Friday Morning by MrD

Keep the ball rolling on this thing;
Let's find out what happens to people who make it to the placement center.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Categories: Entrapment, Giantess, Violent, Crush, Vore, Feet, Mouth Play, Insertion, Breasts Characters: None
Growth: None
Shrink: Lilliputian (6 in. to 3 in.), Minikin (3 in. to 1 in.)
Size Roles: F/f, F/m
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 8 Completed: No Word count: 47391 Read: 21689 Published: December 15 2020 Updated: April 09 2021
Story Notes:

Keep the ball rolling on this thing;
Let's find out what happens to people who make it to the placement center.

1. 1: Friday Morning at the Placement Center by MrD

2. 2: Friday Evening at Grace's Studio by MrD

3. 3: Friday Evening in Grace's Care, and the First Task. by MrD

4. 4: Friday Night in the Dungeon, and the Second Task by MrD

5. 5: Friday Night in the Aquarium by MrD

6. 6: Saturday Morning by MrD

7. 7: Saturday Morning 2: Masturbation Harder by MrD

8. 8: Incident at the Center. Prequel Chapter by MrD

1: Friday Morning at the Placement Center by MrD
Author's Notes:

Unfortunate Anthony meets up with an unfortunate acquaintance in an unfortunate circumstance.

But seriously, the X Rated stuff starts next chapter. This one's kinda boring, establishing characters, and some bits and bobs about the world.



Awkward didn’t begin to describe the situation.

“Isn’t there anyone else that can process my case?” Anthony asked, desperate to break the heavy silence.

From only a few inches away, by Anthony’s estimate, it was harder and harder to judge distance at his new size, the woman worked uninterrupted. She didn’t even look down at him when she responded.

“No, we’re working with a skeleton crew due to budget cuts. I’ve been given you and the woman you cheated on me with.” She responded, still typing away. Her voice was almost a parody of a detached customer service voice. Except Anthony knew her well enough to recognize the vitriol hidden in that lilting cadence. It was the same as when she was “fine” that he had forgotten her birthday. Or when “it was no big deal” that he hadn’t done anything to help with Christmas shopping.

Anthony hung his head back down. He knew that Grace was still furious about his infidelity, but he hadn’t expected to ever see her again, much less be to be seated on the cap of a soda bottle on her desk, relying on her to process him through the placement center’s systems.


The placement center itself was a depressing scene. Bottom dollar government spending at work, the center was in a basement office of a remote strip mall in the middle of a failed development. Anthony hadn’t gotten the best view of the surroundings, but what he did see suggested the placement center’s offices were the strip malls only tenants. The offices themselves were bare affairs with ancient metal desks, harsh fluorescent lighting, even the fan that tried in vain to cool the hundred square foot box, looked like it was a left over from a time when people would hide under the desk it sat on to shelter from nuclear attacks.

Although he wasn’t eager to be under her care, Anthony had to admit the view was pretty amazing. While he had cheated on her, Grace had some of the most amazing breasts he’d ever laid eyes, hands, or his cock on, and in the almost suffocating heat, she was making the best of a bad situation by wearing a black spaghetti strap tank top, pulled low enough to ventilate, but also to showcase a traffic-stopping amount of cleavage.

It didn’t help that part of what had attracted Anthony to Grace in the first place was her habit of dress. Today Grace’s pencil skirt only came down to her knees. Her blouse, having been discarded over the utilitarian office chair in the heat, wasn’t much of a substantial covering anyway. And then there was Grace’s choice of footwear. Today’s selection was a pair of black open toed strappy pumps, granting her a prodigious five extra inches. With Grace’s ‘casual’ seated position, turned away from her keyboard and screen, one leg crossed over the other and the shoe from that elevated leg dangled precariously off her heel from her pathologically well french pedicured toes, bobbing as she idly kicked her leg.

A sudden explosion of sound and a blast wave of air rocked Anthony back off the soda bottle cap. The accompanying shout of "Tony!" only furthered the shock as he scrambled to take shelter behind the plastic cap.

"Tony! I'm talking at you, the least you could do if you're going to stare at my tits is pay attention so I can get this wrapped up!" Grace's hand had slapped down right next to where Anthony had been sitting and the crescendo of the impact still rang in his ears.

“Jesus Christ, Grace, you could’ve killed me!” Anthony screamed, suddenly more angry than afraid.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Tony. Now answer the question.” Grace said flatly.

Anthony was a bit taken aback, both from the implied threat and from the fact that he had been genuinely so focused on Grace’s breasts that he hadn’t heard the question.

“Uh…” Anthony tried to stall.

Grace’s eyes rolled hard behind her thick rimmed black glasses. “I asked you when you first experienced symptoms. Come on, Tony, this isn’t fun for either of us, but I’ve got to process you, get you to your pod for the night, then work on her file, and after I deal with the deeply upsetting prospect of making sure my cheating ex-boyfriend, asshole, jerkwad, fuckhead, and the woman he cheated on me with, gets placed appropriately, I have like thirty others to process, and that’s just before lunch. So, let’s work on getting this resolved so I can move on, and you fuck around with someone else’s emotions for the rest of the day.”

“What do you mean ‘symptoms?’ I’m not coughing or anything.” Anthony, still defiant, was determined to meet aggression with aggression, even if his aggressor was almost thirty times his height.

“God you are an idiot. I guess shrinking wouldn’t fix that. When did you shrink, you moron?” Grace’s hand hadn’t moved, her thumb and fingers splayed out around the cap.

“Oh, uh, it was just yesterday. Or two nights ago. I woke up yesterday like this. Emily too. But she was huge.” Anthony’s anger was mercurial, as he recollected the sensation of waking up in an ocean of bedsheets. Emily, the woman he’d hooked up with a week prior, was in fact, hugh, or at least to Anthony.

“Tony, everything’s huge to you, she’s like a hundred and fifty millimeters. I think a hundred and sixty one if I read her pre-process file correctly. But she’s an outlier in the data set, most people end up like you.” Grace opined.

“What do you mean ‘like me’?” Anthony asked.

Grace finally moved her hand, and Anthony realized only after the massive limb pulled away how tense he was almost being surrounded by Grace’s fingers. Grace rummaged around in the desks drawer and found a ruler, a metal throwback from the sixties. She placed the ruler vertically next to the bottle cap.

“Stand here. This is as good a time as any to get an official measurement.” Grace clearly wasn’t asking.

Anthony climbed up on the red plastic dias he’d been sitting on and hiding behind throughout the interview, and did his earnest best to stretch his spine as he stood on the edge of the cap next to the ruler.

“Oh my God, you idiot, stand on the desk. I don’t need to know how small you are when standing on a bottlecap.” Grace said, exasperated.

Anthony’s face flushed red, he could feel his ears burning, while he stepped down from the plastic and stood in front of the ruler. Again he willed himself to be taller.

“Stop standing on your toes.” Grace ordered. Her index finger came down and pushed his head down, forcing him back on his heels. It was the first time she had actually touched him since he’d been brought into the office, the first time any normal sized human had touched him, the sensation was frightening in the extreme. For the first time, Anthony got a clear sense of how helpless he was to the unaffected population. With as much regard as she gave to hitting a key on the keyboard, and with less resistance than one of those very keys offered, her finger had pushed him down into obedience. The sudden and uncontested display of strength from just one of Grace’s fingers brought to Anthony’s memory the time he had arm-wrestled Grace, when they had first started dating. He remembered how he hadn’t even had to try to beat her. Or when he could lift her in his arms, with just one arm. But now, without any care or effort, just one of her fingers pushed him back down, and it was apparent that if she wanted to, that lone finger could do so much worse.

“Forty nine millimeters. Wow.” Grace chuckled. “You’re not the smallest we’ve ever had in this office, but you’re definitely outside the mean.” She went back to the keyboard and continued typing.

“Grace, uh, I . . .” Anthony wasn’t sure what to do. The whirlwind of confusion seemed to have finally settled down, but the reality of his situation was somehow only now setting in. Grace’s declaration of his height somehow made it real where it was previously just a bad dream. “Grace, can you check it again? Please?”

Grace stopped typing and regarded Anthony. Her face went through a few dozen emotions in rapid succession before she took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes in exasperation.

“Look, Tony, I know this isn’t easy. Trust me, I deal with this everyday. You’re life is going to fundamentally change. You’re not going to be able to do the things you used to. You’re not going to be able to go to the places you used to. You need to learn to accept this. You need to learn to accept the reality of what’s happened to you. One of the first steps in that process is accepting your new height of forty nine milimeters. You’re not going to grow if I pull out my calipers and check it again, and I’m not going to be humoring that denial by trying it again.”

Anthony sat back down on the soda cap. “What’s going to happen to me?” He asked.

Grace put her glasses back on and thought for a moment before answering.

“The official process is that we’d record some information, that’s what we’re doing right now. Then you’ll be admitted to a pod here in the office for a semi-permanent dwelling. The pods are isolated from each other, so you’ll have privacy. They have electricity, running water, limited internet access, better than your first apartment.” Grace couldn’t help herself with that jab. “From there, it’s kind of up in the air. The original Permanent Placement Program has been put on hold. There are a few places that accept applicants, but are usually costly. Thankfully, the costs associated with housing when you’re forty nine milimeters tall are extremely low.”

Anthony didn’t take much solace in the decreased cost of room and board for someone in his situation, and his head hung low. For the second time, Grace reached out to him, this time the nail of her index finger found its way under his chin and lifted his face back up to hers. It was gesture that was meant to be placating, calming, and reassuring, and while it succeeded in some measure, Anthony was still keenly aware that the pristinely french manicured nail effortlessly lifting his head to look into her face, looming over him like a sun in the sky, only reminded him of how small he had become.

“Keep your head up, you’ll have time to process all of this later. But for now, Tony, let’s get this wrapped up so I can put you in your pod, and move on to the next subject.” Grace resumed her typing. “So, what happened after you woke up yesterday morning shrunk?”

“Uh, Emily and I tried to make sense of it. We both freaked out pretty hard.” That was true enough, but he didn’t want to mention that he had taken it much harder. “We tried to call out for help, but we couldn’t make it to the nightstand to get to a phone. It took us a long time to finally climb down from the bed, that was mostly her, she … she had less difficulty getting around and …” Anthony let his words fall off, he didn’t really want to recount what had happened as he and Emily had rappelled down the side of the bed using their sheets. Being told he was only forty nine millimeters was bad enough, but admitting that his new girlfriend had carried him in one arm as she had descended the vertical face of their mattress was a new level of embarrassing.

“What was that, Tony? Come on I need to be thorough in this report.” Grace could probably tell he was trying to avoid something. Grace had always been more perceptive than was convenient for Anthony.

“She, she carried me down from the bed.” Anthony admitted.

Grace snorted as she fought to contain a laugh.

“It’s not funny, Grace!” Anthony shouted, indignant.

Grace’s barely contained chuckling spilled out into laughing. “It absolutely is, Tony. It absolutely is. Okay, so she carried you down from the bed, how did you get found?”

Anthony couldn’t decide if he should be grateful for Grace’s moment of sympathy, or furious at her finding humor in what, he knew, was funny, but also deeply upsetting to his ego.

“We tried other ways to get people’s attention, but the apartment is on the third floor. We couldn’t get anyone’s attention. The Nile lady was delivering a package and we have that thing where they leave it inside the door, Emily and I were standing in the doorway when she came in.” He said, crossing his arms and almost pouting.

“Okay, and she brought you here to the placement center?” Grace followed up. She continued typing, unabated.

“Yeah, she said it was on her route. She let us in a box she was delivering and then she set us on the passenger seat where we rode here.” Anthony summarized. There was no need to tell Grace that Emily had been forced to help him up into the box, or that Emily had saved him from falling out of the box multiple times on the ride over.

“Great we’re almost done.” Grace said, still clacking away at the keyboard. “Last question; who have you had contact with since contracting the disease or displaying symptoms? That means ‘who did you tell that you shrunk?’” Grace asked.

“Uh, Emily knows, obviously, and the Nile delivery lady. I didn’t catch her name. She didn’t ask ours, I don’t think. And I guess, you. Once we got here, some receptionist got us to the waiting room. And that's where we spent the night." Anthony stated flatly.

"So you didn't meet with anyone? What about the Nile delivery lady? Did she express concern at contracting the disease?"

"Only her, I haven't even had time to think, let alone deal with this. Uh, she didn't seem worried, she mentioned this was like the fifth time something like this had happened." Anthony recalled.

"Have you called or messaged anyone?" Grace asked.

"No, we couldn't get to our phones, or her tablet, or the laptop." Anthony stated.

“Okay, I think we’re done here. I’ll finalize this documentation, but first let’s get you to the temporary pod. It’s a little less nice than the regular one, but it has clean sheets, a change of clothes, and a pretty awesome jacuzzi bath. You want to ride in the carrier over there, or …” Grace extended her hand, palm up in front of Anthony. The implication of the invitation was benign enough, but as Anthony dismounted the bottle cap and placed on hand on Grace’s extended middle digit, he looked up. Beyond her glasses there was just the briefest look in her eyes that sent a shudder through his entire body.

As quickly as it had come, the dread passed, leaving only a lingering feeling of unease as he crawled into Grace’s waiting palm. Her fingers curled up gently behind him. He had thought to stand, but as he moved to the center of her hand, she lifted him away from the desk, the sudden rocket acceleration upward sent him collapsing into her palm, clutching at one of her digits like a mast on a rocking boat.

Grace couldn’t fight a chuckle, but Anthony didn’t have the gumption to get upset, he was too busy trying to regain a sense of stability as Grace started walking with him in hand. As a small gesture of kindness, or just habit, Anthony couldn’t tell which, Grace pulled the hand carrying him close to her chest, creating a more tangible ‘wall’ which he scramble to as a point of security, although the flimsy fabric of her spaghetti strap could hardly be called secure.

Anthony was certain the sight of him clinging to the light black fabric at her tit was what brought along the next round of laughter, but even worse this time he was clinging to the chest that was laughing so his ability to voice his concerns were minimal. Fortunately the trip was brief, just out of her office and right across the hallway to a room that Anthony hadn’t been in. The room was something else, up and down the walls were tiny door, reminiscent of bank vault doors.

“Welcome to the temporary pods. You’ll be spending a little bit of time in here, like I said, these aren’t as nice as the regular ones, but that will need to be tailored to suit your specific symptomatic parameters.” When she noticed Anthony’s bewildered look she clarified. “It needs to be customized for how small you are. Most of the stuff in this pod are still going to be slightly large for you, because it’s made to fit the average post-shrink size.”

Near the back of the room, between the banks of circular doors on either side before coming to one of the few on the back wall. Grace knelt down, giving Anthony an extreme sense of vertigo mixed with every nightmare he had about falling at the same time. When she came to a stop, Anthony was mildly annoyed to hear her say.

“Hmm, not this one, full up.” Grace pointed to a small green indicator light on the door, similar to dozens and dozens of lights he’d seen on other doors. Grace then stood, this time she cupped Anthony to her chest, whether intentionally or not, he couldn’t tell, as she stood. The effect of being lifted suddenly many many times his own height was minimized, but he was suddenly reminded of the degree of control she had as he was pressed between her palm and her breast.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Anthony scream, to little effect.

“Ooops, sorry, Tony, didn’t want you to fall.” Anthony looked up as she re-leveled her hand, to see her beaming smile, those bright teeth bared in the same kind of sadistic grin she used to get when making him guess plans.

“That’s not funny!” He screamed at her.

“It absolutely is, Tony. But we’re here.” Grace reached out and spun the tiny door’s handle, it really did seem to be a vault door.

When it opened on internal hinges, the effect was only magnified. The door itself was impressively thick, at least to Anthony’s reduced size, with multiple seals. Beyond was a sterile white room, with a couch, a table, even what looked like a massive television screen. It was only with some disappointment that Anthony realized the screen only looked massive to him. It couldn’t have been larger than a compact phone.

Grace gently tilted her palm toward the door, hinting that Anthony needed to release his grip on her shirt, before extending her hand toward the room. Anthony took a few cautious steps on her palm. He was keenly aware of how high up he felt. While the door was only at chest level for Grace, that meant a surely fatal fall for Anthony. The steps to take him off her palm and on to her fingers were agonizingly slow. When he reached her fingertips, he pause, looking back at her for a brief moment.

“When do I get moved to the regular one?” He asked.

Grace didn’t respond immediately, instead tilting her hand up and away from herself, effectively dumping Anthony into the room.

“I’ve got a lot to process tonight, but I don’t expect you’ll spend too long in here. Just relax, and while you’re here, Tony, take a long bath and then a shower. I don’t want you smelling like you just got back from riding in a delivery truck.”

Anthony wanted to follow up with more questions, he had more concerns, and he wasn’t sure how well he’d handle being alone, but Grace didn’t give him the chance. Instead her grin widened as she shut the door. The last thing he saw of her was her smiling face, waving with the hand that had just carried him.

“See you real soon, Tony.” She said as the door silently sealed.

Anthony was left to himself, the room was eerily quiet, and he realized what she had meant by ‘privacy’. On the way in he and Grace had passed at least a hundred of these makeshift residences and even though Grace was just outside, he could hear nothing of the world outside.

The room, and it was just a single room, was what an apartment realtor would call ‘efficient use of space’. There was a shower/tub in the corner, a couch that looked big enough to sleep on, one small table and a chair for it, and of course, almost one entire wall dominated by a television, with a touch-pad next to it for controls.

Anthony needed a distraction, he walked over to the touch pad and hit the universal i/o switch with both hands. The pad thankfully registered and the TV burst to life, with an ad for a local car dealership in media res. Some part of Anthony knew he never would have gone to that car dealership, even if he hadn’t shrunk, but the illusion of normalcy, of seeing a man dressed like a wedding-formal-cowboy-survivor-of-a-rhinestone-factory-explosion inviting him to ‘come on down’ and test drive his ‘gently loved’ inventory of domestic and import cars was strangely calming.

Turning his attention to the shower and tub, Anthony was reminded that this place was not built for him. After stripping off the hospital gown robe provided to him, he stepped into the shower/tub combination only to find the controls out of his reach. Fortunately the people who had built this cubbyhole of a studio had been considerate enough to hide a step stool in the tub, which Anthony used to reach the controls to turn on the water. Using both of his hands, he managed to move the lever to on, and hot.

One scalding hot shower later, complete with a floral scented liquid soap/shampoo/conditioner/degreaser, which Anthony had needed both hands to open, Anthony found himself relaxing in the tub, floating really, in the oversized basin. He wondered idly if Emily would have even fit in the tub, she hadn’t shrunk as much as he had.

When his skin wrinkled beyond even his tolerance, Anthony pulled the plug in the tub, again with both hands. His next stop was the couch, noticing before he sat down a series of fabrics folded underneath it. From beneath the couch he pulled sheets, a comforter, and multiple fresh hospital gowns. He made a ‘bed’ of the couch and the sheets easily enough, but got another grim reminder when he donned the first of the shirts, the one labeled ‘shrunken medium’ and found it fell passed his feet to the floor. He quickly shimmied out of it, through the neck hole, humiliatingly enough, and found the ‘shrunken xsmall’ which fit him as the one he’d originally been issued, which is to say, comically too big, but close enough to wear.

It was a simple enough matter to turn out the lights, another touch pad next to the door, before he retreated to the couch. He wrapped himself up in the sheets and comforter, and let himself drift to sleep, serenaded by the soothing sounds of local access television.

Anthony’s dreams were surprisingly calm. Exhaustion and the surreal nature of his waking moments meant his subconscious would’ve needed to work overtime to even match the bizarre nature of his new normal.

It was in these dreams that he was aware of the lights in the room snapping on. Harsh brilliant white clarity flooded in. Anthony tried to seek shelter under the comforter, muttering something about ‘five more minutes’, but his world was suddenly rocked as a creature seized him. The beast constricted around the blanket and sheets, caring little for them, or seemingly even himself as it wrapped around him and held him tight. Then, as though the thing were attached to rockets, he was pulled out of the pod and into the relatively hot room where the lights were still turned off.

The thing that had grabbed him turned him upright, and while he was still disoriented, dizzy, and nauseous from the impossible forces placed on his body while was seized from sleep, he instantly recognized the bright crimson lipstick that Grace loved. And her voice was unmistakable. This time, however, she exercised no courtesy in handling him. He wanted to scream, to cry out, but her grip was tight enough to make breathing an obstacle, screaming or yelling was out of the question.

She also showed no care for his comfort at being in close proximity to someone so comparatively large, as she held him mere inches from her face. For the first time as she spoke, he could feel her hot breath wash over him. “Hello, Tony. Didn’t I tell you that wouldn’t need to wait long?” Grace asked.

