He looked across the courtroom to the prosecutor's desk, she was there, wearing a tight white blouse and navy business suit, immaculate as always from head to toes, pedicured and wearing intimidating black pumps. He watched his wife, Carol, make idle chat with her team of lawyers, smiling and laughing about some inaudible joke. They didn't all really need to be there of course, this was a process heavily biased in her favor, he would argue his case, but he was worried about his chances.

Five years ago they had met, she pursued him more than the other way around. A young 30-something executive at a bio-technology firm she had confidence and beauty that he couldn't resist, dark brown hair, tall with long legs, and he quickly fell deeply in love. They both knew that she was also way outside his league; he remembered one of their first dates where she picked him up in her Bentley from his second job at the fast-food place he worked, having showered and dressed in the staff shower there scrubbing the smell of grease from his hair. He sensed early on that she liked being the one in control of the relationship, even toying with him, but it would be a while before he understood just how deep that streak ran.

For a year she played with him, living their strange un-balanced relationship, booking tables at Michelin starred restaurants and asking him to take care of the thousand dollar check on his $7 an hour wage (some of these meals would take him months to pay off). He knew she liked toying with him in this way, but thought it was just all part of a test she wanted to put him through that underneath was helping build a real trust in a partner and relationship. There were more tender moments amongst these games too, they walked, watched movies, made love, and dated as normally as they could in their mismatched way.

And then things came to a head after about a year, when she proposed to him. A unique proposal indeed. She wanted them to marry, she told him; but she could not risk her primacy in settling down. Her job was important and she was guaranteed great things, she didn't want to get entangled in a marriage which could threaten that, she needed control, to be the one making decisions in the relationship. She was Queen Victoria, and she needed a Prince Albert, not a king that would threaten to sidetrack her career. As she explained her situation, it made more and more sense, and he saw things increasingly from her point of view, a marriage can dramatically change the dynamic for a professional woman, especially to someone with so significantly different a background to her. And so, she proposed a prenup. An agreement that would allow them to marry and be together, and provide for her to continue to act in a way that would be best for her career. The prenup excluded him from any of her possessions and wealth of course, but also included a most unusual requirement. He would undergo the relatively new process known as 'Reduction'. Heretofore mostly used on the criminal population serving life sentences to make inmates less dangerous and more controllable, Reduction was a quantum miracle that could perfectly reduce in size living matter. She was asking, as a prerequisite to marrying her, that he would be shrunk.

It wouldn't be significant she said, just a couple of feet, to make sure she could continue to live as the 'primary person' in their relationship, so that her ability to make decisions wouldn't be threatened in any way. And it made sense, through the haze of their already unbalanced partnership, and his adoration of her impressive success and her beauty, he could see that she needed the confidence that being physically larger could bring. And so in a haze of adoration, he agreed to the procedure. After all, she had brought so much to his life, and she had promised it would just be a foot or two.

Except, as he came round in the Reduction clinic, confused and remembering very little from the day before, looking up at the faces above him as they slowly came into focus, he realized something was very wrong indeed. The moon sized faces of the nurses looking down showed concern, they were saying something but his ears were still ringing loudly, but then, he saw her... looking down, with a shiver he looked back up, and had never seen a more predatory look in her perfectly mascaraed eyes, grinning down at him through lush red lipsticked lips barely able to contain her joy. The procedure had succeeded... but a 'technical error' in the paperwork had lead to his permanent reduction to the size of just one inch.

And so began four years of hell that would lead him to this courtroom today, she had brought these proceedings against him that could lead to the very erasure of any protection the law may provide a human being.

John sat on a tiny chair, specially provided for use by those who are Reduced, atop the defendants' desk. Normally there would be a number of lawyers and clerks seated here next to their client but, unable to pay for representation, John was alone, his small seated frame stranded amidst the sea of desk around him. His hands we bound, a precaution against someone his size making a run and escaping  if the proceeding did not go his way. He would be defending himself in the matter for which he had been summoned here. 

