I saw my gargantuan surroundings, and I couldn’t believe what had just occurred. My body was not what is once was, and what is once was, was normal. I didn’t know what height I was – my best guess would probably be only an inch at least, maybe more – but I knew for certain that I wasn’t going to be safe. Then I saw the large face of my girlfriend, Elizabeth, staring down at me with a serious glare. No words could describe my fear, not a single word comes close. How could you describe preparing to face a woman’s scorn at the size of bug? Girls don’t typically like bugs, and before I thought I was safe, but now I wasn’t six foot high, I was simply a bug to her.

If it were up to her, I would be dead. But she just stared at me, without a single word being spoken. Her simple breath felt like a mild breeze, and she showed her first spark of emotion when she saw the hair on my head flow back due to her breathing. She smiled at this, and I think it was because of the realisation that I was now in her control. I don’t believe Elizabeth had ever had such great influence over one thing, much less a living thing.

This, simply put, scared me. Her first words, were loud to me. She uttered “Why hello there”, and I trembled. The loudness of her voice was my first realisation of her power. She could scream her loudest, and what would’ve been deaf in an instant; perhaps even disintegrated by the pure force. I was lucky, that my girlfriend had a delicate and feminie voice. Slightly high pitched, but not squeaky. It was a woman’s voice, and she used it in full effect. She was proper, and a lady, not very masculine.

As far as I knew, the very notion of acting ‘unladylike’ was foreign to her. She was sheltered at a young age, so she wasn’t exposed to the tomboyish antics that seemed to be more popular with the girls these days. While my thoughts wandered, she spoke again and once again I trembled. “Do you like your new size?” she asked. It was rhetorical, and she was teasing. I never thought her to tease, she was shy and didn’t like to create a conflict or raise tensions. But then again, could she start a conflict with a bug? “I think I like you like this Thomas, it suits you. The way you make me feel small, the way you make everyone feel small. I hope you felt small when you shoved your prick into that whore!” I did in fact, not feel small when I decided to cheat.

That ‘whore’ was her sister, little did she know. She said I was big, but I guess I shouldn’t feel proud of that now. I certainly wasn’t proud then, not at all. I was a bad significant other. There are no excuses. She would be completely within her rights to tell everywoman within the city of New York that I was another pig that shouldn’t be allowed to have his dick wet. But was she justified in shrinking me? Hell no! But I wasn’t in a position to argue with her, not at all.

“I think you’ll start to like your new position as my bitch!” she said. Never had I heard her say ‘bitch’. Then again, never had I been the size of an insect, nor anyone for that matter. “Do you know what it’s going to be like for you? I don’t want to spoil anything for you just yet, but let’s just say that it’s not going to be very appealing” Elizabeth laughed. She went to grab me, and I just stood still, frozen in fear. How else do you react when faced with the giant hand of an angry giantess? ‘Don’t panic’ I told myself, ‘You’ll be fine’ I said. A few words didn’t make the hand that grabbed me go away. Never had I felt so powerless. I felt the rise of her hand and the boom of her steps. It’s strange how you can feel the vibrations from the body in the hand. There was a small gap between her fingers, and it let me see one of my favourite parts of Elizabeth. I was directly level with it, and even though it was my favourite, I couldn’t see it attractive in any way.

Her ass was no longer this delicate thing that I could squeeze tight. Her cheeks were toned and thick – the benefits of squats I tell you. It had perfect curves, so amazing to behold, even from this height, they were something. But something like a monument. It was a beautiful monument, enhanced by her tight black leggings. They were like gigantic pillows – which I had occasionally used as such - that I could jump into, her cheeks were probably the softest things in existence, and before my shrinkage they were mine. Now, dare I say, should she decided to use it as some sort of ironic torture, I would be theirs. That’s a thought I wish I hadn’t conjured. A butt is a nice, sexual object to me, it appeals to most men. Perfect curves certainly give you the edge, but what about when you’re an inch or so tall? There were other things her butt did, things that I didn’t think about at my previous height. But now, it was definitely something to ponder. When I was discussing her voice, about how the very force of breath being used to make noise, being forced in my direction would blow my hair back. The smell of mint was even clearer from when she brushed her teeth. Now that I think about her butt’s purpose, there are things that would be far worse than that of minty breath and a slight breeze. These thoughts run through my head, as I stare at this outline of a perfect ass. To think that it could be a prison or worse yet, a home.