Anthony tried to process what was happening. Moments ago he’d been peacefully asleep, for the first time in what seemed like forever. Everything had finally calmed down. The fear and terror of being forty nine millimeters that had finally faded into a hoarse whine in the back of his mind, came screaming back to the forefront of every thought as all he could see were Grace’s lips, her teeth, her tongue, and as she spoke to him, the dark void of her throat beyond.

“I hope you rested up, Tony…” Grace said. She pulled him in, pressing his head just below her nose and inhaled deeply. Anthony was beyond wanting to scream. He wanted out. But there was no release as Grace sampled his scent more and more. “Oh, Tony, I’m so glad you washed up. I picked that scent myself, it goes so well with you little fucks. I’d say ‘I hope you like it, because it’s the only thing you’ll be using from now on’, but really I don’t give a fuck if you like it or not.”

There was little time to process everything that was happening, and even less to adjust as he was unceremoniously peeled out of the sheets. Grace showed none of the concern she had demonstrated earlier, her fingers roughly pulling away at the fabric, ripping and shredding it at times, until Anthony found himself curled up on her palm, wearing only the hospital gown.

“Aw, Tony, are you scared?” Grace taunted. “Good, being scared is going to serve you well. But I don’t think you’ll be needing that shirt any more. Take it off.”

Anthony couldn’t think straight. Nothing made sense anymore, and while he understood the words that were spoken to him, his body failed to respond. Instead he curled tighter into a ball, his hands clutching at his head.
Although she was clearly not in the best state, her more massive size afforded her a better opportunity to readjust, what little opportunity could be had.


“You’re going to learn to obey real quick, Tony, let me show you why.” Grace’s hand slowly began to close around him, her fingers curling up and over him. As the cage of muscle and bone begane to grow smaller and smaller, panic began to set in. Anthony sprung up from where he had fallen into the fetal position and made an attempt to leap out of her hand. If he had succeeded, something in him knew he would’ve still fallen to his death, but it didn’t matter has her fingers had come too close.

Anthony fought against the closing digits, with every ounce of his being he pushed against them, to create an opening. He tried to pull them apart to afford him just enough room to slip through. Everything he tried yielded nothing as the fingers yielded nothing to him. Instead they closed in. Anthony felt one of his legs slip between her fingers, but still they didn’t stop. An arm managed to get trapped between another pair of finger, but still Grace kept tightening her grasp. Soon it wasn’t a matter of avoiding the fingers, as they held him firmly in place, but still Grace didn’t let up. Anthony could feel his bones creaking under the pressure. The leg that hadn't slipped between fingers was folded awkwardly behind him. His chest was being compressed so tightly that his screams were cut off.

Then, with all the suddenness of a breath, the hand opened back up. Anthony could breath again, his limbs weren’t being bent or smashed, and mercifully, he could lay out on the palm.

“You have one last try. Strip, now.” Grace ordered.

Before he could even comply, she began closing her hand, as she had before. The reminder of the order, combined with the renewed threat of being crushed in her hand shot Anthony to his feet. He pulled the gown over his head and threw it with all his might away from him. He suddenly felt that being dressed was as anathema to him as any poison.

There Anthony found himself, standing naked on Grace’s palm, his chest heaving as he tried to come to terms with everything that was happening. When the adrenaline of nearly being crushed alive wore off, so to did his resolve and he fell to his knees, staring up at Grace’s countenance.

“Good boy. Now, hold still.” Grace’s commands didn’t broker any discussion, instead her hand seized him and held him still. He couldn’t see what she did, but her other hand soon returned with what he recognized in the light from his pod as a toiletry bag. She deftly unzipped it and when it opened he was stunned to see a woman’s form in one of the translucent plastic sections of the bag. It only took him a moment to recognize Emily, squirming and pushing against the clear barrier that held her in place. It was also readily apparent that she was screaming, although Anthony couldn’t hear her.

“I was going to put you in your own section, but, since you’re so fucking small, and you seem to enjoy her company, let me make the trip back to my place much more enjoyable.” Grace unzipped the section containing Emily, who still couldn’t navigate an escape. Grace pulled the bag open and Emily fell to the bottom. Before the shrunken woman could regain her footing, Grace dumped Anthony into the same chamber, all the while laughing as he tumbled into the nude form of his current girlfriend.

“Tony?” Emily said startled. “What the fuck is going on?”

Anthony had no opportunity to respond as Grace turned the bag back over. He had only a moment to consider what was happening before Emily’s comparatively giant form slammed into him, causing him to see stars. Almost all around him he could hear the sound of the zipper being pulled, and the confines of the TSA compliant compartment of the toiletry bag suddenly became very cramped. Anthony found his head pressed against Emily’s pubis, his face right in her tastefully maintained bush. At his size, however, there was more than enough hair to cover his face. His immediate struggles only wedged him slightly deeper in her crotch.

“Fuck, Tony, watch it down there!” Emily managed to get out, even in the extremely restrictive confines.

While very little light made it into the toiletry bag, it was still a rollercoaster ride. As Grace handled the bag, Emily and Anthony were tossed and tumbled, even though they were held pressed together by the small confines of the bag.

The bag stabilized for a moment, no longer tumbling or turning, and although Anthony could see nothing, Grace must have held the bag right up to hear mouth because both he and Emily could clearly hear her taunting.

“I hope you two are comfortable in there. My place is almost an hour away, so you’ve got some time to get even better acquainted.” Grace’s laughter shook their prison before the world around them spun and tumbled like never before, culminating in an impact that pressed the captive pair even further together.

The light then went completely out, and all Anthony was left with was the humid and hot crotch of his girfriend in his face, while her torso pressed against him unable to move, one arm over him, trapping him in place even further. Anthony groaned as Emily readjusted herself, in doing so, twisting his own torso into an uncomfortable pose.

“Emily…” He struggled to even get out individual syllables. “You’re crushing…” Another painful pause as he writhed, trying to catch breath that wasn’t filled with pubic hair. “Me.”

“Sorry, Tony, there’s not much room in here, hold on, let me try something.” Emily did indeed try something, but when she had finished moving her legs, and her arms, and her abdomen, Anthony found himself slipping a bit further down, his face dragged along her bush, and a bit deeper. With one final, subtle rotation of her leg, Anthony’s head slipped between her thighs, and pressed his face against her labia.

He mumbled a cry of protest, but it became apparent Emily couldn’t hear or understand him, buried deep in her crotch.

“What was that, Tony? I can’t make out what you’re saying, let me… nnnnggh… let me try to…” There was a painfully long pause. Anthony’s head and neck were subject to squeezing and pulling, a bit of twisting and turning, each motion resulting in a muffled cry of pain or fear.

“Bad news, Tony; I’m stuck, and that means so are you.” Emily said flatly.


It was going to be a long ride.

End Notes:

As always, thank you for reading!

2: Friday Evening at Grace's Studio by MrD

Hot, drenched in sweat and in the involuntary lubricant coming from Emily’s sex pressed against his face, and thoroughly sore from being contorted, crushed, and nearly flattened by Emily’s comparatively much larger body smashing him against the cheap, clear vinyl of the toiletry bag that was their mutual prison-transport, Anthony found himself trying to imagine himself anywhere else.


Unfortunately, the first thing that came to mind was the last time he’d felt even slightly comfortable; in the too-large bed at the placement center pod. That thought immediately followed with the recollection of Grace’s hand plucking him out of his slumber and condemning him to his current predicament.


The next furthest back attempt at a peaceful retreat into his mind came the last night he and Emily had spent together. In truth a fairly vanilla night of playing around, but again, it immediately lead to the memory of waking up shrunken, and the humiliating journey to the placement center; being carried by Emily, being made to ride in a spent delivery box, being so insignificant to his would be rescuer that the Nile delivery lady never even learned his name.


It felt as though Emily had fallen asleep, a luxury afforded to her by the fact that she was apparently over three times his size, and many times his mass. Anthony couldn’t fathom sleeping through this, but in truth, if he could have, he probably would have. There was nothing to do in the confines of the toiletry bag, and the only reason Anthony hadn’t passed out was the oppressive press of Emily’s body against his. She slept fitfully, which prevented Anthony from ever even becoming accustomed or settled in his prison of plastic, thighs, pubic hair, and vaginal secretions. Every time Emily shifted, even slightly, Anthony was contorted along for the ride. Her thighs were many times thicker, and stronger, than his neck, and even the most minute adjustment of her own restrained position in the toiletry bag visited on Anthony a new strain against his already taxed muscles and bones.


Everything around anything had jostled, hard, an impact from a high place, followed by an agonizing period of stillness. Emily woke almost immediately, and began to fight against the restraint, a fight which caused Anthony no end of pain. Her very brief struggles, before she seemed to remember where she was, and how vulnerable Anthony was, pulled at Anthony’s neck and something collided with his leg, pushing it far out of its normal range of motion. Anthony’s muffled cries seemed to bring Emily out of her panic.


“Oh, sorry, Tony, I kind of forgot you were down there.” Emily said.


Anthony tried to ask how someone could forget a person buried cheekbone-deep in their pussy, but it apparently came out garbled.


“Hey! Hey! Cut that out! I can’t hear a word you’re saying, and trust me now’s not the time to be practicing your oral, er, your oration.” Emily gave a squeeze of her thighs, and Anthony obligingly silenced his protests.


“I think we’ve arrived. I can’t hear the car anymore.” Emily noted. “What do you think she’s going to do?”


Anthony’s response was lost in Emily’s sex, and Emily squeezed his head again.


“Seriously, stop. I was being rhetorical. Although… you dated her, I do actually want to know what you think she’s going to do to us.” 


Their banter was interrupted by the sound of the bag’s zipper being pulled open. Anthony was alarmed at how loud the zipper sounded, even through his flesh-and-blood earmuffs. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, light returned to Anthony’s world, albeit, in a limited capacity. He could tell that the bag had been unzipped, even if the compartment he and Emily were wedged into hadn’t been opened.


A moment later, a rush of cold air and the feeling of being pulled out of a cheap vinyl car seat on a hot summer day created a bizarre mixture of sensations. Emily’s pulse quickened, her breathing sped up and shallowed as well. Grace was likely standing right over them.


Anthony felt something massive close around one of his ankles and was treated to the unique sensation of being peeled off of Emily’s more massive form. The whole experience was upsetting, but his cheeks sticking to the inside of Emily’s thighs from sweat as he was pulled free, a like a sticker from the skin of fruit made the sudden rush of fresh air a mixed blessing.


Adding to the ‘con’ side of his current situation, Anthony was hanging by an ankle bathed in a brilliant white light that he was struggling to adjust to. He hung by his ankle, dripping with Emily’s sweat, as his eyes adjusted to the light. The world came into focus and Anthony wished it hadn’t. Before him was the impossibly huge face of his ex-girlfriend and current caseworker, Grace Noble. Grace’s smililing lips parted to reveal her brilliant white teeth as she saw the comprehension and realization spread across Anthony’s face.


“Hi, Tony, did you have a nice ride?” Grace asked. “Oh, it looks like you might have been a bit cramped in there. You really should stretch after long periods of inactivity.”


Anthony was still trying to process what was happening when Grace’s other hand grabbed one of his dangling arms and pulled. Not hard enough to tear the arm off, or even dislocated it, although Anthony had no doubt that she could. No, Grace was just showing Anthony how little control he had over the situation. Grunting and trying to fight her off, Anthony acheived little from his efforts as once Grace was done with one arm and leg pairing, she moved onto the next, passing his limbs between her huge fingers before viciously, to Anthony, tugging on Anthony’s limbs, very thoroughly stretching all of his arms and legs.


“There we go.” Grace said, letting Anthony hang by a wrist. “It’s important that you keep fit, especially at your small size. A stethoscope would likely crush you if someone tried to listen to your heartbeat, although it’s great for listening to someone caught in your stomach.”


Anthony had heard enough. He began fighting against the thumb and index finger pinched around his wrist, trying to push them apart.


“Hey, now.” Grace scolded. “You don’t want to do that. You probably wouldn’t survive the fall. And even if you did, it’s real easy to get lost down there and stepped on.”


Anthony looked down, for the first time taking in his surroundings other than Grace. The room they were in was relatively dark, save for the brilliant lights set up around plain white back drop behind Grace. Below him, there was a table, again a sterile white save for some rust colored stains which carried horrifying implications. Emily was on that table. Transferred from the toiletry bag to the table top where she watched Grace with aprehension. All around there were LED lights, ring lights, and what Anthony guessed were camera mounts, some of them with equipment locked into place, some of them empty.


“Let us go, Grace, you won’t get away with this!” Anthony shouted.


Grace laughed, bouncing Anthony up and down as she did. “What are you, some kind of comic book character? ‘You won’t get away with this’? Who talks like that.”


Anthony’s world turned into a rollercoaster as Grace lowered him to the table top. The trip down was only a foot or so, but to Anthony it was like falling from a building. When she released him to the relatively clean plastic top, Anthony fell more than his height but landed relatively safely.


“And besides, you idiot, even if I were to get caught later, and that’s a big fucking ‘if’, it wouldn’t change the fact that you…” Grace poked Anthony in the chest as he tried to stand up, sending him tumbling backward. “are already here. I’ve already ‘gotten away with this’. So hang up the stupid comments.”


“Won’t someone notice we’re missing from the placement center?” Emily asked. Anthony could hear the hope in her voice, and the thought of some pencil pusher for the government finding their pods empty swelled the hope within Anthony as well.


“Yeah! You’re going to get caught! They’re going to throw you in prison for this shit, you psycho!” Anthony shouted at Grace.


Grace’s expression soured at Anthony. He yelped as the perfectly french manicured nail of her index finger came down on him, pressing into his abdomen and pinning him to the table.


“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Grace said, her vision moving from Emily back to Anthony. “and you asked so shittly; no. No one will notice you’re missing from the placement center. The both of your files have been completely expunged, the records of your admission have been wiped, by the placement center’s standards, you two never came into our care.”


“But…” Emily protested. “How? And people will have seen us!”


“Well, I’m glad you asked, I like a little inquisitiveness.” Grace lifted her nail from Anthony, but his relief was short lived as she simply readjusted her finger, still pinning him but letting him breathe and talk. “Tony, do you remember what I do for a living?”


Anthony froze, his hands trying to wrest Grace’s finger from where it kept him in place on the table. “I… uh” Anthony was notoriously bad at stalling, but this should’ve been easy, they’d dated for months. “You work at the placement center!” He threw out. Technically correct.


“Technically correct, but ‘placement center worker’ isn’t what’s on my door or my desk. You wanna try again?” Grace’s finger pulled away from Anthony, and she began drumming her nails on the table top. “Maybe think back to any one of the dozens of conversations we had about my day over the months we dated? Hmmm?” All around Anthony, Grace’s nails rose and fell, each tap of the nail on the plastic a giant trunk crashing down. Anthony scuttled backward. Although Grace’s fingers weren’t falling directly on him, it was too much to be between them as she drummed her nails impatiently.


“Well, Tony? What do I do at the placement center?” Grace asked again.


“I don’t know, be a complete psycho bitch?” Anthony spat back.


Grace chuckled, but it was clear her demeanor had not improved. “We’re going to work on that mouth of yours, Tony. But, no. I am not a ‘complete psycho bitch’ at work, that’s what I do for fun and profit. At work I am the senior software engineer for the State Department of Diminished Persons Placement. I not only wrote the software every placement center in the state uses, I also maintain it, and periodically audit it for accuracy and bugs. There is exactly one person in the world who could ‘catch’ me, and that’s me.”


“Then why were you processing our entry?” Emily asked.


“My, aren’t you observant. Well, the state is broke, and while my job originally just involved writing the software, it now includes maintaining it, checking it, and also doing every-goddamn-thing at our local center. So I get to be the one to check you in, process your account, and see you through every step of the process until your final placement. Neither of your records exist any longer, nor does any record of me deleting them.”


“But, people will have seen us, they’ll know we went missing.” Emily countered.


Grace chuckled. “Well, that’s the other part of why I will absolutely get away with this; how many people did you interact with from the time you shrank until the time I brought you here?” Grace asked Emily.


Emily thought for a moment. “There was you, uh, and the Nile delivery lady. Oh and the receptionist at the placement center!”


Anthony’s attention span was waning, and he wasn’t going to wait around to see what Grace had planned. He got to his feet to begin sprint toward the edge of the table, but that meant running toward Grace. He felt the plastic table beneath his bare feet and was sure he’d be able to make it to the edge. From there he’d have to play it by ear, but his escape was in progress. He made it two steps before Grace’s finger came back around to poke him back to the ground.


Grace shook her head in disappointment at Anthony before responding to Emily. “That’s right, you both confirmed that with me during your processing. You also both told me that you never reached out to anyone. Neither of you recall giving your names to the Nile employee, and neither of you got her name. Admittedly, Nile will have a record of their delivery to the house, but if my understanding is correct, she probably won’t even mention finding you. And since she delivered you to the placement center, her involvement is completely done.”


“The receptionist?” Emily asked, but the hope had drained from her voice, she sounded like she expected the kind of answer Grace would give. “Won’t she speak up?”


“Eliza is worthless, she can’t even remember to complete her time reporting correctly, and four years in she still thinks my name is ‘Gretchen’, so I don’t think there’s too much danger there. No, you two are gone.” Grace stated flatly.


Anthony watched Emily’s shoulders sink as Grace spoke. Every word of Grace’s explanation was another door shut on their ability to escape.


“Hey now, don’t look so glum.” Grace said. “You’re going to be alright.”


Grace picked up Emily from where she had collapsed on the table. Anthony was forced to watch as Grace’s hand wrapped around Emily’s torso and pulled her up to speak with her.


“Look, for what it’s worth, I’m kind of sorry this happened to you. The shrinking, and especially being associated with this asshole. I’m not going to lie to you, the next few weeks are going to be hard on you. But you’re very cute, and decently built, if you’re obedient, I can see you getting handed off to one of my friends who treats their shrunken toys very well.”


“‘Toys’?” Emily asked in disbelief.


“Yes, hell, as cute as you are, I might even find a permanent place for you here.” Grace offered. But I’ve got to be sure you’re going to be obedient, and useful.”


Grace set Emily back down, far more gently than she had when she’d dropped Anthony.


“And what happens if you don’t think I’m useful?” Emily asked.


“Well…” Grace said, her index finger trailing a long stain on the table. “I think you know that there are plenty of ways for me to get rid of a piece of trash that’s only six inches long.” Grace punctuated the statement by balling her fist and bringing it down on the table, sending shockwaves through the tabletop that rocked Emily off her feet.


"I’ll never be useful to you, you psycho bitch!” Anthony screamed out, shocked by the impact into action.


Grace’s countenance fell again, reminded of Anthony’s existence, and of his attitude. “Don’t worry, Tony. I’ll find ways for you to be useful to me. If you be good, it’ll just be uncomfortable, humiliating, and occasionally really, really, painful.” Her finger retreated again, but this time she reached out and picked Anthony up in her fist. Unlike Emily, who had been handled with a gentle regard, and who’s head and feet still emerged from Grace’s grasp, Anthony found himself enclosed in a prison of Grace’s hand. She brought him right up to her face, her fingers right next to her mouth as she spoke. The sound of her spite-drenched words was almost overwhelming, but it was a secondary concern for Anthony.


“But if you keep being a little shit…” Grace promised, her grip tightening around Anthony’s body. The light from between her fingers started to dim, and Anthony couldn’t even move as she constricted her fingers around him. He started to scream. As he drew in a breath to scream he could feel the heat from Grace’s breath as she continued. “Then you won’t have to worry about anything for very long.”


She continued to squeeze, the pressure on Anthony becoming painful. “I’ll just need to think of ways to clean what’s left of you out from under my nails.” She said, applying still more of her strength to the crushing grip. “Or from the sole of my foot.”


Anthony’s screams were having no effect, but it mattered little because he was so tightly compacted in Grace’s hand that he could no longer draw breath to scream. He could feel his bones straining as she slowed the application of pressure, but it grew more and more painful.


“Or maybe I won’t bother, since you’re so small…” The pressure disappeared. Grace’s hand opened, and Anthony was able to breathe again, laying on her palm, but his horror didn’t end. Now that her hand was open he was closer than he could recall to her bare teeth. Two rows of gleaming white enamel framed with brilliant red crimson lips. “Maybe I’ll just let the sewage line take care of what’s left of you.”


Anthony screamed as Grace’s teeth opened and moved toward him. He curled into a ball and clenched his eyes shut in her palm as the teeth lunged forward snapping shut with a deafening clack. When he opened his eyes he saw Grace’s teeth and lips again, consuming his whole view as they were impossibly close. Anthony was frozen in terror, he could feel his pulse in his skull, he could feel his chest heaving, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak, to scream, or even to move.