Amidst the background chatter, a shout of "All rise!" from the Bailiff, and a shockingly young looking judge entered her courtroom.

"The court is now in session - the honorable Judge Miss Amy Jackson presiding!". The court settled down and silence came over the echoing wood-paneled room.

"Thank you, Bailiff" the Judge said, brushing a lock of blonde hair over her ear. She sat down and took a sip of the coffee she had brought in with her.

"What do we have on the docket?" She asked, almost bored.

"First case, your honor, is a simple recategorization request; a Miss Carol Smith vs. Reduced John Thompson".

John looked on, slightly taken aback by the initial attitude of the court - this was the most important day of his life, but it seemed to be either just a bit of fun or a boring technicality for everyone else involved.

"Miss Smith, would you like to express your request to the court?" the judge asked.

One of her lawyers, a pretty Asian woman in a tight black business suit stood to respond. 

"Your honor, Danielle Spencer, attorney at law for Spencer Trent & Warren, representing Miss Smith in this matter."

John looked on as the impressive woman spoke from the ranks of lawyers surrounding Carol, by contrast he sat alone at his desk. Carol sat with a smirk, money was no object for her and everything seemed to be in her favor, she was confident she would get her demands approved.

"... Miss Smith is currently married to the defendant, a Reduced John Thompson, and she is seeking a recategorization of his person due to his continued obstruction of her lifestyle, recalcitrance, disobedience, and breach of prenuptual contract." The lawyer continued.

The words 'recategorization' rang in John's head - this was the first he knew that this was what Carol was seeking. He had thought that she wanted a divorce or at least something similar... that she was seeking recategorization was such a shock that he could hear blood pumping in his ears.

The lawyer continued, "The defendant was already reduced when Miss Smith agreed to marry him, at great risk to her fortune and wellbeing she entered into a relationship which has been greatly exploited."

John couldn't believe he was hearing this - for the last four years since their marriage his relationship had rapidly become a nightmare. Carol very quickly had started to turn on him after his reduction, playfulness moving to teasing, teasing turning to bullying, bullying turning to cruelty. Carol had dark moods, she would make ever greater demands on his small person. Making dinner for a person a thousand times your size took him hours upon hours, and if it wasn't to her liking she would withhold food from him for 24 hours. Once he didn't eat for 8 days. And still she gave him tasks - painting nails, moisturizing and massaging toes, cleaning and tidying. Any attempt to speak up would be dominated into silence by her physical presence, now a literal giantess next to him.

He listened in disbelief as he heard her team describe him as lazy and exploitative, and then a bombshell:

"... not only has the defendant explored and abused Miss Smith emotionally, but despite his diminutive size, he has also been physically abusive to our client."

Shock - how could he possibly be accused of being physically abusive? His wife was a towering goddess to him, he was smaller than her big toe. This powerful woman... who once in punishment for being 20 minutes late with her dinner had thrown him into the cold water of her toilet for the night, more than once waking to relieve herself on top of him as he shivered below in terror that she would flush - was accusing him of being physically abusive to her?

The judge spoke up "A horrifying claim counsel, I am shocked by this allegation. Defendant!" She seemed to bellow at John, "stand to address the court, is this true?"

John slowly stood, his mind racing trying to process what was happening so quickly - he felt dizzy, sick to his stomach. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry. He took a breath and tried again.

"Your honor, I..." He stammered from his tiny spot in the middle of the desk "this is an... utterly untrue allegation, how could I possibly abusive to my wife? I... I weigh 5 grams, do you know that?"

"That is not a valid excuse defendant" the judge said coldly.

John's head was spinning "Do you know... my wife is like 170lbs" he continued in disbelief, "she's... 15,000 times bigger than me, how could I..."

"Again, defendant", interrupted the Judge "Not. A valid. excuse.".

John was gobsmacked, he was being accused of somehow abusing his wife who had lorded over him like a malevolent god for the last four years. The unfairness, the hypocrisy, had paralyzed his thoughts.

The moment of silence was interrupted by the pretty lawyer "Your honor, if I may demonstrate a sample offense with recording exhibit number 1?".

