In the dining room they argued -- a large white
room with a long table, surrounded by chairs,
and slatted windows. Oh they argued about
everything -- she never made time for him, he
didn't want to go out; he played too many
games, she wanted to just do the same
things again. He brought up men that she had
looked at for a little too long. She mentioned
women that he called too often. All with raised
voices, fingers and glares. They had loved
one another and had been acting fine ten
minutes before but, as it often does, one little
nitpick led to another, and it snowballed. They
still loved each other of course, but their
emotions ran strong and led with the force of
a flash flood.

They chased one another around the table,
yelling and shaking heads and moaning
incredulously. But one time, turning around on
her to argue, he noticed something was off.
His eyes, by memory, flashed to where hers
should have been. But they weren't quite there.
A little lower. He still yelled his piece;
reality took a moment to catch up to his
anger.

She came back at him, equally enraged, but
she stopped. His eyes had changed, gazing at
her not as one looks upon someone else, but
as one might view an experiment. There was
a sudden interest in his look.

"What?" She asked, but she knew it was
dumb when she asked it. "You... you're..." He
couldn't speak. It was very slow, almost
imperceptible, barely noticeable. Every few
seconds that passed, she seemed to lose
another centimeter or so in height.

And then panic hit. She didn't understand it.
Why was it happening? He didn't either. Fear
flashed in her eyes. "Oh my god!" As the
seconds pressed on, the shrinking felt more
pronounced, faster, in those frantic moments.
"Oh god help me!" She started waving her
arms before her, as if both hands were
burned. She gripped his shoulders and
squeezed them; they only made her hands
feel so much smaller. They were noticeably
larger, stronger. Normally she was weaker and
smaller than him, but suddenly, she was
growing weaker, growing smaller.

"How?" The question was genuine. He even
cupped her elbows with his hands. "What can
I do?" But then the irrational anger of the
argument, all but forgotten by her, welled up
inside him once again. His tone changed; it
held force. "What do you want me to do
about it?"

She was taken aback and released him. She
was now looking at the lower area of his
chest, when she used to look him in the neck.
"Oh god, you can't be serious? Are you
serious?"

He crossed his arms. For a moment they
stood there staring at one another. She tried
to be defiant. Don't be scared, she told
herself. Maybe the shrinking will stop. But it
did not, and soon she was at the bottom of
his crossed arms. She felt her eyes filling with
tears as she tried to return his cruel gaze.

"Please...."

Suddenly a small smirk formed on his lips.
"Wonder how small you'll get?"

She erupted and flung herself forward. "You
bastard!" She spat and swung one arm,
punching him in the stomach. He felt thicker, it
was hard to describe. Suddenly impenetrable.
And the worst part, when she glanced up, was
that he was looking back down at her, his
smirk having widened. A few more soft, futile hits,
and she simply held her fists to his stomach
and let the tears flow freely down her cheeks.
"You bastard...."

He simply watched her dwindle, her head hung
in defeat. She went down passed his belt,
nearing the top of his thighs. He reached
down and patted her on the head, and then,
curling a hand behind it, suddenly forced her
face into his crotch. She had been starting to
look up as he did, responding to the pats, and
he pushed her square into his hard member
and held her there as it throbbed through the
material, against her face.

At first she was stunned. And then she tried
to pull back, but he held her there. He used
his hand to guide her face side to side,
stroking across himself with her nose. It
hardened more and pushed against her. "You
know, if you stay this size, I don't think I'd
really mi--"

She let out a wordless scream and hit him.
She brought one arm up in a tight uppercut
and hit him up under his cock, pushing as
hard as she could. He gasped and doubled
over, releasing her, and she took a few steps
back. He was even larger now, and, looking
down at her, truly frightening.

"You little bitch!"

He came at her. She darted to the side,
running under the long table almost unimpeded,
as she didn't have to bend down. He tore at
the chairs there.

"You are going to be so sorry!"

She doubled back toward the doorless frame
that led into the kitchen, pushing a chair out
to the side as she did and hearing him grunt
at the impact. She entered the kitchen, and
tripped.

It hadn't dawned on her before, as she was
wearing a pair of shorts and an insubstantial
top, but her clothes were not shrinking with
her. She moaned, stunned at the fall, and had
no choice but to crawl out of her clothing.
She had not been wearing a bra and, as she
stood above the pile, her panties slid away,
leaving her naked.