Grace’s lips pursed forward, catching Anthony as they did. Her kiss was long, and her lips pressed him into her palm. Considering he’d nearly been crushed in her grip just a moment ago, and the ride here had been between the thighs of someone three times his size, it wasn’t the most oppressive sensation he’d experienced, but it was still far more weight and pressure than was comfortable. He groaned at Grace's hand pulled him in to the kiss and when she finally released it with an audible pop, he felt sticky.


Grace laughed. "Well, it has been a long, hot day, can't expect the color to hold up after a ten hour shift in ninety degree heat." Grace lowered him down to the table on her palm, and unceremoniously dumped him off. Before her hand retreated, Anthony could see the lipstick smeared over her palm and fingers, looking down he saw the same bright crimson coating him.


“We’ll have to get you cleaned up before we really get started, you tasted like sweaty pussy anyway. So much for my favorite scent.” Grace said. “But first, I’ve got to get changed.”


Grace leaned in, letting her chest fall forward. Both Anthony and Emily scrambled to avoid getting caught under the massive mammories as the fell to the table top, just behind Grace’s folded arms, on which she rested her head.


“Now look, this is going to be your first real test. Fucking this up would be a really bad idea. This place is really small, and about an half hour outside of town. There is no internet here, and even if you did make it off the table, up the stairs, and some how out the door; the only thing that you would find is a hot summer night, and probably a cat or a coyote eager for an easy snack.”


“Hell, down here there’s not even any extra rooms, the shower is just right over there.” Grace indicated somewhere beyond the table’s white backdrop. “but before I go get clean, I want you to repeat after me.”


Grace pointed idly at Emily, without even unfolding her arms. “There is no escape.”


Emily froze in place. “There is no escape?”


“That didn’t sound convicing, little one. Try it again, and show me that you mean it by getting on your knees when you say it.” Grace commanded.


Emily looked to Anthony, but he couldn’t offer her any alternative. Slowly, almost like her body weren’t under her control, Emily turned from where she had been sitting on the table, to her hands and knees. She hung her head low and restated.


“T… th… there is no escape.” She said.


“Very good, because you did so well, you get a special treat. While I’m showering, and getting ready, you get to stay out here, on the table.” Grace said, her voice elated at Emily’s performance. “Now say ‘thank you, mistress.’ You will always need to thank me when I do something for you.”


“Thank you, mistress.” Emily said. The fear and despair welling up in her voice.


“Oh that is so wonderful. I have such high hopes for you!” Grace said, the cheer still in her voice. “Now, you.” All of the cheer drained in a matter of two sylables as she turned to Anthony. “You have a very good chance here to start off on the right foot with me. I’m willing to overlook your infidelity, your shitty attitude before, and I’m even willing to forget that you never once put the fucking toilet seat down. Get on your hands and knees, and say ‘there is no escape.’” Grace rested her head sideways on her folded arms, regarding Anthony with a casual disdain.


Anthony looked at Emily, now shuddering, but still on her hands and knees, her head hung low. He looked back at Grace, who’s face showed waning patience, he’d seen it before. Something snapped in Anthony, some kind of dam against his anger and fear and confusion. He leapt to his feet and pointed right at Grace.


“Fuck you, psycho bitch! You can go to hell.” He screamed.


He heard Emily gasp and turn to look at him wide eyed, but it was Grace’s exaspirted sigh that drew more attention, even her exhalation was impactful to Anthony’s dimished size as her sigh knocked him back on his ass.


“Well, I can’t say I didn’t expect it. You’re lucky I’m so goddamn generous, you idiot, or you’d already be a stain on the table.” Grace lifted herself from where she rested, now looming directly over Anthony and Emily. “Or maybe it’s the opposite of generosity.” She mused as her hand reached out for Anthony. “Maybe I’m just looking forward to seeing what kinds of tormets I can put you through.”


There was no dodging her hand, and Anthony again found himself wrapped in her fingers. This time he was only briefly held until he felt her hand turn him over and suddenly released. He screamed as he fell, and he fell further than he’d ever fallen, or at least it felt farther than he’d ever fallen.


Anthony expected an impact, he expected the ground to stop his fall abruptly and fatally. Instead as he fell, he hit something while still falling, something soft. It sent him tumbling, but he quickly found more and more of the soft material around him as he fell. His descent ended not in a bone shattering stop, but an gentle elastic cradle.


Immediately Anthony was assaulted by the smell. He cried out in disgust, and then wretched as he mistaken took a breath through his nose, the pit he found himself in didn’t really allow for him to stand, it was like a trampolene that had been worn out, and stank. The pit lifted and he realized he could see through the walls of this bizarre prison a bit.


He had only a moment of dawning realization before Grace’s hand siezed him through what he now recognized at fabric and started rolling him loosely inside the fabric.


“These socks aren’t really fresh.” Grace casually observed, as she rolled Anthony’s squirming body up in one of her socks. She worked from where Anthony fell to the toe, and ended up with a tidy, if not tightly wound, cylinder of sock, with a squirming, screaming Anthony at it’s core. “Good, you seem to be able to breathe in there. I wouldn’t want you to suffocate, at least not yet.”


Anthony could still see a bit, he was bound in what felt like a mile of sweat crusted, rank fabric, but he head was at least near the edge of the roll. He tried to fight he way out, but his arms and legs were immobilized by the roll.


“But I don’t want to take the chance you’ll get out.” Grace said, he could hear her moving around, and heard something slap down on the table, a moment later, all light was extinguished for Anthony, and the pungent stench intensified tenfold. “I once had a little man escape the sock roll…” he could still hear Grace although it was muffled. “But no one has ever gotten out of the sock roll stuffed into the slipper. I want you to think about how you want the rest of your life to go, Tony, and when I’m done with my shower, I expect you to have changed your attitude. Now you, little one” Anthony could tell Grace was talking to Emily. “You did well, but I have a new task for you; no one’s ever gotten out of there, and I don’t expect he’ll be able to, but I want you to ensure that Tony doesn’t leave his prison until I take him out of it, do you understand?”


Very faintly, muffled by the sock and the slipper prison around him, Anthony’s heart sank as he heard Emily’s immediate, eager response.


“Yes, mistress!”

3: Friday Evening in Grace's Care, and the First Task. by MrD
Author's Notes:

It's a Christmas Miracle! But not for Anthony, it's Summer in the story, and he's not expecting much in the way of snow, or presents, or mercy at this point...

Thank you so much for reading!



For the second time in the same day, Anthony was encased in darkness, heat, and pungent smells. This time it was the unwashed and coiled sock of his ex-girlfriend, which smelled far worse than having his face wedged into the crotch of his current girlfriend. Anthony had to begrudgingly admit, though, without a relatively giant Emily to tweak his neck like a chiropractor-in-training, the sock was the more comfortable environment to be trapped in. Even though some of the sock was a bit rough, and other parts were stiff with old sweat, on the whole it was a cushioned wool prison. But it was still a prison.


“Help me!” Anthony called out. He had gathered from what Grace had told Emily that the sock had been rolled up and crammed into a dirty slipper, which probably only added to the smell, but Emily was huge, again, relative to his own diminished size. Anthony hoped Emily could hear him, and could free him, to plan an escape.


“Emily, you’ve gotta get me out of here!” He tried again.


“Shut up!” He heard from outside. It was muffled, like it was coming through many, many, layers of fabric, and probably a slipper. “Your fucking stupidity is going to get us killed!” Emily shouted back through the slipper.


“Help me out of here and we can make a break for it! You got us down from the bed, you can get us down from the table!” He screamed back.


“Weren’t you fucking listening?” Emily countered. “There’s no way out of here! Do you want her to come across us on the floor? Look at all this shit! She’s murdered people on this table, Tony! And I don’t think she’d hesitate to step on us, if we tried to run!”


“We can make it out of the apartment. She’s just got a one-bedroom, and then we can find help!” He offered. It was taxing trying to scream out, but he had to keep trying.


There was a silence. Anthony hoped the silence was because Emily was considering his plan.


“It’s not an apartment.” Came her reply.


“What?” Anthony screamed out.


“It’s not an apartment. It’s hard to see with all the lights, but we’re not in an apartment. It looks like some kind of basement. The walls and floor look like bare concrete. There’s no windows. It’s a really small room with nothing in it, except some stairs leading up to a door.” Emily’s outline didn’t match anything Anthony was familiar with. Grace lived on the third floor of a cheap apartment complex in the city. As Anthony thought about it, he remembered the drive here, every moment crushed by Emily’s body. Time had ceased to mean much in that bag, but he did recall hearing Grace’s radio on occasion, and far more time passed on the ride than should’ve been needed to get to Grace’s apartment.


Anthony’s mind tried to avoid the obvious.


“Are you sure?” He pleaded “Are you really sure we’re not in an apartment?”


“Unless she got a landlord who’s really into brutalism, I’m pretty goddamned sure that we’re not in an apartment, Tony!”


Then Anthony remembered Grace’s words. ‘Half an hour outside of town’. Grace had taken them somewhere else. ‘The only thing that you would find is a hot summer night’. Somewhere likely secluded. ‘A coyote eager for a snack’. Somewhere remote.


“B… but we’ve got to try to get out of here!” He tried. “You don’t know what she’s going to do to me!”


“Shut up, Tony! Just shut up!” Emily screamed back. “If you hadn’t cheated on her, neither of us would be in this goddamn mess!”


“It’s not my fault!” He lied.


There was a weird sensation, something was moving his woolen cage. He could feel it shifting. Very little, but it was definitely happening. Then he could hear, almost very clearly Emily’s grunts of exertion.


“Yes! Yes! That’s it! Come on, Emily, you can do it! I knew you’d change your mind!” He shouted out.


“Tony, I said ‘shut the fuck up’!” Emily screamed back. He could hear her more clearly now, she was nearby, probably right outside the sock-roll.


“Thank you so much, Emily!” He continued.


“I’m not helping you escape you idiot!” She screamed.




“I’m pushing you further into this goddamned rancid slipper!” She said. Sure enough the feeling of the sock moving was joined by it feeling slightly tighter, slightly more restrictive. Emily couldn’t exert as much force on the thing as Grace had, but she was far more massive than Tony, and could at least manage to budge it a little, wedging it tighter into the slipper.


“No! Emily, listen to me! Don’t do this!” He begged.


Emily stopped responding. That didn't stop Anthony from continuing to try for many minutes more. There were a few more slight movements Anthony could feel from inside the sock, but after a few more light jolts, the world inside went quiet and still. And smelly.


Anthony was unsure of how much time had passed, but he could hear Grace's return to the table.


"I have to say, I'm very happy to see you still here. That's going to be another positive mark for you, little one." Grace said. 


Very faintly, Anthony heard Emily's response. "Thank you, mistress."


Anthony cursed them both, but doubted any of it could be heard outside his footwear restraints.


"Let's see if Tony's time out in my sock has improved his attitude at all." Grace said.


Again the world rocked and rolled like an earthquake in a storm at sea, but the worser part was the unrolling of the sock. While she had manually rolled him in the sock, to unroll if, Grace simply held the top and let gravity do the work. At the bottom of his fall, Anthony couldn't identify up from down, and still felt like the world was spinning when Grace's hand descended down through the opaque tunnel above him.


His head was still spinning as Grace scooped him out of the toe of the sock and lifted him out back into something approximating reality.


“Welcome back, Tony. I hope you had a good…” Grace paused, her nose twitching beneath her glasses. “Oh, God! Tony, you absolutely reek!” She exclaimed. Like all people, her curiosity got the better of her judgement and she brought Anthony, still reeling from the sock’s unfurling, up to her nose for a more thorough sniff before thrusting him away from her and turning her head, having confirmed that Anthony did, in fact, reek.


“Maybe I should wash those. Good God. Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any to fix that issue, and it’ll give us a chance to talk about a few other important issues.” Grace said.


Grace set Anthony back down on the table, and Anthony had a moment to collect his senses. In the brilliant white light he could clearly see the table, spinning slower and slower under him, but he was also starting to get a sense of the world around him. Grace was an imposing presence. The back three quarters of the table had high, white walls, backdrops for whatever went on while the cameras suspended above were rolling, but the only open area was obstructed by Grace, still dripping with water from her shower, her only clothing a towel wrapped around her torso.


The sock and slipper were nowhere to be seen, however, there were a couple of hand towels, a couple of bowls that Anthony couldn’t see the contents of, a toothbrush, and a permanent marker.


“So, before we talk about how the next few days are going to go.” Grace said, sitting down on a chair in front of the table. While she spoke she reached up toward one of the cameras pointed down at the table. Reaching strained the towel’s ability to stay put, but Grace’s towel-knot tying was skillful enough to keep her chest contained. She turned the screen toward herself. “I want to check something.”


Anthony had fully recovered as he heard the audio from the video. It had been recording since they arrived. He heard a summary of everything. Grace’s commands, his screaming outburst, Emily’s obedience, and then, although very, very quietly, he could hear his own pleading with Emily to let him out of the sock.


Grace’s laugh was unexpected, especially for how humorous she found the situation, as she spooled through the video, she watched and re-watched the few moments that Emily informed Anthony that she wouldn’t be helping him, in fact, that she was hindering his escape.


“Oh my God, little one, I can’t believe you actually managed to kick him deeper into the slipper! That is so amazing. You get another point!” Grace exclaimed.


“Thank you, mistress.” Emily said, sounding genuinely enthused at the idea of another mystery point.


“‘Thank you, mistress’.” Anthony said, mockingly, earning an angry look from the woman who had given into captivity.


Grace apparently hadn’t heard Anthony’s snide remark, but turned to the pair. “Okay, so, that was fun. Let’s cover some basic things. Every day, you’ll have the chance to earn points. While some of the tasks I give you will be competitive, at the end of week, let’s say next Friday night? At the end of the week it won’t matter what the other one of you has, so long as you have enough points to keep you in my good favor.”


She picked up the maked and uncapped it. With a quick two scratches on the table top, behind Emily, she started the first two of five tally marks, placing the circle and cross symbol for a woman just above it.


“Emily already has two points. One for staying on the table, and one for that absolutely savage effort to keep Tony under wraps.”


Grace moved over and drew the circle and arrow for a man, with nothing else beneath it.


“Tony, as our class fuck-up, has no points. He didn’t follow instructions on the table, and he actively tried to escape while I showered.”


Grace re-capped the marker and set it aside, somewhere off the table.


“Now, earning points has both a long term reward; if you have enough at the end of the week, you’ll be in a much better place. If your points aren’t above a certain threshold, let’s say…” Grace thought about it. “A hundred points? Yeah that sounds good. If you fail to achieve at least one hundred points by this time next Friday evening, I’ll have to say ‘goodbye’ to you, and well…” Anthony couldn’t help but follow Grace’s gaze to one of the stains on the tabletop. “Do you both understand?”


“Yes, mistress!” Emily shouted. Anthony was a bit taken aback by how quickly and eagerly she responded.


"And you, Tony? Did that penetrate your obstinate skull? Or do you need more time in the sock?" Grace asked, dangling the garment in the air.


Anthony nodded furiously in agreement. "I get it!"


"Good. Now, let's get you two washed up. Points have a long term benefit." Grace brought the bowls over to the center of the table, along with the hand towels and toothbrush. "And short term rewards as well. Because Emily was so good. She gets to wash herself…"


Grace handed one of the towels to Emily who took it and walked over to the nearest bowl. Emily began cupping soapy water from the bowl and scrubbing herself down with the hand towel.


"But because Anthony decided to be a little shit. He gets the car wash treatment." Grace said.


Anthony's mind went to a giant Grace and a slightly less giant Emily, both clad in skimpy bikinis, washing Anthony all over. In his flash of imagination, he lay out in Grace's palm, Emily used her soapy chest to scrub him down, while Grace's pinky got involved, impeccable french manicure and all. All three of them laughed and enjoyed the fantasy.


His illusion was quickly dispelled when Grace’s hand closed around him. He was subjected to a brief rocket ride up in a closed hand. When it opened he had no time to prepare before the bristles of the toothbrush, loaded with soapy water, began their assault. Grace showed no regard for Anthony as she scrubbed away. Anthony fought and writhed in Grace’s hand as she brushed away grime and sweat.


The toothbrush came away, giving Anthony a brief reprieve. In her soapy, wet palm, Anthony scrambled for purchase, at first to flee, but then just to stand. The soap and water prevented him from making much progress, and it seemed Grace was actively rolling and tilting her palm to keep him in place.


Anthony screamed and tried to shield himself from the returning, freshly rinsed and soaped toothbrush, with his arm, much like an extra in a monster film, but the brush didn’t come down immediately. Anthony dropped his arms, only to find Grace smiling down at him.


“That is some stubborn dirt, Tony, what were you doing? Rolling around in someone’s shoe?” Grace chuckled at her own humor. “But I know what can really help to dislodge tough dirt.”


Grace didn’t give Anthony time to wonder. She had already re-applied her lipstick and before he could raise his arms to shield himself again, pursed those lips to deliver a glob of spit, large enough to cover Anthony, skull to soles, and forceful enough to slap him back into Grace’s palm. There was no time to process being covered in saliva, as the toothbrush came back down, and Anthony’s world became bristles and discomfort for almost a full minute.


“Well, that looks clean enough.” Grace stated. “Now let’s get you two rinsed off. Emily, stand here.” Grace set Anthony back down, and while he was too exhausted to get up, from where he’d been set down, he could see Emily step into one of the bowls while Grace gently poured water from the other over her. For a flash, Anthony forgot his life was in danger, he forgot the torments he’d endured, he even forgot the nightmare of being a barely being knee high to the second smallest person in the room. Instead he was wet, slippery, and naked, watching a gorgeous woman clothed only in a towel, pour water over another gorgeous woman, who was completely naked.


The fantasy faded as a shadow fell over Anthony and Grace’s meticulously manicured scooped him back up.


“I used the last of the warm water rinsing her off, Tony, but don’t worry, I’ve got some ice water I was going to drink.” Anthony barely comprehended what was happening, although her heard the tumbling clatter of ice and water into a bowl. What followed was a plunge into freezing water, still in the loose clutches of Grace’s hand. Anthony was swished, swirled, and rolled in the water, pulled up out of the depths coughing, sputtering and shivering, only to be plunged back in for another bout of being thrashed about in freezing water.


The ordeal was freezing and relatively brief, nowhere near as long as the confines of the toiletry bag, or even his sock solitary confinement while Grace showered, but it felt like forever. Before Grace dropped him back to the table she held him loosely in her fingers and gave a him a quick shake to remove some of the excess water. To Grace it was a gentle motion, but to Anthony it was a ride through a tumbler. She checked on him before dropping him back to the table.


Anthony was still coughing up cold water when Grace resumed her explanation of the evening's events. A short distance away, Emily was still drying herself off with a comfortable looking towel.


"Like I said, points are awarded for successfully completing tasks." Grace pushed away from the table a bit before kicking up her heels on the table. Her bare feet crossed over one another, and the impact of her feet hitting the table rattled the whole surface.


"You won't generally lose points for failure, but remember, you'll need a hundred to avoid the worser fate.” Grace stated, flexing her soles and curling her toes. “Now, your first couple of tasks are going to be a bit different, but I want to establish a couple of ground rules. Number one, you do as your told. Obedience will be rewarded, disobedience will be punished. Number two, no killing or maiming another contestant. Number three, no escape attempts. One of the sure ways to lose points is an escape attempt. That’ll set you down to zero points real quick.” Grace leaned forward and idly brushed some dirt and debris from the soles of her feet.


“Your first task is a bit complicated, but since you two have fucked before, I don’t think it’ll be too far outside the realm of reasonable.” Grace stated, producing a phone from somewhere beneath the table. She tapped a few times on the phone before turning it to Emily an Anthony who looked between each other with confused glances. The screen in front of them showed a countdow timer, set and ready to thrity minutes.


“At the end of this timer, you will get points equal to the number of times the other contestant has cum more than you. So if you both cum once, no points will be awarded. If Emily cums twice, and Anthony cums once, Anthony gets one point.” Grace leaned forward, still comfortably reclined, but set the phone on display on the table, briefly checking that one of the cameras could see the screen. “There’s no limit to the points you can earn, however, there is one very big caveat. If neither of you cums, even once, I will assume you’re both being disobedient, and you will both lose five points.”


Grace tapped the screen, and the timer started rolling down, fractions of seconds disappearing into dwindling seconds, with only twenty nine minutes and some fifty nine seconds remaining. “Remember the rules.” Grace stated, leaning back.


Anthony wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. He was still shivering and dripping with cold water, but he stood up.


“What kind of fucked up game are you playing?” He asked toward Grace. Grace didn’t react, she just watched, her bare legs and feet still propped up on the table, her arms resting on her chair. “You’ve gotta be nuts if you think we’re going to do what you say!” He shouted at her. Grace chuckled. Anthony’s ire raised, he hated being laughed at, and it was humiliating enough to be laughed at, but from a position of impotence it was even more painful.