"Of course" replied the judge warmly.

As John sat down in disbelief as to what was going on, a set of large screens next to the prosecution lit up.

"I'd like to direct your attention to this recording made two weeks ago your honor."

The screens sprang to life, they showed what looked like a hand-held recording from a high quality cell phone, the picture focussed and John saw the carpet from Carol's expansive bedroom on the screen. The picture zoomed in, shaky at first, but then came to rest on a close up of a set of toes. Carol's toes. Beautifully pedicured by none other than John himself, they were French tips, Carol's favorite, and also the most time-consuming and exhausting for John to finish. A full pedicure might take him two days work.

The recording was shot from above, Carol's perspective... and he remembered almost immediately this event. She had been bullying him with her toes, using that thick glossy big toe of hers to push over his inch tall body to a peal of giggles for about 30 minutes. Each time she knocked him down she demanded he get to his knees, and begged forgiveness for 'hitting' her 'precious toes'. She would gesture for him to stand up, only to knock him down immediately again. He remembered this was an excruciating and exhaustingly cruel game she had concocted. As he watched the video on screen however, none of this was shown... instead it looked like a slow-motion recording... and then he remembered...

She had said, after a good 30 minutes of this kick-down beg-to-get-up game, that she would end the game if he could hurt her big toe... that if she felt pain, the game would be over and she would let him sleep off the beating. But that it had to be a real attempt.

He had psyched up every last scrap of energy and threw himself like a madman at her toe, and that seemed to be what was about to play out in slow motion to the court right now. He had been framed.

The video showed John, naked and with a ferocious look on his face run into frame and smash into the pedicured toe that dwarfed his body. He struck and struck with his arms and kicked her toe with his legs, he sunk his teeth into the tough thick skin to the side of that glossy nail. On screen and in slow motion, the court saw a madman thrashing, pushed to the breaking point by a cruel game that had built frustration within him to an explosive level. But the court saw nothing of the precursory cruelty enacted upon him, just his animalistic attack, an attack that he knows had had no effect on Carol whatsoever, she was not hurt in the slightest, but an attack which now played in front of thes court had made him appear shocking and feral.

The video ended and there was silence in the room.

He looked over at his wife, she was looking right at him. She had such a smug superior smile. She was going to get exactly what she wanted.

The judge turned to John, and demanded he stand, "Get on your feet you bug of a man" she sneered.

John stood, the clinking of the chains from his wrists reminding him he was a captive here among this room of vast goddesses.

"This beautiful woman took you in, provided for your miserable tiny self, protected you, gave you everything you could need in the world, and here you are attacking her in this... this manner of an animal?"

"Your honor", John began in an attempt to make his case.

"Silence! You are exactly the reason we have Reduction technology, to keep us safe from men like you. You are a violent worm of a man and I am inclined to grant any recategorization that Miss Smith would like." She turned to Carol, and asked "What category are you requesting your husband be recategorized into Miss Smith?"

Standing herself for the first time in the proceedings, she was tall in her attractive but professional suit jacket and pencil skirt. Her muscular calves flexed as she stood, and he saw she was wearing a pair of patent black peep-toe heels, shoes he himself had spent a whole exhausting day cleaning and polishing just earlier this week. They creaked slightly in the quiet courtroom as she straightened her intimidating posture.

"I want him to be recategorized to 'L' category your honor", and looked over to him with a smile on her glossy lips, she was having fun, to her this was a game and he was the prey.

In the last few years reduced humans were categorized based on the reason why they are reduced, and the resulting rights they received in society. Some were 'C' category for criminals, they lost many legal and equality-based rights, but they were still considered people. John was fairly rare, a 'V' category: Voluntary. Technically he should have all the rights of a normal sized person, although of course reality living with Carol was somewhat different.