Then she brought me up to her face again, with her taunting grin which has basically said ‘I win’. She placed me on the top of her drawer, and I had no intention of running away from this giantess. How far would I honestly get? A few centimetres? I find myself in this dilemma, where I can obey her every whim, take my punishment and be her bitch. Or, I can run, be squatted like a common fly, and die a desperate fool. She’s a girl, and a sheltered one at that. Those thoughts I had couldn’t possible come to fruition, I’d be an idiot to think like that. She can call me names, and she can insult my new stature, but I can at the very least, attempt to maintain my dignity. But before I could prepare for my futile escape, she returned, with a large pair of plain white underwear. I hated those things, as it showed no desire to be intimate. It’s a disgusting thought, I know. But a man has needs. And she couldn’t even have bothered to do something nice for me. For something only I will see. “Oh, I know how you never liked these, you called them all plain, dull and not sexy.” I swear she was reading my thoughts at this point, but she continued, “I liked them, because they never tried to hide anything from you. They were good for detecting any ‘mistakes’.” And so they were, when she brought them to my eyes, so that I could see inside them. Now I knew why she had chosen them, and my god, it reaffirmed those thoughts in the back of my mind. I could see, the faintest sight of brown, directly where you would suspect it to be. It looked like it was caused by improper wiping, it was only a bit however, nothing as if she didn’t wipe at all. It was obvious that she did this on purpose, because for all I knew, she was a thorough girl. She gave me this smile, accompanied by the sight of a needle; it didn’t take me much to realise what was about to happen. I’d rather be dead and squished then be sewn to a shit stain. So I began to run, desperately and fast. I thought she would swat me as soon as I made my movement. I’m an even bigger idiot to think that.

She grabbed me with ease. How I couldn’t have comprehended that was beyond me. So I struggled, but it didn’t matter. I was placed in the front of her panties, unlike what I previously had in mind. Obviously she was more devious than I had imagined. Then she held that needle so close that I could see the point, and she threatened, “Shhh. Careful now, you don’t want to struggle when I put you in place, one small movement out of line and…” as she said this, she almost impaled me with the needle. I could tell she wanted to do it, she hated me for succumbing to a pathetic temptation, but she thought this would be better. She sewed me in, with me being completely sure that she was going to stab me, but Elizabeth withheld. She did not want to ruin the chance of having me stay in her skid marked panties. Once I was sewn – my legs and arms completely immobile, with a thread around my neck to keep me facing upwards – she let me see the opposite side, the side where the material would be wedged in her crack. In this case, that place where the particles of her waste decided to rub off. She began to bring us together, the stain and I. I tried, with all my effort and strength, but god made my girlfriend a good knitter. She smothered me with it, laughing all through my tyranny. I can describe the smell very easily, oh yes, quite easily doable. The smell wasn’t faint, it was very apparent. I didn’t really get used to it, because my face was smothered in it, I could swear, some of it rubbed off on me. The dread heat that it began to cause, and the stench stunk exactly like you think it would. Like shit. What made it worse was she had begun to wrap it, and fold the underwear so that I was completely smothered by her skid-marked panties. If this is her humiliation, she executed it very well. Never more had I felt so useless. Like a shit stain. So while I mourned my previous, normal life, she left me in a drawer – I could tell due to the small shift in light. It must have been held together by some sort of band, probably elastic. The smell of crap can only be forgotten when you die, and I would smell it all night, as I eventually and humiliatingly, drifted into a deep sleep into my stained panties cocoon.

                                                                                *

There was an earthquake. Or what I assumed was an earthquake. I hoped to awaken in my bed, surrounded by my accomplishments and loving family. Instead, I awoke as a small man, forced to breathe in his girlfriend’s shit. Elizabeth opened the drawer and took me out, without a single word from her. I didn’t expect her to say much, but I did expect some sort of smirk, a smirk that said ‘I own you’. I wasn’t really in a position to dispute that claim, I was very much a pet. That’s disgusting, a pet. I thought of what little remained of me, that I wouldn’t be a pet. Then again, I never thought I would be an inch tall, breathing in some shit-stained panties.

Sickening, I know. But once the unexposed light hit my eyes in my pantie prison, my warden had no expression. Elizabeth simply took me over to her bench, where she pulled the needle and a pair of scissors before my eyes. Once again, I laid completely still from her sharp utensils. I liked my limbs, no matter how much they stunk of someone’s scent. She then moved me onto the stain, much to my displeasure, but that hasn’t stopped her before. I just went limp, letting myself be her perfect doll. A doll that would stink of ass. I knew what she was doing, as soon as she sewed me into the back of those panties I knew. I must’ve had this look, of utter terror and dissatisfaction, because smiled at me – as she did many times before – like I was pathetic. Like I had no hope. Unfortunately for her pleasure, I was hoping for whatever had changed me to wear off, and I would push her down, and walk out. I’m not a violent person, she deserved to have her fun. I’m quite understanding, and I thought my girlfriend was too. But she was someone I didn’t know at all.

