Vista Academy is one of the most secluded private schools in the world- when it was built, it didn't have a city, village, or even a farm within hundreds of miles of it. Even now, the small town around it is run almost entirely by the families of faculty, purely to support the school, and living in or even visiting the nameless town requires a background check so intensive that no one really bothers. 

Funny thing, though, is that the school isn't a rich-and-talented-only affair. Sure, some wealthy parents want literally nothing to do with their kids, and some bright young minds don't want the distractions of a metropolis, but generally speaking most of the student body is kids who were rejected from other private schools around the globe, snatched up by the Academy for the sole purpose of maintaining a student body. 

Rebecca Sullivan fits all three of said categories. While not exactly famous, her parents run an enormous web of businesses, land contracts, and business deals that extend to both sides of the law, making them (and, by extension, her) fabulously wealthy. She's also generally the kind of mind that leaves most adults suggesting she'll be a doctor or scientist when she finally matures out of her more childish pursuits. She's even uncannily attractive, getting men and women alike to stare at her, even in the rather conservative uniform of Vista Academy . . .

But she's an utter sociopath. 

Her manipulative cunning is mostly used to make authority figures turn on one another, or get "grunt work" (as she puts it) done by literally anyone else. In short, she hates being told what to do, and most schools with the staff that could give her the challenge her mind needs would also be subject to her more malicious breaches of authority. 

At Vista, without any overbearing authority to rebel against, most people aren't aware of this malicious side simply because it doesn't get much exercise- all they know is the soft-spoken 5'11" redhead with a body like a goddess and the mind of a supercomputer. However, she still has these sadistic urges . . . and thus, a little game. 

SUNDAY, MARCH 22

Most people, students and faculty alike, are outside the stifling, castle-like walls of the Academy, especially given that tomorrow officially starts Spring Break. The town is bustling with more than double its typical population (mostly teenagers), all of the old theme park rides set up near the dock have lines that wrap around them several times over, and some have even taken the opportunity to go hiking or hunting in the forests just outside town. 

Rebecca Sullivan, however, remains in the Academy, seven vials in her breast pocket, and a stack of flyers under one arm. Every message board in the school will eventually have one of these flyers on it before everyone returns to their dorms around nightfall:

Scientific Experimentation

Subjects Wanted

Seven (7) subjects will report to Rebecca Sullivan's room (Girls' Dorm, Room D35), one per day of spring break at 7:30 AM precisely, with the exception of Monday, March 30. Payment will be in the form of one (1) date with aforementioned Ms. Sullivan. To volunteer, send one (1) email to the below address with your photograph and real name attached: You will receive a reply if you were accepted.

By sending an email, you accept the consequences of the testing, regardless of what they may be.

RebeccaSullivan@siteless.nert

As for the seven vials themselves, Rebecca had decided to do some double-blind trials- While she knew the effects of all 7 (each one would shrink the affected subject, as well as provide a significant durability increase), each one was mixed differently, to provide a range of different tests.

Heading back to her room early, Rebecca smirked as she checked the extra email address she'd opened, to see exactly who she'd manage to catch in her net. "This is going to be fucking fun," she murmured. 

It was barely 7:28, and it was almost oppressively warm and humid. Spring around Vista was known for erratic weather, and after the rather nice day yesterday had been, today looked to be a sticky scorcher. 

Good thing Cameron planned to be in an air-conditioned movie theater all day. 

He'd ordered two tickets to the movies last night, and he held the printed vouchers tightly in his fist- he couldn't help it, he was pretty nervous. Who wouldn't be when they landed a date with Rebecca fucking Sullivan? She was very tall for a woman, and given Cameron's own lacking height he often found her perfect behind in his face if he was ever walking behind her on a staircase . . . which he often was, given that Molecular Biology and Cinematography were in the same tower of the main building, and they had their respective classes at roughly the same time of day. 

Back to the present, however, Rebecca's door swung open at 7:30 precisely, revealing that she'd chosen a rather casual outfit for the day, given the lack of uniform enforcement during break- a plain white blouse that folded and creased in just the right way to draw the eye to her chest, jean shorts that exposed miles of smooth leg, and, surprisingly, no shoes as of yet. "Ah, you're . . . Cameron, correct? Come in, we'll get the experiment portion over and done with, and then we're free for whatever date you'd planned." Her voice was soft and neutral, betraying nothing of her current state of mind beyond a mild sort of satisfaction. 

"Y-yes, ma'am," Cameron stammered softly, taking a step inside the bedroom of arguably the single most sexually attractive woman anyone inside Vista had ever seen. It sadly didn't reveal much more about the girl than everyone already knew- it was a bit cluttered, surely, but mostly with schoolbooks, clothes, and idle, half-finished science experiments of various disciplines. Basic, focused on knowledge, and without a single clue to what she was actually looking for in a romantic or sexual partner. Drat. On the bedside table were seven hypodermic needles filled with identical-looking neon orange fluid, laid neatly out in a straight, even line- for Rebecca's newest experiment, evidently. 