But when he heard Carol's request for 'L' category, his stomach finally rebelled, he leaned forward doubled over and wretched over his feet. He had had nothing to eat and so only dry heaved, but he was utterly destroyed by what Carol had requested. 'L' category was Livestock. He would be legally owned, an animal in the eyes of the law. No human rights at all, he could be forced to work to death, tortured if desired, killed or maimed with no protection or restriction of any kind. And beyond that, it would be completely and utterly legal and proper for Carol to consume him. And there was nothing he could do about it. He was about to become property of his wife.

"I can think of no reason not to grant your request Miss Smith." Said the judge. "By the power vested in me by the federal court, you, Reduced John Thompson hereby cease to exist as a human entity, all rights and privileges entitled to people of this country are withdrawn and nullified,  you are reclassified from this moment onward as a category 'L' entity: Livestock. And the ownership of this property is to be one Miss Carol Smith, formerly your wife, now your owner." And with a bang of her gavel, the deed was done. John Thompson's existence ended, and he became now a helpless lump of living meat, belonging mind body and soul to his cruel, and domineering, wife.

Carol was still standing in the courtroom for the proclamation, her toes curled with excitement in her shoes, she had a headrush of excitement at how well this had gone, it was so easy. She was going to have so much fun.

"Your honor, if I may..." She started, "Is this court able to brand new livestock?" She asked with a wry smile.

John's looked at over at his new owner, what hellish game was this she was starting now?

"Yes of course, we can arrange for that immediately, my assistant has the iron somewhere" and a young intern, couldn't be more than 18 years old stood from the side of the room and started rummaging around in a drawer.

"Thank you so much your honor" Carol said, "I do want to make sure it is aware of its new category, and of course in case it ever escapes we want anyone to know it easily".

"No problem at all, Jessica can do that for you now, and then we will let you get on your way"

John could see what the young intern was preparing, and he started struggling against the chains connecting him from his wrists to the desk, first a small tug, then an increasingly desperate series  of struggles against his bonds as the realization set in.

Jessica, a very pretty blonde girl, presumably a law student, had finished setting up a metal rod with a disc on the end the size of John's head. She walked toward him across the wooden floor of the courtroom, her knee-high boots making a shuddering bang with each step. As she got closer the desk to which he was bound increasingly shook with her footfalls, until she was there in front of him, looking down.

"Please, there's no need for this, he pleaded to the teen goddess now in front of him wielding the electric branding iron". He was puling repeatedly at his shackles while he looked up. She smiled in supreme confidence down at him and flicked a switch in the handle of the branding wand. In seconds the smell of hot metal filled the air.

"Please don't, I am a person, I *am*, and you have no right to..." 

"Nope..." Interrupted the girl, hand on hip, "You - " she gesticulated with the wand toward him, "are a teeny, tiny, animal. As of one minute ago, weren't you listening?" And with that she cracked into a giggle...

The wand in her hand beeped.

"Ok... it's ready", she smiled and reached down roughly exposing his entire back and buttocks, holding him to the desk, it happened so suddenly that John was winded with the slam to the floor, coughing doubly so as he was overwhelmed by the perfume from her wrist at the same time. Her fingers alone were easily capable of holding down this inch long man bug. She raised the wand in her other hand and started to bring it down slowly over his struggling body - but then -

"Wait!" Shouted Carol, pausing the process, the branding wand a mere moment from touching him, John could feel the heat from it so close to his back, he was sweating and panting in terror. But thank god, Carol had seen sense, this was just a game after all... he knew she wouldn't push things so far as to disfigure him so permanently.

The intern, still paused above him, turned back to see Carol walk slowly toward the defendant's desk. The click clack of her heels, the slight creak of her feet inside the patent leather, John couldn't see anything but he could hear her approach. 

She arrived looking over the desk, looking down at him, even larger and taller than the intern she stood next to. Two goddesses looking down at a bug that wiggled before them.

"I just wanted to watch." She said nonchalantly... "Go ahead..." She continued with an arrogant smirk on her face.

