Recharge by Nigma
Past Featured StorySummary:

MJ just needs five minutes.

Five minutes away from the party to recharge.

For the shrunken people she finds, these five minutes may be their last.


Categories: Violent, Giantess, Body Exploration, Crush, Entrapment, Feet, Humiliation, Slave Characters: None
Growth: None
Shrink: Micro (1 in. to 1/2 in.)
Size Roles: None
Warnings: This story is for entertainment purposes only.
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 2 Completed: Yes Word count: 5157 Read: 12390 Published: October 15 2021 Updated: October 24 2021

1. Chapter 1 by Nigma

2. Chapter 2 by Nigma

Chapter 1 by Nigma

She just needed five minutes.

Five minutes away from the lights and noise of the party below, five minutes to regroup. MJ threw a cautionary look over her shoulder, peering through a fall of dark purple hair, before stealing away from the hallway and into the darkness of the bedroom beyond.

The door closed behind her with a click. A street light half illuminated the space, allowing her enough vision to make it to a bedside table and switch on a lamp. Warm light bathed the room as she sat carefully upon the edge of the bed, the springs making the slightest of squeaks as they bore her weight.

She stretched her slender legs out in front of her, letting free a sigh of relief as the muffled sounds of the party faded beneath the floor boards. She brought her glass to her lips, taking a restorative sip as she let the quiet wash over her. The white wine danced upon her tongue, tugging her pink lips into a smile.

MJ drew her phone from a tiny clutch bag barely large enough to hold it and let the white screen light wash over her. Pictures of the night were already being uploaded. She scrolled through them idly, sipping as she went.

A sound outside the door drew her from her screen. Two girls were talking.

MJ stood, slipping her phone back into her clutch. Would she be in trouble for being in here? It had taken so much to get back into the group, some much careful social navigation. To be caught in one of the host’s bedrooms, what had she been thinking? She glanced around the room, trying to gauge who slept there.

She waited, a statue, until they moved away. She breathed out, a sigh of relief.

Her eyes fell upon the dressing table and the huge wall mirror behind it. She ignored her reflection, instead pouring over the pots filled with makeup brushes, the jewellery tree, the plastic box that squeaked when she looked at it.

Oh shit, what was that?

She crept over to the dresser, skipping across the cream carpet like a cat. Her fingers moved the pictures aside to reveal a plastic aquarium. Within it stood a tiny human man.

‘Oh wow,’ she breathed as he looked up at her. The inside of the aquarium resembled a doll’s house complete with table, chairs and an unmade bed. The Shrinky stood beside it, staring up at her with wide eyes.

She crouched, her face coming closer to the plastic wall. He took a step backwards but didn’t seem overly afraid. Instead he was angry, it was so odd.

MJ hadn’t had much interaction with Shrinkys, not really. There was one time in college but that didn’t really count; she had mostly watched while the girls had their fun. It had barely lasted an hour.

The only other time, well that wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t noticed until she had gotten home and went to take off her boot. It was then that she saw the arm.

It was bloodied and bent, protruding from a red mass of viscera that had been pushed into the treads. Dust had turned the blood into a half dry cake. Her fingers danced lightly across it before settling on something less organic. Gently she teased a scrap of paper, part of a movie ticket stub, out of the wad of compressed meat.

There was a word crudely scrawled upon it: HELP.

Once, when she was much younger, the Afflicted had been cared for, treated as best science could. Now they were everywhere and, with no chance of a cure, few considered Shrinkys to be human anymore. People just got used to them and they learned to stay away from people. She had some friends who kept them as pets in high school but she had just assumed the novelty eventually wore off.

‘You shouldn’t be in here!’

The little man’s words surprised her, raising a smile across her lips. He stood with fists balled, a haughty expression on his tiny face.

She took another sip of wine, emptying the glass and setting it down beside his enclosure. The glass was taller than his living space.

‘Oh yeah?’ she purred at him, boosted by the alcohol buzzing through her system, ‘What are you gonna do about it?’

MJ was surprised by her response. There was something fascinating about the little creature that stared up at her from within his enclosure.