"Now, feel free to select any of them, for any reason whatsoever, but I do recommend you hurry," Rebecca added, her tone never changing, as she closed the door behind her. It seemed rather . . . rehearsed, but that was just how Rebecca was. Nothing she ever said or did told anyone what was going on in her head, and in fact, no one had ever managed to successfully land a date with her prior to this. The fact that shy, socially awkward Cameron had been selected as the first person to get a glimpse inside her head practically made his head spin . . . and he chose the needle second from the end, revealing a tight, basic "6" had been printed beneath it. 

"Number 6, then," Rebecca asked flatly, not waiting for confirmation before simply taking the needle from Cameron's hand and gripping his wrist. "This will pinch, and you may feel mildly sick. I ask that, if you do feel the urge to vomit, you keep it in your mouth. I'd rather not need to clean the carpet." With that said, just as Cameron opened his mouth to confirm his understanding, the needle was plunged into a vein in his forearm, and the plunger depressed to deliver the serum directly into his bloodstream. 

"Mildly sick" was putting it very mildly. The moment that the hypodermic was drained, Cameron's whole body revolted. His stomach jolted, his heart hammered, and his limbs turned to absolute jelly, and his head spun. Nothing made sense, and the overweight young man immediately passed out in shock.

---Later---

"Time of resuscitation: 9:04 AM. Subject is stirring." Rebecca's voice seemed to echo loudly from every direction, as if she were shouting into a microphone hooked up to a ball of speakers that Cameron was trapped inside. Blearily, he opened his eyes . . . and was completely, utterly shocked. 

The lovely, gray-eyed redhead seemed miles away, and yet her face seemed to dominate the horizon like an image on the biggest IMAX screen ever. Cameron could see the tiniest details of her face, every individual pore and minor muscle twitch . . . it was astounding. He'd been reduced to an absolutely miniscule size . . . it wasn't like he could question something like that, he was standing on the leather seat of a chair he'd been sitting on mere moments before.

"Subject has successfully imbibed the variety codenamed "Salt", with no negative effects besides temporary unconsciousness. Full success." She suddenly stopped, and looked away from Cameron's stunned form for a second, far to the right. "Now, as for your payment, Mr. Cross . . . I did agree to one date, and it seems that you wished to take me to the theater off of the grounds. A film called . . . A Distance Traveled? Wasn't that some sort of romantic nonsense?"

Well, there went Cameron's hopes for today. He was the size of a grain of salt, and Rebecca didn't like the movie he'd intended to take her to. Unfortunate, really, given that it'd been nigh-universally loved by critics and moviegoers alike, seen as a beacon of perfect movie romance.

"Still, it is agreed payment . . . however, at your current size, I doubt we'll need the second ticket." She tore the printer paper, as thick as Cameron's body and hundreds of times as long, into considerably smaller pieces before holding out a finger for her dinky date to clamber onto. "Come on, you're an eighth of an inch tall, so you can't exactly walk me there."

"Hey, uh . . . when- when does this wear off?" Cameron asked as he stepped slowly onto Rebecca's unadorned fingernail.

No response. She likely couldn't even hear him. 

"Here we go, Cross. One date to a romantic movie," she murmured, flicking Cameron into her slightly-exposed cleavage, knocking him out again. 

---REBECCA---

"Ugh. Evidently, the durability boost wasn't enough . . . this one seems to be a bit of a wash," Rebecca sighed in annoyance. "That was barely a three-inch shift, at a scale speed of twenty-eight miles per hour . . . can't have been the acceleration. The ratio was off . . ."

It was honestly rather frustrating that she'd gotten the numbers so absolutely wrong on this batch- reducing people to salt-grain-sized slaves that she could work out her less-savory impulses on was a wonderful idea in theory, but evidently the steep ratio of 1 part toughening mix to 5 parts shrinking solution was obviously too much for the reduced to handle any sort of play.

The redhead considered dropping the charade entirely and just squashing Cameron like the bug he was, but decided against it, at least for the moment . . . in fact, she wondered if he would realize that she had essentially cured him of his nearsightedness with even that tiny bit of the durability additive. He must have, given how shell-shocked he seemed to be by her face . . . if that was shock. It was so difficult to tell when she made then that small.

---CAMERON---

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

"W-what . . ." Earthquakes. Distant ones, but they seemed powerful enough to make even this dark mass of gelatin Cameron was trapped in wobble rythmically with significant power, smacking him utterly senseless.

Wait, gelatin? Wasn't he- oh. Oh. OH.

"Oooohh my fucking god," Cameron trembled as the memories came back and he realized where he was. Rebecca Sullivan had shrunk him to the size of a simple grain of table salt and trapped him in her cleavage while she walked into town for the movie he'd ordered tickets for. That explained the smell of butter- she was already there for the matinee, and had decided on a snack of popcorn while she watched . . .

Suddenly, the earthquakes stopped, and something went fishing around- Rebecca's finger was seeking, searching, and found him, pulling Cameron out to rest on a single, mountainous tit.

At least, for a short while. However, given that she was leaning slightly forward (likely to avoid touching the rather nasty seats here), each of the short-haired redhead's gentle breaths sent Cameron tumbling further, further, further . . . until he landed in her popcorn, coming to a sticky rest on a single buttery puff just as the second act began.

Cameron screamed at first- he yelled himself hoarse- but if he couldn't be heard in the silence of Rebecca's room, he definitely couldn't be heard in a theater over the violin-strains of the orchestral score of a dramatic romance film. 

