With the chastity-coffin-sex-toy thoroughly lubricated, Gabriella wiped her mouth and began to position herself. It took a bit of awkward shuffling of her knees, but before long her husband was directly under her crotch. She pulled the string on her bikini bottom until it came loose and then continued until the garment came completely away. She let it fall onto the floor below the counter.

Her hips did most of the work, with each rolling thrust of her hips, her pussy dragged along the textured surface of the sex-toy prison she'd sealed her husband in. The ridges felt as amazing as they had when she'd tried it out earlier, but the addition of her husband's captivity and utter helplessness under her snatch made it all the better.

Every roll of her hips stoked the heat that had built in her crotch and turned that warmth into a wet fire that coursed through her body every time. She pushed her hips down harder and rolled faster back and forth. From beneath her, Gabriella could hear the squeaking protests of her husband spiking and then muffling as her pussy slid off him, then plowed forward to smother him again with her sex.

Gabriella slowed a bit, savoring the sensations, and especially the begging coming from her husband. She smiled as the sound of her pussy slowly splitting over her husband's silicone prison was replaced with his squeaking again and then silenced once more as she rolled her hips forward again to silence him. She pulled back off of him so slowly that it pulled a soft moan from her heaving chest.

"What's the matter?" She asked with a sly grin at the corner of her mouth. "I thought you wanted to fuck me more? This is what you wanted. And besides, it's the only way you're of any use to me…"

Gabriella leaned down, bringing herself as face to face with her shrunken husband as his size would allow. This close she couldn't even see him effectively, as her mouth was almost pressing into head.

"Why are you complaining?" Gabriella taunted between heavy breaths. "This is more pussy than you can handle, and it's not like that pathetic thing you call a dick is good for anything."

She pushed herself back up, and began sliding forward, her dripping cunt hanging over her husband as she teased herself just enough to keep her juices flowing.

"Now be a good toy and let me really hear your screams." Gabriella ordered.

She didn’t wait for his acknowledgement. Although she loved to hear his pleading ‘yes mistress’es, she had waited long enough to get off. Her legs spread wide and her pussy slammed into her husband. Immediately she began grinding against her husband’s textured silicone prison with unchecked frenzy. The stimulation was almost too much to keep her upright, as wave after wave of pleasure flooded her through her pussy, but one arm propped up on the counter kept her up. She could only just hear her husband, not just because her motions barely afforded him any time to breathe, let alone scream, but also because the squelching sound as her soaked pussy grinded over the toy drowned him out, almost literally.

Gabriella felt the orgasm coming before it hit, but that did nothing to abate the electric pleasure that seized her body, clenched her jaw, and flooded the kitchen counter with her cum. Gabriella always enjoyed the surprising duration of the orgasms that came from humiliating tiny people, and she wasn’t sure her husband would still be alive, let alone conscious, as each wave of the pleasure surged through her and sent more of her lust spilling out onto the kitchen countertop.

When the orgasm finally subsided enough to let Gabriella feel the soreness in her legs, she lifted herself off her husband, and deftly spun around to sit on the edge of the counter. She took a few moments to just savor the feelings still pulsing against the rhythm of her own heartbeat, and the fading burning heat in her pussy as her body recovered from a great orgasm. She twisted around to see her husband, still moving, and apparently awake, but coated completely in her juices, and struggling to cough or spit up enough of her cum to breathe normally again. She couldn’t stifle a laugh as he struggled helpless against the silicone, and her discharge.

“Here, let me help you.” Gabriella said with some disdain.

It was easy enough for Gabriella to slip her fingertip under the lid of the silicone prison, although she felt her husband’s body yield and heard his cry of pain as the tight confines of the silicone become painful with the addition of her fingertip. She effortlessly pulled the prison open, the ridged lid that she had used to seal him in, as the base remained firmly suctioned to the counter. Her husband quickly, but lacking any grace, climbed out of the silicone prison and fell to the countertop on his knees, coughing up her juices and trying to breathe normally again.

“I’m going to go shower…” Gabriella announced. “I want this countertop cleaned up by the time I get back, and don’t forget, you’re on lockdown. No touching that pathetic dick, if I think you jacked off while I was in the shower you’re going to get something so much worse than silicone.”

For a moment her husband looked around at the comparatively lake-sized puddle of Gabriella’s lust spread out over the dark grey composite countertop, then back up to her in despair at the impossibility of his task.

“What? Don’t give me that look.” She laughed as she dismounted the countertop and started toward the bathroom. “It’ll be a long shower, and besides, you’ve got a tongue… get started.”

"It is for the most joyous occasion that we're gathered here today…" Read the officiant dressed in black robes. "To wed man to woman in marital bliss!"

The cue for the organist registered almost immediately, and Wagner's Bridal Chorus filled the sun drenched clearing in the forest. It was all Sophia needed to pass through the curtains separating her from the rest of the wedding proceedings.

Guests gasped at her beauty, just as planned, as she emerged into the sunlight, showcasing a haute couture dress of modest cut, but brocaded with gold and a cathedral train that followed her like a living pool of satin ivory and gold. The part in the bell of the dress allowed her open toed heels, matching white and made to look comprised entirely of lace, as well as her bridal hosiery, show through with every slow, deliberate step she took down the aisle.

Family and friends marveled on either side of her as she slowly strode down the aisle, all the while, beaming with joy as she moved. She reached the head of the aisle and after stepping up to the dias, with the aid of some of her bridesmaids, managed to turn the complicated structure of her dress ninety degrees, and then sat in the ornate chair, a throne really, made ready for her, opposite her husband to be. After quickly handing off her bouquet to one of her bridesmaids, the officiant continued and the music silenced.

“Friends, today were are here to wed Bertram Ollie to Sophia Mendoza.” The officiant said above the normal murmurs of the crowd. “These two are to be legally bound, he to her, for as long as she sees fit.”

Fighting back tears of joy in her eyes, Sophia covered her mouth with a gloved hand as she looked down at her groom. Even if he had been standing, it wouldn’t have been likely he’d look her in the eyes, she stood more than a meter and a half taller than most men, and her groom was short. But he wasn’t standing, he’d been placed in the traditional position for the groom, on his knees, with his wrists bound behind his back with white leather cuffs, a half hood of white leather covered the top part of his head, leaving him blind and almost deafened, while a ball gag had been shoved into his mouth, contrasting bright red against the rest of his accoutrement, and his pale skin.

“If there is anyone here gathered who believes these two should not be wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace…” The officiant offered to the crowd.

Sophia’s friends and family had gathered in forceful numbers for affair, and throughout the crowd, her loved ones looked on in anticipation as the officiant paused to give anyone brave enough the opportunity to speak up. When a few moments passed uninterrupted, the officiant continued, turning to the maid-of-honor.

“If you would?” She said to Sophia’s best friend, Michele.

Michele had been waiting all day, and almost hopped over to where Sophia sat, a box in hand containing one more piece of leather sized for the groom; an ornately formed, embossed, and silk lined collar, with both a heavy metal ring on the back, and a smaller one with a tag hanging from the front. Sophia took the collar, and smiled as her groom, at least partially aware of what was happening, shuffled forward on his knees to place himself at her feet.

“Then by the power of the state, I hereby pronounce you wife and man!” The officiant said, raising her hands high in jubilation. “You may collar the groom.”

Sophia leaned forward and slipped the leather collar down around her groom’s bowed head. The softness of the lining, and her own practice at having done it dozens and dozens of times to make sure that her wedding day was perfect, meant that the collar slipped around his neck with superlative ease. She slipped the collar closed, and tightened it, biting her lip as the final process of her wedding was coming to a close, and locked the collar tight in its buckle.

A tear rolling down her face, Sophia stood up, one finger slipped into the heavy ring at the back of her comparatively diminutive husband’s collar, and hoisted him high into the air beside her. On display for the entire wedding to see, her now-husband dangled from her finger by his collar, his tag gleaming in the sun with his new name, chosen by Sophia, etched onto the shining metal.

The gathered wedding cheered uproariously, and began to throw confetti over Sophia and Pet as she walked back the aisle she had come, heart full, eyes weeping with joy, and a smile across her face, heading toward the waiting limousine that would take her and Pet to the airport to begin their honeymoon.

Euphoria filled Sarah as the plunger of the hypodermic needle smoothly depressed under her thumb. The needle had bit into his neck so cleanly and without resistance that for a split second Sarah had thought she'd missed, but her hand pushed the needle to it's base, and her thumb acted almost by instinct, pushing the very nearly clear liquid from the reservoir into his vein. It was the sight of that fluid, a shrinking serum derived from a type-neutral plasma suspension, steadily disappearing from the needle's reservoir that sparked the euphoria in Sarah. The feeling of the plunger pushing back against her thumb, his last, unaware, unconsciously desperate, and ultimately futile act of resistance to the actualization of Sarah's reality only served to build the euphoric feeling into physical pleasure that spread from the pad of her thumb and out through her body.

It lasted only a moment. A fraction of a second was all it took to force a few milliliters of priceless serum from the needle into his neck, and forever alter the world to suit Sarah's own perceptions. That moment felt like minutes to Sarah. Caught up in the bliss of realizing everything, juxtaposed with the dread of the needle missing, or even after she had buried it deep inside him, snapping, made it a brief, but ultimately sublime moment in her life that she would revisit in memory and dream over and over again. Sarah was almost disappointed when the plunger stopped.

As soon as the hypodermic needle had emptied, he clutched his neck and ducked away, fraught with shock and pain. He began to shout, to curse, to berate Sarah, but Sarah could see the panic and fear in his eyes. She knew that his fear, his heartbeat thundering through his veins with an ever-increasing pace, was spreading the serum through him. Sarah smiled, knowing that he was unconsciously accelerating his fate. He was unknowingly rushing into her possession, where Sarah knew he’d belonged all along. Sarah didn’t have to wait long as his fury was replaced with a sheen of sweat on his face, and a look of mixed nausea and confusion.

Even before Sarah had let the spent needle fall from her grasp, the process had already begun. She noticed his sleeves creeping up his wrist on the arm holding his neck, even as he fumbled his keys to the ground. In the clear light of the noon sun, there was nothing to obfuscate the effects of the serum from Sarah's delighted eyes. She'd witnessed the results on dozens of lab mice, seen the effects for herself, but to watch him diminish in size for her was another matter entirely.

The sight of his shrinking, his shirt billowing up around him, the waist of his pants briefly swallowing him from under then falling away entirely to the asphalt of the parking lot. In his fear and confusion, he stumbled over his clothing, pushed himself off of his own car, and fell between Sarah’s feet where she watched with rapt attention as he continued to dwindle before her. Crawling from the fabric of the clothes he’d never have the luxury of wearing again, Sarah almost squealed to see him small enough to slip through his shirt’s collar, now too small to bear any threads at all.

For the first time since her hand had pulled the needle from her purse, Sarah resolved to touch her prize. Sarah knelt down and simply held him in place with her fingertips. The small man, only a foot tall at most, could do nothing to shake even her fingertips from where she kept him pinned. It was miraculous to feel his squirms, but more so to feel him shrink under her fingertips, his resistance growing weaker and weaker to her with every passing moment.

The moment Sarah realized it was possible, she wrapped her fingers around his tiny body, picking him up from the ground and standing up. The tiny man’s face was washed with a horror only checked by his nausea and vertigo. Even before she had stood up, the human form in her hand had become small enough to only spread out over her hand. By the time she had stood up, he didn’t even cover the lines of her palm, but had at least appeared to have finally ceased shrinking.

Sarah slowly closed her fingers around him. The quick and labored breathing of his bare chest beneath her closing fingers. For a moment, Sarah savored the sight of him disappearing under her digits. The entirety of him vanished into her hand, no longer visible to Sarah or to any other soul alive behind her fingers.

Sarah felt him though. Through her fingertips, through her palm, her hand enveloped him in a way he’d never been enveloped before. Her hand was his existence, her skin and scent and body heat his everything. But Sarah knew it was her heartbeat that would be overwhelming him, overriding his senses as every beat of her heart coursed through her veins and became a dull, deep, steady thunder around him.

She never let him slip from her grip as she slid her hand back into her hoodie’s kangaroo pocket. As she spun on her heels and briskly walked back to her own car, where she’d waited for him to emerge from his apartment, Sarah clutched him in her fingers, lightly squeezing her prize, her pet, her toy, in a gleeful expression of the ownership she now held over him.

Sarah had finally made real his purpose, being hers.

The phone buzzed again and Emily ignored it by shifting her weight onto it, but the phone continued to buzz, even as she adjusted. The buzzing finally broke through her concentration and she set her ereader down on the table to retrieve the other electronic device from between her asscheek and the loveseat, where it was nestled deep in the back pocket of her sweats. After almost fumbling with it as it buzzed again in her hands, she could already see the notifications stacking up on her screen, even locked. With a quick swipe she had access to the last two minutes of uninterrupted activity. Text after text after text came in from the same number, Craig’s. She hadn't spoken with Craig in some time, and was more than a little surprised to see that he had her phone number. Without even reading them, she thumbed a quick response.

Dude, wtf? I’m tryna read here.

Emily sat the phone face down on her stomach and reached for her water. Even as the phone buzzed, and again, and again, she took her time in unscrewing the lid, and savoring a couple of cooling draughts of the crystal clear liquid. She took her time as well, in replacing the cap and setting the water back down before going back to her phone.

LET ME OUT

EMILY YOU ATE ME

WITH YOUR POPCORN LET ME OUT YOU ACCIDENTALLY ATE ME

Emily rolled her eyes and began to thumb out her message.

LOL no I didn't

Quit playing around

Without waiting for a reply, Emily set her phone back down on her chest and picked her bowl of popcorn back up, even as the phone continued to buzz. She idly selected a few kernels, the choicest of the popped, fluffy clouds coated in salt, pepper, and a few choice herbs that had been sprinkled liberally over the entire bowl. She chewed and chewed, enjoying the herbaceous and slightly spicy flavors with every light clench of her jaw, swallowing before picking her phone back up. She continued to pick out and savor popcorn by the individual kernel the entire time she reviewed the latest messages. One hand holding and scrolling, the other dipped into the popcorn bowl, Emily swiped through the most recent messages.