“Can you believe her?” Anthony asked, turning to Emily.


The tackle that hit him caught him off guard. Anthony had always considered himself an athletic man, but there was no making up for a difference of a hundred and twelve millimeters in height when Anthony was only forty nine millimeter’s tall. Emily’s tackling lunge was made even more effective by the addition of the hand towel she had been using to dry off.


Anthony fought for all he was worth, but Emily was able to very quickly wrap the towel around his fallen form, and even more quickly use her greater mass to pin him to the ground beneath her. Still, the towel only tangled him from the chest up, so his legs were free to kick.


“Let me go!” He screamed at Emily. “You’re playing right into her plans!”



“No shit, sherlock.” Emily responded. Grace had stopped chuckling and was laughing outright.


“Holy crap, you really took him out in one shot. This should be a shut out.” Grace said.


“Get off of me, Emily! This is fucked up.” Anthony shouted, not content to resign himself to whatever Emily planned.


Emily repositioned herself, maneuvering herself over Anthony. She straddled his chest on her knees and sat up, letting her weight settle a bit on Anthony, but careful not to crush him. She reached behind her and pulled the towel away from Anthony’s face, letting him watch her as she worked.


“Well, we both know you can’t resist me, Tony. If I were you, I’d just lay back and let this happen. We’ve got half an hour to see if you can break your record of two shots in half an hour.” Emily flung the towel away from where it had obstructed her access to Anthony’s crotch and wasted no time in getting to work on his dick.


“No! You can’t make me!” Anthony screamed defiantly.


“We both know that’s not true. Remember the movie theater?” Emily asked, her fingers and thumb from her right hand warming Anythony’s junk from the freezing cold. “And besides, it’s not like you’ve got a bad view.” Emily rolled her hips up just a bit and pulled at her thigh with her right hand, showcasing her own sex.


“No! No! No!” Anthony prostested, but as he felt Emily’s long fingers lift his flacid penis, he could also feel the blood returning to it. He tried to push Emily off of him, but it was impossible. He tried to slide out from under her, but again, she kept enough of her weight on him to prevent any meaningful movement.


Anthony groaned as he felt his junk responding to Emily’s aggressive massage. It didn’t take her long, only two minutes, from the time Grace had set up, to revitalize his dick to full attention.


“Small than I remember.” Emily mocked, looking back at Anthony under her.


“Hey! It’s cold!” He protested, missing most of the point.


“Yeah, that’s the problem.” Emily rolled her eyes and returned to her task. Her fingers and thumb stroked aggressively, quickly, more roughly than was strictly comfortable for Anthony, but it was effective. Anthony couldn’t help but harden in her grip, or in her pinch. It dawned on Anthony that he wasn’t big enough to do many of the things he used to, and his cock filling Emily’s hand was one of those things.


Emily worked quickly. She had practice on Anthony, and with him unable to offer any resistance, or any resistance that mattered, it was a matter of only a few minutes before Anthony was close to his limit.


“Please, Emily, don’t do this. It’s not fair!” He pleaded. “I’m going to cum! Please don’t make me!”


Emily didn’t respond, at least not verbally, she encircled him with her index finger and thumb and applied more pressure, more speed. Her hand now slapping against Anthony’s crotch.


“Just give up and let it happen.” Emily prompted. “Maybe this will help you understand your position, and start following her orders.”


Anthony couldn’t fight it, his back and buttocks tensed as he felt the merciless stroking of Emily’s hand give way into the merciful release of his orgasm. His cock was hot and wet with his own cum as Emily kept stroking, determined to keep him stiff.


Emily switched hands, but kept working turning to Grace. “That’s one, mistress!” She shouted, displaying her hand covered in Anthony’s humiliating defeat.


“Very good, I’ll mark one against Anthony. Twenty four minutes and thirty seven seconds remaining.” Grace said.


Emily wasted no time in setting up Anthony’s second loss. She again began shifting. Anthony watched her legs pass overhead, then her crotch. Anthony’s hopes sky rocketed, Emily almost always followed a handjob with a blowjob, and while he was in danger of shooting another load, he could at least reciprocate. He’d brought Emily to orgasm multiple times with his tongue, and seeing her pussy above him reminded him that it was a competition, and he had a chance. That chance vanished almost immediately as her body kept moving and her crotch dissappeard from view, followed by her stomach, and then her chest which hung over him for a half second before descending down to keep him pinned. The difference in their height was just too much.


He only had a moment to dispair, never before had he been so eager to give cunnilingus, before Emily’s mouth enclosed around his penis, and just as with her hands, she gave no consideration to comfort or pleasure, just mechanical extraction. Her lips pulled at him from the base of his shaft all the way up to the tip, her tongue ran along his length roughly keeping it alert, she rolled her head and made sure that when she pulled back, even her soft pallet got in on the act.


“Please, Emily. I can’t take it! This isn’t right!” He protested from under her chest.


Anthony groaned as Emily pulled completely off him, her lips squeezing him hard all the way up his, now, meager length. “Get over yourself, Tony. You heard the rules. There’s only three real outcomes her.” While she spoke she kept Anthony at attention with her hand. “The first isn’t acceptable. I’m not losing all my points and you can’t afford to start off in the negative. The second doesn’t help either of us with no points. And the third is one of us uses this oppotunity to get ahead.” Emily chuckled. “Get it? Ahead? Because I’m giving you head?” Emily glanced back to see the pained and desperate look on Anthony’s face, without a hint of the humor. “Fuck it, Tony. You’re not getting an option here. You want to be useful here? Think logically about this. Give me all the points you can, and maybe later on, I’ll help you out when you can’t climb over a pencil or some shit.”


“Noooo.” Anthony couldn’t muster the energy to shout, instead his objection fading into a pitiful whine as his head fell back. Emily didn’t take notice and resumed her oral ministrations. A few seconds later Anthony felt the familiar tension and release.


Emily climbed up off of Anthony, painful in its own as she shifted her weight and occasionally let more than was really needed press down into one of Anthony’s joints. When she reached her feet she placed one foot on Anthony’s head in triumph and called out to Grace.


“That’s two, mistress!” It was garbled, because Emily still had some of Anthony’s shame in her mouth, but she quickly showcased the pearlescent fluid on her tongue for Grace and the cameras to see before closing her mouth and gulping audibly.


Grace laughed uproriously. “Oh my God, that is amazing! You have a gift for presentation, little one. I cannot wait to see how the next twenty minutes go.”


Anthony groaned under Emily’s foot. Twenty minutes left. Emily wasn't done by a wide stretch however, and Anthony knew what was coming next, although their size disparity worried him.


"Emily, please you cannot do this! You'll crush me." He pleaded.


"Oh, so you do remember what I like to do after the blowjob?" Emily joked. Her foot lifted from Anthony's face, only after a quick, and humiliating press with her toes into his lips. The relief was short lived as the foot came back down, this time on his abused penis.


Anthony moaned at the sudden, crushing pressure and tried to wrest her foot away by the ankle. Emily casually kicked his grip off and pressed her foot right back down.


The ball of her foot began stroking up and down, requiring barely more than a flick of her ankle. When she realized how easy this was for her, Emily incorporated a twisting motion as she moved, like she was snuffing out a cigarette.


"Come on, Tony, give it up." Emily ordered.


"Emily, please, I'll do whatever you say. Just stop." Anthony begged.


Emily responded with more pressure, dragging her foot, the entire length of her foot, the ball, the arch, the heel, and back up the length to the toes. Over and over again.


"All I want from you, Tony, is to cum for my feet." Emily said. "And I think you're going to do that for me anyway."


"Besides, I've always kinda suspected you've got a bit of a masochistic side, Tony. Let's really…" Emily positioned the arch of her foot over all of Anthony's junk and shifted more of her comparatively heavy weight to that foot. Anthony cried out. "Lean into it."


"Stop! Stop! Please stop!" Anthony cried out.


"Beg me to use my toes, Tony." Emily commanded.


"Please, Emily, use your toes! Please!" He conceded.


“Good job, Tony!” Emily laughed and let up, bringing her toes down to Anthony's abused member, threading the organ through her toes and immediately began stroking again, faster, harder, and far rougher than with her hands. She didn’t keep to just her toes, resuming the process of sliding her entire foot over Anthony’s penis, occasionally stopping to let her toes grip whatever they were dragged over, his shaft, his head, or his scrotum.


Anthony grimaced as he felt himself cum under under Emily’s sole, his spunk, even being his third in only a few minutes, unloading into Emily’s sole.


“Three, mistress!” Emily lifted her foot, grabbing her ankle, showing the evidence to Grace. 


Grace pulled her feet from the table and leaned in, her interest clearly growing. “Very impressive, but you might have some trouble extracting any more from him.” Grace noted. “He looks like he’s losing steam quick, and I think a blue pill might actually kill him.”


Emily dropped the sticky, dripping foot back down to Anthony’s head and rolled it a bit under Emily’s foot as she thought. “I have an idea, mistress, but may I ask something?”


“Oh how very respectful. Yes, you may ask.” Grace responded.


“I know you just let us wash up, but may I be permitted to wash up after this as well?” Emily asked.


Grace thought for a moment. “You know what? I’m intrigued. If you can get five points in this task, then yes, I’ll let you wash up again after.” Grace offered.


“Thank you, mistress!” Emily shouted and got to work. It was no difficult task to haul Anthony up from where he laid, and almost as easy to toss him over her thighs as she knelt down on the table.


Laying across Emily's lap, Anthony fought for some semblance of agency, trying to wiggle free from her. “Emily, what are you doing?” Anthony screamed.


“Now, I’m not your mistress.” Emily started. “She is.” Emily pointed to Grace. “But I am much bigger than you, and you’re going to need to learn to respect the size difference.” Emily clutched Anthony’s neck in one hand, easily holding him in place. “Put your hands on your cheeks and spread ‘em. And then keep them spread.” Emily ordered.


“What? Are you crazy?” Anthony asked in disbelief.


The slap accross his ass came so swift and so hard that Anthony shrieked out loud in shock and pain. Emily’s hand stayed clapped to his ass, across both cheeks adding to the sting as the warmth and pain radiated out from Anthony’s cheeks.


“I said ‘spread your cheeks’. Like you’re superhero flying. Do it.” Emily reiterated.


Anthony didn’t object, but he did hesistate. Emily’s hand rose and fell twice more in sharp, agonizing slaps. “I only have to hold back enough to not cripple you, Tony. Do you really want to see how far I can push that in spankings?”


Tears were beginning to form in Anthony’s eyes. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d received a spanking, and never with such ferocity.


“No, please! Stop!” He pleaeded.


“Holy shit.” Grace muttered. She had shifted forward and was resting her head on her arms on the table, watching intently. “This is fucking amazing. Emily, you get a point for creativity.”


“What?” Anthony cried out in desperation to Grace. “You didn’t… That wasn’t… But…”


The slap came back down hard. “Spread.” And again. “Your.” And again. “Cheeks.” Each time Anthony squealed. When the third slap has connected, Emily took a brief pause to knead Anthony’s assflesh. “Spread your cheeks, Tony, I don’t want to tell you again.”


Anthony’s mind was too panicked to resist, he clutched at his own stinging ass cheeks and pulled them wide for Emily.


“Very good, and I really think this is an activity we need to revisit later. But let's move on to the task at hand.” Emily said. Anthony watched as Emily’s index finger slipped inside her mouth. In and out it went, coating the thing in saliva. “Do you remember when I brought up pegging a couple of months ago, Tony?” Emily asked.


Dawing realization spread across Anthony’s face but before he could protest Grace spoke up.


“Oh my God, that is hot. Here let me help you.” Grace leaned forward on the table, hovering over the pair of shrunken people, and took careful aim before sitcking her tongue from her mouth and letting a strand of saliva fall. The spit struck Anthony’s back initially bathing him a hot, pungent stickiness, but Grace corrected for her aim, and let the spit trail over him and over his exposed ass. The spit seemed to be everywhere, flowing down Anthony, over Emily’s thighs, making it difficult for Anthony to hold on to his own cheeks, but he didn’t dare let go.


“Thank you, mistress!” Emily called out. “Now, Tony, we need to get at least two more out of you, try really hard for me, okay?”


“You are very welcome, and you know what? For this kind of inventiveness, you can wash up regardless of how much you manage to squeeze out of him.” Grace stated.


“Thank you so much, mistress. I will try to get five more out of him!” Emily stated.


“No. No. No. No. This is not happening.” Anthony protested.



“Eighteen minutes left, that’s a little more than three minutes between, let’s see what you can do.” Grace reminded Emily.


“Well, Anthony, let’s get to work.” Emily said. Anthony gave a momentary thought to trying to flee, but before he could work out anything more, Emily’s finger, coated in her own spit and that of Grace, pushed between his still compliantly spread ass, and into his rectum.


Anthony didn’t scream. He didn’t feel he had the breath for it. All of his muscles felt locked it place, like he couldn’t move even though he desperately wanted to.


“I’m not a hundred percent sure of what I’m looking for, Tony…” Emily mused, all the while her finger, too large by Anthony’s estimate, probed around inside of him. “Help me out here.” She demanded. “Let me know when I find…”


Anthony didn’t hear if she finished the sentence, the tip of her finger curled and brushed by something inside of him, sending a body-wracking shudder through his entire being and a low groan of unrestrained pleasure out of his mouth.


“Nevermind, found it.” Emily said, happily. “Okay, Anthony, work with me, and lets get this done.” She proceeded to massage Anthony’s prostate, from the inside, aggressively, for the next eighteen minutes, all the while with one hand clamped around his neck, and Grace watching intently from above.


Emily called out every time she felt him orgasm, wether through a hot deposit on her thighs, or just Anthony’s body clenching and releasing each time. She had just called out “three!" when the timer, mercifully to Anthony buzzed out at zero.


Both of them still coated in Grace’s saliva, Emily pushed Anthony off her lap where he crumpled to the table top completely still except for the rising and falling of his chest. It was clear he hadn’t passed out, but he was almost completely drained. Emily stood and using her foot rolled him on his back, again standing one foot on his face in a victorious pose.


“That’s six total, mistress.” Emily stated.


“Yes! Yes! Very fucking good. Six to zero, and a bonus point for your creativity.” Grace marked off tally marks under Emily’s column on the table, filling in one five-diagram and almost another. “So the standing is; Emily has nine total points, and Tony has… Oh you know what? I’m feeling generous. Should I give Anthony a point for popping off six times in a half hour?” Grace asked Emily, who still had her foot on Anthony’s head.


“I think he deserves something, mistress, even if he hasn’t been obedient, he’s been fun.” Emily noted, twisting her foot over Anthony's skull for effect.


Grace laughed. “You are absolutely right, okay, one pity-point for Tony. Did you hear that, Tony, you got your first point!” Grace clapped in celebration for Tony.


Emily, not one to miss an opportunity to endear herself to Grace, reached down and sat Tony up, grabbing a wrist in each of her hand, she mimed a celebratory applause from Tony, who still couldn’t muster the energy to keep his head upright.


“Come here, you.” Grace said. Reaching down and plucking Emily up from where she crouched next to Anthony. Emily obliged, spreading her arms, and letting Grace gently wrap her fingers around Emily’s waist.


“You know, I took you out of the center just because you would’ve been a witness to Tony’s disappearance, but I’m starting to think that the real prize in this little adventure is you, and not getting revenge on his cheating ass.” Grace stated, bringing Emily up to her face.


Grace unclutched her fingers and let Emily recline in her hand.


“Thank you, mistress.” Emily stated.


Anthony watched from the table as Grace brought Emily up to her lips.


“It is very fun to play with someone as small as him, but I can see the advantages in having some fun with someone a bit more substantial.” Grace said, her voice growing soft as she began placing equally soft kisses on Emily’s torso, legs, chest, and over her face. Emily giggled and returned the act by showering Grace’s nose with kisses.


Grace tipped Emily back, her tongue moving out between the smaller Woman’s legs. Emily found a grip on Grace’s glasses, while Grace's tongue found it's way deeper between Emily's thighs. Grace lapped up the remnants of  Anthony's humiliation and her own saliva. Quick probes of the tip of Grace's tongue into Emily's crotch became long drags from the flat of Grace's tongue starting between Emily's legs and sliding up Emily's abdomen, breasts and even her face.


Emily was left clutching Grace's glasses and panting. Grace chuckled while she let her tongue darted out, catching parts of her toy with her tongue and lips.


"Well, as fun as this is, we should move on to the next task." Grace said to the woman clinging to her eyewear.


"Yes mistress…" Emily managed through her panting. "Thank you, mistress."


"So godamn cute." Grace noted while she plucked Emily off her face, replacing her to the table.


Emily found her footing easily next to Anthony, and Grace loomed over them.


"Okay, time for your next task…" Grace announced. "Are you ready?"


"Yes, mistress!" Emily jumped with enthusiasm.


"And you, Tony? Are you ready to serve me?" Grace asked.


Anthony's butt still hurt, both from the sustained paddling and the repeated, brutal intrusion by Emily's finger. He wasn't sure if he was cold from the rinsing, warm from Emily's lap, or hot from soaking in spit. He was drained. Even on his 'best' day, he'd managed to masturbate six times to completion, and here he'd been given only half an hour, while low on sleep, and not even a carb heavy snack in between. He was exhausted. He'd slept only briefly before Grace had snatched him from a warm bed, and before that he was already tired. Then there was the chaos of what had been his social life. His ex-girlfriend had re-entered his life as a titaness, authoritarian and unchallengeable even before she had abducted him, and his current girlfriend had, literally, trodden over him for her own benefit.


"Well, Tony? What will it be?" Grace reiterated.


Anthony wasn't sure when he'd moved to his hands and knees, but he was there.


"Yes, mistress."

4: Friday Night in the Dungeon, and the Second Task by MrD
Author's Notes:

Grace starts really challenging our two shrunken people.

As always thank you very much for reading, please enjoy...



Grace regarded Anthony from on high, an impossible goddess rising up over the table. Anthony could feel her gaze, a weighty thing, keeping Anthony on his knees, pressing his head down, as real to Anthony as if Grace had placed a finger on the back of his head and simply applied the overwhelming force of her size. Anthony’s forehead was on the table.


"I have to say, Tony, I don't believe you. But I'm going to give you an opportunity to prove yourself to me." Grace stated.


Anthony shuddered at her suddenly somber tone.


“Get on, the next task takes place off the table.” Grace said, extending a palm. Emily moved faster and sat down on Grace’s extended palm, leaving Anthony no choice but to crawl over her. Even passed her, when Grace’s hand began to lift them, he clung to Emily for stability.


The trip to the floor was harrowing, and ended with Grace tipping her hand. Emily was able to dismount the hand with relative dexterity, but Anthony found himself tumbling to the bare concrete. He found himself face first at Emily’s feet, dealing with two giant women giggling at his fall while he climbed back to his feet.


On the floor, removed from the brilliant white light that illuminated the table, Anthony could finally get a look at the surroundings. He and Emily were positioned between Grace’s silppered feet. The same pair of slippers that had acted as his prison not too long ago, but now he could see them for the thick, memory foam, fuzzy, pink, train-car sized things they were. Grace’s feet, which had been propped up on the table were nestled snugly inside, her bare heels sticking out the backs.


The rest of the room was much as Emily had described it, bare concrete, a couple of exposed pipes, a spartan staircase leading out, and a completely exposed suite of bathroom fixtures; toilet, tub, shower, and sink, opposite the stairs. Other than that, a very basic bed and a large lighted shelving unit, with a series of what looked like aquariums on it. The room, and it was a single room was illuminated by similar white led bulbs, but they were less harsh, possibly owing to the fact that they were mounted from the ceiling.


Anthony’s fears were confirmed with everything he saw. Grace’s apartment was a small one-bedroom affair, on the third floor of her apartment building. There was no way this was her inner-city apartment.


“Now, this next task is worth five points. Both of you can earn the points, there’s no competition here, all you have to do is obey.” Grace instructed.


Grace slowly slid her feet from the slippers. Anthony couldn’t help by stare in fascination as the foot, many times him in size, slipped from its fuzzy confines, like massive flesh colored trains pulling from a pink, furry tunnel. Grace’s feet, once free, moved over Emily and Anthony. Anthony’s mind returned to the fantastic, and Grace’s soles, slowly blocking out the light from above seemed like alien space craft, moving into position over Anthony. Grace flexed her feet as they moved into position. Anthony caught glimpses of her french pedicure and the wrinkling and smoothing of the skin all along her sole, and the sheen of moisture that had to be a combination of dampness left over from her shower, and what was no doubt sweat accumulating from being contained in fuzzy slippers during a hot summer night. The display culminated in a wiggling of her toes as the pair of feet came to hover over Emily and Anthony. Anthony, awestruck, fell backward, back to the floor.