Inevitably, he was lifted to Rebecca's red lips, and even in the darkness he could see thin strands of saliva snap as he was invited to his digestive tomb.

A dropping molar silenced his short-lived scream, replacing it with a loud CRUNCH.

"The movie's still awful . . . but I love it when one kernel of popcorn gets a rush of flavor," Rebecca murmured to herself. 

After the absurdly hot shitshow that yesterday was, it was actually a little cold this morning- enough to justify Guy wearing a windbreaker and jeans. In fact, given the gray skies outside, he almost began to wonder if the forest hike he'd planned was doomed to be rained out. 

The door flew open with a rather deliberate nature, revealing Rebecca Sullivan dressed likewise for the weather- a dark gray sweater that clung to her bust, dark jeans that hugged her rear, and she was even wearing black socks. All the dark clothing only further emphasized her fire-red hair, which dangled just far enough down her back that it likely touched her bra strap. "Hello . . . Guy Fabre," Rebecca murmured deliberately, seeming to sample the atypical name for a moment, "come in. Let's get the scientific aspect of this meeting complete before we embark on our . . . date," she continued, her voice never wavering, remaining quiet and nearly sensual. In any other situation, Guy would think a girl talking like this was coming on to him, but he knew from experience that she literally always spoke this way. Most of the students and staff alike nursed a crush on this scientific succubus, Guy included, and a good chunk of her fan club was seduced by the auditory aphrodisiac that escaped her mouth every time she spoke.

"Right," Guy said slowly as he walked in, honestly not expecting to look up at Rebecca- he'd known she was tall for a woman, but he'd yet to speak face-to-face with her and realize that she was 5'11" to his own 5'9". "So, what are you actually doing here, if you don't mind my asking?"

"It's actually quite simple," Rebecca replied in her ever-soft murmur, "I've devised what could potentially be one of the most useful scientific discoveries in recent history, but I need to be sure of the exact ratios of the compounds involved. Too much of one component, it's useless in practical respects. Too much of another, actually accomplishing the required tasks is much more hazardous than it should be. I'm afraid any more information than that would destroy the point of a blind trial." This last bit was accompanied by a coy, knowing smirk, but Guy could make neither heads nor tails of it. 

Guy nodded, not really understanding her meaning but acquiescing for the sake of remaining on her good side. "Okay . . . so what exactly is it that I have to do before we go on our hike?"

"Well, you are free to select any of the remaining hypodermic needles on my end table," Rebecca explained, showing off 6 needles filled with a sickly neon orange fluid, arranged in such a way that, were the space occupied by a handwritten black "6" holding a seventh needle, they'd be perfectly evenly spaced. "Then, I shall administer the injection, I'll take a moment to record some preliminary results, and we shall go hiking, as you indicated."

"Alright then, let's do this!" Guy grinned excitedly, selecting the second one from the left, making the vials symmetrical once more . . . and revealing a handwritten "2" underneath it. 

Rebecca calmly took the hypodermic needle from Guy, and used one hand to hold his arm steady as the other held the needle almost in contact with his skin. "I will warn you, Mr. Fabre, that you may feel mildly sick. I ask that, if you feel the need to vomit, you keep it in your mouth. I'd rather not have to clean my carpets."

"That doesn't exactly sound mild-" Guy managed to say before his voice was lost in a groan of agony. He felt sick, and began to dry-heave as merely remaining conscious was an exercise in masochism. Luckily, he didn't- couldn't- vomit, as he hadn't yet had breakfast this morning; he had planned to snack on trail mix as they walked. 

Everything went dark, and rather warm, in an instant. He felt like he was wrapped from head to toe in a very rough blanket . . . which was weird, because he didn't exactly remember passing out. Had he been teleported? Knocked into a trance? "Hey, what's going on?"

His question went unanswered, but a huge, fleshy monstrosity came out of the darkness and pulled him out into the light . . . it was Rebecca's hand. She was absolutely enormous! "Hmm. Time: 7:35 AM. Subject has remained conscious, and has imbibed the variety known as "Hand" without negative effects. Subject retains capacity for speech, and can be understood . . . although," she laughed softly, "subject's voice has risen multiple octaves in pitch from standard perspective."

"Can I get an explanation, please?" Guy asked again, still afraid, but quite annoyed.

"Certainly, Mr. Fabre," Rebecca smiled softly, her lips barely curling in the slightest as she rose to her full, dizzying height from Guy's perspective. "You have been shrunk, in layman's terms. To be precise, you are currently five inches tall- variant "Hand" will always make a subject exactly 5 inches tall, regardless of their original stature."

"Five inches?" Guy's eyes widened in confusion and awe as he looked at Rebecca, who seemed to him a titan, nigh-Goddesslike for her stature alone, her radiant beauty only adding to that illusion. 

"Yes, five inches," Rebecca repeated, her tone having become more bemused, but not taking on too much of a noticeable difference. "You've also been provided with a sizable increase in durability, but I'm not sure exactly how sizable. The human body seems to resist the toughening agent startlingly well, although the shrinking half of the equation has gone remarkably without a hitch." With that, she set Guy on a cluttered dresser with scattered experiments and knelt beside it, her hands delving below Guy's field of vision. 