John's stomach dropped, and then a moment later he was consumed by searing pain turning him inside out that would not end. The girl pushed the brand into his tiny back and held it there for what seemed like forever. John squealed and squealed in agony like a stuck pig, his eyes wide and mad with pain, and still it continued, seconds passed in this agony, his screams grew hoarser and hoarser and then mute, allowing him to hear the sniggering of the girl torturing above him. Until finally, she relented.

He curled into a ball, shaking violently. Spanning the entirety of his back in violent and thick red burns was a circle with the letter 'L' inside.

"Livestock" said the girl as she took a step back with a proud look on her face.

"Heh," smirked Carol as she hunkered down and brought her giant face close to the desk surface to look into the creased and bloodshot eyes or her once-husband... "more like 'Loser', she said with a grin".

"You have to do as I say" said Carol arrogantly as she lay on her bed, legs bent slightly so her feet were flat on the duvet. It had been an hour since she had got home with what used to be her husband, but now may as well be a bug or snail or something. She had stripped to her underwear and ensured that John was naked at her feet.

"You have to do as I say" she said again, "because if you hesitate for half a second, I will swallow you alive" she said gleefully. John kneeled silently, head down not far from her gigantic toes.

"Look at me!" She commanded. John's head snapped up, and he looked along her stretched out legs, over her round belly and chest up to her face. She was smiling.

"You are food, you got that. You are nothing. If I wanted to I could swallow you alive right now, in 5 seconds you could be in my stomach, you know that?"

"You think the branding was painful? What do you think it feels like to be digested alive?" She laughed and took a gulp of white wine from the side table.

"Do you understand? I could turn you into my shit on a whim, do you realize the difference between me and you?"

John mumbled "... Yes Carol".

"Fuck you bug boy," she spat, "to you I'm 'Goddess'. Now I want you to kiss my toes".

It wasn't the first time John had been commanded to grovel and worship at Carol's feet, but this time felt different. This time wasn't just a temporary bullying, something really had changed, he really was a lesser animal than this goddess in front of him. He shuffled on his knees over to her big toe resting near him. God it was gigantic, taller than his head when he was kneeling like this. There was a salty sweat smell from her down here, it wasn't too unpleasant but it was a musk that invaded and owned him at her feet. He tenderly leaned forward and kissed, and again, and kept rhythmically placing kisses upon her toe, never twice in the same spot.

She looked down, another swig of wine, and said "My lunch... is kissing my toes" and burst out in a giggle... "and if he stops for one second, I'm going to eat his arms haha!" She laughed at her gruesome domination of him. He continued to kiss.

"You don't need arms to kiss my feet do you loser?" She sneered. "I could bite off those arms and gulp them down if I wanted to, and there is nothing that you could do to stop me, you're a bug, and I'm a goddess. How does that make you feel?"

John didn't answer.

"Bug?" She questioned, and shifted her foot forward, pushing him back onto his back and moving her big toe over his chest, she pressed down lightly stopping him from breathing.

"I asked you a question, how does that make you feel? That you're my lunch, and until I eat you, which I will, you're kissing my toes?"

"Answer me!" She raised her voice threateningly.

"I feel... insignificant... I want to make you happy goddess" croaked John from under her toe, he desperately wanted to please her, to help her warm to him and stop this cruelty.

"You ARE insignificant!" She laughed. "Now continue kissing my toe under there"

While John struggled to continue kissing while under such pressure from Carol's god-like toe, Carol called up a friend.

"Oh hey Stacey girl, how are you doing?" She asked over the phone in a bright tone. "I am doing GREAT! We had our court thing this morning, and it went very well." She smirked, looking at him.

"Haha, yeah" she replied to an unheard question, "well let's just say - my lunch is currently kissing my feet and begging me not to turn him into shit". She burst out laughing. "I know! Such a loser!" She replied over the phone.

"Listen I just wanted to check in with you, I gotta go finish this off, TTYL!"

"Stacey thinks you should be thanking me for giving you a chance to really worship me little bug". She said, putting the phone down.

"I think she's right... but also, this is making me fucking wet." She licked her lips and relaxed, as John desperately snatched short, painful breaths in between kisses on the weighty painted toe on top of his body.