LOOK PLZ EMILY PLZ LOOK

An image followed, extremely dark, and blurry, but Emily recognized it well enough. The flash from the phone was failing, and could barely handle the crushing darkness and the sloshing fluids. The picture was one of horror, an alien landscape of deep crimson fleshy walls surrounding a lake of crushed and drowned popcorn, and with a haze barely visible in the stifling heat and moisture.

IM N YR STOMAC U SDWALLD ME PLX

Emily sighed and started her response.

No dumbass

I didn’t swallow you accidentally

I’d tell you not to fuck with my friends feelings next time but there wont really be a next time

Now be a good snack and just get digested

Emily squeezed her phone between her thighs and savored the panicked buzzing as she continued to enjoy her popcorn.

"Please welcome to the center stage, Goldie!"

Ava frowned. She wished she hadn't chosen that stage-name so long ago. Her fingernails were matte black with glittering gold tips, her top and bottom glittered with the same gold, and her toenails, sticking out from her six inch heels, matched her fingernails. All evidence that she still loves the color, but it was kind of a stupid name.

Her disdain for her stage-name was ameliorated by the knowledge that, tonight at least, almost no one would hear it, as the club would likely be only sparsely populated, normally a curse of working on a Thursday afternoon, occasionally it allowed her to try out new routines, or indulge in her preferred, if less popular music selections.

Ava stepped out from behind the partition to the pounding bass, and almost screaming vocals that she preferred for her first dance of the night, but almost immediately stopped. The strip club was almost literally empty. From the center stage she could see only one mostly passed out guy waiting for the taco bar to open up, and a single, tiny client who took a seat way in the back. There wouldn't even be anyone at center stage when she danced.

“What the hell, Bob?” Ava called out to the DJ-and-also-club manager.

The man in headphones, who cultivated the appearance of a redneck with a technology fetish, simply shrugged his shoulders and went back to curating the music for the non-existent client base.

Ava sighed, and resolved to work the ‘crowd’  instead. Navigating the stairs would’ve been challenging for anyone who wasn’t an expert in navigating stipper heels, but Ava was down off the stage quickly and efficiently, on her way to half of the entire Thursday clientele, the man at the not-yet-open taco bar.

The would-be-taco-eater reeked of booze, and not the club’s booze either, so she moved onto the only other customer in the club. Secluded in the back of the club, sat at a tiny table, set on top of one of the clubs full size tables, there was a single, attentive man, in what passed for quality clothes for the tiniest of people on the planet. Ava wouldn’t have even noticed him there, if the club hadn’t installed a light above the table to let dancers know it was occupied. Ava moved to the booth table, and leaned over the table, happy to see the man’s eyes go straight to her cleavage hanging above him.

“So, it looks like you’re our only client tonight.” Ava mused. “Is there anything special you’d like this evening? Specific music? A lap dance? Something else?”

“I…I uh, yeah…” The tiny man said.

The words that followed were almost shamefully muttered, as the shrunken man had difficulty meeting Ava’s eyes, but even more so than just being transfixed by her tits. He seemed almost embarrassed to voice his request, and given his diminutive size, the club’s music, and the sudden shyness made it impossible to hear him. Ava wasn’t in the best of moods, given the club’s pathetic attendance, and may have snapped a bit harder than she planned.

“Speak up!” Ava said. “No one can hear you down there.”

“I want to be in your ass!” The tiny man shouted, looking surprised at his own volume.

Ava grinned. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the tiny man blushed and almost tried to hide his face by looking away. Ava had actually had a person in her ass before, and on multiple occasions. She even could boast to have had a couple up there, desperately fucking each other while Ava’s asshole kept them sealed inside her colon. Although normally not one for anal play, Ava had to admit the added dynamic of having a person trapped inside her, and the sensation of that person’s body wriggling away, made the specific act of shoving someone deep inside her ass so much more appealing.

“Well… this is a strip club, not a brothel…” Ava music without sincerity. “But I suppose if you were willing to pay for it…”

The man nodded silently, and held up one of the tiny-sized credit cards that all the tiny people used to pay for things, since dollar bills were usually larger than their entire bodies. Ava smiled, teeth showing through her lips. The tiny man wore clothing that, for a shrunken person, were pretty good, shirt, pants, even shoes that all screamed ‘expensive to have custom made’, and the card gleamed with black gloss.

“That’ll do!” Ava said.

Before the tiny man could change his mind, Ava reached down and snatched him up with one hand. Ava made sure to be just gentle enough to not lose the tiny man’s credit card, but otherwise worked quickly. The front end of the club was disappointing, and Ava wanted to find somewhere else to be that didn’t stink of failure and taco-booze.

A few minutes later, Ava had locked the door behind her in the office-lounge for the club, where she could have some privacy. The music still could be heard thumping from outside, but only two other people had keys to the back, and Bob would be busy serving tacos for a while.

“So, let’s get your ass ready!” Ava said.

Before the tiny man could respond, Ava indulged herself in one of her private delights, forcibly stripping tiny people out of their clothes. It was one thing to strip another, normal sized person, but to have a shrunken person, unable to stop her as her fingertips gripped and shredded the cloth was a kind of power almost unchecked. Even as he protested, Ava’s fingers did their work without hesitation, tearing away his shirt, and then the remains. His tiny hands tried to stop her from ripping his pants away, revealing tiny, adorable boxers, but he had no more success in stopping her there.

“Oh my god, are those heart boxers?” Ava asked. “Shame they gotta go too! Can’t have anything getting stuck inside me.”

Ava delighted as she continued to remove his clothing, recklessly shredding it as she pulled it away, eventually leaving the man completely naked, and curled up in her palm. She sat her phone down on the coffee table and sat herself down on the couch in front of it.

“And now, my little client…” Ava said, as she flopped down onto the couch. “Let’s get you introduced to your home for the evening.”

With a deftness that came from practice, Ava’s free hand pulled the string keeping her shimmering gold bottom apart, and then pulled it free of her. Beneath it, her neatly groomed bush stood out over her pussy, and behind that, the object of the tiny client’s destination. Ava laid back and slung a foot up on the back of the couch, bringing the tiny man down between her legs.

Just as Ava had one hand pulling her cheek apart, to facilitate easier insertion of the client into her rectum, the tiny man began to scream. Not even scream, more like cry. Ava stopped, just to verify she wasn’t mishearing something, but what started as screaming turned into crying, blubbering and continued unabated. Ava brought the tiny man back up to her face, even as she reclined on the couch. Sure enough the tiny man was weeping openly in her hand.

“P…pl…please don’t put me in th…there!” He begged through the tears. “I changed my mind! I can’t do it!”

“What?” Ava asked, more than a little disappointed. “You don’t have to do anything, just let me take care of it, one good push and you’re all the way up there.”

“I can’t!” He wept. “I’m too scared!”

“Well, shit…” Ava said with disappointment.

Ava sat up and set her only source of income for the evening back down on the coffee table and picked up her phone. The messages from her friend, Kayla, had been coming in almost non-stop for the last hour, each one with more exclamation marks than the previous. A brief review seemed to suggest Kayla had an invite to a gathering downtown and needed company. The tiny man was still recovering on the coffee table, so Ava dialed up her friend.

"Hey, girl…" Ava said into the phone, resting on the table next to her client.

"You gotta get down here!" Kayla said excitedly over the speaker. "Don't leave me alone with these nerds!"

"I'm at work." Ava responded. "And what do you mean 'these nerds'? It's your own damn playgroup…"

"Yeah, but it'll be more fun with you!" Kayla countered. "Come on, there can't be that many people there on a Thursday!"

"Nah…" Ava admitted. "Just one tiny guy who asked me to shove him up my ass…"

As she spoke, the shaken tiny man finally seemed to regain his bearings and climbed to his feet. He at least had the sense to look embarrassed that he had paid for a service, come so very close, and then chickened out at the last moment.

"Oh, fuck! I love that!" Kayla said. "Is he up there now? Can you feel him squirming around?"

"Nah, he…" Ava paused and looked at the client who had heard Kayla's enthusiasm and looked distraught at her tone. "Uh, yeah, he's already deep in my ass. Hey, I'll call you back when I'm closer!"

If he had looked distraught before, a countenance of pure terror flooded over his face at Ava's words.

"Hell yeah!" Kayla cheered. "I can't wait."

Ava reached down and disconnected the call on the phone next to the strip club’s client who stared back up at her, eyes wide and jaw slack in horror. She smiled at him for a moment, relishing the look of confusion and fear that filled his tiny eyes.

“So, I guess you heard…” Ava said. “Look at it this way, you wanted this, and now you’re going to get it!”

The tiny man’s flight instincts kicked in, and he attempted to sprint away from Ava as fast as his legs would carry him. Which, given their tiny size, wasn’t very fast at all, leaving Ava to laugh as she easily reached down and scooped him up in one hand before he even made it a quarter of the way to the edge of the table.

“Be happy!” Ava said with a smile and a laugh. “Most men would kill to get in this ass! It just might kill you to get in it, though…”

Ava wasted no more time and, ignoring the man’s weeping pleas from the grip of her hand, repositioned herself on the couch. She’d practiced plenty of times with plugs, and stripping required a degree of dexterity and flexibility that afforded her the ease of reclining in the couch and raising her legs almost behind her head. With her ankles almost to her ears, her cheeks naturally spread a bit and made the process so much easier, especially when the ‘plug’ this time squirmed and fought against her fingers. In the most awkward of positions, Ava addressed the tiny man in her grip from between her legs.

"So, what's it going to be?" Ava asked. "Head first, so you get the deepest possible experience? Or feet first, so you can really feel my cheeks clap tonight?"

The tiny man in her hand didn't respond, at least, not with words. Instead he screamed and writhed in her grip, fully lost in the horror and panic of Ava's dark hole, right in front of him. His screaming had been boring earlier, and it was beginning to annoy Ava.

"Okay, fuck that…" Ava said. "I'm not chancing your head slips out and starts screaming like that. I'll check on you in a couple hours, buh-bye!"

That was the last thing Ava said to the tiny client before holding one cheek wide with one hand and maneuvered the tiny man into place with the other. While she aligned him, the tiny man was brought only a few millimeters away from Ava's quivering anus. She shuddered as she felt his face brush up against her.

"Oh, almost forgot!" Ava exclaimed.

She quickly brought him up to her face, and before he could thank her for sparing him the fate of being buried in her butt, she pursed her lips and spat a massive glob of spit directly into his face. The saliva choked him as it slid into his orifices and down his naked body.

"There we go!" Ava said, pleased at the sight.

She didn't give him a moment to acclimate to the soaking spit or the sudden drop back down to her anus. Ava groaned as she plunged his head inside her without any hesitation. She’d used plugs, but it had been awhile, and most of her plugs didn’t squirm. Still, Ava had already wasted enough of her evening, in her mind, and through some deep breaths, pushed her client deeper. The tiny man’s hands, trying to stop himself from being shoved deeper, did nothing to slow his progress as his shoulders disappeared inside her.

“That’s so good!” Ava moaned. With no one else in the back office to hear, she could enjoy herself with abandon. “I need to do this more often.”

With a finger between the tiny man’s legs, Ava pushed him deep. She couldn’t help but feel her pussy moisten as the tiny man wriggled inside of her. The pressure Ava applied between his legs sent him up to his hips and silenced any of his cries. Ava's breathing steadied as she fought the urge to masturbate with her client squirming half out of her anus.

"Goddamn!" Ava exclaimed. "I hope you're down to stick with me the whole evening, because I think you're going to spend the whole night up there. Okay, time to pack you in all the way."

Ava wasted no more time. Her fingers found the crotch of the tiny man one more time and pushed hard. Her moan would’ve been embarrassing, if the club’s music weren’t drowning it out. The tiny man’s writhing body slid, almost as though he wasn’t fighting for his life against it, into Ava’s asshole steadily and without pause. When Ava felt her own knuckles at the entrance to her rectum, she pulled her fingers back out, and was satisfied to see nothing of him outside her hole, and to feel all of him inside her.

Panting, trying to ignore the burning ache in her pussy as she wanted almost nothing more than to get herself off right there, Ava let her heartrate come back down. The squirming inside her dutifully kept up a steady, pleasurable buzz as the tiny man failed to come to terms with his surroundings.

“Oh yeah…” Ava mused. “Keep that up.”

Ava let her legs fall back down, and when she was satisfied that her sphincter and her cheeks would hold the tiny man without any assistance, stood back up. To her delight, the squirming inside her only picked up in intensity. She tested the airflow by spreading her cheeks and hearing the desperate, muffled screaming from inside her, before letting her cheeks slap back together. She washed her hands at the kitchenette and got dressed, this time in her normal clothing. Underwear going on and sliding over her ass to further seal the tiny man in, before her skirt, blouse, and heels.

Her phone rang and she was delighted to see Kayla’s name. She tapped the accept button.

“Haha, bitch, didn’t I say I’d call you when I was closer?” Ava preempted.

“Yeah, but you gotta get down here! That nerd you like is here and girl, he’s wearing some kinda tight pants, you should see this thing!” Kayla exclaimed.

“I’ll be right there!” Ava responded. “And Kayla, I want you to help me double-team him, I want him to be distracted!”

Ava didn’t wait for a response, seizing her clutch, and delivering a sharp slap to her ass cheek to re-invigorate the squirming inside her as she stepped out of the club’s back door.

Felicia was a bit surprised by the tap on her shoulder, but not enough to stop enjoying her drink. Even as she stood up from where she crouched in front of the arcade display, she continued to suck a steady stream of syrupy, sweet, coffee-adjacent liquid through the oversized straw. When she turned she was a bit shocked to see a classmate, she recognized his face from the organic chemistry lab they took together, but since she had never bothered to learn his name, nor interacted with him for any length of time, didn’t know his name.

“Um… Hi, Felicia, you don’t know me, but we go to the same college…” He began.