"So . . . how are we supposed to go hiking when I'm five inches tall?" Guy asked after a pregnant pause, deciding to just accept the fact that he'd shrunk and move on to the fact that he'd be going on a date with the gorgeous redhead. "I mean, I'd have fun, but my little legs wouldn't be able to keep up with yours at this scale."

"Well, in all honesty we'll be administering your all-too-necessary durability test on the way, but if I've gotten it right you may feel free to hike across my room and back once we return," Rebecca explained, reaching for Guy once again. 

"How are you going to do that?" Guy asked as he was picked up once again, starting to enjoy the feeling of Rebecca's palm wrapping around his torso. 

Without actually answering, Rebecca dropped Guy into her recently-removed sock, and followed up by returning her foot to its snug little home. Then, sliding her boots on, she simply walked out the door with her "date" trapped against her size-ten sole. 

---REBECCA---

Each step was almost orgasmic, feeling a puny body flatten helplessly under her weight and fight her on each rise of her sole. Of course, no one would ever know this from any outward clue- the redhead was used to keeping her expressions fairly neutral, and all that showed on her face was a simple, mild smirk that attracted no more attention than she usually got. 

Rebecca was stopped several times by people asking what had happened regarding her date today, and her simple half-truth that it was occurring later in the day was enough to defuse further questions.

She managed to walk all the way through town and into the forest with Guy's struggles satiating her sadistic impulses, and opened her umbrella as the inevitable drizzle began, and slowly developed into rain. Her hiking boots were muddied, her jacket dampened, and her hair unfortunately soaked due to an inopportune gust of wind, but the rhythmic drumming of raindrops on her umbrella, and the incredible survival of her second test subject, kept her in very good spirits.

---GUY--- 

Pain. Horrible, horrible pain that never seemed to cease.

That was Guy's existence. 

Yes, physically, the harm was very superficial- only some bruises- but the pain was absolutely agonizing, and the humiliation that came from being doused in sweat and trapped in a girl's sock was unbearable. Luckily, he had yet to be cold- whatever Rebecca's boots were made of was keeping the inside toasty and relatively dry, barring the beauty's own sweat- but each of her footfalls made Guy choke on sweat and feel comparative tons of weight pressing down on him. 

His will to fight grew weaker as the fluid in his lungs prevented much sir from entering, faded, faded, until he nearly lost consciousness . . . but Rebecca's foot slipping on a rock was far and away more pressure than he'd yet experienced, and broke nearly every bone in his body. 

Agonized, pulverized, and now paralyzed by nothing more than the left foot of the women he'd hoped to date. He'd even destroyed his vocal cords and been nearly silenced by all the screaming he'd been doing. At least it couldn't get any worse . . .

---REBECCA---

"Time: 12:34 PM. Subject has not responded to stimuli since being removed from my sock, although vital signs remain. Report failure," Rebecca sighed as she tossed what she believed was essentially a vegetable into some hydrochloric acid, running a hand through her hair as she looked around her room. "Now that was just unfortunate."

It seemed like the weather had calmed down, at least for today. It was going to be mild out, that was what the weather report said. Jay honestly put at least some faith in how accurate the weatherman would be, because at least here on this godforsaken island they were honest with when the shitty days would be.

Even doing deliveries to this school, Jay Smith hadn't liked the look of the place, but he'd everyday warmed to it. His first impression had been that there were more delinquent shits here than at any other private school he'd ever heard of, and yet just to get the permit to live here he'd had to go through a background check that knew his elementary school records. It was almost as asinine as trying to live anywhere near his ex, but at least here what was his was his. And, as bad as some of the teenage fucks were, the better ones would generally hang out with him whenever they were out on trips away from the academy. 

There was one other benefit to living where the rest of the civilized world left you alone . . . her. Rebecca Sullivan was a knockout beauty, she talked like she ran a phone sex line, she walled with an arrogant strut that put her body on display, and she was only fucking nineteen. The fact that she'd put out an all-inclusive call for dates basically seemed to be rolling out the red carpet for Jay, and he couldn't wait to find out more about this girl.

The door swung open just as Jay arrived, and slate-gray gray eyes looked ever-so-slightly up at the 36-year-old trucker. "I would assume that you are a Mr. Jay Smith?" She asked, her tone neutral, her voice soft and welcoming. 

Jay merely nodded, looking over the redhead. 5'11", barely an inch shorter than himself. He liked tall women- although just how tall was between him and his Internet browser history- and the lovely lady definitely filled that quota. She was dressed in a sundress with a low neckline, calling attention to her ample cleavage, which Jay idly eyed as either a larger C cup or a smaller D, he wasn't quite sure. 

"Good, let's not waste time with idle chatter," Rebecca nodded, turning around and leading Jay into her disorganized room. Not quite a mess, but clothes and some scientific odds and ends were just left on the floor- including two full outfits that surely wouldn't fit the shapely miss. It was left to assume that previous two dates ended well . . . that, or Rebecca's "date" contract included a quickie. "Just pick one of the needles here, and I'll get my experimental data out of the way so that we can move straight on to the date you've planned out for us."