There was an otherworldly nature to them, something impossible. He was a fully formed man, probably in his early twenties, in good shape and handsome. He also stood no taller than her little finger.

Someone downstairs had put him in there, had provided furniture and nourishment, had kept him for who knows how long. Someone owned him, owned another human being as if he was nothing more than a pet mouse. The idea, now it stood before her, was intriguing.

Her thoughts turned to her lifelong avoidance of Shrinkys, had she been missing out?

MJ’s hand was moving before she even realised, unclasping the lid and diving in to snatch him up. He tried to run from her, his bare feet slapping on the plastic floor of his cell. She smiled at his squeaks of protest, the sound muffling as her fingers enclosed him. He never stood a chance.

The Shrinky weighed almost nothing, it was insane.

His confidence stalled as he fell back against her open palm, her thumb folding over to press against his abdomen and pin him in place.

MJ giggled, the alcohol fizzing through her mind. She watched as his arms pushed against her, his legs kicking in vain as he tried and failed to escape her grip. He was so small and fragile, she could have crushed him in her fist.

She dropped back onto the bed, smiling down at him as he spat curses at her. Clearly whoever had put him in the container hadn’t trained him well.

Her hands moved fluidly, faster than her could comprehend. Her fingers manipulated him, catching him by the leg to dangle him upside down. He squeaked his protests as she lifted him into the air before releasing him. Her deep brown eyes watched with amusement as he tumbled through the air, screaming as he fell towards the floor.

He had sped past her knee when she caught him, the impact against her soft hands driving the wind from his naked body. He cried with pain, the sound muffling as she closed her fingers around him. A drunken laugh bubbled over her lips as she rattled her fist, feeling the featherweight creature slam against the inside of her hand.

The tiny man was already screaming as she threw him again, tossing him up into the air. Her eyes followed him, wide with fascination. She had never before seen a human face, albeit a small one, twisted with such all-encompassing fear.

MJ watched as he arched through the air, her hand darting out to snatch him as he once again began to plummet towards the floorboards. Her stocking clad toes scrunched with enjoyment as his body fell against her hand. His journey this time brought him to her face, a tiny human shivering before her smile.

‘Having fun little one?’ she jeered, taking another sip of her drink.

She flattened her palm giving the shrunken human a moment of respite. She couldn’t help but chuckle as he rose to his knees; the previously pampered and, she had to admit fairly attractive, man now covered in bruises.

From something so simple as being tossed from hand to hand she had closed one of his eyes and turned his lips into fat, blood covered worms. His bronze skin was pink and purple, his movements trembling as he tried to steady himself on her swaying palm.

The control she had over him was strangely addictive.

‘Maybe I need to get my own little man,’ she mused, ‘you’re a lot more fun than I thought you would be.’

She watched as he tried to stand, steadying himself against her thumb. The slightest movement sent him falling back against her palm, the slapstick causing fresh laughter to dance from her and out into the otherwise empty room.

‘You know’, she smiled dangerously, ‘maybe I should take you with me?’

The look of horror that fell upon him was hilarious, it made her snort into her drink. In truth she would have to return him any minute now. She was already somewhere she shouldn’t be and was flirting with danger by staying in here as long as she had.

Besides he belonged to one of the three women that lived here, she couldn’t risk them coming back and finding him gone. MJ had worked hard to get back into the clique and wouldn’t risk her social status for a Shrinky, no matter how handsome and malleable he was.

The house she was in was the nexus of society as far as she was concerned, a hub in which every party you needed to be at was held or planned. The man in her hand would have belonged to Kerri, Clare or Nikki; any of whom could cast her out with a word.

She cast her eyes back over the tiny man, she was pretty sure she had seen him before but couldn’t place him. The mess she had made of his face didn’t help. Perhaps he was that guy who Kerri used to date or maybe Clare’s brother? She couldn’t be sure, she would have to be careful.

Still, there was no reason for the Shrinky to know that.

‘Would you like that? She cooed, turning over her right hand and letting him fall into the palm of her left, ‘Would you like to come home with me and be my pet?’