“Yeah, I know, you’re in the biochem program…” She said through the straw. “We’ve got lab together, so what?”

It was almost worth the distraction to watch him squirm in discomfort as she dismissed any connection they had with two words uttered from around a drinking straw. The way he struggled with eye contact, his words, and just remaining still was a little endearing, even if he was bothering her on a weekend.

"Well… it's just that I, uh, I heard you have a, uh, a…" Her classmate struggled to get out.

"A 'what'?" Felicia asked, irritation creeping into her voice. "What I haven't got is all day."

"A t…ta…tattoo?" The man asked, almost whispering the final word.

Felicia's lips spread into a smile around the straw.

"Hmmm, yeah I've got a tattoo…" She mused. "Only the one. But what does my tattoo have to do with you, lab boy?"

"Actually it's Gr…" His words were cut off by her finger pressed against his lips.

"I really don't care, lab boy, and unless you get to the point real quick…" She promised, releasing his lips. "I'll never care. So, last chance, why do you care about my tattoo?"

"W…well I just, uh, wanted to know if it was real…" He said sheepishly, likely coming to terms with the awkwardness of the request. "A…and if it really, um, worked?"

Felicia drained the straw until it gurgled with more air than sweet refreshment, never breaking eye contact with her paradoxically bold and anxious classmate. When the well of vanilla chai latte finally ran dry she cast a suspicious glance around before answering.

"Yeah, it's real, it's a fucking tattoo. That's a stupid question, by the way…" She said, enjoying the look of dismay on his face. "But sometimes, you gotta ask a stupid question. Yeah, it's real and yeah it 'works'."

"Really?" He asked, suddenly too excited to be nervous. "Can I see it?"

Felicia smirked and dropped her empty drink into the trash bin next to the arcade door. She took one last look around, verifying that no one had heard his outburst, before grabbing him by the rest and pulling him into the arcade. He didn't resist as she led him through the dark, smoke filled, reeking establishment. With her guidance, they dodged skee ball lanes, pinball machines, fighters, shooters, and cocktail table arcade staples from decades prior, all the way to the least used section of the arcade, the sole bathroom. Before he could protest, Felicia dragged him inside, and shut the door behind him throwing the latch and the lock before turning on the light.

"Now, you wanted to see the tattoo?" She asked, closer than he was clearly comfortable with.

"Y…yes!" He almost shouted back.

"Okay!" She said happily, stepping away from him. "On your knees, lab boy!"

"Wh…what?" He said, confusion thick across his face.

"Look, lab boy, you're a good four inches taller than me. If you know about the tattoo, you know where it's located, right?" She asked.

He nodded in response.

"Yeah, so you're not going to get a good look standing up, genius…" Felicia said, rolling her eyes.

"O…oh, right!" He acquiesced.

Although the floor was actually remarkably clean, the bathroom was still an almost forgotten relic at the back of a deeply unsanitary arcade. The fact that the arcade owner was obsessive about bathroom cleanliness did little to wipe away the impression that the room gave off. And so her classmate's descent to his denim covered knees was more labored than it probably needed to be.

"And hands off, got it lab boy?" Felicia asked as her hands went to the button of her cutoff denim shorts.

It was only after he nodded furiously in confirmation and almost comically pulled his hands behind his back, that she continued. The shorts were well worn, having been an actual pair of jeans long before they had been cut into a more breezy garment, and the button was loose at the best of times, so she almost accidentally flicked it open.

The shorts fell to the floor almost instantly, and Felicia stepped out of them with ease, her flip flops only briefly catching before she kicked the shorts into the corner of the room. She smiled as she saw his face, eyes wide with shock, jaw dropped an amazement, but she also wasn't one to waste time so she stepped forward again, clearly making him uncomfortable as his eyes were locked onto her panties.

Felicia grinned as his eyes didn't blink when her left thumb hooked under the band of her panties, and her right hand gripped her spaghetti strap at the bottom. She slowly lifted her shirt up, while pulling the waistband of her panties down even slower, giving him the first glimpse of what he'd spent so much of his courage to see.

There, low on her stomach, just above her crotch, marked the top of a rectangle. As her thumb slid her panties down, the outline of tiny person spread eagle could be seen, and then, painfully slowly, the words…

INSERT

TINY TO

PLAY

The tattoo ended with the rectangle spreading out and coming back to form an arrow enclosing the outline of the person and the text, with the arrow pointing down toward her crotch, still hidden in her panties. Even as her hands continued to spread the gap between the hems of her shirt and panties, he stared without blinking at the tattoo emblazoned on her skin just above her crotch.

"Where do you get the tiny people?" He asked, still transfixed.

"Lots of ways…" She chuckled. "Sometimes they're stupid enough to walk up and tap me on the shoulder."

For a brief moment, he remained transfixed on her tattoo, but then for the first time in what felt like forever, his eyes finally unlocked from her crotch, snapping up to meet her own, wide in dread realization of what she meant. The very next second he was gone.

His jeans collapsed neatly to the floor, almost like they had been folded, and his shirt billowed down to meet them. Felicia giggled as she crouched down next to the pile of clothes and began to sift through them. Her prize was easy enough to find, a tiny, squeaking and flailing form trying desperately to escape the confines of his own boxers. Felicia laughed as she picked her shrunken classmate up out of his clothes.

"Well, lab boy, thanks for playing!" She said between laughs. "I hope you enjoy this as much as I'm going to."

Crouched down, her legs were spread just enough to easily slide her hand, still holding the screaming college student, under the waistband of her panties and began to slide him up and down her pussy. She knew she'd need to be quick, but she'd been anticipating this moment since he'd mentioned her tattoo out on the sidewalk, and there was something otherworldly satisfactory about feeling his tiny limbs fighting futilely against her comparatively giant pussy.

His tiny body was no match for her fingers or the folds of her pussy and his squirming form was pushed between her labia with little hesitation. She bit her lip and sighed to keep a moan at bay as she pressed the tiny body into herself. Before he had a chance to really come to terms with his new surroundings, her fingers had crammed him deep inside her, burying him inside her pussy up to her knuckles. In an instant she had shoved him as deep inside herself as her fingers would allow, and then pulled her fingers back out, leaving only a strand of her pussy's lubricant clinging to her fingertips as evidence.

Not wanting to risk an unwelcome encounter, Felicia quickly stood up, slipped her panties back up, and retrieved her shorts from where she had discarded them. As she buttoned the denim back into place she could feel her classmate fighting for his life deep inside her pussy and said a silent thank you to her friend who had seeded the tattoo rumor around.

She quickly picked up his clothes, realizing as she did there was a weight in the pockets. She fished a wallet out of the denim and deftly retrieved a thin stack of bills from its folds. Felicia grinned at the prospect of a second and a third cup of sweet coffee beverages. The clothes and the wallet went into the trashcan and the bills slipped into the back pocket of Felicia's shorts. With a brief moment to adjust the way her panties rode against her crotch, Felicia smiled as she felt the lab boy squirm again and she exited the bathroom, ready to enjoy the weekend even more.

"No, no, no!" He screamed. "This isn't happening!"

Gina could barely hear him, and could feel his feeble attempts to pull himself free from between her lips. His hands clutched and clawed with animal desperation at her lower lip as he cried out, despite making no progress on his escape. She chuckled and tilted her head back, opening up her mouth just enough to let him slide back in before snapping shut around his renewed scream of horror.

The feeling of his tiny body, flailing and squirming inside her mouth, was better than even listening to his pathetic pleas. She pressed him against the roof of her mouth with her tongue, instantly suppressing any movement as pushed saliva around her mouth and swallowed it. Before the pressure and lack of air could render him unconscious, Gina gave him a brief blast of air as she spoke to him.

"What's the matter, champ?" She said, her words only very garbled from talking around his body. "I thought you wanted this. After all, didn't you say you were super into vore?"

Her mouth snapped shut again and Gina used her tongue to push his tiny body forward, dragging him along the roof of her mouth, over her teeth, and then forcing his upper torso between her otherwise sealed lips.

"Not…not like this!" He said after recovering his breath a bit. "I do the eating. I'm the predator! You're the prey!"

Gina laughed, almost sending him tumbling out of her mouth as she enjoyed the thought. She could only see him in the mirror, and he was very tiny, but the battered, saliva-soaked, diminutive man caught in her lips confidently declaring that 'she was the prey' in this situation was just too much.

"You're funny!" She said with glee. "You know, I never chew my snacks, but I also don't get many snacks that think of themselves as 'preds', so…"

Leaving the threat of mastication hanging, Gina slurped the tiny man back into her mouth, enjoying his scream before it was silenced behind her lips. With a deftness the came from experience, Gina maneuvered her bite-sized 'pred' from her lips back to her molars, and then pinned him there between her teeth. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of his panicked struggling against her cheek, gums, and tongue. She imagined what it must be like to feel the implacable stone-like surface above and below, knowing that only a twitch of the jaw separated life from a crushing, snapping, mashing death between the teeth of the one he'd thought he'd be eating. Her reverie ended without a juicy pop in her mouth as she opened her eyes and pushed him back between her lips.

"Well, my little pred-snack, it's been fun..." Gina said through a grin. "But I'm really hungry, so… buh bye!"

"No! No! No! I'm not food! I'm not…!" His protests were cut off by the sight of Gina's index finger pointing at him.

In wide, spiraling circles, Gina brought her fingertip closer and closer to the tiny man in her lips. He began to scream wordlessly as he realized what the ominous orbits of the finger meant, but his arms were still powerless to budge him from her lips as the fingertip closed in, the circles tightening up as it did.

His scream resumed only briefly as her fingertip pressed into his face and almost instantly entombed him behind her lips once again. She made sure to shove him deep into her mouth, pushing her finger down to the knuckle. She grinned as she began to pull her finger out. The tiny hands that had so desperately sought to fight her off now even more desperately fought to clutch on to her withdrawing finger. She could feel his spit drenched hands trying to keep ahold of her finger, to be dragged free with it, but slipping off her skin and nail with every attempt. Her finger emerged from between her lips with nothing but a glistening sheen of her own saliva.

Gina wasted no time, tilting her head back and laying her fingers and palms from both hands on her neck for her favorite part of the process. Gina was almost disappointed in how easily he slid down her throat. A single gulp was all it took to send the squirming mass from her mouth sliding through her throat and into her stomach. She felt the gentle buzzing of his scream as he fell into place, and her fingers picked up the very slight bulge in her neck as he fell past them.

It was over in almost an instant. The would-be predator sent into a sweltering, roiling lake of digestive acids and suffocating darkness. Gina let out a long, satisfied sigh of pleasure as she felt the food land in her stomach. She smiled and held her stomach for a moment, just to feel the last few movements before a contentful stillness overcame her and her stomach.

She reclined back on her bed and felt the still very slightly squirming lump in her stomach shift with her as she grabbed her phone. She opened the social app that she had met her most recent snack on and navigated to the public thread they'd been talking through for the past few days and thumbed out a response to the last message in the thread.

"Thanks for the meal! You were delicious!"

Cheri slammed the plug down on the table, knocking Cayden from his feet and shaking the vase centerpiece. The gleaming metal plug wasn't new to Cheri, but Cayden had never seen it, so the bulbous thing, reflecting and distorting everything around it, including Cheri's scowl and Cayden's shock was a stunning revelation, and larger than Cayden's entire body.

"Still going with that attitude?" Cheri asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

The tiny form of her boyfriend scuttled away from the metal toy, seemingly deaf to her question, and transfixed by the gleaming surface next to him. The table, however, was relatively small, and lipped to prevent things falling off, so he couldn't put much distance between himself and the plug.

“Well?” Cheri asked.

“What do you mean?” Cayden asked, suddenly aware of his girlfriend hovering over him. “What do you plan to do with that?”

“If you want to continue being a little shit, I’ll use that to make you feel more at home.” Cheri stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You wouldn’t…” Cayden started to respond.

“I will. And I’ll make sure that you spend so long in my ass, that you forget what fresh air tastes like.” Cheri said, unfolding her arms and leaning over the table, her hands holding the table’s edges. “You’ll spend so long inside there that when I take you out just to take a shit, you’ll beg me to put you back because it’s too cold outside.”

“That’s…that’s so wrong!” Cayden shouted. “You can’t do this to me!”

“What’s ‘wrong’ is when I work all day long, come home to a shrunken, worthless, tiny, useless, little, lump of can’t even pay his share of the rent!” Cheri shouted, hovering over Cayden. “Now you have two choices, little man. The first, you do what I tell you, when I tell you, to the letter and spirit of what I say, and you start acting grateful for it…”

“And if I don’t?” Cayden asked, almost on the verge of tears.

"Well, then there’s option two…” Cheri said with a smile, as both her and Cayden turned their gaze toward the plug.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.

With the blindfold in place, and her shorts around her ankles, it was hard to focus on anything but the cheers of the crowd. She took the last draught from her beer and tossed the can behind her overhead, earning another round of clapping and hollering from the assembled crowd before placing her hands on the back of her head according to the rules. Lastly, she kicked her feet out of the flip-flops that had adorned them, figuring she'd be less likely to cause damage barefoot.

From there it was a dark, cacophonous, and slightly floaty experience as she took timid, almost imperceptibly short steps forward. The crowd was trying to be helpful, with limited success. She could make out basic directional instructions as she shuffled along the level, swept pavement, but those guiding voices were far too frantic, loud, and muddled in the moment.

But the intensity and volume of those voices made for a great proximity detector to her goal. She shared their disappointment when she felt the big toe on her right foot nudge something and a very faint metallic clink reach her ears. The disappointed groans slumped her shoulders but she could still hear the ticking of the timer.

Carefully she lifted her foot and felt around. Sure enough, she located her prize, rounded, cold metal, and a tiny, warm, squirming thing on its side. The crowd fell silent as she got to work. With a dexterity that belied belief from a woman standing barely over five feet tall who has just chugged a beer the size of her stomach, she managed to tilt the thing back upright with her toes. With the crowd hushed in awe she could hear better, and grinned at the desperate pleading coming from her toes.