"Sure," Jay murmured, pointing at one at random. He really didn't care what this was about, but wanted to get straight to the better part- a nice drive up through the roads that led to the cove on the western shore. Sun, sand, the ocean, and a chance to show off the musculature that came from loading and unloading supplies. "That one."

"You'll feel a slight pinch, and then you'll feel mildly sick. I ask that you try to keep the inevitable vomit in your mouth," Rebecca murmured idly as she picked up the orange-filled hypodermic, revealing a beautifully ornate number 3 on the paper it was resting on, "because I really don't want to have to clean the carpets in here."

Within seconds of the bright orange fluid being emptied into his system, Jay immediately felt the urge to puke up his hearty breakfast, and unfortunately his mouth couldn't contain it completely. Thankfully, Rebecca needn't worry about her carpets, because the man she'd just injected with something had just fallen into some kind of darkened cave where he heaved in discomfort. "Ugh, fuck," he groaned, lying back as he felt his stomach had just completely emptied itself. "The fuck was that?"

Before Jay could regain his bearings in the darkness, he was grabbed by something massive and predatory that swooped down out of seemingly nowhere . . . and, as he found himself hurtling upward, he thought he recognized it . . .

"Time: 7:32 AM. Subject has imbibed variant "Leaf" with no apparent change, although the subject has deigned not to speak thus far. For testing purposes, this makes the subject . . . irksome." That soft, seductive tone had been morphed into the voice of an all-powerful Goddess of sexual seduction, as Jay's jaw dropped. He was nude and three inches tall in the hand of a nineteen-year-old with a model's body who had agreed to date him . . . a part of his mind questioned if he'd died and gone to heaven. "Excuse me, but where is it you intended to take me?" Rebecca asked, bringing her mouth close enough to her palm that Jay fell on his ass from the vibration and galeforce winds.

"Uh, we were heading to the west coast of the island," Jay trembled, calling as loudly as he could to he heard by the all-powerful giantess who now had him literally in the palm of her hand.

"Subject still displays capacity for vocalization, but cannot be understood due to the lack of volume and rather squirrel-esque pitch," Rebecca sighed, the warm wave of her yogurt-scented breath nearly pushing little Jay off her palm. "Variant "Leaf" is a small-scale failure." While such an expression would be unnoticeable to the average human being, tiny Jay noticed the little smirk Rebecca had in response to her unintentional pun. "This constitutes a problem," Rebecca murmured, her steely, emotionless gaze focused on the three-inch man she now held. "I can't understand you, so whatever your plans were are unlikely to occur . . ."

---REBECCA---

Not being able to comprehend her future slaves would definitely be a problem, but not an unsalvageable one. However, she needed to be sure of Leaf's durability increase . . . and given that Hand couldn't survive a hike more than an hour (or so she thought), the redhead knew that a test underfoot would inevitably end in a bloody mess. That at least gave a definitely fatal punishment . . . but left her with another idea.

"I do believe I shall go biking," Rebecca explained, using the hand not holding Mr. Smith to hike up the back of her sundress, "and, given your attention to my gluteal region, I do believe you might enjoy riding in the back of my underwear. Is this assessment correct?"

The bug-man in Rebecca's palm couldn't seem to give enough of an affirmative, and displayed enough raw excitement at the concept that it nearly looked like he was having a seizure. 

"Good. Then, to use a variant on the colloquialism . . . have fun kissing my ass," Rebecca smiled softly, dropping the insect deep into her round behind. Squeezing once, she savored the struggles he produced as she allowed the waistband of her panties to snap against her skin and her dress to fall to its typical position around the middle of her thighs.

Even leaving the women's dorm to get her bike allowed Rebecca to feel the lustful, hungry stares of people who wanted nothing more than a roll in the hay with her, which only made Rebecca size them up in return- how would each of them feel beneath her toes? Which ones would crumble indesperate servitude to her various whims? Who would fight against her and give an excuse to crush them flat? How would each one taste as it fought against her palate? How would each one fight a death by suffocation in her sex?

Their lustful sighs, their amorous gazes, their excited chatter at getting a glance in their direction by someone so far beyond their league . . . and not one of them suspected that she did, in fact, want them . . . but not for the reasons they might hope.

Those that saw the redheaded demigoddess board her bicycle immediately went to find their own in an attempt to keep pace with her, but her long, shapely thighs gave her a nigh-insurmountable head start . . . and not one of them knew where she was headed.

Rebecca calmly let her composure slip, breaking out into a grin and laughing her musical laugh as she felt the worship that little Mr. Smith was willing to lavish on her ass, gliding along an isolated road that led through the dense forests of the isle.

---JAY---

On the one hand, he was in a massive, heavy ass, and motion was all but impossible. Just existing hurt, and the little clenches that Rebecca used to bully his body with from time to time were utterly agonizing, and he didn't even know if they really were intentional.

On the other . . . how many people could really claim that they had been in an ass this fantastic? 

Jay squirmed, he licked, he kissed the pale, plush flesh with every bit of effort he could muster, simultaneously worshipping his Goddess and appeasing her so she didn't squash him. Sweat trickled in and nearly drowned him every so often, but he drank much of it down like nectar, hungrily trying to imbibe the essence of such utter physical perfection.