MJ repeated the question over and over, tossing him from hand to hand pausing only to drain the rest of the wine from her glass. It was only when she settled it onto the hardwood floor did she realise how long she had been tormenting her helpless victim.

‘Oh shit,’ she blurted, the faintest hint of a slur against her words, ‘I had better get back. I don’t want anyone to find me now do I?’

The shrunken man was folded back into her hand, her thumb once again upon him. This time she moved the digit up his body, the thumbnail resting razor sharp beneath his throat.

‘I guess this is all the time we have little guy,’ she beamed, ‘I guess I had better put you back. I can trust you though can’t I, you won’t say anything about our game tonight will you?’

Her thumb moved closer to him, the nail larger than his head. With the slightest movement she could have slit his throat or removed his head.

‘No,’ he croaked through the pain she had inflicted, ‘I won’t say anything, I promise.’

MJ was confident she would get away with this. The room was dark enough to hide her tell-tale purple hair, the lamp tinging everything a pinkish orange. Still, it didn’t hurt to scare him straight.

‘Hmm,’ she put a finger to her lips, considering the situation with a theatrical air fuelled by alcohol, ‘do I trust you? Hmm, hmm.’

The tiny human could only watch, his chest pumping with fear driven breaths as the huge woman pondered his fate.

MJ stifled a smile, it was clear how much he feared her. He wouldn’t rat her out, she was confident of that. Still, it didn’t hurt to instil a little extra fear.

‘Ok little guy, maybe I believe you for now. I’m gonna put you back for now but I will be back in shall we say an hour? By then I want you to come up with a convincing explanation for those bruises, ok? I need it to be good because if not.’

She lowered her face towards him, her lips curling into a vicious smile, ‘If not I’ll tear your little body apart bit by bit, real slow like. Is that what you want?’

‘No’ he screamed, visibly trembling, ‘no, please! I’ll think of something, please’

‘Ok then, good boy. Time to go back in your cage.’

The bed creaked as she leaned forwards, conveying him back to the dresser top. In her grasp his eyes fell upon his living space, his body calming. MJ’s own eyes never left him.

Despite her inexperience with Shrinkys, this interaction had woken something within her. The feeling of having complete control over a living, breathing and thinking human was something she couldn’t describe. It was more than having someone to command and boss around. The sheer power she held over him was something else; the ability to manipulate him, to bend and break his body with the slightest touch excited her.

First thing tomorrow, she would get one of her own.

He was halfway between the bed and the dresser when she spoke again.

‘So close to home,’ she announced, attempting to feign a thoughtful tone through the fog of wine that sloshed about her, ‘and yet so far!’

The tiny man became a blur as she threw her arms upwards, sending him screaming into the air, higher than before. His body bent double as G force hammered upon it, a miniscule trail of vomit spiralling through the air behind him.

MJ had been careful not to throw him too hard. He soared close to the ceiling but did not impact upon in, his arms and legs spiralling as he moved through the air and began to fall towards her. She whooped as loud as she dared, holding her hands together to receive him one final time. She would be careful to handle him gently, snatching him from the air before he built up too much momentum. Despite her threats and, to a certain extend her hidden desires, she didn’t truly want to break him.

She did after all have his owner to consider.

The screams of the Shrinky was like a faint chime in her ears as he fell towards her open hands. MJ reached for him, her slender fingers eager to feel his featherlight weight upon them.

She snatched at him and missed.

Her eyes widened, matching his own as time slowed. His tiny body slipped through her fingers, spiralling as he plummeted towards the floor.

Her hands followed him, her reflexes straining as she tried to catch him.

His scream was a piercing whine, high pitched as he dropped through the air.

It ended with a soft thud.

MJ stood, petrified, as she looked down upon the broken body lying still beside her foot. Gingerly, she moved her toe towards him.

A scream of agony burst from the shrunken human as she connected with him. It was loud, far louder, than it should have been; filling the space with sound.

‘No!’ MJ hissed, panic rising in her chest, ‘No, stop, I’m sorry, please, they’ll hear, just stop, please!’

Her breath caught in her chest, her heart beating faster and faster as the Shrinky’s cries of pain and fear rang about the room. Surely they could hear it?. If they found out, if they found her here.