“This next task is very simple.” Grace said. “It should be easy points for both of you.” She moved her feet back over her slippers, much faster this time. When the shadow of her foot disappeared from over him, Anthony realized he had been holding his breath staring up at her sole and resumed his breathing with a start.


“When I say ‘now’, I want you to stand directly under my foot and stay there; Emily, my left, Anthony, my right.” Grace instructed. “And because I’m feeling nice, I’ll give you a chance to ask any clarifying questions about this task. Emily, do you understand your instructions?” Grace asked.


“Yes, mistress! When you say ‘now’ I will…” Emily almost sprinted over to where Grace’s foot hung in the air, deftly climbing on the heel of the slipper, directly under Grace’s left foot. Emily held her hands out in display. “Come stand right here, under your foot, mistress!” She stated eagerly.


“Very good, Emily.” Grace said before turning to Anthony. “And you, Tony? Do you understand what you need to do?”


Anthony was still staring at Grace’s right foot, the one that had been hovering over him, and failed to answer immediately. He could still feel the dread of looking up at that massive sole right above him. He was only brought out of his distraction when a kick, hard enough to knock him over, connected to his shoulder.


“Tony, pay attention when she’s talking to you!” Emily chastised. Anthony hadn’t even noticed her returning from standing beneath Grace’s foot. The kick she had delivered wasn’t hard enough to really hurt, more of a push with the ball of her foot than a true kick, but Emily was still more than three times Anthony’s size, and it still hurt enough to shock him back to awareness.


“Tony, I want you to remember that at the end of this, if you don’t have the hundred points necessary, it will end very poorly for you.” Grace said, her right foot moving back toward Anthony from where it had hovered over her slipper. The foot moved with a ponderous sloth, but still was over Anthony in a matter of moments. Anthony froze, terror holding him in place while Grace lowered her toes over him, closer and closer. “But I also want you know that if you’re obedient, the next week will be easier and more enjoyable. If I think that you’re not trying, however…” Grace’s foot became a comet, impossibly fast as it crashed into the floor. Anthony couldn’t even bring himself to scream. The ball and toes of the foot slammed into the concrete immediately in front of Anthony, creating a kind of mini thunder clap just in front of where Anthony lay. “I will make this week a seemingly endless cycle of agony for you. So Tony, do you understand what you need to do?” Grace asked again.


Anthony stared up at Grace, who looked down at him from her chair. He couldn’t read the expression on her face, and it worried him.


“Yes, I understand.” He said, less sure than ever.


“Very good.” Grace said. Her foot lifted, as it did Anthony saw the slight outline left where the ball of her foot and toes had been in the concrete, the dampness of her foot leaving its mark where he could’ve been obliterated without a second thought from his former girlfriend. Grace’s foot moved back into place over her slipper and Emily pulled Anthony up to his feet.


“Like I said, when I give the word…” Grace paused, a smile creeping across her lips. She looked from Emily to Anthony, letting the delay hang over them like her feet had. “Now!”


Emily dashed to where she had demonstrated her understanding earlier. She stood with her head tilted back, arms open wide, as she had before.


Anthony hesitated. Being under that foot was more terror than he’d experienced in all his life. Even being in Grace’s crushing grasp hadn’t had the same visceral effect on Anthony as that expanse of toes and ball and arch and heel hanging over him. He stared at the foot, his breathing becoming more and more shallow with each breath. His pulse was pounding in his head.


“I knew it.” Anthony heard Grace say, but it was distant, almost like it had been whispered. Anthony couldn’t tell if she had actually whispered, or if he was just fixating too hard on her foot.


“Tony!” Grace shouted, bringing Anthony back out of his trance. “I am very disappointed in you, Tony. Emily gets five points…” Emily cheered. Her elation was cut short as Grace’s foot, only millimeters away from her, descended into her. Grace’s toes gently collided with Emily’s head and upper body, pushing her down and back, into the waiting slipper. Emily flailed briefly, but quickly composed herself, wrapping her arms around Grace’s toes to the best of her ability. Anthony watched Emily’s upper body disappear into the slipper, under the implacable force of Grace’s foot. The giant foot pushed deeper in, until it was secure in the slipper, with the only thing of Emily still visible being the bottom of her left leg, poking out from under Grace’s foot, between the arch and the slipper.


Anthony was transfixed. Emily had been able to carry him in one arm, she'd had no issue overpowering him and pinning him to the ground, she had thrown him over her lap and, even before she had plunged a finger into his rectum, literally beat his ass red with a casual series of slaps, even involuntarily, when she was asleep, she had overwhelmed him with her size on the car ride. To watch someone who had so completely dominated him, so casually, be forced under the sole of a foot and almost completely disappear into a slipper rocked Anthony to his core.

“If you can hear me in there, Emily, it’s time to show me just how happy you are to be so intimate with me. I want to feel those lips and that tongue really expressing your love all over and between my toes.” Grace paused for a moment then smiled. “Good girl.” Grace said before turning to Anthony. “But you, Tony, you have failed this task.” Grace said. “I can’t say I’m surprised, but I am disappointed.”



“Wait!” Anthony cried out. “You can't!” He suddenly found his resolve and began to sprint away from Grace, desperate not to be punished for disobedience. His resolve melted away as quickly as he had found it, however, as a shadow fell over him and he froze looking up at the foot hanging over him.


“It’s too late, Tony. You had your instructions. Emily’s going to enjoy a few minutes getting to know my toes. She feels really good in there, still slimy from my spit, and she’s showing me just how much of a good girl she can be.” Grace mused, her foot hovering over Anthony. “But you’re not going to enjoy it as much. I’m going to make sure of that.”


Anthony screamed as the foot descended on him. This time Grace didn’t deliberately miss, she didn’t miss at all. Anthony’s body collapsed under the weight of Grace’s toes, which deftly grabbed him. He was rocketed skyward, still clutched under Graces toes and jerked around as Grace’s foot paused at the entrance to the slipper.


“You’re going to want to start behaving, Tony, it’s only going to get worse for your from here on otherwise.” Grace said. “And if you don’t get at least a hundred points; well, I have some very well paying customers who want to see some absolutely sick shit, if you don’t want to feature in my first ‘chewing’ video, I’d try harder if I were you.”


Anthony had no opportunity to acknowledge her, as Grace crammed her foot into the slipper. She moved much faster, and with less care than she had demonstrated with Emily. Anthony found himself in a desperate position as all light and the relative coolness of the outside was replaced with the humid and oppressive interior of the toe of Grace’s slipper for the second time in one day. Cohabitating the slipper with Grace’s aggressively squeezing toes, however, made his first stay in the slipper almost paradise by comparison.


Grace's toes clenched hard around Anthony, then let them relax. She did it again, then again, falling into a rhythm. Even when she had relaxed her toes, Anthony was still trapped under her toes, with her foot pressing him deep into the foam when the toes unclenched. Over and over the cycle of crushing force and slightly less crushing force battered Anthony. Anthony drew in a breath when the toes assaulting him relaxed, only to scream it out as Grace's toes clenched and pressed the air from him.


Her foot, only recently washed in the shower, had quickly turned rank in the slipper and Anthony was subjected to every sharp and acrid smell as Grace squeezed the air from him, relaxed her toes to let him breathe, then compressed him again. Adding to the scent of sweat and feet, the saliva from the previous task was still clinging to Anthony when he’d been shoved into the toe of the slipper. It had coated him; over his skin, under his arms, between his thighs, and as Grace squeezed him, the saliva intermingled with the other scents, with the heat, and reminded Anthony how truly insignificant he was to Grace, over and over and over again.


Time had stopped mattering for Anthony. All that really mattered to Anthony was preventing the toes from catching one of his limbs at the wrong angle, keeping his face as free of the building sweat as he could, and timing his breathing to prevent being suffocated in Grace’s slipper. He had no doubt that if an arm or a leg was in the wrong position when Grace brought her toes together his limbs would lose out, catastrophically. The sweat seeping from Grace’s toes complicated the matter, forcing Anthony to risk moving his arms out of a relatively safe position to wipe his mouth free, use those very toes which clutched at his whole body, face included, to wipe away any excess, or risk breathing in a lungful of pungent, salty, perspiration.


Breathing during the toes’ assault began as the easiest of those three attempts. The toes were at least mostly predictable, at first. Grace kept a steady pace of squeeze and release. The real problem came when Anthony’s ears picked up the unmistakable bass thumping of Grace’s favorite album. It was difficult to hear from within the slipper, and Anthony had much more pressing concerns, but the beat was unmistakable. Anthony knew he was a bad boyfriend and wasn’t as familiar with Grace’s preferences as he should have been, but Grace placed Scary World on every time they’d fucked at home, his or hers, many times when they’d done it in the car, and at least once she had made use of a portable speaker to play it while they messed around inside a movie theater’s unlocked supply closet. Anthony knew that sound, and he also knew that Grace loved to move to it.


The tapping of Grace’s foot didn’t stop the crush and relax cycle of Grace’s toes, but it added the sensation of being trapped inside a rocket ship on its own cycle of lift off and crash. Now the toes, even in their relaxed state would slam into him as her foot tapped down. Then the whole world would lurch upward. At its zenith, instead of weightlessness, Anthony was treated to the constriction of Grace’s toes, which proceeded to slam dunk him back down to the memory foam in sync with the beat of the music. Then the whole process would repeat. Anthony's carefully timed breaths were slammed out of him every time Grace tapped the toe of her slippers in time with the music.


With the prompt of dark electronic pop songs playing in muffled sequence, Anthony was acutely aware of the passage of every agonizing second. The songs would change and with them, the tempo of Grace's tapping. The increase in motion caused the slipper to heat up even more. The increase in heat caused Grace's foot to sweat more and more profusely.


When the music finally moved into the final beats of its closing number, so too did Grace’s tapping, and her feet ceased the seemingly endless cycle, instead settling into a steady and pervasive kneading, writhing grip.


The music stopped. There was only the sounds of Grace’s foot, moving and rubbing inside the slipper accompanied by Anthony’s own grunts and groans in the crevice of Grace’s toes. Then came a rush of light and air, Grace’s toes pulled away, but snatched one of Anthony’s arms and one of his legs as they retreated. Instinctively Anthony clutched at the foam, desperate not to be dragged away, completely oblivious to the torment he’d just endured wedged into the slipper. But his efforts were in vain, the toes, the foot, and Grace won out easily, pulling him free of the slipper. She lifted him up and out of the slipper in an unchecked rollercoaster as she leaned back and kicked her feet back up on the table. She tilted the foot holding him slightly forward, somewhat mitigating his fall distance, but Anthony still screamed as she released him and he fell back to the tabletop.


Anthony fell to the white plastic in a heap, unmoving except for his breathing and to stretch his limbs out after being confined for so long. He could see Emily, from where he lay. She stood in one of the bowls of water, cupping water over her head and letting it fall over her to rinse off. Anthony wondered how long she had been free of the slipper. Time enough to apparently wash up and rinse off. She crawled over the lip of the bowl, something Anthony recognized he wouldn’t have been able to accomplish. As she strolled over to where Anthony lay, she still dripped water.


“Glad to have you back, Tony. Are you ready for your bath?” Emily asked, squatting down over him and dripping water onto his skin. Every drop was like a bullet of cool relief, and a painful reminder of how hot and sweat-drenched he was, even free of the slipper. Emily’s hand roughly grabbed Anthony’s head and turned his face toward her. “Oh, you look like shit, Tony.”


“No, Emily, you earned that bath, but Tony’s been fucking up left and right tonight. He doesn’t get the luxury." Grace said flatly, her soles flexing mindlessly high above then both. "Still, little Tony's not doing so well. You're at fourteen points, and he's only got one." She uncrossed her ankles on the table, letting her higher foot's heel crash down on the table, shaking both Emily and Anthony. "What to do? What to do?" She mused.


"Mistress?" Emily offered.


"Yes, Emily, you may speak." Grace permitted.


"Do you want Tony to succeed?" Emily asked.


"Mmmmmm, now there's a very good question." Grace said. Her right foot came down, and she used her big toenail to push and prod at Anthony's still collapsed form. All her probing did was prompt a groan as even the slightest motion sent aches throughout his body. "I think, at the moment, I do want him to succeed. But only because I want to see him genuinely change into a pliable, willing, obedient pet. You didn't see it, but little Tony here actually tried to run from the last task."


"Tony!" Emily exclaimed. "Are you trying to get squashed under foot?"


"I think he might be. He looks like he really enjoyed that." Grace said, thoroughly amused with herself.


Anthony couldn't imagine he looked like he'd enjoyed it. Anthony couldn't imagine he looked like anything more than a beaten corpse, but he hoisted himself up on shaky arms, eventually pulling himself to a sitting position.


“You could give him a really easy task, or one that we can both do. Maybe I can stop him from fucking up!” Emily opined.


“You’d risk tying your own points to him?” Grace asked, poking Anthony again with her toe. This time he didn’t groan, but he still collapsed back down to the floor. Grace’s toe followed him down, absentmindedly playing with him while she spoke with Emily.


“I can do it!” Emily said with enthusiasm, leaning on Grace’s foot that toyed with Anthony. “I know I can!”


“I admire your enthusiasm, and your willingness to help even this piece of garbage…” Grace pressed into Anthony with her big toe, letting the pedicured nail really push the air out of him. “So not only am I going to allow it, the next task will be a joint task, but you’re also getting another bonus point. I think that puts you a fifteen!”


Emily cheered again. Still leaning on Grace’s gently bobbing foot. Grace considered them for a moment before pulling her foot back, and apparently re-donning her slippers.


“Stay here. Make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.” She said to Emily before walking away from the table.


Obligingly, Anthony did nothing but breathe. To do anything else seemed too taxing, and Grace was only gone for a few moments before returning, her right hand clenched.


Before she sat down, she took off the only article of clothing she had been wearing, an oversized bath towel wrapped around her and expertly tucked into itself. She tossed the towel away and sat down.


“Drag him into that corner, and make sure that neither of you make any noises.” Grace commanded.


Emily dutifully grabbed Anthony, this time carrying him under her arm by the waist, and walked him over to where Grace had indicated.


“Good.” Grace said. “Now, like I said, not a peep out of either of you, and make sure he’s paying attention.”


While Grace turned her attention to fine tuning the lights and various cameras mounted around the table, Emily dropped Anthony in a pile, then quickly hoisted him back into a seated position. She clamped one oversized hand over his mouth as she sat down behind him and wrapped her legs around him. Anthony felt a bit like a hostage in a ransom video, but he was too exhausted to really care.


Grace finished up with the visual equipment and settled back into her chair. She then dropped a man from her closed hand to the table. The man fell from considerable height, and landed what appeared to be pretty painfully, groaning in agony and writhing where he landed. The man didn’t appear to be as small as Anthony, but very close.


“Good evening, my little snacks! Carnation here again, this time fulfilling one of my best customer’s requests. They asked to keep their alias secret…” Grace pushed a finger into her pursed lips. “And while I will keep that promise, I just want to let my special customer know; if you’re ever feeling tiny, and you want to experience this for yourself, you know who to contact. I’ll make sure you get the full treatment.” Grace leaned back and pushed her breasts together. Even if Anthony hadn’t been shrunken, those breasts were amazing, and even better that Grace knew how to really showcase them.


Grace leaned back in, and began drawing lazy circles around the new shrunken man with her index finger.


“But my special customer did say they wanted very little foreplay. No, spelunking for this snack, no extended play with my mouth or my tongue, I won’t even get to introduce him to the girls.” Grace said, feigning a dejected tone.


Her gentle circles stopped and she scooped up the still groaning man. She held her palm level, making sure the camera could see both her face and still had a good view of her palm, and the man on it.


“So, for today, this is going to be very brief. Remember, if you want to see me have some very specific fun with someone, you too can order custom videos. But for now, to my very special customer...”


Grace simply tilted her hand up and the man, suddenly aware of his surroundings, began screaming as he slid, unabated, into Grace’s widening mouth. He passed by into her mouth without resistance, and once she could feel him on her tongue, Grace quickly closed her mouth. From her cheeks it was clear she was sucking on the man in her mouth hard, but she was also moving closer to the camera.


Grace opened her mouth and showed the disoriented, injured man, he didn’t scream or make any noise, but even from where he was held, Anthony could see the horror on the man’s face, watched the man’s arm reach up toward the outside world.


“Goodbye, my little snack.” Grace finished. She closed her mouth around the man and swallowed. There was no drama, no fight with the tiny man, just a quick plunge down her throat. “Thank you again for watching.  Remember to send your payments to CarnationCarnagesCarnalCarnival so I can keep making these wonderful videos for you. And if you’re watching and you’ve shrunk, DM me right now, so I can arrange to have you shipped to me for even more fun. Bye bye, my little snacks.”


Grace reached up and turned off the camera. “Just in case either of you forgot what was at stake here. Now, let’s get you two settled in for the night. We’ll pick this up tomorrow. And the best news is; a room just opened up!”

5: Friday Night in the Aquarium by MrD
Author's Notes:

Brief interlude here, not a whole lot going on...

But if you like to see Anthony suffer...



It was a bizarre situation, stabilizing himself against Grace’s giant breast as she walked from the table to the shelving with a series of what looked like aquariums. Every step caused the wall of flesh that Anthony braced himself against to wobble slightly. The trip wasn’t far, but balancing on Grace’s hand, and steadying himself against her chest made it harrowing.


Anthony was treated to another bout of rollercoaster vertigo as Grace lifted Emily and him away from her and then down into an aquarium. Once again, Emily made a relatively smooth transition from the hand to the carpeted floor, whereas Anthony found himself tucking and rolling.


The aquarium had been set up in a bizarre simulacrum of a living space. The floor had a section of carpeting cut out and laid down. A bed, far too big for Anthony and seemingly slightly too small for Emily occupied a space, there was a series of what looked like memory foam blocks in the vague approximation of the shape of chairs, and then a food bowl, and a channel with a steady stream of water flowing down from a spout in the lid to a grated drain behind the shelves.


“Each of these has running water, for you to do your business, shower up in, and drink from. I refill the food daily, and there should be plenty even for the both of you.” Grace explained.


Anthony suddenly realized he was thirsty in a way he’d never been. It dawned on him that other than sweat, spit, and Emily’s sex, Anthony hadn’t had anything to drink since Grace had pulled him from the placement center.


Anthony rushed over to the flowing water, a fall coming down like a torrent to Anthony when something seized his ankle and sent him crashing, face first, to the carpet. He looked back to see Emily’s hand clasped to his ankle, just in time to be lifted into the air by Emily.


“If I remember correctly, Tony, she said you couldn’t wash up.” Emily said, dangling Anthony by his ankle.


“I’m trying to get something to drink!” Anthony shouted back.


“You can let him go, Emily.” Grace said. “You won’t be able to police him all night, besides, for what I have in mind for tomorrow, you might want him a little cleaner.”


Emily shrugged and let Anthony drop back down to the floor. Before he could recover from the fall, she took strides, without Anthony’s previous hurry, toward the water. Before her long legs cleared his prone form, Emily made sure that one of her feet pressed into Anthony’s face as she strode on.


Emily made it to the water even before Anthony recovered from feeling her sole over his face. She spent a few luxuriating moments letting the water cascade over her and taking leisurely gulps of water. When she was finished, she strolled over to one of the foam blocks and took a seat. Larger than the block was probably designed to accommodate, she reclined over it to maximize her comfort.


Anthony waited until it appeared Emily was too far relaxed in the ‘chair’ to stop him before bolting back toward the water. This time, Emily didn’t interfere with his goal, and he could almost taste that refreshing, crystal clear, presumably municipal tap water when a wall descended between him and his relief.


Grace’s hand was too large to simply dodge around, and while he was suddenly desperate for a drink, it still occurred to him that attempting to circumvent her would probably end in disaster.


“I told Emily to let you go, but before I allow you to drink your fill, I want to hear you beg me.” Grace said.


Anthony looked up. Grace’s face was visible and stoic even passed the lights of the aquarium.


“Please! Please, Grace, I’m so thirsty!” He pleaded. There was no hesitation this time.


“Very good, Tony.” Grace said, lifting her hand out of the way. She turned to address Emily as Anthony resumed his sprint to the flowing water. “The bed was designed for someone much smaller…” She said, one hand gently patting her stomach. “But I know one of my customers is very skilled with a printer and can have a custom bed made pretty soon. I’ve never had someone quite your size in my care, and I think once we get you and Tony camera ready, my fans will be thrilled to see what I can do with you.”


“Thank you, mistress! I look forward to it!” Emily said.


Anthony barely heard it, letting the water flow over him. The cool water brought back sharp pains as it cooled the skin where Emily had smacked with her hand, where Grace’s toes had compressed, and all the other traumas that had been inflicted on him. And he drank greedily from the flow, swallowing large gulps down his parched throat.