She turned; he stood behind her, watching.
She couldn't help but wail quietly at the sight.
He was a giant. She came up to his knees
and now he was a powerful giant looming
over her.

"Please..." Tears welled in her eyes again. He
looked down at her, a beautiful naked doll. A
sight to pity.

He took a step forward and she flinched, but
he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he moved to
the row of stairs that connected the kitchen
to the second floor and sat on the first
couple steps. She came before him and
kneeled a few feet from where he sat.

For a while, they just watched one another.
She could feel herself shrink. It wasn't so bad
as being able to see it, watching him grow
more powerful, but she had to shift every
now and then as the tiles grew outward
below her.

"Please, do something... Please."

He sat there for another moment, but then his
eyes flashed at her, like he suddenly dawned
on something secret she did not know.

"...What?"

He leaned forward. He started to untie a shoe.
"Oh my god, what are you doing?" He
snickered at her -- "I don't mind if you keep
calling me that." He finished and pulled the
shoe free and put it aside. The aroma
reached her a few seconds later. She had
caught him that morning after she woke up,
when he got back from his morning run. The
air between them filled with the smell of
sweaty cotton and his feet.

He started to untie the other shoe, and
suddenly she felt like it was something she
had to stop, some danger to her. She rushed
forward and started beating on the shoe. She
climbed on top of it and fought with his
fingers, a woman who only reached half as
high as his shin. He gave her a small flick of
one of his fingers and pulled the other shoe
free.

She sat where she fell for a moment and he
looked down at her, wiggling his sock-covered
toes. Then he grinned, and his hands went for
the top of one of the thick tube-socks.

"No!" She dashed forward again, scrambling up
the cold, damp cotton and fighting once more
with his hand. It was futile, he tilted the foot
and slid the sock off, flexing his now bare
sole above her and wiggling his naked toes.
Little bits of fuzz rained down around her, and
the smell of his feet was all around her like a
warm blanket, strong and palpable.

She retreated from him, as he slid off the
other sock. He tucked them into his shoes
and then just waited, looking down at her. She
kneeled again, now only barely taller than his
ankle, and stared up in defiance.

It was horrible, a death sentence before it
began. The shrinking. And he sat there now
like one of those great Egyptian gods. What
could she do, what could she do? He smiled,
and it pounded more fear into her little mind.

She had to appeal. She had to save herself.

She crawled forward toward his feet and
crawled onto one. It was large and smooth, the
flesh a little clammy from his exertion that
morning as it dried. She kissed his foot. He
sat there in silence simply watching her from
above as she kissed. She moved around a little,
pushing and kissing. He tipped his foot, and she
rolled sideways off it, now between both massive
feet. The smell was strong and, as she looked
into his eyes, she still saw no mercy there.

"Please... Please!"

She ran around to the front of his foot. She now
reached his ankles squarely in height. "Don't
hurt me, I'll do anything!" He watched her.
"You want me to serve you, God? Do you?" He
didn't say anything. She rushed forward and
shoved her head between his toes and licked the
warm flesh there. She sucked on the sweat.
Pulling out a small piece of lint she held it
up and presented it to him. "I'm your dog now,
your slave! Don't hurt me!" It all came out
in a pitiful whine. She ate the piece with
flair and swallowed. "I'm your bitch! You are
a God!"

He smiled, and then looked back down toward his
feet. She looked, too. They were so massive now
and slowly getting larger. He lifted a toe and
she pounced on it, crawling under it. She
lapped away and the flesh and he let it rest on
her. After a few moments, he moved it away. She
followed a little, still trying to lick, but
then she saw that he had turned his other foot
on its side. She raced over to it and threw her
body at his sole, rubbing and licking. The
flesh was cooler now, but was still a little
salty and bitter. She kissed and licked.

Finally, he chuckled and she looked up, hopeful.
She had done it, she would live, but as his pet.

"Well..." He looked down at her and, his smile
widening, "I do still want to feel it. So I
better not wait for you to get too small."

She was shorter than the tops of his feet, barely an
inch tall. He lifted his foot over her, and he presented
his sole to her with a tight-lipped smirk that held all
his power in it. That was it, he had won.

She fell backward onto her bottom, and her scream
was quickly smother under his flesh. He held her
there and let her struggle against him, and
she began to run out of air as the clammy sole
molded around her and cut her off from oxygen
or fresh air that didn't smell like his feet.
Then he pushed down and felt her compress.
Lifting his foot, she was still there, on the
ground, a crimson and peach ruin, but still
vaguely a human shape. On his sole were little
flecks of blood. He brought it back down and
settled it on her remains gently, closing his
eyes. He relived that moment several times,
pressing down on her, and when he lifted his
foot again, he had to dig his short nail in to
scrape off what was left of her, the floor
relatively clean.