Tears pricked her eyes as she imagined her social life crumbling around her. Why had she come in here, why couldn’t she just be like everyone else and handle social events like a normal person? Why had she even taken him out of his cage, played with him, thrown him around? She had never been too good at sports, why did she think she could catch him?

She was so stupid. She needed to breathe, to think, to find a way out of this. If only he would stop screaming for one second, just one second so she could think.

The useless little Shrinky was so loud, it felt like his voice was inside of her head. She looked down at him, both legs twisted and broken. His arm was at an unnatural angle. He hadn’t even fallen that far, how could he be hurt so badly? People had been hurt worse before, she was sure of it.

‘Shut up!’ she hissed down at him, ‘shut up, they’ll hear you!’

He continued, louder than before. He was crying in agony, crying out for help. He wanted them to find out what she had done.

‘Shut up, please!’ she was begging him now, anything to make the sound stop.

‘Just, just,’ her mind was reeling, her body moving before she was even conscious of what she was about to do, ‘just shut up!’

The soft thud of her foot hitting the floor was the only sound that answered, the screaming cut short.

MJ could feel the warmth of his body, now nothing but compressed flesh, through her skin coloured tights. Blood seeped between her toes.

Without thinking she added more weight, imagining a squelch as the dead Shrinky was crushed further beneath her foot.

What had she done?

MJ lifted her foot, dreading the sight that awaited her.

She stood on one leg, conscious not to leave a second bloody footprint. At the centre of the first, bright red against the pine floorboard, was the outline of a human being.

Her single footstep had broken him entirely, smashing every bone and crushing every organ in less than a second.

In a moment of panic she had reduced her friend’s pet, a clearly loved possession, to nothing more than blood and bone.

She was fucked.

Chapter 2 by Nigma

MJ wanted to cry, to drop to her knees and weep over the turn of events that had led her here. Why couldn’t she just be normal, why did she have to take a break? Every other woman downstairs was enjoying themselves, each vied to be heard and the centre of attention. Why did she want to just hide? Why had she come in here? Why had she done this?

MJ looked again at the ruined man pushed into the floorboard. She steadied herself against a chest of drawers, remaining on one foot.

At best she would spend the rest of her time here a friendless outcast. The Shrinky, he was clean and good looking for someone so small. Had he cost money, was he expensive? MJ knew many of the girl had several times the expendable income that she did. Would they make her pay for him? What if she couldn’t?

She’d have to move back home. Return a failure, everyone would be so disappointed in her. Everyone would know she had been stupid. So stupid.

MJ choked back a sob. Why had she been so stupid?

Her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling. Breathe.

Time crept by, each dangerous second dripping away like the blood that soaked into the fabric beneath her toes.

He was dead, there was nothing she could do now. It wasn’t her fault, he had been so fragile. Why were they so skittish, why did they try to get away when they could break so easily?

It wasn’t her fault. What else could she have done? Should she have left him, make it look like a failed escape? How long would he have lasted, screaming on the floor? She had put him out of his misery. She had done the right thing even if her friends downstairs couldn’t see it.

If she admitted what had happened would they agree? Could she risk it?

No. OK.

MJ pivoted and sat onto the bed, her foot still raised above the Shrinky’s remains.

She could get away with this, it was fine. Nobody had seen, nobody would know it was her.

Her fingers worked quickly, freeing her legs as she slipped off her tights. The cloth was folded in her hand, the blood hidden. She inspected her now bare foot. The slightest stain was quickly cleaned away with a saliva coated thumb.

Leaning down, her tights now became a rag to be used to mop up the blood and viscera from the floor. It looked worse than it was, the hardwood resistant to the liquid seeping across its surface. He man had been small, there was only so much blood he could contain.

In less than a minute there was nothing left of him. The fabric in her hand, still warm with residual body heat, consumed the Shrinky’s remains. She would have to dispose of them at home, it was a small price to pay.

The garment was crushed in her hand and pushed into her clutch. Her phone was removed to take up space and slipped into her bra. The clasp struggled but clipped together. She would be throwing this bag away tomorrow, it was far too impractical.