“Oh, one more thing. I know it’s hot outside, but this room gets pretty chilly at night.” Grace said, rummaging through some tote far below Anthony’s vision. “So use this to keep warm at night. The same rules apply, no maiming, no crippling, no killing. I want you both to be ready to work when we get started tomorrow. Ah here it is.”


Grace returned to Anthony’s sight, a giantess rising out of nothing. She hung a piece of cloth over the aquarium and dropped it in, over Emily.


“That should be comfy enough for the night.” Grace said. “Now you two get some sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow.”


She reached over and flipped a switch on the side of the shelf. The world’s light faded, with only the now very distant light from the table and the dim bulbs hanging above providing any illuminessence. Grace strolled away unhurried, and flipped off the lights from the table one at a time. Every dying light allowed the darkness to creep in further. With all the lights from the table out, Grace became a specter, appearing only briefly as she passed under the lights from the ceiling, and fading into nothing in between.


Grace stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned back toward the shelves for a brief moment.


“Good night, everyone!” She called out, before flipping the final switch. The sound her climbing the stairs was followed by a brief flash of light from an opening door, the slamming shut of that door, and the telltale clicks of multiple locks.


Only a single bulb in the center of the room remained lit, and it struggled to cast a warm light. The light still penetrated into the aquarium, but only faintly, providing for an environment in which they could very reasonably sleep, and presumably wouldn’t stumble and fall.


The light was adequate enough to see Emily stand from the foam block, grabbing it and the cloth that Grace had deposited into the aquarium. She dragged the foam and the cloth over to the bed where she settled the block at the foot of the bed, effectively extending it, and then casting the cloth over the bed like a blanket.


“Well?” She directed at Anthony. “Shake yourself dry and get over here, I want to get as much sleep as I can.” She said, rather bluntly.


“Sleep?” Anthony asked incredulously. “Now’s our chance! We can make a break for it!” He argued.


Emily didn’t respond, instead she sighed as she worked to simulate a bedspread as much as possible. Emily even tucked the cloth, parts of it anyway, under the mattress on the bed. For being undersized for her, the bed was surprisingly complete, a frame that appeared to be made of 3d printed plastics, another block of foam for the actual mattress, the frame even had a raised headboard.


“Emily, come on!” Anthony shouted, stepping out from under the water. “You saw what she did to that guy! That could easily be me!”


“No, Tony, you need to get it through your thick skull.” Emily abandoned the bed and started approaching Anthony. Before they had shrunk, Emily was almost half a foot shorter than Anthony, but here she towered over him, more than three times him in height. “You’re right though, she could easily swallow you whole…” With every step she seemed to grow until she loomed over him, even in the dim light, her face a mask of anger. “Or smear you across the table like any one of those stains we saw…”


Emily raised her right foot and Anthony immediately tried to dodge, but Emily was faster, much faster. The foot came down and knocked Anthony back, following through and covering him, her heel digging into his guy, and her toes at his lips.


“Or any other kind of horrible fate she can think of!” Emily said. “You spent time beneath her feet, maybe you’ll manage to climb out of this aquarium…” Emily lifted her foot a bit and stomped down with it again, causing Anthony to yelp. “And then climb down from here, even though you couldn’t get down out of my bed without my help…” Emily repeated the lift and stomp of her foot. Anthony repeated his yelp. “Then make it all the way across the floor, God knows what could go wrong there…” Another stomp, another yelp. “Climb every…” Stomp and yelp. “Single...” Stomp; yelp. “Stair, even though you probably couldn’t make it up one of them.”


Emily moved her foot deftly under Anthony and used it like a lever, not really kicking him back toward the bed, but more like slightly launching him with her foot.


“And then what? You pick the lock? Do you shimmy under the door?” She kept coming at him and despite his attempts to scramble out of the way, she closed the distance first. Her foot caught under him again, and again she sent him tumbling and rolling. “And then, once you’ve managed all of that, even assuming you could somehow get around me to begin with, what then, Tony?” Emily stood over him, her foot coming down once again, this time on Anthony’s face. “Because I’ll tell you what I think happens…” Emily said, leaning into Anthony’s head. “I think she doesn’t even notice you. I think Grace wakes up in the middle of the night to take a piss, and accidentally, accidentally Tony, squishes you like a grape under her foot.”


“Why are you doing this?” Anthony protested, struggling to get the words out from under Emily’s sole.


“Because your stupidity is going to get us killed, Tony.” Emily said, twisting her foot on his face. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be shrunken. I don’t want to be at the mercy of your crazy, fucking, ex-girlfriend. But here I am.”


Emily’s foot lifted from Anthony’s head, but he had only a brief reprieve before she reached down and picked him up, alarmingly by his neck. With one hand Emily raised Anthony up from the floor until he was looking her in the face. He dangled from her grip, feet kicking, with his hands clutching at her wrists in fear and desperation.


“And here you are, Tony.” She said, bringing him close to her face. “And if you don’t get your shit together, I will make sure that by the end of this you follow that insignificant fucker down her throat.” Emily tossed Anthony to the floor beside the bed. “Do I make myself clear?”


Anthony nodded hurriedly.


“Good.” Emily said. She lifted a corner of the makeshift bedspread up. “Now get into bed, I want to get some sleep.” She commanded.


Anthony scrambled up the side of the bed and was settling in on the raised area that served for the pillow when Emily spoke up again.


“No, Anthony, you don’t get that luxury.” She said, pointing toward the foot of the bed. “Down there.”


“You can’t be serious!” He cried.


“Would you like to see just how serious I am, Tony?” Emily asked. “We could repeat your spankings from earlier, or I could just kick your worthless ass out of the bed and not bother with it.”


Anthony knew better than to fight it and crawled toward the foot of the bed, before he could get settled, Emily climbed under the cloth, her feet pushing him down even further. It took her a few moments to get comfortable, with her feet and legs kicking him down and out of her way, off the bed and onto the makeshift extension she’d brought over. Anthony’s world turned dark as she laid the blanket over herself, with one more insult in store for Anthony. She rolled onto her side, and let her thigh come to rest over Anthony, pinning him in place.


“Good night, Tony.” She said, sliding her other thigh under him and pinning him between her legs.


Anthony whimpered and tried to squirm free of Emily’s legs. In response Emily squeezed a bit tighter.


“Stop that, Tony. Don’t make me come down there.” Emily said, already sounding like she was drifting to sleep.


Anthony resigned himself to his situation, cloistered under the darkness of the blanket and trapped in the stifling heat and pressure of Emily’s thighs. Anthony wondered what could go wrong tomorrow.

6: Saturday Morning by MrD
Author's Notes:

Tony can't catch a break...

"Break" might not be the best verbiage for someone who's 2" tall.

As always, thank you so much for reading.



Sleep provided a paltry comfort. Anthony's dreams were invaded by a faceless giantess chasing him through a city.


As Anthony fled, running breathlessly from every bare footfall that shook the world around him, the rest of the city seemed to be blissfully unaware. Even as her foot turned pedestrians and cars to smears and foil respectively, they continued crossing and driving streets.


Anthony would turn a corner, to hide behind a skyscraper, and the giantess chasing him would shatter it to rubble with just a gesture. Dust and debris threatening to crush him almost as much as the titaness pursuing him.


The chase was almost comical. Every one of the giantess's strides carried her a city block. Anthony's fervent dash only moved him into position for her next step to threaten him more. Her toes caught him in their stride, to her nothing more than a brush of her smallest digits against a fleeing insect, but to Anthony the pedicured toes impacted against his back and sent him flying through the air, crashing to the ground, and rolling to a stop.


He had no time to recover, instead scrambling to a cross street in terror. Anthony looked back, in time to see the giantess's foot come down at the entry to the street, but was unprepared to run into a brick wall.


Anthony panicked, still not feeling the pain of the collision. He pawed at the wall, scratching at the brick. He had thought this was a street. He couldn't recall it being a dead end, and he'd never seen a dead end terminate in a brick wall so many stories high.


The world shook with tremors around him. He turned to see the giantess standing in the alley, her feet blocking the only way out. Anthony's mind spun in uncontrollable fear. How had she fit in the alley? Had the alley been a street?


Anthony didn’t get an opportunity to reconcile the contradictions in his perceptions as the giantess dropped to her knees. Everything in the alley was rocked like a minor explosion. Anthony was shaken from his feet, trash cans seemed to jump and crash to the pavement, windows shattered, even the buildings surrounding him seemed to lift and crash back down with the force of the giantess hitting the ground.


The giantess then dropped to her hands, her palms framing the alley, her giant breasts hanging in the air over Anthony. Suddenly, as though the new proximity had revealed them, Anthony could make out the features of this building shattering pursuer. He could make out the thick rimmed black glasses, the bright red lipstick on the plush lips, the dark waves of hair. All of the features of Grace came into view, and her grin was bone chilling.


Her mouth opened and words came out, but Anthony couldn’t comprehend them. Syllables like demonic prose erupted from her mouth, and as they did, saliva spilled over her lower lip. The spit flowed, seemingly unabated, down Grace’s chin and pooling onto the alley. Anthony desperately tried to avoid what became a torrent of spit, radiating out from only feet away where it fell from Grace’s still taunting mouth, but his hands and feet found no purchase in the brick.


“Tony…” She taunted, suddenly comprehensible, but in a voice that didn’t seem to be hers.



Anthony screamed as the saliva rose to his ankles, but saw a shadow fall over him. He turned back to Grace just in time for her tongue to smash into him, pinning him against the wall. His scream of fear became one of pain as she wasted no time, dragging her tongue up the wall, carrying Anthony with it. He felt his bare back being shredded by the coarse ceramics behind him, even as Grace’s tongue seemed to hold him fast.


Although it seemed to be endless, Anthony was aware that Grace’s tongue kept him pressed to the wall as she climbed to her feet, the brick wall somehow almost matching her in height. As Anthony’s body was pulled up to the top of the wall, Grace’s lips sucked him in, his head and shoulders in her mouth, his hips and legs outside kicking furiously, and futily. Her following laugh, delighted, sadistic, and satisfied, was an all-enveloping sensation. Anthony’s ears rang with the sound, his bones shook with, and his skin as buffeted by the breath coming from Grace’s lungs. Anthony tried to push back against her teeth, tried to find purchase against her tongue as she tilted her head back.


“Tony…” Came that ethereal voice again from deep in the dark hole of Grace’s throat open in front of him. 


Grace’s lips pulled him in further, up to his waist. He screamed in protest, now thrashing about as wildly as he could manage. Anything to prevent being pulled further into Grace’s salivating mouth.


“Tony…” The voice was now everywhere, in Anthony’s skin, in his flesh, in his bones, even in his brain. He felt that he could hear that voice with the nerves behind his eyes.


“No!” He called out once, but it didn’t stop Grace from sucking him into her mouth. He didn’t have long to consider his claustrophobia inducing, soaking wet, and miserably hot environs, as Grace’s tongue rolled him to the back of her mouth and swallowed.


The world became a free fall, as though from a great height, into a pool of liquid.


Cold liquid.


“Tony!” Emily shouted.


Anthony sputtered in the flow of water. 


"Rise and shine, sleepyhead! We've got work to do, and I'm not going to let you fuck up my point total!" Emily declared.


The water that Anthony landed in came into focus as the aquarium's water trough, the brick wall that had ravaged his back became the carpeted flooring, and although Grace was nowhere to be found, Emily was giantess enough, standing over him from where she had drug him from the bed and thrown him into the artificial stream.


Anthony climbed to his hands and knees in the water flow, thankful that it was subdued enough that even at his size he wasn't in danger of being washed down toward the grate that separated the aquarium from the outside world where the water flowed out.


"What time is it?" Anthony asked. Even as he did, he regretted the question. The hours and minutes of the day didn't matter to Anthony any longer. He wouldn't ever be late to work again. There was no schedule to keep except that which Grace, and to a lesser extent, Emily, set.


"Time for you to rinse off and get ready. She's doing something with the cameras, and took a little woman with her, so we're probably on deck." Emily answered.


As his vision cleared from both the dream and the blur of sleep, Anthony was beset by a host of pains and aches. All of the abuse from the previous day came flooding back into his muscles, joints, and bones. Every time his neck had been tweaked in Emily's thighs, every time Grace's toes had attempted to crush the life out of him, every time Grace's fingers has threatened to squeeze him to a pulp, and every other chilling violence that had befell him rushed back into his body, the water only exacerbating the aches.


"Hurry and wash up, I want to be ready and waiting when she's done." Emily instructed.


"Since when did you become her fucking enforcer?" Anthony asked sullenly. He resented Emily, but he was more angry with himself as before he even realized it, he was complying with the order, scrubbing his scalp with his fingers and his skin with his palms.


Emily responded by gently, for her, delivering a heel-kick to Anthony, knocking him over into the falling water. It didn’t really hurt Anthony, and Anthony had run out of ability to fight back hours, and many bodily fluids ago.


“Since you decided to fuck around on the one person on the planet equally empowered to both help me and fuck me over at this exact moment.” She said. “You’d probably be able to clean up faster if you stopped getting kicked and started rising.”


Anthony wasn’t in the mood to argue, as dismal as his current circumstances were, the water felt indescribably good, even as it’s chill seeped into the small abrasions and over his bruises. It wasn’t a warm shower, or even a hot tub, but it was something. Anthony continued to brush the water through his hair, and let the artificial fall wash away the residual sweat and fatigue. Even though Emily was standing over him, some nude warden enforcing an imagined time limit, Anthony’s size made the stream more than enough to almost feel like a luxury.


The silence hung in the air. Even as Anthony was busied with washing up, he wanted something to distract from being watched from on high.


“Uh… she’s not eating that woman you mentioned is she?” Anthony asked.


“Not from what I saw, we don’t have the best view of the tabletop here. I don’t think she eats all of her playthings.” Emily said, squatting down on her haunches. “But maybe it’s best that you and I not encourage that in her.”


“I’m not trying to! You could help, you know!” Anthony protested. “You could fight back!”


A look of almost pity crossed Emily’s face. “You don’t get it do you?” She asked. “Even though she couldn’t swallow me whole, like she definitely could with you, she could still bite me in half.” Emily reached out and picked Anthony back up to his feet. “And even if you don’t come up to my pussy, that doesn’t mean that I’m taller than her foot is long. I know you had a hard time in that slipper, she wasn’t hesitant about describing what she was doing to you in there, but don’t forget Tony, she put me in the other slipper, and it’s not like I could get out.”


Emily stood back up, walking over to one of the pieces of foam that counted as furniture. The largest piece almost made for a just-too-small-bench or couch for Emily. Anthony followed and struggled to climb up on the same piece.


“Look Tony, the sooner you stop fucking up the easier this is going to be for both of us. It’s not like we were going to be able go to the movies after this shit anyway. We’d be locked up inside a cage either at a federal community or at a private residence. In either case we’d be basically a pet until an inevitable accident.” Emily outlined.


“But…!” Anthony started.


“No, Tony. I’ve read about this. A huge fatality rate among shrunken people. Fell from heights, stepped on, eaten by their own pets, fuck, Tony, we’re lucky neither of us had tooth fillings, or piercings. You know that shit doesn’t shrink with you, right? And those are just the accidental deaths. You think she’s only one making money off this? Getting off on this?”


Anthony looked over to where Grace was sitting, at the table, facing her cameras. Grace’s hand was between her legs, and she was clearly enjoying herself. The woman Emily mentioned was nowhere to be seen. Only Grace, masturbating in her chair.


“Tony!” Emily shouted, bringing him back to the giantess in the aquarium with him, rather than the one who put him there. “Look, I need you to get your shit together. Even if you don’t want to be here, even if you can’t wrap your head around this, if she’s pissed off, it puts me in a bad spot.” Emily outlined. “Don’t think I won’t leave you behind if it’s going to keep me alive and, relatively, happy. Oh, shit, get up, she’s wrapping up.”


Sure enough, just as Emily said, Grace was walking over toward the bank of aquariums. Grace was wearing what appeared to be only a t-shirt, oversized enough to fall past her thighs and well worn, with holes in places that spoke to its age and use. It was difficult to tell if she wore anything else. In one hand she held a limp miniature worman. Anthony caught a glimpse of the woman she held between her fingers, clearly unconscious and dripping wet. When Grace made the short journey, she replaced the woman in a different tank before addressing Emily and Anthony.


“Good morning, you two. I hope you’re well rested, because today we’re going to go through a number of different trials.” Grace said, tapping on the glass with her french manicured nail. “Tony, this is your chance to earn some real points.”


She said little more as she opened up the top of the aquarium and reached in. The dream was still fresh in his mind, and the thought of climbing into this woman’s giant hand was alarming, but Emily had already maneuvered into place, and Anthony was more afraid of earning Grace’s ire. So he worked himself into her offered fingers.


The rocket ship ride up was likewise still horrifying. Anthony wasn’t sure he’d ever acclimate to the way the world fell away with inhuman alacrity, and he felt the need to fall to his hands and knees for stability. Thankfully the journey from the tank back to the table was brief.


Once again, Emily managed a relatively dignified dismount, Anthony’s was less so, but he managed to remain on his feet this time. The table didn’t look any different from the last time they’d been set to task on it, except there were more lights set up, and more cameras it seemed, although it was difficult to see through the crisp white lighting.


“So here’s your new task. Since you seemed to enjoy the first task so much, and I’ve decided to let you try a cooperative task, we’ll try something in the same vein. You both need to orgasm, just one time each, but there’s a couple of stipulations.” Grace took her place as before, a chair positioned at the table with a good view and easy access to it. “First, neither of you can touch yourself. If your hands touch your own junk, you both fail, and I’ll deduct points from the offending party. This is a partnered task, so you’ll have to get each other off. Second, there will be a time limit. Ten minutes. As always, you’re not allowed to kill or really hurt each other.” Grace leaned back in the chair, crossing a leg over the other. "This will also be a test run for your on camera potential." She said, idly kicking the elevated leg. "You'll be recorded, from multiple angles, for later editing and sale. I know my clientele enjoys interactions between my toys, and I think the possibilities with you two are pretty exciting."


Grace reached back behind her and pulled a large tub and a small, white cosmetics jar from beyond Anthony's point of view and set them on the table. Anthony had to readjust to the jar, which was far smaller than the tub, in Grace's hand the thing seemed tiny, but of course, sitting on the table between Emily and himself, it was much larger. Grace quickly unscrewed the cap to the cosmetics jar and set the cap aside.


"As much fun as you two had using my spit as lube, I figured we should save that for the really well paying customers. Today you'll have the added benefit of coconut oil."


Anthony walked up to the cosmetics jar, it was almost as tall as he was, and he had to stand on his toes to peer in. The opaque white substance inside had the potent coconut smell, and the dull luster of plant fat in its solid state.


Lost a bit in awe at how much coconut oil seemed to be in front of him, Anthony only became aware of Emily standing over him from behind when she reached over him and scooped up a handful of the pliable muck.


Anthony craned his neck back as Emily's looming form spread the solidified oil over her shoulders and down her arms, her body heat liquifying it as she worked, forming a brilliant sheen over her skin as she went. Emily's hand dug back into the jar, pulling a truly prodigious quantity of oil out, her hand, still coated in the stuff dripping onto Anthony's upturned face. He watched, mesmerized, as Emily worked the oil over her opposite shoulder, and down her arm.


"Hey now, save some of that for the camera." Grace said.


Anthony was startled to hear how close her voice was, and jolted out of his trance, he was equally shocked to see Grace's head, resting on her folded hands, down on the table for a better view.


"Sorry, just how often do you get to play around with this much coconut?" Emily asked, still amused at the oil dripping from every surface. "I wonder what it would feel like to bathe in this stuff!"


"Don't get me wrong, I want you to slather it on, you and Tony, but wait until we're filming." Grace answered. "And that 'bathing in oil' idea is fucking golden, I'm going to make use of that."


Anthony couldn't really place the expression that came over Grace next. A mixture of delight and a revelatory euphoria. She laughed and clapped her hands excitedly. The speed at which she moved, at which she shifted her mood from the authoritarian to the elated, both alarmed Anthony and sent him falling backward into Emily's slick form, then to the table top.


"Oh! I just had a great idea!" Grace exclaimed. She reached up toward the lights illuminating the table and pulled back down from those heights a camera. It looked to Anthony like one of those small action oriented cameras and was mounted to a flexible tripod. Grace set the camera down, fiddled with its elevation, tilt, and position before turning it on. She unscrewed the larger tub of coconut oil, many times Anthony in mass, even large enough to be taller than Emily. Grace stuck her fingers into the thick oil and scooped a prodigious amount.


With her other hand, Grace reached out and picked up Emily, who, seeing her hand coming, raised her own arms to make picking her up easier. Grace moved Emily into close up view of the camera she had set up, and set about showcasing Emily for the camera, rotating Emily around in her grip. Grace made sure that the camera caught clear video of Emily's feet, legs, ass, hips, tits and her face. Emily, for her part, smiled and waved to the camera, kicking her legs playfully, and shaking her chest when appropriate.