Hours and hours went by, simultaneously painful and blissful, until the little man's squirming put him face-to-anus with Rebecca Sullivan, the wealthy, brilliant beauty who had reduced him to a bug. Did he dare live out his fantasies?

Was it even a question? 

---REBECCA---

As her ride finished, Rebecca's skin trickled with thin rivulets of sweat, her white sundress nearly see-through with a little help from sea spray (much to the delight of many an onlooker). She idly considered fishing Jay out of her panties once she returned to her room, and giving him instructions on how his life as a slave would function from this point on . . .

Until he delivered a kiss right against her asshole, which twitched on reflex enough to slurp his body in up to his torso.

Apparently, he already knows, Rebecca thought with an idle smirk, heading to the sixth-floor dorm shower room to give all the little sophomore lesbians a simultaneous heart attack.

The slight young man had been waiting at Rebecca's door for at least an hour, and checked his watch uncomfortably. It still wasn't 7:30 . . . and he practically willed time faster, desperate to have his date with the powerful, redheaded Rebecca Sullivan. Her soft voice speaking even casually left an entire room burgeoning with desire, the arrogant sway to her wide hips left many staring at her ample ass, and those tits just simply defied gravity by simultaneously being that large and that perky, but none of those were on Jeremie's mind right now. 

He was currently thinking of her long, pale soles. 

He'd only seen her feet once- she'd discarded her sandals one day while a professor had decided he'd lecture outside due to it being too damned hot in the room- but they colored his every thought from each moment since. Pale and perfect, toes both plump and nimble, deep arches, every crease and wrinkle of her sole the dream of any foot fetishist. 

And he imagined that perfection crushing him. 

It was an odd fantasy, to be sure, but the way she'd toyed with that pebble she'd found, the nervous energy with which she'd rolled the puny thing betwixt her toes, the way her foot flexed seemingly just to show off . . . it only made him fantasize of being that pebble. 

And here he was, on a date with the demigoddess whose feet haunted his dreams, taunted him by being inaccessible. Well, almost. 

"Jeremie?" She seemed to be absolutely gorgeous, despite probably having rather recently woken up- her luxurious red hair tied into a short ponytail, leaving her slender throat exposed . . . her gray eyes no longer hiding behind her black-rimmed glasses . . . a bright canary-yellow tanktop which seemed ill-equipped to the task of containing such a perfect bust . . . tight, restrictive athletic shorts whose sheer fabric made her buttocks glimmer in the early-morning sunlight . . . and, promisingly, no shoes, her feet bare once more. "Step in, please."

---REBECCA---

Disgusting pervert. 

God, Rebecca hated these types. Drooling a mess, but somehow convinced that their actions were in any way subtle. Thankfully, she still had her trump card, and she mentally pointed little Jeremie towards it. The seventh vial of shrinking solution was potentially (although not definitely) the single most powerful of the different variants, and with this idiot staring at her feet with an obvious hard-on, she would definitely not have a difficult time of bringing about the full extent of its effects. 

Unfortunately, after her typical line, and an explanation that he wanted to take her to the rides on the dock, he chose variant 4- "Seed". It was at that point that she just got her end of this over with, activating the voice recorder on her phone and blinking as she tried in vain to get used to her contacts.

As she readied herself to speak, she felt little Jay's spasms in her rectum- the poor thing wouldn't last much longer, but she didn't care much except to feel a tiny jolt of arousal through her system that she would casually suffocate a man to death with nothing but her ass. A good slave he was, but slaves would soon be quite . . . replaceable.

---JEREMIE---

"Time: 7:50 AM. Variant "Seed" is a resounding success. Given results with variant "Leaf", it is safe to assume that the subject cannot be comprehended by the human ear. However, trials on the durability increase may prove . . . difficult."

Honestly, Jeremie hadn't understood a word of it. The voice of a Goddess boomed from the heavens, but the blood rushing through his ears made hearing anything difficult. 

Rebecca's long, fidgeting toes were now as long as he was tall, so it stood to reason that any one of them could crush him to a stain. If she wasn't careful, he could die to her lovely feet.

So, he waited for her eyes to shift back towards her phone to make a break for it and dive under her discarded nylons. Confident in his success, Jeremie idly fist-pumped- he had himself an unaware giantess. 

---REBECCA--- 

The redhead quirked an eyebrow as her peripheral vision caught the bug-man scurrying away from her feet, but she refused to look a gift horse in the mouth. This inch-high speck wanted to play? She could play . . . and she would feel each bone snap underfoot, her soon-to-be preferred disposal method for disobedient slaves. 

"Where did he go?" She purred, her voice growing even more sensual and husky as her desire ramped up . . . "Here, perhaps?" The redhead turned over Jeremie's own shoes with a single toe, doing her best to watch the hiding spot she knew he had taken and make sure he hadn't moved. "Or . . . here?" She kicked yesterday's sundress across the room. "Where . . .?" She asked, sliding her foot forward, exposing Jeremie for a brief moment as her sole overtook him.

The durability boost was definitely there . . . but it was nowhere near enough to handle the ball of her foot. Rebecca had to stifle a moan as she felt tiny twig bones crackle . . .

---JEREMIE---

The weight was intense. The heat was unexpected. 