She'd watched four others fail at this game, three women and one man. One woman had just stepped on the goal, eliminating her almost instantly, the other three had blindly aimed poorly and sat incorrectly on it, again causing them to be disqualified. She'd had a good laugh, but when she'd seen the latest prize offered, she had pushed her way to the front of the line and slammed her five dollars down on the table. She couldn't resist the appeal of curly dark hair on her toys, and his begging for freedom only meant that if she could win, he'd be just as fun as she imagined.

The crowd cheered with uproarious delight as she felt the object in her toes right and she was almost so excited she forgot about the rest of the challenge. But she was determined. Already familiar with its location, she squatted down above it.

The crowd fell hushed again as she positioned herself meticulously. It was only the faintest sensation of cool metal against her rectum that tipped her off, but she knew she was also running out of time, with an abandon fueled by haste and alcohol, she let her feet go from under her.

Although the renewed cheaters of the crowd were rewarding, the feeling of the cool, lubed, metal plug, and the tiny squirming man taped to it, sliding home into her colon was far more rewarding. The fact that he continued to struggle even after she felt her asshole close around the neck of the plug, gave her hope that he would be completely uninjured when she brought him out after getting home.

What as much haste as she could manage, she stood back up, clenched her cheeks, and begin to shuffle toward what she thought was the finish line. The crowd became much more helpful than just deafening support, one hand even steering her away from the wrong direction, and within a few seconds she felt the ribbon at her stomach. A quick hop forward, a snap of the ribbon, and then the buzz of the timer finally ending resulted in an absolute cacophony of cheers, hugs, and the blindfold being ripped off her.

The celebration was intense, but brief, as the attraction operator wanted to get back to taking people's money for failure, but as she slipped on her shorts again, and stepped into her flip-flops, she pressed her cheeks together with her hands and enjoyed the thought of what was to come once she got home with her new prize.

"B…but I'm not wearing a bra!" Melanie whispered. "You could slip, fall out, and get caught! Or worse, stepped on!"

"This is a stupid fucking plan…" Freya opined. "Just give the little fucker to me, and I'll make sure he's hidden in a place they'll never find him."

Freya punctuated her barely veiled threat by letting her freakishly long tongue slide out of her wide open mouth and twitch, almost beckoning toward Will. The sight of Freya's tongue, and the hellish cavern that it slithered out of sent a shudder through Will's body as he recalled a week earlier when Melanie and Freya had gotten too high on edibles and had passed Will back and forth between their mouths. It had been terrifying, exhausting, and humiliating, but it had almost ended in Will's worst nightmare as Melanie had passed out, and Freya had, no longer abjured by Melanie, almost swallowed him alive. Only a violent thrashing, and some surprised coughing from Freya had prevented him from being little more than a snack to his girlfriend's overly aggressive roommate.

"Look, we can figure this out. They don't allow shrunken people in the theater at all, so just getting a ticket isn't an option…" Will said. "How about your pocket?"

"They're not real! These shorts just look like they have pockets! But they're not actually real!" Melanie said, more panic seeping into her voice. "Oh, maybe we should just leave?"

"Please, babe, I haven't seen a movie in the theater since I shrunk, and I can smell the popcorn from out here…" Will pleaded.

"But how will we get you in?" Melanie said, suddenly more sympathetic than worried.

"Down your shorts, of course…" Freya said, rolling her eyes.

"But I'm not wearing…" Melanie began.

"Yeah, yeah, no panties, everyone knows your aversion to underwear, Mel." Freya said dismissively. "But the ushers will be too busy staring at your tits once we get into the air conditioning, and if you shove him down the back, you can just go to the bathroom and yank him out."

"Will…?" Melanie said, exchanging a nervous look with her tiny boyfriend.

"Yeah, let's do it." Will said after careful consideration. "But please don't forget to get popcorn babe."

"You want help?" Freya asked with a sneer.

"We're fine…" Melanie said, turning away.

Carefully she transferred her boyfriend into one hand, and pulled the waist of her denim shorts back with her other. Slowly, very slowly, she lowered her hand toward her lower back, and slid it down until she could reach no further. Straining to see, but unable to catch a glimpse of her own buttocks, she turned back to Freya.

"Um… actually, would you mind? Sorry…" She said sheepishly.

"Happy to." Freya responded with a grin.

Will didn't have a chance to object before Freya had him in her hand. She was far rougher with the tiny boyfriend than Melanie ever would be, and seemed to enjoy tormenting him. She pulled Melanie's waistband out even further and haphazardly dropped Will in. The tiny body tumbled, and slid down against the denim, when Freya released the denim, and sealed Will inside with only a squeak from Melanie as she felt her boyfriend slide into place, almost being wedged between her cheeks.

"There, now just don't take big steps, and he should be fine." Freya said, satisfied. "On the other hand, we'd better hurry up. It's a hundred degrees out here and the last thing you want is Will to smell like your sweaty ass crack while he's sitting on your for the whole movie."

"Y…yeah, just give me a second." Melanie said.

Although Will had been between her legs, she had avoided allowing him behind her. She enjoyed wearing plugs, and after one unfortunate incident where a silicone plug's base had failed, knew all too well how dangerous being so close to her hole could be. If she could avoid even risking Will getting between her cheeks, she would.

Delicately, with great care, Melanie shuffled after Freya. The summer afternoon was not helping. The trio had been standing outside of the theater for only a few minutes, but Melanie could feel sweat beading up on her skin, and behind her. A squirming sensation from her butt almost caused her to scream.

"Be still!" She whisper-barked behind her, even though the squirming didn't stop.

Freya's laughter didn't help, but it was only when Melanie caught up to the doors that Melanie realized the laughter hadn't only been at her comment. Plastered over each door, in poorly printed and poorly taped format, were simple sheets of paper announcing to the world the regrettable failure of the theater's air conditioning system. Melanie moaned but didn't stop, she wanted nothing more than to make it into the theater and extract Will before anything else went wrong. The usher, a young man drenched in sweat, scanned their tickets and pointed to a mercifully nearby set of doors.

"Auditorium 22." He said flatly.

"Umm… where's your bathrooms?" Melanie asked, trying to remain still as the wiggling against her cheeks intensified.

"Out of order." He responded, hooking a thumb over his shoulder to a brightly lit bathroom with yellow tape over the doors.

Melanie's heart sank.

"But there's one down at the other end of the theater." The usher pointed opposite of the direction of their movie's auditorium.

Just when Melanie was about to turn and make a break for the exit, she felt a tug at the hem of her waistband. Filled with dread, she turned to see Freya standing right next to her, a sadistic grin across her face. Before Melanie could stop her, Freya subtly, but firmly pulled up on Melanie's shorts, driving the denim, and Will, deep between her cheeks. Melanie gasped, but managed to hold her yelp.

"Thanks so much, and concessions?" Freya asked, barely holding a laugh.

"You can order them from your seat." The usher noted. "Enjoy your show."

"Thanks, we will!" Freya said, cheerfully leading Melanie in.

Melanie was having difficulty walking, she could feel Will fighting against her ass and losing with every movement. Between his struggling, her sweat, and the force of Freya's wedgie, he was getting dangerously close to her anus. Determined to prevent him from slipping inside, Melanie clenched her cheeks together, arresting Will's progress toward her rectum, but making it difficult to focus on much else as Freya led her along.

And it felt so good.

Sweating profusely, both from the heat and the intense effort to balance walking, clenching, and suppressing the moan building inside her throat, Melanie allowed herself to be herded into the dark and sparsely crowded theater, and then to their seat in the center of the theater.

"Well, better get comfy." Freya said with an evil grin. "Have a seat."

Melanie knew what sitting down would mean, but the bathroom would be on the other side of the theater, and her knees were already weak from the sensations coming from between her cheeks, Will just wouldn't stop squirming, and sure was no longer sure that was just sweat running down her leg. Melanie was barely focused on Freya when Freya's hands pushed her shoulders down, into the plush theater seat.

Between the impact against the cushioned seat, losing control over her cheeks ever so briefly, the copious amounts of sweat that had built up, and Will's own violent, self-destructive struggling, the inevitable finally happened. Melanie felt Will slip deep inside her. A full body shudder took over her as she let out a long and ragged exhale that was thankfully lost in the din of the crowd. She couldn't tell which half of Will had slipped into her, but her tiny boyfriend continued to work against his own best interest with a panicked desperation that only excited Melanie more. Sitting, frozen, she fought the urge to clench again, knowing it would only suck him in completely, but otherwise unable to communicate with him to tell him to stop.

"I think I'm going to enjoy this movie." Freya quipped sitting down next to her, with a self-satisfied smile. "Good news, I heard this extended edition is the best version of the film, even if it does run two hours and forty five minutes…"

"I'm not discussing this again!" Ophelia said, ignoring the shouting form in her hand. "I'm done dealing with this and I'm done dealing with you for the night."

She strode into the bedroom with a fierce gait, letting her boyfriend swing at her arm's length as she walked. He still continued to shout at her from her fist, his own fists pounding against her fingers. She felt an extremely minor sting against her index finger and looked down to see his teeth buried into her skin.

"Oh, that's real mature, Matt! Real mature!" Ophelia said, unhurt but even angrier. "Just for that, you're not spending the night in the terrarium."

She tossed her boyfriend onto the bed, his tumbling arc ending in a disorienting, but soft, landing among the comforter that lay atop their mattress. Before he could scurry away, she dropped her butt down onto him. She’d pinned him between their mattress and her butt before, and knew he could easily endure it, mostly because of the extra cushioning of the mattress, and the extra cushioning of her own ass, and allowed her to work unbothered.

She reached under the bed and produced the sneakers she had shed only a few minutes earlier when she returned home, and the socks contained within. From each shoe came a sock. Immediately, Ophelia knew she had a potent punishment in line. The stench that reached her nostrils, even before pulling the socks out of the shoes, was noxious. She had just worn the same socks and shoes that she had worn the previous day, and the day before that, and the day before that. She couldn’t recall when these socks had been washed, and it was evident in the stench.

With one hand holding a sock by the opening, she fished under her rear for her boyfriend, and quickly found his wiggling form, pulling him back up to her face, and next to the sock. Ophelia almost laughed as he wretched in her hand, his tiny body assaulted by the scent of her sock. It was almost enough, but Ophelia had so much more in mind for her disobedient little boyfriend.

“So, here’s what’s going to happen.” Ophelia noted. “Since you think you can just misbehave, you’re going to spend the rest of the night, and tomorrow morning in my socks.”

He tried to arrest his fall, clutching at her fingertips, the same ones he had bit and tried to escape only a few moments earlier. His fall was uninterrupted, though, as he fell free from her fingers and down into the sock. As bad as it smelled to Ophelia, even just holding inches from her face, she could only imagine what he was experiencing as she tumbled down into the once-white socks, his body making a bulge that traveled down the cloth and weighed the toe down when he finally reached the bottom. Almost immediately he began clawing at the sweat-soaked, stained interior to affect an escape.

Ophelia chuckled at the sight of her sock wiggling about, her boyfriend futilely trying to climb out from inside, but quickly moved on to the next step of the punishment. She followed her boyfriend with the second soiled sock of the pair. She took care to ensure that he was between the exterior of one sweat-stained sole, and the interior of the other. Sandwiched between socks, she slowly rolled her boyfriend up in the sock, starting at the toe of the sock and working up. Even through the layers of fabric, she could hear Matt's tone change as he realized what was happening, but she continued unabated. As she worked, the sound of his desperate protests faded, and the feeling of his struggles diminished against her fingertips through the socks. By the time she had rolled the socks into one, tight, coil, his muffled cries became inaudible through her socks and she couldn’t see or feel any evidence of his fighting back.

She held up the finished product, a tightly rolled cylinder of socks, with her disappointing boyfriend trapped at its core, but she wasn't done yet. Two more socks, merely dirty and pulled from the laundry pile as opposed to the freshly soiled gym socks she'd entombed him in, were used to further secure the roll. She dropped the sock roll into one, tied it off as close to the roll as she could manage, and dropped that into the fourth before tying it off as well. Under all the layers, she could no longer hear or feel her boyfriend, and there was virtually no chance of him, at the center of all that reeking cloth, escaping.

“And now that you’re not going anywhere…” Ophelia opined. “Let’s find a place for you to spend the night.”

The socks that she’d used to imprison her boyfriend had been pulled from the sneakers she’d spent an hour in intense cardio in at the gym. She lifted up one of them by the sole and held it to her face, taking a brief whiff, which she immediately regretted. The pungent stench was almost painful and inspired a reflexive wretch from her gut, followed by a gasp for clean air as she pulled it away and laughed.

“God, that’s bad, maybe not as bad as being in the socks, but I definitely need to wash both…” Ophelia said.

With no fanfare, she stuffed the sock into the shoe. The roll of socks, thicker by far than the shoe would easily allow, needed to be wedged into the footwear with some force. The socks imprisoning her boyfriend squished tighter and tighter as she worked it closer to the toe of the sneaker. With the socks almost invisible, she set the shoe back down on the floor next to its twin and moved it under the bed.

“Now you just think about what you’ve done, and, tomorrow, when I think you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll think about letting you out.” Ophelia said. “But right now, I need a shower.”

“Well, are you still enjoying your little dalliance, dear?” Miranda asked.

In her hand, her husband’s cock pulsed in her fingers. Even with a few inches shrunken from his overall height, he had an impressive dick, and she looked forward to the rest of the evening when she’d be able to ride him with absolute abandon, thanks to his slightly smaller size. Between her palm and his cock, however, there was a third, unwilling participant, her husband’s most recent extra-marital fling. The shrunken man, who was eagerly enjoying Miranda’s husband’s cock on the video behind her, the video that Miranda had recorded in secret of her husband’s illicit affair and played for him in their bedroom, which also happened to be the setting of the video’s contents, that very same shrunken man seemed to be enjoying her husband’s member significantly less as Miranda clutched him to the rod and pumped him up and down it’s length, lubricated by only a thin layer of Miranda’s spit to ease the process. Her husband didn’t respond, instead gritting his teeth and grunting in exertion.