Grace then slowly brought the hand with a thick coating of coconut oil into the camera's view. She spread her fingers, showing the viscous goo split and stretch between her fingers. Grace then rubbed her fingers together, catching the oil between and causing it to melt against her skin. As she did, the oil ran everywhere, coating her hand and dripping wet to the table. So much of it had melted against Grace's skin and under the harsh lighting that it had pooled near Anthony.


Grace's fingers, three of them, still dripping with oil, moved to Emily, who was now held in Grace's open hand. The fingers found Emily's exposed stomach and began slowly working the oil into Emily's skin. Emily moaned in response. The fingers worked in steady circles, expanding out and spreading the oil around. The tips of Grace's french manicured nails slipped under Emily's breasts, then the tips of her fingers over them. Emily responded by holding onto the digits as they explored her. Grace's fingers were firm and moved up to Emily's neck, squeezing just enough to turn Emily's moans into groans. Then those fingers slid back down, running through Emily's cleavage, over her abdomen, slowing with lascivious intent as they approached Emily's mons.


Before they reached Emily’s sex, however, Grace’s fingers, her whole hand, retreated. Emily made sounds like a pleading whimper. The activity was getting fun and she was clearly disappointed to see it paused. She didn’t wait long, as Grace scooped another more-than-way-too-much helping of solidified coconut oil. This time she held it over Emily’s body in her hand and closed her hand around the oil. Grace’s body head did the rest, the dull goop turned liquid in her grip and began to fall onto Emily. At first it was a few drops, a small chunk of unmelted oil occasionally fell from her hand, but it soon turned into a deluge of thick, fragrant flow of coconut lipids. Emily began to rub in on herself, her hands and arms rolling waves of the stuff up her and over her breasts as the stream continued to pour over her.


Anthony stared transfixed as the flow of oil slowed, but never really stopped. Grace's fingers descended again on Emily, this time going straight for her crotch. Grace's fingers wedged themselves between Emily's legs, and pushed them apart.  Grace's middle finger began rubbing over Emily's sex and back up her stomach. The longest digit probed deep between Emily's legs, even reaching under Emily before rubbing back up the way it came. Emily wrapped her arms around the wrist of the bold finger, not only stabilizing herself but also pulling it closer encouraging Grace to work harder, faster, deeper.


Grace didn't oblige her however, instead her hand pulled away. Emily's arms still clutched at her wrist, but the oil allowed Grace to slip out of her embrace effortlessly.


"I cannot wait to explore this innovative use of skin care products much further." Grace said. She brushed her fingers down Emily's whole body, lingering at her still spread legs. "But we will have ample opportunity to find out just how pliant my fingers can make you, and you don't want to be already spent before your challenge would you?"


Emily didn't respond, she was breathing too hard from the sensations of the most intense oil massage she'd ever received, combined with the unprecedented feeling of a finger comparable to her own leg sliding back and forth between her thighs. Her entire body heaved with her breath and even from where she was in Grace's hand, Anthony could see her body flushing with heat..


"Here." Grace said, gently returning Emily to the table. "The cameras are running, make sure that absolutely every little bit of you is coated in this stuff."


Emily slid from Grace's hand, landing adroitly, but failing to keep her footing in the slippery pool that had formed. She didn't waste any time however in rubbing more of it over the few places that hadn't been coated already, realizing very quickly there was an easier, more efficient way, and tossing herself into the pooled oil, rolling about.


“Well, Tony, I think I did half of your job for you. Are you ready for your dose of oil?” Grace asked, extending her hand, palm up toward Anthony.


Anthony had been naked for the better part of the last seventy two hours, even before shrinking, and he’d been under Grace’s bare foot, under all of Emily, and between Emily’s legs, but he was suddenly, keenly aware of his raging erection. Watching Grace nearly get Emily off with a display of oil and deft manual manipulation had left Anthony breathing almost as hard as Emily. There was no question he wanted that kind of ministration.


Unfortunately, his first step toward Grace’s offered palm was less than graceful. He’d been standing idle, watching the show with rapt attention, and had only been half aware of the spreading pond of liquid coconut oil spreading ankle deep around him. His first step forward found no purchase on the extremely well lubricated tabletop and sent him tumbling into the oil.


Anthony couldn’t recall if he’d ever been in a swamp, or in quicksand, but he did remember an occasion of mudwrestling once. That had been more dignified than his attempts to right himself in the oil. After face-planting into the still-warm soup, Anthony slipped again, splattering oil everywhere and eliciting laughter from Grace, giggling from Emily, and shame to start burning in his cheeks.


A few moments of hopeless thrashing, flailing, and flinging of oil everywhere later, Grace’s hand moved toward Anthony, offering him a reprieve from his futile fight to climb to his feet, or even crawl. 


“Come on, Tony…” She mocked. “We don’t have all day.”


Anthony still had difficulty, but with Grace providing assistance, and her other hand moving a finger under him, he was able to climb into Grace’s hand, like a drowning man into a boat, and lay himself out in her palm, panting with the exertion, his dick still erect, and pointed skyward. Anthony prepared himself for what was sure to be the first good experience he’d had in the past few days, and also the first voluntary act he’d been a part of since his abduction.


The world didn’t fall away from him as quickly or as far away as it had before, as Grace didn’t bring him up to her level. Her hand slid him to the center of her palm as it rose. Instead, Grace’s hand presented him to the camera. Anthony looked up at the camera for a moment before a shadow came over him. Anthony had a brief moment to consider what was happening as Grace’s other palm moved into position over him, still dripping with oil from before and also with a lump of relatively fresh, and quickly liquifying, semisolid oil from the tub. Anthony panicked, and started trying to escape out from between Grace’s palms, but had even less success than he’d had trying to climb into her grasp. Just before the shadow became darkness, Anthony heard Grace’s laughter ring out again.


Grace’s palms came together, sandwiching Anthony in between them, with a thick, pungent slime coating everything. Anthony could briefly heard the oil squirt from between Grace’ hands as she squished her palms together, seemingly heedless of Anthony himself, but the only thing he could after was a cacophonous combination of his own screams, Grace’s pulse, and the squelching sound of the coconut oil being pressed and pulled by Grace’s hands as she worked Anthony’s body between her hands, although piercing through even the sloppy sounds of oil being compressed into and all around him, Grace’s laughter still could be heard.


Grace rolled Anthony around in her closed palms, the only solid in a sea of slime. She applied just enough pressure to slide him up and down in her grasp, back and forth, up and down. She would squeeze him to form a seal, then pull it apart, letting the vacuum and suction pull Anthony against gravity and sticking him to her skin before smashing her palms together again and repeating it. All of it was accompanied by the humiliating fact that Anthony’s dick hadn’t calmed down, instead, it was harder than ever, sliding over Grace’s palms rewarding the disobedient organ with a pleasurable slide along warm and willing surfaces.


All the while, Anthony fought. He pushed against her palms when he could, even though his own hands never found purchase. He failed and thrashed around, although her grip quickly reduced all those struggles to constrained spasms. If he'd been given time to consider it, he might not have wasted so much of his energy trying to fight against a woman who's pinky outclassed him for "overall length, but the claustrophobia inducing sight of her palm, dripping with ooze, filling his vision, and descending on him had triggered a primal desperation that no amount of reason could penetrate.


Anthony wasn’t sure which way was up when Grace opened her palms back up.


“Well, it looks like Tony enjoyed it.” Grace said. She tilted her palm, and Anthony slid, as though his whole world was plant-based lubricant, from her palm back to the muck on the table. Grace had apparently lowered him down to the table level and he didn’t so much fall as slip from palm-to-table without any real fall.


"I hope he didn't bust a nut in there." Grace said, sniffing her at her palms. "Actually, I don't know if I could tell, even without the oil."


Her fingers then came down to Anthony, who lacked the strength to even react, much less avoid them. The nail of Grace's index gently probed Anthony's still erect penis, with a practiced gentleness that could only come from years of expertise and experience in handling shrunken people.


"No, he looks like he's still good to go." Grace observed. "Good, I was worried he might have fucked up the task before we even started."


Grace's hand pulled away, leaving Anthony, his chest still heaving and trying to regain control of his breath and his heart rate to soak in the pool of oil.


"Okay, like I said, you have ten minutes. Each of you must cum, and no touching your own junk. You can start…"


Anthony saw Grace's arm move overhead. Something in him knew she was turning on more cameras. His ordeal in her grip had merely been the pregame, the warm-up, the appetizer. Anthony could hear the sucking, plopping, and sucking, plopping sounds of something moving in the oil, but couldn't lift his head to identify the approaching noise. Grace's palms had only been the opening act. He raised his head to see Emily, moving on her hands and knees toward him, her eyes locked on to him with fervent, lust crazed purpose. The main act was about to begin.


"Emily, no, don't do this…" Anthony protested. He wasn't even really sure what he was trying to avoid. He didn't know what Emily had planned, and he suddenly no longer cared about the points, he'd just been almost literally wrung out and couldn't comprehend much, other than laying in the oil until it resolidified around him.


"Now!" Grace commanded.


A modicum of energy came back to him, and he found his legs kicking, trying to push him away from Emily's advances. But the oil proved as slick as ever, and he made no progress.


Emily, by stark contrast, seemed to have mastered the art of navigating the slick. Her advance on Anthony was slow, but it was also steady and it seemed implackable. Every millimeter she closed between them was accompanied by the squelching sound of her hand dropping into the muck and then sucking it back out as she took her next motion. A wake of oil spread behind her legs as she dragged them through the heavy liquid.


“Don’t fuckin’ do this now, Tony. We’ve got a job to do, and I haven’t had the opportunity to really relieve stress since we got here.” Emily shouted at him.


Emily’s hand shot out and caught Anthony by the ankle. In a surprise, more surprising to Emily, but still shocking to Anthony, he managed to kick free of her hand. Hope welled in Anthony. For the first time, he’d done something, he’d had agency, he’d managed to avoid someone else grabbing him, or pulling him, squishing, crushing, poking, prodding, kicking, or squeezing him.


Anthony’s elation was short lived, however, as Emily’s hand came again, this time securing a better grip on Anthony’s ankle and dragging him back toward her. Emily’s other hand caught Anthony’s free ankle and assisted in dragging him to her. To Anthony it felt like he was being pulled in by some great predator, caught at the end of a slimy frog’s tongue, even though that made little sense to him after it crossed his mind.


Emily didn’t bother standing to her feet, but she did have enough leverage to lift Anthony up, still by the ankles, where he hung limp. Too much had happened, and the only part of him that was willing to put in any effort was jutting out from his crotch, pointed at Emily.


“Well, hello there. It’s good to see you still look forward to my blowjobs, Tony. I wouldn’t want to make this any more difficult than it had to be.”


Emily lifted Anthony up, granting him a brief view of her shiny, oil drenched form from the reflection off her pubic hair, to the almost mirror-like sheen of her skin. The tour stopped with his vision just above her belly button, as she aligned his crotch with her head.


Emily wasted no time, bringing Anthony’s erect penis into her mouth, still holding him upside down by his ankles. As his dick disappeared into her mouth, his whole body slapped against hers, sending a spray of oil as they collided and leaving him stuck where he hung between her breasts, down to her stomach.


Anthony groaned as Emily skipped any foreplay, immediately going for broke and sucking his entire member, along with his testicles into her mouth. When he felt his ankles slipping in her grip, one hand let an ankle go, and that arm wrapped around the small of his back. With him better secured, her hand released his other ankle, and now free of the duty of holding his ankle, that hand clutched his skull and held it against her.


Meanwhile her tongue ran all over his dick. Emily rolled her head to allow the tongue to snake up over, or under to Anthony, his shaft and began to play with his balls as well. Even having been forced to orgasm from her fellatio less than twenty four hours ago, this was a new kind of assault. Emily had never been shy about her blowjobs, but being three times his size, and motivated by her own lust, as well as the threat of potentially losing points had driven her to new heights of grim determination.


“Emily, stop…” Anthony cried as she pressed him harder to her oily body. Her forearm across his lumbar pulling him deeper against her so she had easier access to his junk, and her hand clutching at his cranium was not gentle by anyone’s estimation.


Even with the discomfort of being upside down, of having his back nearly broken in a one-armed bear hug, and his skull nearly crushed in Emily’s hand, Anthony could feel the pleasurable pressure building at the base of his spine, made all the worse by the dizzying sensation of too much blood flowing into his compressed skull.


“No…” he muttered meekly, as Emily’s violent suction on his penis yielded the intended results. For the second time, Emily pulled her lips from his genitalia, freeing his balls and then his penis before turning to Grace, opening her mouth and showing off Anthony’s seed, still on her tongue. She closed her mouth and swallowed audibly.


She didn't release him, instead, keeping him tightly clutched against her skin, Emily slid Anthony down toward her pussy. As he slid over her abdomen, Emily made sure to keep his face pressed into her, whether deliberately or just trying to prevent him from accidentally slipping out of her grip, Anthony couldn't tell.


"Okay, Tony, time to put in the work. You've never let me down before, let's see if shrinking hurt or improved your game." Emily said as she slid Anthony down toward her crotch.


In a world of new and confusing experiences, the sensation of being slipped between Emily's thighs, his head being tucked under into her crotch, and his face pressed into her nethers was unquestionably one of the weirdest. She wasn't flexing any of her muscles, so it was like slipping between two trunks of soft-yet-hard trees.


"Don't hold back, Tony." She prompted.  Her words were muffled, equally by the oil and her own thighs, but Anthony could hear well enough. "This is your chance to show me that you're going to be a part of the solution and not part of the problem."


Anthony's reflexes took over and his tongue found its way into Emily's labia, even as the oil flooded down around his own lips. The sensation was all at once familiar and alien. He'd been face down between Emily's legs plenty of times before, and a couple of times, under it, but Emily had been shorter, thinner, and less than dozens of times his mass. And this time, Emily was pressing him into her sex. Not simply guiding him with her hands on his head as she liked to do when he went down on her, but with one hand, forcing Anthony's face deep into her labia.


His efforts were rewarded with a satisfied moan from Emily, muffled and distant, but still audible. There was a weird sense of normalcy in giving Emily head. Even though they were both dripping with oil, even though he was hanging upside down, and even though it was Emily holding him there, this at least felt like something he knew, and didn't immediately evoke feelings of terror and dread.


What little comfort or familiarity there was quickly melted away, however, as Anthony realized he couldn't breathe. Emily's firm grip on his head prevented him from coming "up" for air, and he began to squirm in her arms, trying to get loose. His writhing only caused Emily to clench tighter, securing him to her, but it did apparently have the effect of reminding Emily that Anthony needed to breathe and she pulled him out of her crotch.


"Tony this is awesome!" She exclaimed through heavy breaths. "I can't wait to see what we can do once we get used to this." Without waiting for Anthony to respond, she plunged his head back between her legs, deeper into her sex.


This time there was no steady increase of pressure, or gentle exploration of his face's topography with her vagina. This time, Emily had a goal, and a good idea of how to achieve it. Anthony's face was dragged up and down Emily's pussy, his jaw, lips, mouth, nose, and face providing the texture and contours she needed to get herself off.


If the oil still flowing down her body wasn't enough, Anthony tasted new fluids as she used his face as a warm vibrator. Emily's sweat and grool mixed with the coconut to create a potent cocktail.


To Anthony's only comfort, the ever increasing pace and fervor that drove Emily to drive his face into her pussy, and her irresistible rolling of his head around for added texture, allowed him the occasional breath, and he could hear the building crescendo in Emily's voice.


"Tony, don't keep me waiting." A powerful moan, and a shudder rocked her body, sending tremors through Anthony as well. "We've… oh God… we've only got a couple of minutes left."


As if she was only just reminded of their time limit, Emily began rolling her hips back and forth, allowing her to thrust Anthony's head deeper and farther along her crotch. She also picked up the speed, sliding Anthony's face over her labia and clit with a kind of crazed frenzy. Anthony's world was a blur of fluids and flesh and hair. Emily seemed to care less and less with each thrust of her hips for Anthony’s shrunken anatomy, and each time his face ran over her pussy, his neck pulled further and further out of comfort and into pain.


He heard Emily's building scream as she tucked his head under her crotch once more, pressing his face deep into her pussy, and her thighs clamped down tightly around his skull. The vice grip of Emily's thighs and her hand still almost crushing his cranium while shoving his face into her vagina almost immediately caused Anthony to black out for an instant. The jarring sensation of Emily slipping in the oil and falling to her side woke him up, but the crushing pressure from Emily's legs, hand and pussy only slightly subsided, instead crushed and slightly relaxed in cycles as Emily rode out a powerful orgasm.


Just as he was sure suffocation or the mind numbing pressure from her thighs would be the end of him, Emily's legs relaxed, if only slightly, from around Anthony's head. Emily used the time to, almost gently, continue rubbing his face over her privates.


"Fuck, Tony. That was awesome. I want to try that when I'm not racing the clock. I think your face might be better than my muscle massager." Emilly continued to massage her swollen sex with Anthony’s face. Allowing him just enough space to breath, he occasionally let out a groan as the rolling of his head over Emily’s pussy pulled at his already strained neck. She still hadn’t let his head free from between her legs, and in addition to the pain in his skull and neck, everything was suffused with the intense, insulated heat of being stuck to a woman three times his size with oil, sweat and sex.


“Very good.” Grace said, clapping slowly to show her approval. “I think that earns both of you the full two points.”


“Thank you!” She said enthusiastically. Emily peeled her thighs off of Anthony’s face and pushed him away before she stood up. “Tony really gave it his all this time! I think he can really turn it around!”


Anthony lay in the oil and bodily fluids, he groaned when he realized his most recent humiliation had only earned him two points. Still, some part of him recognized he’d tripled his points in one task.


“It might take a bit to clean up the table, but I think I got some really good scenes there. I can’t be sure until I’ve got it edited and published, but I think you two are going to work out just fine. Still, we’ve got a lot of time left today. Give me a moment to prep the next task and we’ll see how eager Tony really is.” Grace said, before reaching up to switch off one of the camera’s.


Before the red light from the camera disappeared, Anthony caught a glimpse of Grace’s face as she leaned over the table to turn off the camera. Something in her smile, and in her words, sent a shudder through Anthony’s entire body, and he wondered in dread what she could be planning next.

7: Saturday Morning 2: Masturbation Harder by MrD
Author's Notes:

Things get really hot and heavy for Anthony. Grace once again displays that Emily and Anthony's predicament is not just fun and games.

Okay but seriously, the formatting here is weird, and I apologize for that.

As always thank you so much for reading, please enjoy.



"I've got great news, my little snacks. I have here a letter and a package from one of you! Let's read the letter first!" Grace waved the sheaf in front of the camera.


Anthony was still too exhausted to move, but that didn't stop Grace.


“Today I’ve got two new helpers, both of them too cute to dispose of at the moment, who are going to help me read this letter for you, and see what’s in this very nice box.” Grace looked down at where the pair of them still lay in a pond of oil, her French tips tapping in rhythm on the rather mundane cardboard box.


"'Dearest Carnation, I'm sending you this letter because I just got out of a bad marriage.' Oh, darling, I'm sorry to hear that!"


Anthony wanted to get up and run, he wanted to at least crawl away, but there was no energy left in his limbs.


“‘My husband of only seven months, although we’d been dating for two years, caught the virus. He shrunk to a cute fifty five millimeters in height, and was placed in my care. I should say here, that since our marriage, he’d been less and less the man I cared about, and more a distant creep. Actually, looking back on it, he was never the man I thought he was, I was too willing to look passed his behavior.’


Grace casually tossed a page away, moving onto the next with the ease of a practiced performer. She wasn’t just reading this, she was giving her paying fans a show, making sure they were invested in the story too.


"'I'd had enough. I don't know what inspired me, but I snatched him up, ran to the hallway closet, I got out this canning jar I'd used to catch fireflies, I put him in the jar, screwed the lid on tight, shoved it into the back of the closet, between the towels, and shut the closet door.' I love it! I love it so much! You absolutely rock, putting him in his place like that!"


Grace looked down at where Emily and Anthony were recovering from earlier in the oil.


"Before I forget, like I said earlier, I’ve got two helpers here that are going to assist me for this video. You all know how I like to keep myself entertained while reading.”


She addressed Emily directly.


“Grab ahold of him, and hold on to him tight, I’m going to need you both for this next part.” Grace ordered Emily.


Anthony was sure he heard Emily acknowledge Grace, but between his exhaustion and the layer of slimy oil coating everything, he couldn’t be sure. What he was aware of was the sensation of being pulled up into a sitting position. Emily sat down behind him, her legs extending out well beyond his on either side before her arms wrapped around his chest, under his own. She pulled him tightly into her embrace, his head coming to rest between her breasts.