She woke up as he moved in his sleep. He often did this, and it didn’t surprise her. Nor was she angry at him for disturbing her slumber. It was hard to get mad at him, especially when the memory of their passionate fucking earlier that night was so fresh in her mind -- her tall man heavy on top of her yet still somehow gentle as she was pressed between him and the mattress, her hands on his firm ass cheeks as he moved, so thick, inside her.

With a content sigh she snuggled up next to him as he lay on his back, her naked form settling against his as she reached an arm across him -- slowly, enjoying his wide chest and large, round shoulders. She murmured against his warm arm and kissed it softly, reverently wishing for a repeat of the night’s pleasures but knowing that her man needed his sleep. Still, her fingers trailed down the length of his chest, over his stomach that tensed under her touch, and down between his naked thighs. She stroked a finger along the side of his manhood and felt it twitch at her touch as if alive. She chuckled to herself and bit her lip. No -- she must be good.

"Take me," she whispered in the darkness, curling a finger halfway around his thick cock, "I wish I was yours again."

She sighed, closing her eyes and ready to sleep, when she froze. She couldn’t feel him anymore. Her hand was against the warm sheet, be he was nowhere to be found. In a panic, she moved her arms around her across the sheets; she half-wondered if she had dozed off without realizing it and he had just slipped off to the bathroom -- and thinking that made her feel a tad silly all of a sudden -- but something was off. She didn’t feel the covers anymore and there was a thick smell around her, familiar -- the smell of sex -- but it was stronger before and pressed down around her like a warm musky blanket. But all her efforts to stay rational failed, and she sat up with a little whimper and called out his name.

All was silent and dark for a moment more, and then her answer came -- a deep rumble that sounded like nothing from this earth. She trembled just listening to it, a bassy moan that echoed around her, followed by another sound so loud that she covered her ears. It was horrible, like a huge snake slithering, like fabric on flesh but hundreds of times louder.

Then she realized what it was -- just enough light spilled in and all of a sudden a vision was granted to her by the glow of the moon as it found its way under the covers. Her man was turning over in bed, but now he was impossibly large, his body rising up like a tsunami and cresting over her. So huge, inconceivably massive -- that she couldn’t be more than an inch tall. Right before the light was cut off as the blankets went back down, she saw that she was right where his crotch was going to come to rest as he turned over onto his stomach, and onto her.

She had no time to think before she was pressed hard against the mattress by tons of flesh, her lover not doing anything to restrain his weight, unknowing of the woman's plight beneath him as she struggles under a cock many times her size and height. The warm, sensitive skin responded instantly, throbbing painfully atop her and pressing her down more; like a broad, soft, pulsating tree was cut down and landed right on top of her. The shaft grew thicker on top of her, forcing her down harder and harder with each throb as it hardened, and she could feel veins sticking out and blood rushing through them -- she could hear it pumping through the organ.

Her mind raced -- it was all so much so fast and she could not think of a way out of it. How the hell did it happen, anyway? But she barely had time for the thought as the hot flesh squeezed her, nearly flattening her. The member bobbed on top of her, more aggressive than any lover, and she could feel things shifting in her body that weren’t supposed to shift that way, and pain shot through her all over.

She knew she had to get out from under it -- her fired-up instincts had tried to tell her that the second she caught his falling body in the moonlight -- but how?

She was stuck, and found she couldn’t go to either side since the heavy cock had her pressed deep into the mattress, creating a depression that she could not force her way out of. Trying to go "up" instead, or whichever way it really was, she found she could squirm along the insistent shaft. She only hoped she was heading for a safe place, as the dangers of either direction -- up or down -- escaped her terror-stricken mind.

There was one thought that managed to cling somewhere in the roiling void of her consciousness -- he was still expanding.

He was big before, sure, but the amount at which his cock grew surprised her. Maybe it was terror, or maybe time was passing more slowly than usual, but the flesh pinning her down ceaselessly became larger and warmer and firmer. Trying to ignore it -- all of its rhythmically beating veins, crushing weight, bucking throbs -- she timed her movement as best she could to take advantage of the only opportunity she saw when the member lifted off of her; she inched forward just a bit before the warm weight crashed down again, hindering her advance. This went on and on for what felt like forever under her slumbering lover, who was oblivious that she struggled for her life beneath his hapless erection.