“Come on now, isn’t this the kind of thing you fantasize about?” Miranda continued, not slowing her hand. “A threesome, approved by your wife, with your cheating little slut? Don’t you want this?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Miranda…” Her husband managed through ragged breaths. “Just please, be gentle.”

“Gentle?” Miranda asked.

She squeezed hard onto his cock, feeling his flesh between her fingers and the body of the tiny tiny man that had gotten between her and her husband go still as she nearly crushed him into her husband’s cock. The gasp of pain from her husband was rewarding, almost as rewarding as the sensation of the housewrecker in her hand trying to breathe.

“Do you think you’re in any position to make requests, dear?” Miranda asked. “After all, you cheated on me… again… and then after I generously offered you this wonderful little fantasy, you want to burden me even further with your requests?”

“Miranda, he’s…” Her husband tried, but was cut off as Miranda began to slide her still clenching hand along his shaft.

“And after all you’ve put your loving wife through? You’d still ask more of her?” Miranda asked. "Well, go on then, make your demand."

"That hurts…!" Her husband managed before another squeeze silenced him.

"Oh, how thoughtless of me, the lubrication may have worn off. Let's fix that." Miranda offered.

Without relaxing her grip too much, Miranda deftly lifted the shrunken man up along her husband's shaft, until his tiny, red-flushed head could be seen next to the similarly strangled head of her husband's cock.. Miranda couldn't resist a smile at the sight of two heads in her grasp, both nearly purple from the pressure of her grip.

"And you, my husband's little slut?" Miranda asked through the smile. "Are you enjoying his cock as much right now as you were last night?"

Miranda looked over her shoulder to the video still playing. In it, her husband had his fling bent over on Miranda's bed, the cheating couple couldn't have known about the camera that Miranda had installed, but it caught a pretty clear image of the face of her husband's fuck buddy as her husband railed him from behind. It was a countenance of pure bliss. Back in her hand, however, he seemed to be less happy, his face twisted in desperation and agony, and his mouth opening and closing in a futile attempt to draw a breath, like a fish out of water.

"Well… if you're going to be rude and not respond, we'll just continue unabated." Miranda said, shifting her gaze to her husband's.

With skill that came with expertise, Miranda hovered over the tip of her husband's cock and let her mouth hang open. Her tongue rolled out and almost immediately spit began to accumulate at the tip of her tongue. With even slightly relaxing her grip, but determined to prevent her captive from passing out, Miranda allowed to saliva to gather and fall in a steady, unbroken stream down to the pair of heads exposed in her grasp, soaking them both.

The shrunken boy toy, unable to move anything more than his eyes and mouth in Miranda's vice grip, was helpless as her drool poured down onto him in a deluge. Her hand formed just enough of a barrier to allow it to pool around him, threatening to drown him in her spit, if he didn't asphyxiate in her hand first. She finished the process by pursing her lips together and spitting a glob that struck the tiny homewrecker directly in his face.

"Well, perhaps I've been too harsh on you, dear…" Miranda said, meeting her husband's gaze. "Perhaps I should take some responsibility."

She didn't allow her husband's eyes to wander from her own as she lowered her mouth down to the tip of his cock. She'd shown him what could happen if he looked away when she commanded his attention, and he'd learned that lesson well enough. Miranda took her time letting her lips touch the head of the cock, slowly enveloping it in the plush warmth of her mouth. Her lips slipped effortlessly over the tip, and the tiny man's head, so that when she finally released her grip, escape was already impossible.

The groan from her husband was rewarding, but the sudden sensation of tiny hands trying to push her lips away and the feeling of a tiny head struggle against her lips was even more so. She kept her lips sealed against the two men as she slowly engulfed more and more of them into her. Hey tongue forced its way against the tiny man and down to the base of her husband's cock. The tiny man was far more animated than her husband's cock, but the cock wasn't still, as her tongue pushed against it, quivering inside her mouth.

"Please, babe…" her husband moaned.

Miranda let her teeth sink, ever so slightly, into the cock and tiny man. Although her mouth was full, she didn't need to speak to silence her husband, the teeth on his skin and the change in her eyes was enough to quell any further complaints. He gulped as her teeth relaxed and she continued to slide down onto his member, his fling slowly disappearing behind her lips with his cock.

It didn't take long to press her lips against the base of her husband's cock, a revelation which brought a tinge of pride to her ego, only to immediately flare up into anger as she remembered that she'd shrunken her husband to make him more manageable when she'd begun. Angry with herself, and willing to take it out on the two men caught in her mouth, Miranda began pleasuring her husband, and assaulting the cheater.

Her tongue offered the tiny man caught between her and her husband no reprieve as she used it to drag his tiny body around her husband's shaft. Occasionally the small form would slip, and she'd quickly suck it back into place, preventing even the briefest of breaks from her tongue lashing. When the tiny man's fighting slowed, she opened her lips just enough to suck in air, and quickly sealed them back when it became apparent the diminutive slut wouldn't pass out.

Seconds turned into minutes. Her husband, pressed to his absolute limit by Miranda's unrelenting assault on his will power, and likely weakened by his slightly reduced size and the undeniably novel pleasures of Miranda's lips, tongue, and a tiny man trapped against his cock, began to squirm under Miranda. Rather than threaten again with teeth, Miranda let him writhe, but seized his ass with both hands, and pulled him in, preventing any hope of escape. While his arms and legs thrashed against the sheets, Miranda held his hips firmly in place for his imminent release.

The familiar feeling of his back clenching up, gave Miranda just enough warning to allow the tiny man one last breath before she wrapped her arms around her husband's thighs, and sucked hard as he exploded into her mouth. Dutifully, Miranda sucked every drop of the first burst down her throat without drama or hesitation, but let the follow up spurts fill her mouth.

It was over in only a few seconds, and Miranda pulled her mouth off her husband's cock, keeping her lips sealed against it, and dragging the tiny man along. When the tip popped out of her mouth, almost immediately deflating, her husband's eyes widened to see the absence of his fling. Miranda crawled up her husband's torso, slowly shrinking him as she did. He wouldn't be reduced to the size of the thing desperately fighting against the hot, cum-flooded interior of her mouth, but she wanted to make a point.

On top of him, larger than him, Miranda took her husband's head in both hands and brought his face to hers, stopping with his eyes at her mouth. She parted her still crimson painted lips to reveal the distraught, tiny, cum soaked man laying on her tongue. Before either man could react, she snapped her mouth shut and swallowed. Guiding her husband's attentions down her neck as the still writhing lump passed through her throat, and pressing her husband's ear to her as the slut dropped into her stomach, Miranda pitched forward and held her husband there, listening to the sound of her gut going to work on a snack. Minutes after she had felt the last flutter in her gut, she spoke.

"Tomorrow, we're going back to that club, and we'll pick out a volunteer together…" Miranda said, more stating a fact than a suggestion. "And when we bring him home, you'll both entertain me. He'll just think we're having fun, but I'll let you in on a little secret, dear…"

Miranda pulled her husband's head away to meet her gaze. His eyes were red, and his face fraught with fear. She smiled at the earnest reaction, both from his face and from his cock, which was coming back to life as she nudged it with her knee. She rolled over, on top of him and knelt above him on the bed.

"We'll be having fun, but you and he will actually be fighting for your lives…" Miranda said, reaching down between her legs and guiding her husband's reinvigorated cock toward her pussy. "If you perform better than him, well…"

She punctuated the sentiment by dropping down onto his cock, sliding it inside her with ease. As he grunted, she leaned forward and almost smothered him, her hips starting to grind against him.

"But if you disappoint me again…" Miranda said, beginning to ride her husband in earnest. "I'll honor our wedding vow of 'til death do us part' in the most intimate way possible…"

Almost rendering the mirror useless, dozens and dozens of lip prints decorated the glass. Some were smeared as though applied hurriedly or lacking coordination, others looked like planned, meticulous applications against the glass. Each one was unique, in color, shade, shape, or, most notably, the silhouette inside each print that was free of the waxy substance. Each print contained within its memory of a kiss pressed into the mirror a clear, sometimes less so, but always evident, outline of a human form. In some cases it was an entire shadow in clean reflection of a human body, other places only had a head and arm in what was the upper or lower lips, at least one showed only legs, on and on the lip prints and their empty space of tiny persons went in an arch around the edge of the mirror.

"I don't remember any of their names. Too many." She mused. "And the first one's not up here, I hadn't thought of this yet when I ate him."

"Please, my name is John. I have a family." He said backing away from her, unwittingly closer to the mirror. "I have a job, and a life, and…"

"No, you only have a choice now." She said, setting the small cylinder in each hand down in front of him.

In truth, each of the tubes of lipstick were only small to her, they were taller and wider than he was. They were clearly of different makes, although both looked brand new. She picked up and uncapped the one on her right, twisting to produce the brilliant crimson stick. Despite his flinching, she drew a thick line of red in a half circle next to him.

"One of my favorites, a classic red, although the manufacturer calls it 'Crime Scene'..." she said as the lipstick made its way along the surface of the vanity. "Its color won't fade over the years, ensuring you'll be remembered on the glass for some time."

She recapped the Crime Scene and set it back down, moving on to its opposite. This one uncapped to reveal a stark contrast. Black in a way that was almost difficult to look at, as she twisted it into position, it looked to him as though she were coaxing a hole in reality from the tube. Even as she mirrored the crimson half circle with the deep, black wax, it reflected little enough light that it seemed to simply be a thick shadow on the vanity’s glossy wood.

“A new addition to my lineup, this one definitely doesn’t go with every look, but I couldn’t pass up the name ‘L’Appel du Vide’...” the lipstick formed the second half of the circle around him. “And it delivers on the promise of being deep, dark, and all consuming. Very fitting, don’t you think?”

The cap returned to L'Appel du Vide and the tube was set back down on the vanity. Her hands lay flat down on the vanity on either side of him, reinforcing the barrier that she had made in lipstick.

"Now, it's time for your choice, your only choice, your last choice; red or black?" She asked.

So easy. Like swallowing a very small pill. So eager was the first snack to be consumed that she had streamlined herself and facilitated the quick and effortless slide down Penelope's throat. It had taken Penelope weeks of work, steady and unrelenting assault on the psyche of the tiny woman that had once been her coworker, but it had finally paid off. Penelope had finally gotten someone to walk willingly into her mouth, and then down her throat.

Penelope almost regretted how quickly it had ended, but the audience of one made it worth it.

Sitting on her bare stomach in the sweltering summer heat, a second snack that had once been a coworker watched in stunned horror as Penelope enjoyed her snack. He'd only been in Penelope's possession for a few hours, and most of that had been spent towering over Penelope at a statuesque six-three, so when he woke up less-than-three, he'd reacted with the expected panic, confusion, and horror one would expect. Seeing someone he'd known, someone who'd been reported as missing for weeks, calmly and joyfully slide down Penelope's throat, however, had stunned him into silence.

"Here, you don't want to miss this opportunity…" Penelope said as she lay her hand down onto her second snack.

Once, Penelope had bought a stethoscope, and used it to listen to her food's final moments inside her. The barely audible weeping, the screams of rage and indignation, the begging for release, all of it made the experience so much better, so much more stimulating. Although she didn't expect her most recent snack to be as lively, it still would be a good chance for the next to hear his imminent fate.

While she couldn't hear the woman in her gut, she could feel her, and from the squirming under her palm, Penelope guessed her latest snack could hear his former coworker through Penelope's stomach. Penelope almost envied him, pinned beneath her palm, against her abdomen, reveling in the heat and sweat and sounds coming from Penelope's stomach. Still, Penelope wasn't too distraught, his writhing against her, and her snack's writhing inside her was doing quite a bit for her. Penelope’s other hand managed to slip under the band of her underwear, the only clothing she wore, laying on her bed.

She let a shuddering breath escape her lungs as she began to play with herself, pinning her second snack to her stomach even firmer. As the squirming inside her diminished, and the squirming against her intensifying, Penelope increased her fingers speed against her clit. She sighed as she slid her fingers inside.

Working her fingers faster and faster inside herself, Penelope almost lost the sensation of her snacks both internal and external, but as she managed to bring herself to climax, she clenched her hand around her most recent acquisition, almost crushing the tiny man in her grasp as her toes curled in pleasure. The creak of his bones in her fingers felt so good, Penelope wondered if she could hear the strain her grip put on his body above her own deep groan of release.

For a moment, Penelope laid back on the couch, her legs stretched out over the arm, the hand not holding her snack fell free from her waistband and hung by the side of the couch as she let her breathing and heart rate slow back down. She chuckled to herself as the euphoria from the orgasm relaxed her limbs and made her crave more food. She lifted her head up and brought her newest snack up to conversation level.

"Wasn't that amazing?" Penelope asked gleefully. "She just walked right in! How about you? Wanna take the plunge down after her? I'm still hungry!"

"What? No!" he screamed back. "You're fucking crazy! I'll never do that!"

"Really? You wouldn't give yourself to me?" Penelope asked, feigning hurt feelings. "You wouldn't be nice and still and slide down my throat whole like the good lil' snaccie that you are?"

"No! I'm not your 'snaccie' and I'm not going to put myself in your mouth!" he shrieked.

"Oh? You'll never go down willingly? Not ever?" Penelope asked, unable to hide her smile.

"Never!" the snack pinched between her fingertips shouted back.

"Well…have it your way." Penelope laughed.

The brief look of dawning horror and realization was almost worth the back talk as Penelope pushed him into her lips. The brief sensation of his body squirming against her lips was almost as rewarding as feeling him inside her, but Penelope knew better was yet to come.

With a slow and steady pressure, Penelope's fingers shoved him into her lips, forcing his body into her mouth in a painful and unforgiving manner. She felt a leg bend, then snap, but by that point his head had already been shoved behind her lips and his scream was reduced to a pleasant buzzing in her teeth. It was barely a few seconds before only an arm, grasping at the air, remained outside her mouth. Penelope smiled and let her tongue slide under him, and pull his arm inside, sealing him in her mouth.