Elizabeth dropped her panties onto the ground, and put her feet through the leg holes. Her massive legs beside me, I could almost see her feet, if I wasn’t so focused the ass that eclipsed the sunlight coming in from the window. It was a sort of majestic sight, as if a third person perspective would describe it as perfect social justice. She slowly raised her panties, letting me take in the whole of her pale legs. A woman who does squats sure can make a small man aroused by legs. Especially her perfectly toned thighs. Then I realised I was at her thighs when she stopped. Elizabeth was look over her shoulder from what I could tell, because her cheeks took over most of my view.

No man could be in my position, and say that they weren’t scared. It didn’t matter if it was the most perfect ass they’d ever seen – it was certainly the greatest I had ever seen – because they would’ve seen the giantess crack. Usually, when you see a chasm, they’re full of mysteries and wonders. Tales which you go back of to tell of your discoveries. No, not this time. I knew exactly what laid between these planet sized orbs, and if the stain I was sewn into told me anything, I knew I was about to have what I knew become reality. Those thoughts in the back of my head were true, and now I don’t blame myself for thinking those. I was a smart person, but a very dumb one to get into this situation. I was looking for a piece of ass, and now I was about to be eaten by one. She began to lift the panties up again, my fears about to come real. Her cheeks greeted me, caressing me, as I was slowly but forcefully dragged into the abyss of her ass. I was pulled even further, as Elizabeth wedged the cloth between her mounds and I came to a slightly familiar smell. It was more intense this time, and it stunk. I couldn’t see inside the place where the sun don’t shine, and nothing would shine in between these thick, defined gluteus. All I knew, is that only half an inch away was her anus. I felt another tug, and was pressed up against it. My dignity lost, and respect for myself is gone. If I could pinpoint the one point of my life, where I said ‘this is where I wasn’t a human being anymore’, it was this. I was not Elizabeth’s bitch, smelling the shit that radiated off her asshole. I could taste it, something that I didn’t get to experience in the panties. My lips betrayed me, being pressed against the pink flesh –or it could’ve been brown for all I know – it was as if I was kissing it. I was effectively worshipping the asshole of my girlfriend. An immense pressure forced down on my body, she must’ve begun to put on her jeans. Funny, how one of her sexiest pieces of clothing can make me suffer so much. Then again, I was into her ass before, now I’m in it. It was going to a long punishment.

While I lied still, pressed up against the bunghole of my girlfriend, sniffing her crap and kissing her pink flesh, I couldn’t help but laugh at my position. From the third person of course, there was no room for actual laughter in my place. If I could look forward in time, from before this happened, I would’ve laughed too. That’s the position I like to imagine myself in. Unfortunately, my imagination and hope is really all I actually have right now. And that’s one of the hopeless things for me, is that my imagination can turn on me, and break me down more than any physical torture imaginable.

Surprisingly, I feared her ass more than I actually hated enduring it. There were downsides, a lot of downsides as well as being extremely few benefits. But those benefits gave me the view that I could have it worse. That gave me hope, but that hope had made my imagination turn on me. Now, I was being pressed up against Elizabeth’s anus, being mushed against the rolling mounds that surrounded me, giving me no space to breathe or get comfortable. But my mind thought it could be worse, such as the prospect of Elizabeth deciding to pass gas.

That was a notion that first appeared I my thoughts when I first saw her butt at my new size. In my position, a fart could possibly kill me   - though I wasn’t dead from massive amounts of pressure – and rightly so, I feared my girlfriend indulging in unladylike behaviour. I never heard her fart when I was at my regular height, as I said; she was as feminine as they come. But in a day, she forced me to smell her old dry shit, sleep in her underwear, become so embedded within her cheeks that I am forced against her butthole so much that I am practically kissing it; releasing some gas was not something I should dismiss.