Maybe he was dreaming of the fun they had, reliving it in his sleep, or maybe he was simply caught in the throes of a pleasant wet dream. Or maybe, worst of all -- but most likely, as he always told her he never remembered anything after he fell asleep -- he wasn’t dreaming at all, and his erection was instead given free reign to thrash and dominate her as its master slumbered, none the wiser. She clawed forward with urgency, pushing under the lip of his cockhead and getting a horrible surprise when she felt it hammer her down harder than the shaft ever did.

Her progress was much slower and more painful under head of her makeshift lover, and she almost gave up as her will was squeezed out of her with every push. The head lifted off her a bit higher all of a sudden, giving her more room to work, but at the same time it came down harder, forcing her even deeper into the mattress under the warm, spongy flesh.

Each time it pulled off of her and came down it felt, larger, heavier, and her eyes -- now better adjusted to the darkness -- watched it rise with terrible clarity. Her mouth opened, eyes agape.

She was much, much smaller than the previous inch she had been. Her lover’s erection had stopped it growth a long time ago, she realized -- this whole time it was her getting smaller. She clamored forward with renewed energy, but also with a new fear, as the head slamming down on top of her threatened to slap her as thin as paper.

Finally she broke free, but her joy was short lived. Her scream of triumph became a shriek of terror as everything happened blindingly fast, but so painfully clear -- the head slammed down behind her right as she managed to get out from under it, but she realized all too late how small she was, and the crash pushed the mattress up under her and sent her reeling back toward the engorged head, and it’s hungry slit.

The slit opened a little as the cockhead flattened against the bed, and like a hungry mouth it waited for her to be tossed inside -- it’s little morsel for the evening. The slit snapped shut right as she passed between its lips. She could feel the enormity of the cock around her violently buck again into the air. She was helplessly trapped in its snare, before it crashed down onto the bed once more and she was sucked deeper inside.

She screamed his name but it was no use. The words fell flat in the dark, moist tunnel. She was now so tiny that the fleshy tube inside of him seemed like a subway tunnel to her, and it was only getting larger still. She helplessly thrashed about in the liquids as her titan of man’s penis continued to throb and react, wild at her invading presence. The tears that covered her face were lost in the thick slime of his cum, and each breath brought more of it into her lungs as she gagged, her body struggling for air, as she found herself choking on his semen.

***

He woke up with the biggest morning wood ever; he couldn’t believe it. Not even noticing that she wasn’t there beside him, he rushed -- more like danced; the awkward way he had to move -- to the bathroom, eager to nurse his erection toward the explosive finality it promised. "Hot damn," he said and moaned, looking with lust at the size of himself. I wish I knew what caused this! Inside of him, he couldn’t even feel the tiny woman that was swallowed by his cock. His orgasm was long and powerful, her microscopic body passing easily with the rest of his discarded cum into the waiting toilet.

He ran the roller up and down over the bare wall again and again, trying to fill in all the stubborn little spots. Even after the roller started to run dry, there were still little nicks in the wall that weren’t fully painted.

"You aren’t pressing hard enough," his girlfriend beside him nagged like she had a dozen times in the last ten minutes. "This is going to take forever at the rate you're painting."

He continued in silence, dipping the roller into the tray of white paint and starting on a portion next to what he had already slathered on. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw that she was constantly looking over to survey his work, and he heard her sigh several times.

"I’m going to have to go over everything you’ve already done," she complained, "and you didn’t even finish that last spot before moving on!"

He ignored as she went on -- and oh, how she went on -- simply concentrating on moving the roller up and down. They had been working to get the new apartment set up for a week solid, and painting was something that they had put off. But now all of the electrics were in place, the plumbing -- minus a few kinks -- had been worked out, and all that was needed was for them to paint the place so that they could start moving in. Patience on both sides had been tried, and he was certainly getting tired of her always telling him how to do everything.

He turned to put his roller back into the tray of paint when he froze. Not only was it silent, which he noticed first, but his girlfriend was nowhere in sight. Looking around the room, he fought a panic that told him she had had it; she was gone. It all faded, however, when he glimpsed the incredible, the impossible: she was emerging from a pile of her clothing, no more than two or three inches tall, shaking her head.

"Oh my god," he said, and stood.