MJ stood, smoothing a crease out of her dress and admiring her work. There was no sign of her crime, no evidence to show it had even been committed. She left the cage door open.

Let his owner waste time looking for him. Shrinkys try to escape all the time.

She smiled, she would get away with this.

Nobody would notice her bare legs, they had all drank too much. A stroke of luck that her clothing was flesh coloured.

MJ turned back to the door. All she had to do was get back downstairs, come up with a plausible excuse for her absence. That is if anyone even noticed.

She smirked, she had nothing to worry about.

As she made for the door, her smile died.

In the corner of her eye, amongst the shadows, movement.

Shit!

MJ flew at the spot, moving like a hawk or a cat.

By the door stood a row of black, chunky heeled ankle boots. They loomed beside a worn pair of Converse and a pristine pair of gym shoes. MJ moved each shoe, one by one, her eyes manic with desperation as she fought to remain calm. She prayed it was nothing, begged it to be a trick of the light.

The squeak that reached her ears hit like a punch to the gut.

She lifted a shoe, holding it by the heel. A delicate length of chain trailed after it, connected to a ring fastened around the neck of another Shrinky.

This one was female, naked and choking as her weight pushed her throat against the metal ring. Her legs kicked frantically at the open air, her eyes bulging wide with fear. MJ watched, numb to the creature’s suffering.

Slowly she extended a hand and allowed the Shrinky’s tiny feet to find purchase against her fingers. It’s skin was ice cold, the tiny woman having even less weight than her former roommate.

The Shrinky dropped to her knees, panting to fill her burning lungs. She was filthy, dishevelled and emaciated. Her skin was a collage of cuts and scars spotted by drifting clouds of purple bruises.

Two piercing blue eyes looked up at her from beneath a shag of matted hair. ‘You, you killed him.’

MJs world fell away. She fought to keep her face cool.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

The Shrinky was convulsing in her palm, racked by tremors, ‘No you did, I saw it, I was working as Mistress commanded, I was working, I promise, I was being good, I was being good for Mistress and then I saw it. You dropped him, you, you stepped on him, you killed him!’

MJ’s heart beat faster, she felt sick. Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!

The tiny creature moaned in her hand, rocking back and forth, trembling and fragile like an autumn leaf.

‘I think you are confused,’ MJ said softly, trying to keep the panic from her voice, ‘I have only just walked in here.’

A spark of genius struck her mind, ‘Do you need help little one?’

Her tone was soothing now, reassuring.

‘Are you hurt, do you need me to take you away from here?’

Her voice became a whisper, ‘I’ll rescue you if you like?’

The tiny woman screamed as if she had been stabbed.

‘No, no, no, no! No rescue, no escape. Mistress will know, Mistress always knows.’

The tiny woman tugged at her hair, pulling away clumps in her throes of madness.

‘Mistress will find out, Mistress will know. I must tell her, must tell her what you did. I am good, I am always good, good Filth, honest Filth. Filth would never lie to Mistress, Filth would never try to escape. Filth would never disobey. Mistress would take Filth’s legs and make it scoot around scoot scoot. Filth cannot lie and you…oh you..oh’

The creature returned to sobbing, tears cutting pale trails through the dirt that caked her face.

Filth, they named her Filth. What the fuck had the girls done to this woman?

A small part of her did somewhat pity the shivering Shrinky in her hand, under better circumstances she might even have followed up on her promise and taken her to a rescue or something.

Unfortunately any chance Filth had of being rescued was dashed by her endless wailing.

‘Shut up!’ MJ hissed, closing her fist around the creature, ‘Shut up, shut up!’

Filth continued to scream and sob, MJ’s fist barely muffling the noise. She shook her, hoping to, what? Knock her out, worse?

The tiny woman retched and would have been sick if there was anything in her stomach to bring up. She recovered quickly, seemingly indifferent to the massive hand that enveloped her. No doubt she had experienced a thousand times worse treatment.

Like a siren, she called out, ‘Mistress, Mistress, help! She killed him, she killed him, she killed him, Mistress!’