"'emember, 'ou chose this!" Penelope said around her snack.

It took almost no effort to slide the morsel between her molars and bite down. The very brief resistance gave way to a crunch and a savory spread through her mouth. Another bite and a softer crunch. The screaming had stopped entirely after the second bite, but Penelope kept chewing. The crunching diminished into a chewy squish that developed in flavor as she continued to chew and chew. By the time she swallowed, her snack had been reduced to nothing but a wet paste of savory, slightly metallic goo. The gulp was even easier than her previous snack, slipping down into her stomach with unprecedented ease.

Penelope sighed and let her head lay back against the couch. The taste of her snacks quickly fading, the sensation of movement in her core gone, and a cooling breeze washing over her skin as the setting summer sun cast the room in a brilliant orange glow made for a serene setting. Her breathing slowed and she picked up her phone from the coffee table to make one note before letting sleep claim her.

"Next year…" she mumbled as she typed. "Get three."

Of all of life's gross inequalities, that Dabrid had to endure the regular and unabated torment of living behind her mirror seemed the most insufferable.

Every morning as she got ready for work, every evening as she got ready for work, on the weekday evenings she took baths, on the weekends when she'd have someone over, she'd always check her fit in the mirror during the various stages of getting dressed. And every glance at the reflection necessitated the one thing that shook Dabrid to his core.

Every time she was satisfied with the way her ass looked, whether still dripping from the shower, stuffed into a pair of denim shorts, barely clad in a two piece, draped in a shimmering black dress, or just kept warm by the flap of an hedgehog themed onesie, she'd clap a hand to an ass cheek.

The clap, always hard enough to send ripples through her ass and down her thighs, was always enough to stop his heart with a stunning shockwave that seemed to force Dabrid to his knees and catch his breath.

Worse still, the earthshaking impacts, sometimes two or three at a time, also served as a siren's song to him. He could hear it when he was half the house away in the kitchen, or when he was in the air ducts, but his bed, nestled in the wall right behind her massive, full-length mirror, was the worst.

He'd been thrown out of bed, more than once, to hear the thunderclap of her palm on her cheek, only to crawl to the hole in the wall and see her standing there, admiring herself in the mirror. A towel around her hair, a smile on her face, a red print in the shape of her hand spreading around one cheek, only for her to turn and observe the other cheek. Dabrid dreaded what he knew was coming, but it did nothing to diminish the effect as she shook her hips, and raised her hand up.

The clap was somehow worse, and Dabrid clamped his mouth shut with both of his hands as a squeak of shock escaped.

He glanced up from the still juggling cheek to see his worst nightmare, the smile on her face now showed teeth, and her eyes met his.

<><><>

Ignore this bit!

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"Comfy?" Delilah asked with a smile.

The languid nod of her boyfriend's head was all the communication he returned. His tiny body was already spread eagle on the sole of her favorite slipper. She'd gently laid him down there after pulling him from the bath she'd drawn for him in her coffee mug and scrubbing him down with the softest toothbrush and gentlest of soaps. Even after she'd pulled him from the frothy bath waters, he enjoyed a gentle pat-dry and a body-relaxing, fingertip-massage with scented oils. By the time she'd carried him to her slipper, he was almost completely limp with relaxation and serene bliss.

"And you're sure about this? I did just spend an hour cleaning you and making you smell really nice." she asked, already fully aware of what his answer would be.

His head nodded faster and she chuckled.

"Good boy. Barefoot?" Delilah asked with her toes wiggling above him, again, knowing the answer.

The nodding picked up pace as Delilah chuckled, not even waiting before slowly dropping her foot down. The process was familiar, both the simple act of donning her slipper and sealing her boyfriend into it with her foot, but the sensation of the cooler air between her toes give way to the warmth of his body against her toes was delightful in a way she struggled to articulate.

While it was difficult to define the sensation in words, actually indulging in it was the easiest thing. Her toes slid into place over him, and she could feel everything about him through her skin. His face, his chest, his arms and his torso and his legs. Her grin spread further as she felt his diminutive erection brushed beneath her digits.

Obediently, without fear or resistance, he stayed in place as her toes played over him. She enjoyed every aspect of their little ritual, and wanted to extend the feeling of his body against her toes, so she took a moment to press him into the slipper. Against the soft cloth and even softer foam, and beneath the comparatively unyielding strength of her toes, she felt his body sink into the insole, conforming to her toes only slightly less than the foam did.

She'd never have admitted it, she enjoyed teasing him about it too much, but she enjoyed the feeling of him beneath her foot. Maybe not as much as he did, she'd never climaxed from his form beneath or between her toes, but it had brought her most of the way plenty of times, leaving her fingers or toys to finish the job. Sure enough, as he sunk deeper and deeper into her insole, she felt the warmth blossoming in her crotch.

The sensation of his body grew firmer against the ball of her foot and toes as she reached the point of maximum pressure without discomfort that they'd discovered together over dozens and dozens of hours of fun. His body was as deep as the foam insole would allow, and pressed into her toes as hard as she was willing to risk.

Delilah let seconds pass into a minute, and then more, keeping the pressure on her boyfriend's tiny body until she could feel her pulse in her toes, knowing that meant he felt the same, heard it, and was subjected to her and only her. He'd described the sensation of her foot, unwashed since yesterday's shower, overwhelming him before. The feeling, the scent, the sound, all of it almost more than he could bear, but, as he described it, the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.

Only when she realized her own breathing had stopped, and her pulse had quickened to a racing speed, that Delilah let up on the pressure and let her own breathing resume. The slight amount of air that rushed in where her foot didn't continue to smother the tiny body felt especially cool as she felt the sweat of her sole waft away.

"Okay, babe, let's get you settled in for the night." Delilah mused. "I've still got thirteen pages to write."

Delilah slipped her foot into the fluffy, fuzzy, soft and yielding depths of the slipper, her toes dragging her boyfriend with them into the stifling darkness with them. A brief squirming from under her toes was stilled with the gentle, but firm, clench, and she slipped her headphones on to refocus on her work.

"So, I'm sure you've guessed already, but I wanted to be the first to congratulate you…" the woman at the records office was almost as excited as Chie. "Everything was processed and approved!"

The two women shared a brief moment of elation that earned the sideways glances from some of the others in the banal, beige office. Their unrestrained enthusiasm clashed with the office's default of boredom, resentment, and malaise, but neither of their squeals of glee were diminished by the glaring from without the tiny cubicle.

Chie's glee was born from finally resolving a life long goal, or at least, making that goal official in the eyes of the government and society at large. The county adjuster's glee was born from being able to file some genuinely rare and esoteric paperwork. Both were very excited.

"So, all of the requirements were filed appropriately, and were subsequently approved." the county adjuster outlined, spreading paperwork out on the desk. "Most everything was taken care of in advance, but there's one final thing to resolve…"

One sheet of paper was shuffled to the top of the stack, an extremely formal looking document with initial lines scattered throughout, a clear signature line at the very bottom and two adjacent boxes for stamped verification. Everything was in a sans serif font, with many bold lines.

"I can't wait!" Chie exclaimed, picking up a loose pen from the desk. "Let's do this!"

"Great, you'll need him for this page." the county adjuster noted before pressing her index finger down on the first short line. "Initial here confirming that you are taking ownership…"

"Oh, okay, one second…" Chie reached into her kangaroo pocket of her hoodie and produced the 'him' in question.

Smaller than even her pinky finger, stark naked, and clearly distraught, the tiny man couldn't affect any escape from Chie's hand wrapped around him as she set him on the desk, next to the stack of forms. He looked for a moment like he might bolt from the top of the table, but a quick glance from Chie buckled his legs from under him. Chie quickly penned out her 'CSF' on the short line next to the adjuster's orange-painted, almond shaped nail.

"Next, initial here to attest that no one else has made any claim on him." the adjuster instructed.

Chie obliged and initialed the second line, as the adjuster moved ahead of her to the next line.

"And initial here, confirming that you found him, as a stray, in the wild." the county adjuster continued.

The tiny man, turned on his knees to watch the paperwork proceed, instinctively clutched his neck where the needle had pierced. He looked up at the adjuster and shook his head, but neither woman paid him any attention, focused as they were on filling out the form. Chie's pen scrawled her three initials a third time, just as quickly.

"Great! Almost done!" the adjuster noted, her finger sliding down to the next line. "Initial here to confirm his new name of 'Toy'."

Crawling onto the paper, he tried to obstruct Chie's pen from making in to the final initial line, but his size was insufficient to completely block it. Chie simply started the initials slightly to the left as both women giggled at the display of the tiny man splayed out over the paper.

"He's an eager one, isn't he?" the adjuster chuckled. "Okay, sign here, at the bottom, and all that's left are the stamps!"

Chie quickly scrawled her names out in flowing script, an unbroken black line that had one rising loop in the center that briefly encircled the tiny man who scurried out of the way in a panic. With a horizontal stroke, Chie chased him from the page with the tip of her pen by crossing her 't's. The tip caught him under the rear and sent him tumbling before coming to a panting rest, spread-eagle off the page.

"Okay, now you'll need to thumb-stamp here…" the adjuster noted with a chuckle. "Press down evenly, and firmly, into the pad, and then roll your thumb print onto the left box here."

The adjuster presented a black ink pad, seemingly new, from the drawers of her desk and set it down, open, in front of Chie. With a concentration Chie reserved for little else, Chie coated her right thumb in ink, and transferred the print to the form. As her thumb came up from the paper, briefly sticking, Chie was pleased at how clearly the semi-spiral lines of her thumbprint shone in glistening, black ink on the page. After quickly wiping her thumb clean-ish with a wet wipe offered by the adjuster, Chie looked over the form, filled out, save for one box next to her thumbprint.

"Is that it? Are we done?" Chie asked eagerly.

"Last thing! We'll need a print of Toy, himself here!" the adjuster said, her finger pointing to the final box. "Same process, but make sure it's clear, or we'll have to do it again."

"You hear that, Toy?" Chie asked to her tiny man. "If you squirm too much, we'll have to do it again, until you get it right."

Chie didn’t wait for the veiled threat to set in and reached down and picked up Toy. She used her thumb to press his whole body into the inky pad, rolling her thumb to get a good coating of ink across his body and limbs. She lifted the tiny body up into the air to inspect the coverage, chuckling at the white eyes that opened against the ink-black coating every other part of him.

She maneuvered him effortless back down to the form, where he obligingly spread his arms and legs out. Her thumb pressed him into the paper, squarely inside the box next to her thumbprint. She felt his bones creak under her thumb’s pressure, making sure to roll her thumb over him and get a good, even print. She peeled Toy off the paper and marveled at the clear, almost perfect silhouette of Toy that had been left in his place, like a permanent shadow, and a clear, indelible stamp of ownership.

"How's that?" Chie asked. "I can do it again if you need me to!"

The adjuster pulled the paper back and reviewed it from behind cat-eye spectacles before looking above the paper at Chie’s anxious face with a grin.

“Everything’s good!” the adjuster beamed. “Congratulations, you are now officially the owner of ‘Toy’!”

“What’s the matter? Don’t you want me to return you to your full size?” Dina’s voice was lacking any sincerity as she taunted the shrunken man at her feet.

The tiny man, who had once been her boss, was covered in bruises and scratches, but all of that was covered beneath a thick coating of chocolate syrup that had been transferred from Dina’s still-covered sole. He had abandoned all pretense of authority, and his dignity was somewhere far behind him while he wept as he tried desperately to lick the sweetness from her sole.

The words of her ultimatum were simple enough, if her feet were free of any chocolate syrup by the end of the ten minute timer, ticking away right next to her soles, that she would restore his height and allow him to return home, free and clear of her service and punishment. He’d dived right in, desperately lapping away at the sweetened syrup that she had covered a plate with and then dipped her sole in. It was comical to watch his desperation from behind her foot, but she had to give him credit, he was making progress. Without a doubt in her mind, if allowed to continue, he’d have her foot cleaned of the sticky, sweet, substance well before the ten minute timer went off, even if he had to drive himself into diabetes to do it.

“You might actually pull this off!” Dina exclaimed. “But there's a problem…”

The trivial effort she had to put in to flatten her sole against the ground, pinning him beneath it, was almost comical in itself, but the sudden desperate squeaking and pleas coming from him really brought out the laughter in Dina. She could see his chocolate stained face from between her French tip pedicured toes, and his arms sliding off as he tried in vain to push her foot off him. A quick clench of her toes pulled him under her foot completely, and moments later she slid him half out again, laughing the entire time.

“What? I never said that I had to make it easy for you.” Dina said after her laughter settled. “Maybe if you begged me really nicely to continue licking my feet, I might let you… but I'd need to hear some truly desperate desire to debase yourself for my feet.”

The squeaking pleas that came from between her toes were some of the most desperate, pathetic, and nearly unintelligible bleating Dina had ever heard. Even if he had been full sized, the syrup flowing from her toes down onto him, as well as his own sobbing and retching, would've made it difficult to understand him, but being only a few inches tall made it all the more hilarious to hear him beg for the privilege of being allowed to lick the syrup from her sole.

Another clench of her toes, this time smearing him with chocolate from beneath her foot, and Dina considered just keeping him pinned for the remaining duration of the challenge. She enjoyed the feeling of him beneath her foot, his body and limbs providing a delightful feeling under her sole and toes, and considered just reneging on the terms of the challenge. She thought better of it and raised her foot on its heel, letting the tiny man peel off her sole with gravity.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Dina stated. “But I don't want to get the impression you're not grateful. So you need to really show me how thankful you are for the honor!”

Whether the panic at having been pinned beneath her foot, or just overwhelmed with adrenaline and sugar, Dina's former boss leapt into action, slipping on syrup and tripping over himself as he rushed headlong into her sole. Dina giggled when she felt his tongue immediately resume its work between her toes.

Minutes passed as the timer ticked away. Dina allowed her shrunken captive to work in relative peace, only occasionally batting him down with her sole or toes, and set an impressive pace, although Dina had done a lot of his work for him when she's pinned him beneath her foot, the greatest portion of the syrup transferring to the floor, leaving him relatively little to clean.