I play out the scenario in my mind, numerous times with different circumstances. In one, I am against her butthole, still and stiff. Then, I feel the anus flex, as if it’s about to suck me in, ‘it’s all over’ I think to myself, ‘I’m about to become a human butt plug’, but then, a burst of gas escapes from the depths of her bowels. I feel the force against my body, my hair blown back and the fat on my face barely able to stay on. I inhale what little oxygen I have, but it’s too late. It’s already been usurped by her fart. I unwillingly breathe in her toxic gas, and choke to death. But, I cannot die like that, so in my new scenario, my lungs have changed along with my new height. I am able to freely breathe in the fart to my heart’s content. But the smell still pervades the air, and I cannot bear to endure the smell any longer. I haven’t figured out what comes next though. In my head, it sounds like thunder, and I almost die from the sheer intensity of the heat. The heat in Elizabeth’s ass is actually satisfactory. The constant friction meant it never got cold and I’m able to sweat considerably. But her enormous gas leak would kill me; another humiliating way to go. A third possibility is a release of gas that we refer to as ‘silent but deadly’. I imagine with me being at the source, I most definitely notice a fart slipping out her butthole. They say they tend to smell worse, but in my experience – at my normal height – I’ve come to the conclusion that they are worse because they catch people by surprise. People are more offended that they’ve just inhaled somebody’s ass gas. Hilarious if you’re the one who caused the smell, the criminal is always blessed to enjoy the case of Schadenfreude. In my unfortunate case, I would be blessed to play the victim. But I would know if it were coming. Hopefully I would know, because in my head, I can see it playing out. I would hear slight rumble, maybe a small groan beyond the hole. I would feel the anus pucker, to deliver my kiss, and it would be sort of anti-climactic. It would seep through the opening that the hole made, or perhaps it would be a large quiet puff of gas. Both of them are different in a way, as if it were long and drawn out, it would flow into my nostrils and mouth and into my lungs. I could try and cough out the foul air, but with my entire front body against Elizabeth’s asshole, I couldn’t really move my body to my intentions. The large burst would be insulting to me, as it was basically a slap in the face; large, rotten, gesture of disrespect. But in the end, it would be her choice to let one rip on my poor defenceless body. It’s all disrespect; it’s all a punishment.

                I felt the giant, fleshy walls bring even more weight into my world – oh god, I just referred to my girlfriends ass crack as my world – so I assumed she must have lain down. In my thoughts about farting, I neglected to mention the specific smell. That detail was entirely out of my control. At most, I could think that my body would absorb most of the incoming winds and the sound and the eventual type of fart would eventually be affected by something blocking its exit. It was what she was going to have for breakfast. I believe she wasn’t one for eggs – thank the heavens – but I was in her butt crack, what did I know about her? She would eat eggs just to torture me, just like she ‘forgot’ to wipe properly. It made me realise once again that I am not only against her asshole, but my back is covered in a crap-stained cloth.  I tried to shudder, but my bonds wouldn’t let me. Then I realised that she was fond of coffee. I found it odd, because if she did continue her daily routine of a morning dose of caffeine, then her attacks of gas would emerge sooner rather than later. Then I thought of why that would happen.

I completely forgot about the main purpose of the butt. The removal of wastes, which would eventually be her coffee, was something I was most definitely going to experience and become familiar with. I’d rather take the worst farts than be forced upon a freshly used anus. And if she wasn’t strict on her hygiene habits, then I was soon to be in for what she would probably call ‘a treat’. A very unsanitary one at that was all of this really warranted?

                I felt her grind into her chair, rubbing me against her sensitive hole. I knew it was giving her a pleasure of more than revenge, because it was occasionally being interrupted by a slight jump. The jump was usually cause by me being partially inserted further – not full, fortunately, but enough to frighten me (and excite her). She was enjoying this, I knew it; I was now nothing but a pleasure toy for her. I was essentially an object, and I knew it. But I still hold strong, in my head. My body was limp and numb from the force coming from all directions. My nose grew tired of enduring the stench of ass and shit. My eyes still were not adjusting to the darkness of the cave. I was expecting to be absorbed by the flesh. The grinding was coming to and I prayed that it wasn’t because a pressure was building up within her. The gods are not kind to me. She was leaning, with one cheek in the air on an angle. I knew what it was. It was nothing like I imagined, I thought it would be quick, but it was a storm; an onslaught of gas that I couldn’t evade, with an abrupt end but the aftermath still prevalent. The fart seemed to replace what little air I had, and created an atmosphere of crap smelling fumes. The heat was worse than I speculated; it was a preview of her insides, and the constant process of refining her shit. This scared me, as I was now enduring a miniature heat wave and I couldn’t afford to pass out. An act of surrender so pathetic, to succumb to her fart was to rant her ultimate power over me. But for me, my body was weak, and I could no longer linger in that chamber of foul air.