But Jeremie was being slowly squashed underfoot, using the same foot that he'd fantasized about for months . . . it was difficult to avoid the sense of sexual satisfaction that came from a Goddess obliterating him without her even knowing she was there. 

Each snapping bone hurt, and he cried out into unforgiving flesh . . . but this dragged on. Just her standing on him had managed to break him beyond repair, but at least it seemed hours body was holding together-

SPLAT

---REBECCA---

The last straw came unexpectedly, and all at once. "It only took two minutes? What a shame . . ." She sighed, admittedly somewhat damp from this taste of raw power. 

Today was rather cool, but not rainy. Cloudy, but the bright spring sun still shone through the breaks in the clouds.

A perfect day to just hang around town, or at least that's what Lily thought.

She'd actually entered Rebecca's event almost as a gag. There was no way she'd be chosen, not among the probable hundreds of people- students and staff alike- wishing for just one date with the curvy, leggy, gorgeous redhead. At least, that's what she'd told herself. 

This entire week, then, had passed by half as a dizzy daydream, half as a panic attack. Rebecca Sullivan had made her one of the magnificent seven who would quickly get experimented on, then go on a date with her. To be perfectly honest the little Asian girl was flabbergasted that she'd been picked, and of course she'd been given Friday of all days- just enough time to drive her up the wall with worry.

Lily both wanted Rebecca and wanted to be her, and she couldn't reconcile which desire was stronger. A red-haired, gray-eyed genius whose body was what adolescent fantasies were made of and whose voice could only be described as sex for the ears . . . did Lily want that kind of power for herself or (in a masochistic way that made her flush with repressed sexuality) did she want it lorded over her? Both? 

Regardless, there was no time for worry now. The seconds crawled by to 7:30, when the door would open and Lily's life would potentially change forever. 

---REBECCA---

Little Jay needed to learn discipline, and the ideal way to establish this was neglect. Moments before opening the door, she balled the three-inch-tall bug man into a pair of her socks, and stowed them idly in a drawer.

"You are Lily, correct?" Rebecca asked in her ever-so-soft neutral tone. "Step inside."

This one she'd been waiting for. Lily Iris Lo, the little Asian girl staring at her in half her classes. The three remaining vials were each tempting to use on such a pathetic, malleable specimen of humanity, all for different reasons . . . two with a fixed result, and lovely, variable 7. She'd honestly expected to have used Vial 7 before this point, but it going to Lily would be almost poetic.

Nervous eyes stared up at her, full of trepidation and expectation as Rebecca repeated her rehearsed spiel that all Lily needed to do was select a vial, that the date would come after. Last night, she'd cleared away the clothes of her four previous test subjects, tossed them down the laundry chute like garbage, so this girl had no idea what she was getting herself into, even if she was paying attention to her surroundings. 

Watching her hemming and hawing over her choice of vial was almost cute . . . 

---LILY---

The short young woman felt painfully underdressed. Partially because there wasn't a shirt on under her hoodie, partially because of the slinky sleeved dress that Rebecca had chosen to wear, complete with eye-catching nylons and high-heeled pumps that drove the gray-eyed enigma that much higher above her would-be date.

Taking a gulp and averting her eyes, Lily looked over the end table and tried not to look at those three vials like they were magic gold or something. Each sat atop a number in curved, elegant script- and, of the numbers between 1 and 7, only the numbers in the ends and 5 still at in place. "I'll take number 5," Lily decided nervously. 

For a half-second, a recognizable expression took hold over Rebecca's face that looked very much like disappointment, but it faded do quickly that Lily would be hard-pressed to admit that she'd seem it at all. "I see," the redhead murmured, her tone not altered in the slightest, "I must warn you that you are going to feel a tiny pinch, and then you shall be rather ill for a brief few moments," she added, "so, for your sake and mine, try to keep your breakfast down. These are new carpets." The neon-orange fluid in the small vessel contained by Rebecca's hand seemed to shimmer in the light as it was moved to Lily's am . . . and quickly injected into her bloodstream. 

It took mere moments for this serum to take effect, and "rather ill" was the understatement of the year- Lily threw up (and all over her favorite hoodie, too) rather quickly, and she was dizzy-eyed as the room just seemed to spin . . .

And, in a quick moment, she was back to normal. No more ache except the feeling of an empty stomach, no dizziness . . . but she caught a vision that absolutely had to be a hallucination. As she took in what she was seeing, Lily was convinced that Rebecca had gotten her higher than a kite. There was no other logical explanation!

"Time: 7:40. Subject has imbibed variant "Ant", and has recovered faster than any subject to date. Is this to do with this subject being female, or personal fortitude? Some other factor? A combination of the aforementioned? Quite the mystery indeed . . ." Rebecca said calmly, her tone unchanged from her typical, sensuous quietness- but now, amplified with the power of a Goddess.

The redhead was positively enormous. Her body stretched impossibly high into the sky . . . a gorgeous, curvy skyscraper. Gray eyes flicked down to Lily's position, her typically expressionless face giving the slightest of smug smirks. "Little Lily, you may be curious as to what has happened," Rebecca began with a hint of mirth in her tone. "Put bluntly, I have reduced your stature to half an inch tall. If the information on the school website is correct, given that I'm 142 times your size . . . you must see me as a six-hundred-foot monolith, and that's not counting my heels. To me, however, you are an ant, little Lily," Rebecca squatted down, stunning Lily still further, the combined fear, arousal, and humiliation of this moment making her heart beat out of her miniscule chest. 