After a few minutes, he collapsed onto his back, moaning from the quantity of syrup he'd ingested before he'd resolved to using his body as a tiny rag and just wiping her foot clean to the best of his ability. Dina picked her foot up by the ankle and studied her sole.

“Hmmm, not bad…” Dina mused, inspecting her sole holding her ankle in her hands. “I'm actually kind of impressed. I think we can both agree, you got this sole clean!”

Her former boss collapsed to his knees, relief finally overtaking him. Dina set her left foot down and regarded him for a moment before delivering the bad news.

“So, are you giving up?” she asked through a wry grin. “Or just resting before you start on the other one?”

The look of confusion on his tiny face was almost too much. Facing her left sole, he was completely oblivious to her right. He'd been so preoccupied with trying to clean her left foot, that he'd not seen her soaking her right in the syrup filled dish while she tormented him. A quick point of her index finger toward her right foot, freshly removed from the pool of chocolate, turned him around.

“I'd get to work, if I were you.” Dina said, giggling. “Gotta stay productive, right?”

He began to protest, to state the painfully obvious; that the situation at hand was woefully unfair to him, but when he tried to accuse her of violating the terms of the challenge, she cut him off with a wag of her finger and an admonishing click of her tongue.

“Oh no, the deal was very clear, ‘if my feet are cleaned of syrup at the end of the timer’ and although you did an okay-ish job on the left foot…” Dina hovered her syrup-dripping right sole over him, allowing chocolate to rain on him. “You've completely neglected this one. Better hurry, you've got less than a minute left.”

Dina set her foot down on its side right next to him, probably the easiest she'd made the task for her former boss, and the desperation and zeal with which he threw himself into her utterly coated foot was kind of admirable, but mostly pathetic. He really had no chance of succeeding now, but Dina wasn't done enjoying the game.

Distracted as he was with trying to fulfill the deal, he failed to notice Dina’s relatively clean left foot sliding the dish of chocolate syrup over with a toe. She dunked her left foot back into the thick mix and this time coated it as thoroughly as her right, the brown goo clinging to her soles, toes, and almost up to her ankle. It came out of the bowl dripping syrup and making more of a mess. Still busy with her right foot, he didn't notice Dina's left foot set down behind him, placing him in the precarious position of being between her soles.

“Hey, I've got bad news. All that work you did…?” Dina nodded to her left foot behind him.

Pulling his face, like the rest of him utterly covered in chocolate, from her foot, her former boss turned to see what she was talking about. Even through the thick goo, she could see all hope drain from his face at seeing her left sole, once again covered in chocolate syrup. Dina laughed, and began bringing her soles together.

“Yeah, I guess it's obvious now…” she said, through her laughter. “You never really had a chance. But don't worry, I've been planning this for a long time, and I've got so much fun in store for you.”

The timer buzzed just as Dina's soles came together, trapping the shrunken man between them in a sticky, smelly, inescapable prison.

Leah stood up victorious, awash in the cheers and support of a rowdy crowd. The officials had already dragged the challenger, still unconscious, out of the ring, while one officiant brought her prize to her from the ringside bank where the remaining antéd prizes, her own included, still waited. The man in the suit brought her the glass jar containing the shrunken boyfriend of her defeated competition.

The officiant, a man whom Leah didn't recognize, carried the jar with a kind of solemn reverence, even as the tiny man inside was panicking almost without restraint. By the time the jar was placed in Leah's right hand, the microphone was already in her left, delivered by her manager.

"Looks like it's time for this kitty to get her treat!" Leah shouted, enough that the mic picked it up.

Her hands shot up, the jar and its contents on display for all to see. The crowd rewarded her with a renewed round of cheers. Leah slowly spun, letting everyone in the arena get a glimpse of her in victory, and of the shrunken man in the jar. She ended her display by walking toward the prize table, with all the other jars on display and raised up. Although over the ropes, those jars were about navel level to Leah as she turned to them.

"Go on…" Leah taunted into the mic, rubbing the jar over her exposed stomach. "Get a good look at what's waiting for you. For all of you."

The crowd hushed, a kind of manic obsession with what came next. As she continued to rub the glass over her skin, Leah lowered the mic down next to the jar. Before the tiny man kept in the glass could gain his footing the mic picked up the subtle, but clear, sound of Leah's guts, grumbling for sustenance. It was quickly drowned out by the squeaking pleas for help coming from within the jar, but the effect had already taken hold in the crowd.

Some wrestlers didn't take nearly as much delight in the victory process as Leah did, but thankfully, the league now advertised off displays like Leah's, and afforded her as much time as she wanted to really lean into it. Leah tossed the mic aside, thankfully the sound crew was on top of their game and cut it before it hit the mat. With her hands free, she brought the jar up her body, sliding it along her stomach, between her breasts, and up to her face.

For a moment, Leah just gazed into the jar. The tiny man inside had already scrambled as far away as he could, trying to distance himself from Leah as much as the jar would allow. Leah saw in his face the same panic and fear that she had seen in dozens of other match-antes and briefly wondered if the man inside was genuinely her challenger's boyfriend, or just an acquaintance hired on to risk his life so she could compete. Although the outcome was always the same, Leah preferred an actual boyfriend, to a paid stand in, it made the victory sweeter.

Leah tilted the side of the jar toward her, and as the tiny man fought to avoid sliding closer to her, she pressed her lips against the glass. She made sure that her lipstick was thoroughly imprinted on the jar. By the time he had slid half way, Leah began licking the corner of the jar. She opened her mouth and shook the jar enough to send him tumbling toward her, landing on all fours on the side of the jar, looking down at the darkness of her mouth, and throat beyond, opened beneath him, with only the glass wall of his prison keeping him from falling in.

“Just a little preview for you…” Leah whispered. “Don't worry though, I won't keep you waiting long. I think it's time you helped me with my little, post-match snack problem!”

Biting her lip, Leah carefully gripped the jar, preserving her lip print while slowly unscrewing the lid. She casually discarded the lid and looked down at the contents, a scared, shrunken man starting back up her. A grin spread across her mouth, and she couldn't help but lick her lips in anticipation and hunger. She could feel her heart beat faster, and warmth spreading through her.

“You know, one time, one of you little snacks clung to the jar, and fell out wrong…” Leah explained. “He hit the mat, and in the confusion, I stepped on him. It was the worst, I didn't get my post-match snack! So, to prevent that from ever happening again…”

Leah pursed her lips over the jar’s mouth. The crowd hushed and she was vaguely aware of her manager, Sam scrambling onto the mat with the mic to hold it just under the jar. For some of Leah's fans, this was the best part, and Sam knew they'd be disappointed if there was no audio to accompany what was coming. Thankfully, even through the glass, above any of the ambient background noise, the squeaking, manic pleas of the tiny man could be heard.

The glob of spit formed between Leah's lips with an effortlessness that only came from practice, and glistened against her black lipstick like a perverse jewel. The saliva fell free in a long, spilling strand, a deluge that poured from Leah's lips down into the jar. With some semblance of self preservation, the tiny man leapt out of the way, but a chuckle from Leah, and a quick shake of the jar sent him right back into the downpour of spit she continued to unleash. After a few seconds of continuous stream and a little shaking, he was coughing and completely soaked in spit.

“There you go, nice and slippery!” Leah observed. “Well, it's time!”

Her own drool poured out of the jar first as she lifted it high into the air and tilted the mouth toward her own. She ignored it, letting it spill down her chin, and down her front, keeping her eyes fixated on her prize, the tiny man fighting in vain to avoid sliding down the wall of the jar. The distraction of her chest getting a bit wet, or even the sounds of his desperate screaming picked up by the microphone as he slid smoothly down the glass, wouldn't pull her attention away from the one thing she enjoyed more than anything else in the sport.

As expected, he hit the lip of the jar and slipped right out, into a free fall through the air. A split second later, Leah felt his body land squarely on the back of her tongue, falling neatly between her teeth. Like a sprung trap, Leah pulled him down with her tongue and snapped her jaw shut, closing her eyes.

She discarded the jar in front of her and reached out instinctively to her right where the microphone filled her palm. Bringing it up to her mouth she gave the audience a little moan, just enough to really signal how much she was enjoying herself before parting her lips long enough for a squeak of mortal horror to escape as she licked her lips. For moments she savored his struggles against her. She flattened him against the roof of her mouth with her tongue, she pushed him into a cheek to suck on him, then pulled him back onto her tongue. Every part of him was subject to her tongue’s exploration.

For the final part of the display, Leah let her jaw fall open, her tongue roll out, and let the half-drowned, half-squished, barely conscious man laying on her tongue one last glimpse of light. The microphone picked up the faintest panting coming from his exhausted form, and as her tongue dragged him back into her mouth, a brief shout of horror before her lips sealed him in again.

There was no more fanfare, Leah moved him to the back of her mouth and swallowed. The fingers of her free hand, and the mic, followed the squirming lump down her throat. There was no sound from her snack, but her gulp could be heard throughout the arena. A second, strained swallow sent the still conscious man down past her chest and down into her stomach. Leah patted her stomach gently, even if he couldn't be heard through her skin and muscle and guts, Leah could still feel his movements slowing. After what felt like only a few seconds to Leah, but she knew accounted for more, he finally went still deep inside her, and she could only feel him as he was, a filling snack.

Leah wiped her chin and mouth with the back of her hand and raised both hands in a celebration. The crowd joined her in a raucous cacophony. She took a victory spin, slowly facing all of her fans, before turning back to the table with the jars. Even if they couldn't hear her, Leah knew each of the tiny men in the jars understood her when she grinned wide at them, teeth showing, and running her tongue along her teeth.

One of them would be her next prize.

“Wow, she really isn't letting up on you, is she?” Sisi asked, more bored than surprised.

She yawned and stretched out her limbs. Hours ago, she'd stopped hovering over the scene and simply laid down next to it to save energy. The fairy was far enough away that she was confident she wouldn't accidentally get caught under the pair, but never dropped her hiding shield, just in case.

“H…he…help me.” the hero managed to squeak out between body-breaking thrusts from the demon lord.

“Who do you think can help you, slut?” the demon lord responded, unaware of Sisi’s presence.

The demon lord delivered a bone-jarring slap to the heroes haunch and continued to pound away at the hero, her much larger and stronger form almost eclipsing him completely beneath her on the throne room floor where she had utterly defeated his defenses, shattered his arms and armor, and over the course of several hours since, subjugated him to a humiliation unlike anything Sisi had ever seen by fucking him stupid with a magical cock that looked like something out of the worst nightmares of an oracle driven mad.

“You think she'll get tired at some point?” Sisi asked. “I mean, she's gotta be at least a little spent after, what? I lost interest in keeping count after the seventieth time she came inside you, and that was before the sun set…”

Although Sisi was confident in her own magic, she might almost believe the demon lord had heard her when the massive woman jerked the hero’s limp body up into her thrust, roared in berserk lust, and then clenched her teeth and eyes in a, at this point, very familiar sign of another load of weirdly luminescent black seed being pumped into the hero's abused innards.

The sight of the hero's stomach bulging out like some of the amphibians Sisi had observed, then slowly deflating as copious amounts of the demon lord's cum gushed back out of him, through every available orifice, had been awe-inspiring at first, but having seen it dozens and dozens of times since the first time the demon lord had mounted the hero, Sisi was bored of the sight and even the sound of the globs splattering on the polished stone floor.

Sisi rolled onto her back, her hands as cushioning for her head as the familiar pattern of the demon lord resuming her thrusting into the hero's ass continued, as it had after most of the demon lord's orgasms. The steady sound of the massive woman's hips slapping against his cheeks, her coinciding grunts of barely contained lust, and his occasional pleading for mercy from the woman ravaging him, or help from Sisi, who was powerless to do anything, filled the room again like a familiar song.

“You know, I was sure it wouldn't fit.” Sisi mused, not even watching the repetitive scene playing out. “I was sure, when she whipped that thing out after beating you, seeing it was bigger than your thigh, I was sure you'd just get ripped to shreds!”

She kicked her legs idly in the air.

“Boy, was I shocked when she hit you with hex after hex after hex to make sure… how did she put it? ‘Your pathetic form will not grant you the mercy of death's!” Sisi chuckled at her own imitation of the demon lord's deeper voice. “And then when she first shoved it down your throat? You looked as surprised as I was! Even if you couldn't say it…”

Sisi hopped up to her feet and looked around the throne room for the first time since she and the hero had arrived. The stone floor was surprisingly brilliant, white marble inlaid with gold filigree depicting scenes of the demon lord's conquest. Dozens and dozens of golden outlines in the floor mimicked the unrelenting defiling occurring just behind Sisi as she loitered about.

She kicked away a chunk of what had been the hero's sword, a legendary artifact said to be capable of shattering a dragon’s scales, from where the demon lord had simply crushed it into shards. Some magical aura had escaped from the sword, but the demon had easily sucked that in through her lips, where the magical light had disappeared into her gut.

For a moment, Sisi considered finding help. There were other adventurers out there, but none of them would be able to fight through the hordes of monsters the demon lord had assembled outside since they arrived, and Sisi didn't really know where any of them would be. Her fellow fairies couldn't be counted on, most wouldn't come within sight of the demon lord's castle.

“Nothing to be done ‘bout it, I guess…” Sisi said, with resolve.

A quick beat of her wings and she floated over, as close as she dared, to where the hero was being violated, landing near enough his face for conversation. She wasn't as worried about getting caught under the brutal fucking, but still wanted to avoid the seed that had spilled, along with the drool spilling out of the hero's agape mouth.

“He…hel…help…” he squeaked.

“Hey, listen! So I know we've been through a lot together…” Sisi started. “And it kinda sucks you're probably not gonna make it out of here, but I think it's best if I just get out before, well, I don't know how it gets much worse for you… maybe she impregnates you, or let's that creepy slime lady she controls have a go at you, but whatever the case, I should go before that happens.”