She shied away from his giant footsteps and waved her hands out in front of her. She was screaming something at him, but he couldn’t hear her. He just watched as she backed away, seemingly unaware that she was heading toward one of the trays of paint. She tripped backward over one of its shallow edges, falling into the thick white pool that sent slow ripples out around her. She thrashed and only covered more and more of herself in the paint.

He was surprised when, instead of reaching a hand out to save her, he was lowering his roller down onto her flailing form. He was equally surprised when he became aware of the tightness of his face, and of his sudden determination to get rid of her.

He rolled the tool over her, back and forth, soaking up the paint and keeping her under. When he pulled it away, he spied her stuck to the dripping cylinder, mashed against it face-first. At first he thought she might already be dead, but she began to thrash -- stuck fast -- and he moved toward one of the walls.

He looked down at her for a while, saying nothing. It wasn’t out of shock anymore, but simply that he didn’t care what happened to her at all. In a quick stroke, he lifted his arm and then pulled the roller down against the wall. The curvy lump of his girlfriend's body adhered to the wall in a streak of white, now barely moving, her paint-choked screams for mercy going unheard. She was plastered there, spread-eagle, ghost white, her feminine form completely painted over.

He ran the roller back over her; her squirming movements ceased and her small body was like a white porcelain doll fused to the wall. He pushed it over her, again and again, hard. She was long dead as he went on, her body flattening with each stroke, until by the very end there was simply a faint outline where she used to be.

He stood back and noticed that there was not a single hole or gap or pit in the white streak he had just put on the wall.

The man laughed. "Maybe I wasn’t pressing hard enough after all!"

She ran as hard as she could. Her little legs
didn't propel her far. To her, if she did not
watch the massive room around her, she felt
as if she was going somewhere, fast -- the wind
in her hair, the pain of her legs and feet,
soles slapping against the ground -- she really
pumped hard, and she felt it; how she felt it.
But, in that huge space, the distance covered
was pitiful at the same time, like running in a
wide-open field; everything seemed so far
away. Especially since she was barely a
centimeter tall, running across a kitchen tile.

No -- she had to concentrate on something
else. The slapping of her feet. Her breathing.
The way the air sounded in her ears.

She had to concentrate on something...

Something...

Something other than the booming of his
now colossal feet. No, not colossal. He was normal.
 She was just pitifully small.

She had first heard them above her on the
second floor, coming down the stairs that led
right to the kitchen. She was still in a daze,
then, wondering how she shrunk. But
then she realized where she was -- in the way.

In the center of the kitchen was an island
that split the room into two possible tiled
pathways. She was in the center of one of them,
and needed to get out of there in case he
walked down that one. Since the glasses and
everything useful were on her side of the
island, the fear was almost deafening.

But she still ran. A small speck -- if observed,
one would barely notice her moving. She had
crossed maybe half a tile and still had three
more to go. Three more vast white planes until
 she could hide under the lip of the island; through
an obstacle course of insignificant dust and debris.

His footsteps were quick. They weren’t mercifully
slow. He moved much, much faster than she
 could ever imagine. When he suddenly arrived,
jumping down the last two steps with a loud
smack of his bare feet against the kitchen tile,
she froze. He was massive. Impossibly massive.
His movements were fluid and rapid -- his feet
slapping, his jeans swishing, his eyes looking far
above her.

He reached the island in a few blinding strides.
Don’t come my way, don’t come my way, don’t --

She didn’t get to pray long. He went her way.

And, shortly after that, before she could begin
to pray that she would not be stepped on, one
of his impossibly large bare feet lifted over her,
 casting her in a brief shadow, before it slapped
 down to meet its dark outline. She was crushed
instantly, collected with the other particles on the
 floor that were too small to notice, pasted to the
bottom of his foot.

***

I came downstairs for a drink, wondering where
she was -- my girlfriend. Well, I guess, anyway. She
has been kind of getting on my nerves lately, to tell
 the truth. But that is another story.

I took the last two stairs in one go and went to get
 a cup, filled it with water, and went back upstairs.

I sat back down to unpause my game and
crossed my leg, ankle on my knee: I saw
that my sole was a little dirty. Something barely
large enough to see was stuck there, an odd shape
and… I leaned in…

The tiny, tangled mass of my girlfriend. Stuck to
the bottom of my foot.

You might find this inappropriate, but the first inclination
I had was to laugh, and I did. I continued to play with
 her flattened there, unable to keep an amused smirk
from my face.