‘No, please, stop, please, you have to be quiet, please!’ MJ begged the woman in her grasp, she just needed time to think. The noise, the creatures voice, it was piercing and everywhere. Surely someone would hear, someone would investigate and find out what she had done.

Her mind started to race, her breathing getting short and panicked. Nobody would speak to her, nobody would remain her friend. She would be alone again all because she was stupid, because she needed a break and couldn’t help but touch things.

What could she do? She needed to get out of here, she needed to stop Filth from screaming. It was so loud.

Could she put Filth in her bag, wrap her up tight in her bloody tights and hope nobody heard her scream? What if they did hear though, how would she explain it? No, she couldn’t risk it.

Realisation settled upon her. She couldn’t risk Filth ruining everything. Filth would have to die.

A gasp of pain cracked through the tiny woman as MJ’s fist squeezed tighter. That’s it, she could crush her in her hand.

It was cleaner than stomping her, not much risk of blood if she was careful. She just needed to squeeze just a little harder. A crack in her hand made her shiver with revulsion. Maybe a broken leg or pelvis? Filth screamed ever louder, screaming in pain and screaming for her Mistress.

MJ needed to do it now. She looked at the red faced woman, her eyes pink with tears, her mouth agape, the sounds of terror and pain bounding across a dry tongue and past broken teeth.

The noise had to stop.

MJ took a steady breath, time to die Filth.

Wait! What about the body. MJ paused, shit, shit shit! What would she do with the body?

She scanned around the room. Nowhere to hide it. Could she throw it out of the window? What if someone saw, someone noticed? No.

Maybe if she could get to the bathroom she could flush it? If there was anyone in the hallway they must have heard the screams by now. She could be quick but what if someone turned up, what if the bathroom was occupied?

She needed to think of something, some way to stop the screaming, some where to hide the body. She just needed some way to make this right, to hide how stupid she had been.

She just needed the screaming to stop!

MJs fingers were moving before the idea had even fully been realised. It was pure instinct, raw fight or flight.

She undid the clasp around Filth’s neck, handling the shrunken woman roughly as she let the shoe fall to the floor, the chain trailing after it.

Filth barely had time to realise what was happening, barely had time to scream for help or beg for her life.

MJ closed her eyes tight, tried to push all thoughts out of her mind as she manipulated Filth with her fingers.

MJ retched as the taste of the tiny woman spread across her tongue. She was sour and earthy, her body thrashing as she was pushed into her captives mouth.

She screamed louder than ever, begging, pleading, praying to MJ and her Mistress for mercy. The sound muffled as MJ closed her mouth, sealing the woman behind the walls of her teeth and flesh.

Tears prickled her eyes as she fought not to vomit. This was the only way, it had to be done.

She slammed the woman into the top of her mouth with her tongue, the hot muscle lifting her effortlessly.

She needed to do it, she needed to do it now.

Once more MJ was almost sick, her stomach flipping as it recoiled against the morsel it was about to receive.

She slumped against the bed, steadying herself on the frame.

Her head ached, the room span, her heart tried to force itself from her chest.

Filth screamed, sealed in darkness, drowning in saliva. She screamed for her Mistress.

MJ swallowed.

A cold shudder racked her as she felt the tiny woman pass down her throat and into her body.

The screaming had stopped.

MJ sat, hr hands holding her head then hugging her knees then holding each other. She shivered, suddenly cold. In her head she was sure she could feel Filth fight against her stomach. It was jus in her head, just in her head.

Eventually she composed herself.

She was competent, she was clever, she was going to get away with this.

She fixed her make up, tidied herself up and took a deep breath.

MJ picked up her glass, clicked off the lamp and crossed the now dark room. Happy, yellow light embraced her as she stepped back out into the hall and closed the door to the bedroom behind her.

The sounds of the party drifted towards her, replacing the fading memory of the Shrinky’s screams.

It was their fault for being so fragile, she reasoned. She had just needed five minutes and they made it complicated.

A tiny smile trickled across her lips, it was their fault but they were gone now. She composed herself, she was ready.

MJ returned  to the party.

 

 

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