“Pl…please d…do…don't le…leav… m…” the hero managed before the demon lord’s roar drowned out his words and her cum flushed through body and out his throat.

“Anyway, I'm out!” Sisi said, flitting up off the ground. “I guess I won't see you around, but… bye anyway!”

Sisi was prepared to dart off, back down through the hallways and corridors of the demon lord's castle that she had led the hero through to the throne room where he was meeting his fate, when she felt a chill come over her. Even hovering, she had to look up, only to meet the gaze of the demon lord, looking down at her, directly at her, as though she had no spell in place to hide her.

Sisi squeaked in shock and pain as the demon lord's hand caught and enclosed her with blinding speed. Only a little light filtered in through the massive woman's fingers, and Sisi felt the grip tightening. Sisi couldn't help but panic as she recalled just how easily the demon lord had shattered steel, broken bone, and even crumbled stone to dust. Sisi was so panicked she didn't notice the demon lord bringing her up to the demon lord's mouth until she felt the hot breath on her skin.

“Bring me another.” the demon lord ordered, an almost feral lust washing over Sisi with the demon lord's breath.

Before Sisi could comprehend, the demon lord threw Sisi, tumbling and out of control, away. The throw was so forceful that Sisi found herself waking up outside of the demon lord's castle, shattered glass all around her, bruised and cut from both the demon lord's hand and the forceful exit it had imposed.

Granting herself a moment of reprieve, and checking her wings and limbs to make sure everything still worked, Sisi’s moment of silence was broken by a familiar roar of orgasmic lust coming out of the window she had just been defenestrated from. With no way of knowing just how long she'd been out, but sure she wanted to be anywhere else, Sisi took flight away from the demon lord's castle, back toward the forest.

"Come on…” demon lord Tyrana mused, sipping on the wine held in one hand. “Don't you want to defeat me?”

The most recent hero, quivering with mouth agape and eyes desperately looking into hers for mercy, but otherwise still, had just experienced her cock for the very first time. It was a rare treat when she could look directly into their eyes at the precise moment they were first penetrated by the rod that would break them, but Tyrana had engineered the situation perfectly, and was delighted with the results.

“All you must do is make me cum before you do, little hero, and then it's all yours.” Tyrana taunted between sips of savory-sweet liquor. “All of my castles and armies, yours. All of the hundreds of previous heroes that serve my pleasure in the dungeon, freed. And even me, the demon lord herself, submitted to you for eternity. All you have to do is make me cum without cumming yourself. And you can't even move?”

If he could comprehend her words, he showed little evidence of it. For a moment it looked as though he might try to push himself off of her cock. He clenched his teeth and eyes while his legs shifted around on her thighs, trying to get into position to make the effort to stand. Tyrana willed her cock to twitch inside him, however, and all his efforts were dashed as he slumped forward between her tits, defeated yet again.

“Disappointing, but not entirely unexpected.” Tyrana sneered, bringing the goblet up to her lips and emptying it over the hero.

She finished the wine and tossed the gilded cup down onto the floor of her throne room. The metal bounced and rolled on the white marble and gold filigree only twice before a trio of servants rushed out of the shadows to clean it. Each dressed in rags, the remnants of what they had been wearing when each challenged her, and a polished golden collar around each of their necks, the former heroes got to work wiping away what little wine left had spilled and gathering up the goblet. Tyrana paid them little attention, but wondered offhandedly if any of them recognized themselves in the filigree inlay on the floor they cleaned.

“With it sheathed inside of you, human, I think you realize that I have no need of a cock warming sleeve…” Tyrana sneered, pulling the hero's head back to address him. “So if you want to have any chance of defeating me, you'll need to move at least more than this.”

His hands found their way to her chest, and he pushed against her. Tyrana couldn't tell if he was trying to push himself off her cock in a desperate, last option, or if he was too far gone and just thought he could push himself away, despite her cock compressing his innards deep into his chest.

“That's it? You really are a disappointment.” Tyrana mocked, her hands clamping down around his waist. “But, I am nothing if not fair. Remember, try not to cum.”

A moment of clarity seemed to wash over him with either her words or her hands gripping him tightly. Whatever the source, he suddenly looked up into her face again and tried wordlessly, with a shaking head, to plead with her to spare him. Tyrana smiled at him.

Wordlessly she slowly began to lift him, savoring every bit as his ass pulled at her cock. Even more pleasurable was the hero's countenance as she did. Pleasure and shame from being violated, horror at the consequences of that pleasure, and the alien sensation of a cock larger than his thigh being forcefully pulled out of him all warred for control of the hero's face, with none of them truly winning. She continued to slide him slowly, agonizingly slowly up her shaft until only her bulbous head remained inside him.

“Remember, if you can make me cum first, I'm yours and all of this ends. But…” Tyrana sneered, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “If you cum before me, I'm going to do things to you that will make every hero I've broken before you shudder in horror and disgust. I'm going to turn you into an example for them, make them watch as I mold you into something less than human over the course of centuries. Remember.”

Tyrana wasted no more time and used all her might to slam the hero down against her own thighs. The crack of skin slapping against skin echoed louder than anything that had happened in the fight leading up to his first defeat, and his body offered no resistance as her cock plowed into him again. She was almost surprised to feel the wetness against her stomach, almost.

“Pathetic…” Tyrana said, genuine disdain in her voice. “Don't think that by submitting so quickly you'll get off easily.”

Hours later, having never stood from her throne, Tyrana unleashed her first orgasm into the hero. She held off as long as she could, ensuring that no part of the hero’s mind was unclear how hopeless his situation had been as he’d cummed again and again onto her abs. She’d wiped it off at first, then into his face, then with her fingers down his throat, and after the fourth time, just ignored his cock flopping about as she bounced him up and down on her own rock hard member. Although brutal, it wasn’t nearly as much as she could muster, holding back for later.

With her seed spurting from his ass, Tyrana stood up, allowing the hero’s limp body to simply remain on her cock as she did. A bit amused that her cock was strong enough to hold him up on its own lust, Tyrana nonetheless needed him off. She pulled him up by the neck, effortlessly sliding him off her cock and dropped him to the stairs before her throne where her tumbled down several steps.

Her fingers snapped, sending an echoing crack like thunder through her throne room. With no delay, the three that had cleaned and collected her wine goblet emerged from the shadows and rushed to attend her. Each of them coming to prostrate themselves on her stairs under where she stood.

“Clean me.” Tyrana ordered, pointing at her still throbbing, glistening cock.

They rushed up and their tongues began to work obediently at her command, lapping away in short, tender strokes on her shaft, each one cleaning a bit of her own seed before the servant swallowed it and licked again. Tyrana shuddered. It was tempting to simply use these three here and now, broken though they were, her servants could still be used for relief when she deemed fit. She shook the thought from her mind and focused on the recent hero, collapsed on her throne room stairs.

“Enough. Go.” Tyrana ordered to one. “Drag this meat to my bedroom and then send my summons for General Slimia. Tell her to meet me there to assist me with this one. He was more magically adept than most of you disappointments, she'll enjoy him with me.”

Obediently he scurried away.

“And you…” Tyrana said, snatching the back of the head of her nearest servant still licking her cock clean. “Fetch the artist from the dungeon. I want the image of Slimia attempting to fill him up to take his magic away fresh in his eyes when he sets this in gold.”

The second dashed away.

“Don’t let that tongue go idle, slave.” Tyrana instructed the third. “And when you’re done, follow me into my bedroom. I want you to watch.”

"As he shrunk, my husband became less and less able to wear his clothes and accessories…" Beverly noted, while the younger man's tongue probed between her toes. "The ring was actually one of the first things he couldn't keep up with."

If the young man was aware of his own diminishing size, it didn't slow down his adoration of her toes and between. He still worked diligently to clean her toes, leaving no part of her toes uncovered with saliva, and then obliging Beverly as she moved her foot up his face, presenting the ball of her foot to him. There was an odd, trance-like state to his work, but definitely not completely mindless.

"In fact, before he shrunk completely, I had a whitesmith take his ring and resize it…" Beverly noted, testing the progress of the man at her feet by holding her foot against his face before allowing him to resume. "His shrinking was slow, so I had it made into something of a collar at first, then into a more suitable size for me."

She moved her foot to facilitate his tongue against her arch and allowed him to continue there. Every so often, when she felt his enthusiasm wane, she'd press her sole into his face, eclipsing him under her bare foot. The renewed pressure was always enough to revitalize his lips and tongue. He'd been on his knees, at her feet, worshiping toes and soles and heels and arches and anywhere else she had pushed into his lips, for hours already, but she was far from done with him.

"Then, before he got too small, I told him how things had changed…" Beverly said. "And how they were going to change."

His adoration never stopped. Once every possible surface on her foot had been covered in kisses, licks, and the gentle touch of his hands, Beverly quickly swapped it out for the other foot, and the process began anew. She spent even more time wiping the sweat of her foot onto him, making sure that while her soles would be sparkling by the time she was finished with him, he’d still reek of her feet. She’d put him away like that, as well, with only a soiled sock of hers for warmth, just to hammer the point home. The second foot took more than twice as long as the first, owing mostly to his constantly diminishing size. The extra time allowed Beverly to produce a small, felt box from her purse while she waited.

"But don't think I forgot about you…" Beverly said, pushing him back with her foot, a bit of glee creeping into her voice.

She dropped the small box into his waiting hands. His brain, still foggy from worshiping her soles with all his enthusiasm, could barely register the felt covered container resting in his palms, and how large it was compared to him. He opened it like he was discovering the idea of a hinged box for the first time.

“Look familiar?” she asked, the glint of gold reflected in his eyes. “It should. Take it out.”

He obeyed, struggling to extract the ring from where it lay deeply nestled in silk, velvet, and cushioning. He finally pulled it free and held it in both hands, easily too large to be a ring for him, but maybe a collar or even something worn around his waist. He looked at it with a kind of persistent mix of confusion and loss that couldn't quite penetrate through to his conscious mind. Like a memory was always just out of clarity for him, no matter how hard he tried to focus.

The golden band was freshly polished, the diamond setting flanked on either side by a ruby that almost rivaled the center gemstone for size and brilliance, almost. He could see his reflection in the metal and the stunning array of colors from the diamond was mind-numbing even in the relatively subdued lighting of her bedroom. On the inside, etched into the band, he could read an inscription;

TUUS SUM IN AETERNUM

“Th…this is special.” he said, suddenly aware of his vision blurring and moisture on his cheek.

“You're right, that one is special. All of these…” she wiggled her toes above him, more than a dozen sparkling bands circling her toes. “Are the rings of husbands, but that one is different. The inscription may be a little ironic, but it holds truer now than ever before.”

She set her feet down, in front of him where he considered the engagement ring in his hands. Her toes continued to wiggle and clearly caught his eye as his gaze shifted up from the ring to her feet. All the confusion flushed out of his eyes with a single blink, even as the tears, now only of joy, continued to flow.

“Now, I've given you the honor of adorning the same toe that my husband’s own ring sits on.” Beverly announced, presenting her toes to him. “Get on your knees and thank me.”

Obediently, as though her words were the very neurological signal his brain sent, his legs collapsed out from under him. Weeping, he held the band he barely remembered, the band he had a ghost of a memory of, of having slipped on someone’s finger, aloft and over his head.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” he said with all his chest. “Please grant me this!”

“Good pet.” Beverly said. “You may put that ring on my second toe.”

The band slipped over her nail, and nestled into place, expertly sized from the original finger it was intended for down to her toe, next to the plain gold band she already wore. If there were any doubt in either of their minds, the soft clink of one golden band against another, and the perfect fit of what was once an engagement ring on her toe made it clearer than ever. He belonged to her, forever.

“See this one?” Danielle asked, waving her left foot. “It's a bit faded, but that was my first ever!”

The man cowering in the shadow of her bare feet, propped up on her coffee table, didn't seem to take notice, so Danielle leaned forward on the coach and grabbed her ankle. Sure enough, there on her left sole was the tattoo;  a simple black outline in the style of a crime scene chalk outline. The full outline wasn't much bigger, much, than the man shivering under her toes.

“Yup! Just like that! Me and my friends had gone to the hookah lounge when it happened. That one where they give you those really nice, private, rooms to smoke in? We'd been sitting around, smoking, when my favorite song at the time, you know the one?” she explained, turning her foot over the tiny man and wiggling her toes. “It's called ‘Dance Until You Die’ by Alana? So yeah. I got up and started dancing.”

Danielle began bouncing her heels along the coffee table, mimicking her dancing on that hookah lounge floor so long ago. The crashing of her heels sent the tiny man screaming and scrambling to avoid being crushed as she giggled and hummed bars from the minor Latin dance hit that had dominated the radio waves at the time. Every impact of her heels shaking him off his feet and forcing him to lunge and roll out of the way. Eventually Danielle stopped, setting her feet to either side of him.

“But anyways, I heard a little squeak and felt a crunch, right here…” Danielle pointed to her tattoo. “beneath my foot. Sure enough, stuck to the bottom of my sole was this tiny lady, all broken and twisted. I immediately showed my girlfriends and they took a bunch of photos. I've still got them around here somewhere, saved to an old phone, I think. Don't know how she got in there, or what she was doing, sneaking around, but after a couple of good photos, I just…”

Danielle slapped her left sole down on the coffee table, eliciting a fresh scream from the tiny man who had just missed being crushed underfoot by a hair’s width. She ground her sole against the wood, like snuffing out a cigarette, before dragging her sole back over the edge of the coffee table, scraping off the imagined remains.

“And then I went back to dancing. The song wasn’t over.” Danielle said nonchalantly. “I don’t get tattoos of every tiny I dispose of, hell, I’d have no free space left, but I’ve been thinking about getting a matching tattoo for my right foot.”

She hovered her right sole over the tiny man, casting him once again in darkness. Her toe rings caught the light and glinted as she taunted him. Even if he had attempted to flee, Danielle was well prepared, with nowhere for him to end up but under her foot.

“So, how about it?” Danielle asked. “Want to inspire my next tattoo?”