A bug. That's all Lily amounted to her this point. A bug trembling on the ground. "As subtle as you may think you are, I know who has an interest in me," Rebecca let out a simple, short laugh, but the vibrations it caused were still far more than enough to knock Lily on her ass. The rarer thing here was a laugh from the stoic, sensual Sullivan girl, and it didn't disappoint- even that short giggle carried enough pure teasing behind it to arouse beyond imagination. "I have known you stare at me. The others may not have, for your glances have been quite discreet, but I did. The fact that you're so shy about it, too . . . it's amusing, but so very pathetic," Rebecca said honestly, crouching down to look closer at the half-inch girl between her feet.

Lily wanted to move. Had to move. Rebecca was gigantic, any movement of the redhead's body could reduce her to paste! Unfortunately (or fortunately, it really depended on your viewpoint), Lily merely stood there, trembling, her heart beating a tattoo on the inside of her chest from fear and desire.

"I've done my research," Rebecca smirked, the casual, nigh-unnoticeable curl of her lips magnified to divine levels of arrogance to puny Lily, "I have on all of you, but you . . . you made it far too easy. Your little friends are rather chatty . . . I practically know your life story. I'm starting to believe that's what you intended, Lily-bug- to get the attentions of a sadist superior to you in every way- rich, powerful, influential, athletic, buxom . . . and I'm a certified genius to boot."

There it was. The teasing that had haunted Lily's dreams, spoken in a voice made for the purpose. The miniscule Asian girl blushed from head to toe, and she didn't even know Rebecca's plan for her  . . . "I- I didn't- that wasn't- you aren't-" she stammered, trying to find the right words to defend herself.

---REBECCA--- 

This was absolutely amazing, but Rebecca needed to get the show on the road. There was quite the test to be conducted today, and if she hadn't missed her guess . . . little Lily would have her willpower and dignity broken by the end of the day.

"So, as for today's test . . . how will my clothing affect the afflicted?" Rebecca continued, plucking the pink-tinted bug-girl up on a single, manicured fingernail. "Specifically, my bra strap?" Raising puny Lily to her gaze, the tiny thing was just flapping her mouth open and closed- was she talking, or merely gasping like a fish? It didn't matter, because at this scale Rebecca couldn't hear her anyway, and even if she could . . . nothing Lily had to say mattered at this point.

Using her idle hand to unzip the back of her dress, she gave Lily an impressive eyeful of exposed shoulders . . . then cleavage (well, more cleavage) . . . then her large, round breasts, held in place by a very valiant ebon bra. Then, she pulled that arm out of its sleeve, freeing it completely from her clothing . . . and exposing her side, the only thing not a perfect pale was black and lacy. 

"Now, while you don't have to serve my armpit- today is merely a test of your resiliency, so expect my arms to do more than their share of movement- if it is clean, you'll have a satisfied demigoddess over one hundred times your size. Do with that information what you will." With that, Lily finally tried to run- but it was far too late. Moving her hand to her armpit, she buried Lily up to her ribcage in the taut strap of lace, before getting back into her slinky red dress. None would be any the wiser. Again, Rebecca's composure slipped . . . and the tiniest of pleased, satisfied grins quirked at her lip. 

---LILY---

Each of Rebecca's steps was an earthquake, and made her arm glide back and forth . . . Lily was disoriented by it all. Scared, helpless, and immensely aroused by the sheer power Rebecca held over her, Lily didn't really know what to do, except to agonizingly, painstakingly turn herself around to face Rebecca's armpit. 

What wise was there to do? Seeing that arm move back and forth, even in the limited light filtered in through Rebecca's clothing, was dizzying and made her motion sick, and even beyond that she had a job to do. 

She had to get Rebecca's skin clean, if only to stay alive. If only- Lily refused to give credence to that voice in her head that murmured at her, whispered thoughts of being a toy slave to a Goddess . . .

Lily shook her head. She had to focus! She ran her tongue over the pale, perfect skin . . . mildly salty already, with sweat that came from fitful sleep. The taste was amazing  . . . that masochistic demon in Lily's head only grew more insistent, showing her visions of being bra padding, a piece candy to be sucked on, a toy for Rebecca's toes . . . the voice grew louder with each lick of salty skin Lily imbibed, becoming harder and harder to resist. 

Any sense of pride, of dignity, of propriety went out the window, one lick at a time. Lily's carefully-placed walls of restraint, keeping her values and self-respect, was rapidly eroded into a mindless desperation for more, more of the essence of a Goddess, she had to have more! 

That last nugget of rationality in Lily's mind bemoaned losing herself in a single day . . . but she didn't even know the half of it.

---REBECCA---

With an arrogant swagger of her hips that had most of the crowd staring at her ass, the redhead walked up to the counter at the local sandwich shop. It was about noon . . . maybe she should check on Lily . . .

Nah. If she was dead, then she was unlikely to be missed. If she was alive, then Rebecca had another slave. 

No big deal here.