“Very good, now, on with the letter; 'I remember that it was something to do with his car. We needed to refer to some work order he'd had done prior to shrinking, so I finally got access to his computer. He'd always kept it password protected from me, hell, he wouldn't even let me sit in fucking fancy high backed office chair. But I respected that he had boundaries. Besides, who cares if he watches porn, right? Well, there we were, I was seated at his desk, in his fancy office chair, with him in front of the keyboard, when he tells me not to open his email.' Oh no, baby, you do not let that little shit tell you what to do."


Grace plucked Emily up from where she sat on the table, Anthony coming with her. Grace held them in a peculiar manner, peculiar at least, to Anthony. Emily was almost cradled in Grace’s palm, her legs down by Grace’s fingers, her head nearer the heel of Grace’s palm. Emily separated Grace’s palm and Anthony. Anthony began to connect the dots when he saw where Grace’s hand was taking them.


"'After everything, he gives me an order, a command not to open his email. So, I did. I wanted to show him that I didn't even need to put him in the closet, that he couldn't boss me around. He fought me over it, can you believe it? He tried to physically fight me over it, like trying to stop my fingers from clicking the mouse! Of course, even pulling with all his might he couldn't budge my fingers on the mouse.’ Oh. My. God. That is too funny! I wish I could’ve seen him!”


Grace lowered Emily, and Anthony with her, down under the table, where her legs were spreading. Where she sat her oversized, well too worn band t-shirt, sporting the faded skull of some canine that predated humanity, only fell down on her thighs. Sitting, it failed to cover her ass, haunches, or the majority of her thighs.


Those thighs moved like implacable machines, spreading wide and revealing Grace’s modestly groomed bush, and her pussy below it. The chair she sat on was already darkened with some of her earlier activities, and her pussy itself was glistened in anticipation. Anthony began to squirm in Emily’s arms as he realized what she intended.


“Would you cut it the fuck out?” Emily demanded, reasserting her grip on Anthony. “You had to know this was coming eventually.”


“That’s easy for you to say! You’re not likely to get lost in there! Fuck, not even inside her, just in her fucking pubes! You can’t let her do this!” Anthony pleaded.


“Yeah, because I can stop this. Get ready for a shitty three-way, Tony, this is happening.” Emily said flatly as Grace pressed them into her crotch.


“‘And there they were; dozens of emails between my husband and at least four other women. Each one talking about how much they wanted his dick, how much fun they had, what they wanted to try next time. Basically, right up until he shrunk, going back before I knew him, he'd always had side pieces. I was furious, I'd never been so mad. I don't think he knows how close I was to squishing him then and there. Instead, I scooped him up, placed him in the jar, and set him in the closet for a whole day.’ Good on you, baby! I love that method of punishment!”


Grace’s recitation of the letter became harder to hear as she pressed Emily, and Anthony between them, into her sex. Anthony found himself on a circular journey, starting at the peak of her pussy, kneaded into her clitoral hood, and then down one side of her labia, only to be dragged back up the other side to revisit her clit.


Anthony was vaguely aware of Emily’s grunts, even though she wasn’t the one being directly ground into Grace’s sex, she was caught between it and Grace’s hand. Still, she held onto Anthony firmly, and Anthony was left, futily, trying to push himself away from Grace, unaware that all his hands did was stimulate Grace even further, a pair of micro massagers over her most sensitive areas.


As her palm and fingers cradled Emily, rubbing the both of them over her lips and her clit, Anthony came to a humiliating epiphany. It dawned on him that he wasn’t even being used as a dildo. He was too small to Grace for that. No, as Grace pulled Emily up and down her pussy, it became apparent that Emily was serving as Grace’s living dildo. Anthony was just a featured texture on that dildo.


Grace’s middle two fingers pushed between Emily’s legs and between Anthony’s as her hand pressed the two of them into her sex. The coconut oil coating the pair let Grace’s fingers slip in and out with remarkable ease, but she kept her hand heavy against Emily’s back, and Emily’s whole body sandwiched Anthony against Grace’s pussy.


"'After that, our relationship changed considerably…'" Grace continued to read, enjoying the self stimulation. "My husband was still an asshole, but I didn't have any problem disciplining him for his bad behavior.'".


Grace wasn't content with letting Anthony and Emily simply be a warm sensation against her pussy, she clearly had a purpose for them. As Grace's fingers plunged deeper inside herself, her hand pulled Emily, and Anthony with her, up and down her labia with increased fervor.


"'Don't get me wrong, he didn't improve much, but I knew that if he tried to gaslight me, or put me down, any time he’d try to fuck with me, or get out of line. The jar and the hallway closet were right there.’ Oh, honey, that is fucking awesome. I hope he spent weeks in that closet.” Grace said. Although Anthony had other things keeping his focus, he couldn’t help but notice a change in Grace’s voice.


Anthony had almost acclimated to being rubbed up and down Grace's pussy when the world literally turned upside down around him. Emily shouted in surprise, apparently caught off guard just as Anthony had been as Grace inverted her shrunken sex toys, still pressed against her labia.


"Oh shit, she's going to…" Emily didn't get the chance to finish her sentence. Grace's fingertips repositioned  behind Emily's head and before Anthony could register what was happening, Grace pushed Emily, and Anthony held tightly to her chest, down and into her vagina.


The plunge into the soaking hot hole was sudden, but Anthony was able to catch a brief breath, even as Emily squeezed tighter before all light was replaced with a sweltering darkness. Emily had been pushed deep into Grace's pussy, far enough that Anthony's entire upper torso was wrapped in the pungent sleeve.


Anthony had been face down in Grace's vagina before, but he'd never expected to be waist deep in it, at least not literally. The confines of Grace's pussy were tighter than he expected, with the exception of Emily at his back, Anthony's world was an oppressive, living coffin that threatened to swallow him further.


Although it felt like minutes, Grace pulled Emily back out almost immediately. Emily gasped a breath that Anthony failed to in the brief moment they were free from their captor's vagina, being dragged back up toward her clit the whole time.


Grace gave them no chance to recover from the rollercoaster of her self pleasure. Anthony screamed obligingly as he and Emily were pushed back down, and back in, immediately. Emily, held by Grace, kept Anthony in her arms as they plummeted back toward Grace’s vagina. He’d been rubbed up and down the folds of Grace’s pussy for minutes already, but this time she pressed Emily, and thus Anthony, harder than ever before against her as he was plunged down and back into Grace.


This time Anthony felt himself go deeper still, Grace having already worked herself passed the point of foreplay. His scream outside cost him almost immediately as his mouth filled with Grace’s freely flowing fluids. His lungs followed suit, leaving Anthony coughing as he was carried entirely into Grace’s pussy.


Emily seemed to be faring better, although it was difficult for Anthony to perceive much as Grace’s lust coated him, blurring his vision. He thought he heard Emily scream, but inside Grace, the only thing he could be sure of were the squelching sounds of their bodies being swallowed by Grace’s pussy, Grace’s own pulse, pounding through, and his own coughing.


Again, without pause, Emily and Anthony were pulled out of Grace and dragged back up her lips.


“Breathe, Tony!” Emily screamed at him, before sucking down her own air.


Anthony managed to catch enough of her shout to obey. Even though he had only a moment to hack up Grace’s fluids and hold on to a breath, he succeeded as they reached the apex of Grace’s stroking. Anthony hated that the sensation of being pulled over Grace’s clit was his best point of orientation, but it marked the drop back down that followed.


The plummet back toward Grace’s vagina seemed faster this time, more hurried, and even though Anthony had been buried passed his feet the last time, this time it felt like he was pushed even deeper, that the walls of Grace’s pussy squeezed him tighter, that the deluge of her sex penetrated into his senses even more.


As Grace pulled them back out, it became apparent to Anthony, even in his disoriented state, that he was completely at the mercy of Grace’s libido. If he wanted to breathe, he would need to do it on Grace’s terms. She gave no pause for his needs, nor Emilys, as she drove them in and out of herself.


Anthony’s understanding of his situation became one of necessity, hold his breath until he could feel the relative chill of the world outside Grace’s pussy, take as deep a breath as the thick layer of Grace’s juices would allow him without inhaling the stuff into his lungs, and then brace for the next plunge back into Grace’s crushing, hot, wet confines.


There was no truly acclimating to the up and down, the in and out, the hot and cold, and squeeze and release cycle that Grace inflicted on him, but after a few minutes, Anthony at least felt that he’d adapted well enough to keep himself alive when Emily’s grip failed.


Throughout the entire process, Emily had kept Anthony clutched tightly to her own chest, his head between her breasts, her arms crossed over him to secure him. But Grace’s building speed and fervor, combined with what remained of the coconut oil, Grace’s own lubricant, and the increasing intensity of Grace’s pussy trying to keep them in each time they were pulled out, seemed to have weakened Emily’s grip on Anthony’s tiny body.


The first sign of something wrong came as Grace pulled them out for the umpteenth time. Grace had pushed the pair as deep as they’d ever gone into her and jerked them back toward the outside world when Anthony slipped from Emily’s embrace. Suddenly Emily’s arms were no longer secured just under his arms, and slid down to his waist as his body slid up against hers. As they were brought out into the relative cool and bright exterior between Grace’s thighs Anthony found himself screaming.


“Don’t let go!” He pleaded to Emily behind him.


“Hold on, Tony!” She replied.


Anthony didn’t have time to ask her what she expected Anthony to hold on to. Grace’s vagina was slick and speeding passed as Grace sent them back down. There were no features once they had been shoved back inside Grace, save for the crushing walls over her pussy.


Emily’s embrace failed entirely, and Anthony felt her arms slide all the way down his body as Grace drew her back out. For the briefest instant, as Emily’s body was pulled back out, a bit of light came passed her and Anthony could see, however poorly, Emily’s arms trying to catch some part of him. Anthony watched as her hands caught his ankle, and slipped off immediately, Grace’s flesh closing behind her and sealing Anthony alone into a dark world of living flesh that threatened to down him, suffocate him, crush him, and cook him all at once.


There was no seeing once alone inside Grace, Anthony’s senses were limited to the sounds, smells, and tastes. All Anthony could perceive was dominated by Grace. He heard her blood pumping, and the constant squelching of her quivering pussy. His nostrils and mouth, flooding with her sex threatened to overload him in the crushing darkness.


Time didn’t matter to Anthony inside Grace, only the burning in his lungs building into an inferno as the darkness threatened to consume him. Almost instinctively, Anthony tried to curl up, there was no defending against Grace’s walls kneading him from every side, nor from her drowning deluge, but Anthony had other recourse.


The sudden burst of additional activity came, in reality, less than a second later, as Emily was pushed back into Grace’s vagina. This time she clutched and pulled at Anthony in a flurry of activity. Anthony felt her hands grip and then slip, grip and slip, half a dozen times in the blink of an eye that she reached the depths of Grace’s thrust. Emily’s body shot passed Anthony’s and despite the sensation of a giant being shoved by him, Anthony was grateful to be reminded he hadn’t been left to be drowned, asphyxiated, or crushed by Grace’s hungry pussy.


Emily’s retreat from the hot prison was just as sudden as her entrance, but on the way back, her attempts to secure Anthony yielded a modicum of a result. Her hands caught Anthony’s hips and as she was pulled out managed to stay in contact with Anthony as she was pulled free. Before her hands slipped off him entirely again, her grip on his ankle managed to pull him toward the outside world.


The world went hot and dark again. The pressure seemed to increase. The heat seemed to grow. The fluids seemed to flow heavier and heavier. Anthony tried to focus on anything other than pressure, other than the heat, other than the wet, and other than his dwindling supply of oxygen.


With an explosion of light and motion, Emily reappeared. Anthony couldn't make sense of direction anymore, but he could tell Emily came from below him. This time, Emily seemed better prepared. Her arms flew out in the fleshy morass enveloping them both. Her arms secured Anthony as she seemed to fly by him. One arm went under his left, and the other, over his right, reestablishing her grasp from before they separated.


With astonishing speed they finished the push into Grace and were pulled back out.


Up Grace's labia, over her clit, back down and into her vagina, again and again and again. Anthony had no equilibrium, no peace as he never recovered from being trapped inside Grace, instead he fought to maintain consciousness as Grace continued to use them faster and faster.


Even with the regular, ever shorter stints outside Grace's pussy, Antony was failing to maintain breathing effectively. The pace of Grace’s masturbation was reaching a level that prevented Anthony from making any sense of his surroundings, or even catching a breath.


Suddenly, there was no chill following the oppressive heat. The heat and squeezing pressure became everything and intensified beyond what Anthony could bear. For a brief moment he blacked out, the walls of Grace’s pussy crushing the air and sense from him in a powerful, seizing climax. His almost immediate return to consciousness wasn’t filled with any relief, the world around him still threatened to crush him, and he suspected only Emily’s arms prevented it from actually happening.


Grace’s orgasm lasted just under a couple of minutes. Some small part of Anthony recollected the way Grace’s jaw would clench as she came and an even smaller part wondered if she’d be able to continue reading the letter in the midst of the orgasm. Every other part of him was sure this would be the end. Nothing had compared to slick, nearly solid with clenching force, walls of Grace’s vagina, and the torrent of thick discharge somehow flowing around his and Emily’s body.


When Grace’s pussy finally relaxed, it almost immediately clamped down on the pair again, and then relaxed, and seized again, each time weakening, as Grace rode out the aftershocks. Anthony lost count of the number of times Grace’s pussy had attempted to squeeze the life out of them by the time he felt Emily, and through her embrace, himself, being pulled from Grace. Grace took her time, gently, delicately extracting the two, and cradling them in her hand as she brought them back up above the table top.


Grace dumped Emily and Anthony, still entwined in Emily’s embrace, back to the table top. She sucked the fluid from her middle two fingers before turning back to the letter. Both Anthony and Emily were soaked in Grace's juices, as Anthony had been enveloped completely inside her, and only Emily's legs below the knees had been spared.


Anthony wanted nothing more than to pass out, even as he coughed up the liquid that had flooded his lungs.  But Emily still held him against her, and although she more than tripled him in height, he could feel her own exasperated breathing with every rise and fall of her chest.


"Oh that was so good. We're nearing the end of the letter, folks. 'After that, I made it a daily routine; masturbating to your videos in my husband's prized, off-limits office chair, with him forced to watch from the keyboard. He really got quiet during your vore shows, and so I made sure those became the norm. If he got out of line, back into the punishment jar he'd go.' I'm absolutely loving the way you turned it around on that cheating fucker, babe!"


Grace casually discarded one of the sheets of the letter, leaving her with only the final page remaining.


"Oh, last page, everyone. 'But I still didn't know what to do with him. I realized that he never really cared for me, and that I couldn't care about him.' It sucks that you had to go through that, but you showed you had control over him. 'But then I thought back to your videos, and how sometimes your fans will get themselves packaged up and sent to you, and everything just clicked, so…'"


Grace picked up the box as she read the last of the letter.


“‘Please enjoy the enclosed snack.’ Oh, thank you so much, honey, I will! Let’s see what we’ve got here…” Grace finished the letter and set it aside, turning to what remained of the packaging. Her hands shredded the unassuming cardboard box and tape until she was satisfied with it's accessibility. She quickly opened the box wide and fished down for its contents.


“Oh, oh! It is just what I hoped it’d be!” Grace exclaimed. “I’ve actually had a few volunteers send themselves to me, but I think this is the first time someone has sent me…”


Grace turned the contents of the package, a stiff sheet of cardboard, toward the camera. In the center of the cardboard, spread eagle, and fixed to the cardboard at several places with what appeared to be craft pipe cleaners, struggled a single, diminutive man. In her excited hands, the sheet of cardboard jostled with joy and gleeful anticipation.


“Their cheating, shrunken husband in the mail!” She exclaimed, and squealed with glee.


Anthony could see, even from the table top, where he was pressed into Emily’s body by her embrace, that the man was disheveled, unshaven, naked, and appeared to be coming back around from unconsciousness. If he knew where he was, the bright lights illuminating him clearly made it impossible for him to make out his surroundings after being pulled from a dark shipping box. The man looked, just from the juxtaposition of Grace’s fingers from where she held the cardboard, almost as small as Anthony, if only a bit bigger.


Whatever size advantage the cheating husband may have had over Anthony didn’t matter in Grace’s hands, which flipped the cardboard back toward her and smiled at the diminutive man that had been sent to her. The tiny man clearly saw Grace for the first time, and horrified recognition spread across his face, twisting his countenance into a wordless scream. The letter had mentioned he’d been forced to watch Grace’s videos, no doubt he’d seen shrunken people like him meet their fate under Grace’s feet, inside her ass, between her breasts, in her hand, or down her throat. Grace began unwinding the wire holding the man in place. As the wire bonds loosened, the silent gaping of the tiny man’s mouth became audible as his fear overtook him.


Anthony couldn't move, both from exhaustion and Emily still holding him prisoner in her arms, so there was no turning away from the scene. Even as Grace pulled the last bonds holding the man to the cardboard and began turning him over in her hands, his flailing and screaming proving useless as she did.


Grace only considered him in her hands for a few moments, inspecting him and prodding him before pinching the man in her fingers and showing him to her cameras.


"Well, this isn't the first time someone's been sent to me, but it's a first nonetheless. I've got more than enough toys, let's give my darling pen pal what her postage bought."


Grace placed the screaming man against her lips with the tips of her fingers. She quickly pinned him at his midsection with just her index. Slowly, with practiced steadiness, Grace began to push her struggling victim deeper into those plush, crimson barriers, the tip of that obsessively manicured nail disappearing behind them as the unnamed man began to fold at his midsection between her pursed lips.


The man clawed at that french tip, trying to find some purchase to crawl out from between the lips slowly enveloping him. His pleading became more and more desperate, and less and less intelligible as he sank between her lips and into her mouth.


It seemed to take hours, but in reality only about a minute, before the only parts of the man, now pressed between Grace’s lips and her finger, still visible were his head, his hands, and his feet. The finger plunging him into her mouth stopped, and slowly slipped back out, leaving him stuck in her lips. Even though he tried with what strength he had left, Grace’s finger slid free of her lips, and his grasp.


For a moment, the world seemed still to Anthony. The man caught between Grace’s lips continued to beg, but in his exhaustion, Anthony had almost been able to tune it out. But then, Grace smiled. It was that same smile that Anthony had seen as she looked down at him before something unleashing some horrible punishment.


From deep in Grace’s throat came a very slight hum, ever so slightly, as her victim’s cries changed in intensity, becoming more of a moan. Anthony could see his head and extremities moving, not of the man’s own volition, but because his body, sealed behind Grace’s lips, was being moved. It struck Anthony that Grace was using her tongue to assault the man caught in her mouth.


That postulate was confirmed almost immediately as Grace’s tongue slithered out, leaving no room for the man to struggle, from underneath the man. Without loosening her lips, Grace snaked her tongue out and curled it up, over the now feverishly screaming man’s face.


Like a great serpent, the tongue slowly pulled the man, still screaming, back behind Grace’s lips. As the last bit of his hands and feet disappeared, following the tongue behind the now sealed tight lips, Anthony could hear the muffled screams.


Grace’s smile vanished, and her jaw and cheek moved as she pushed the man in her mouth around. For a brief moment, her lips parted, and the man’s screams became momentarily clearer, before muting again, behind those red pillows.


That game continued for the camera for some time. Every few seconds, Grace would allow just enough air in to prevent her victim from passing out, then reseal him in the suffocating wet confines of her mouth to be battered and assaulted by her tongue.


Then the game stopped, Grace opened her mouth wide, even going so far as to hook a finger at the edge of her mouth, to offer a better view to the camera. A better view of the man on her tongue, beaten and soaked in saliva.


“Please!” Anthony heard the man scream before being cut off by Grace snapping her jaw shut. She was silent, contemplative, her eyes looking up and away as her lips and jaw moved around a bit. Anthony could see faint movement in her cheek, moving toward her molars. That smile returned, those crimson lips spread in a cruel arc, and with that anime came a sound Anthony would have nightmares about for the rest of his life.


Deliberately, painfully slowly, like a trash compactor; Grace’s jaw moved. The screams, still muffled in her mouth, were joined by a new sound, one Anthony had never heard before, but was unmistakable. A sickeningly wet crunching.


Grace's lips parted, only slightly, and just for a brief moment, allowing those screams, those crunching sounds, to spill out clearer from behind her lips and teeth. Those red pillows sealed almost immediately and the screams became muted again.


The man’s screams were cut short after about the third crunch, but Grace didn’t stop. She chewed and chewed and chewed, thoroughly, as though on some particularly fibrous cut of steak.


When seconds had turned into minutes, long after the last muffled scream had been silenced, and the crunching had become a soft squishing sound, just barely audible to Anthony, Grace tilted her head back just enough for the camera to see her throat move and noisily gulped, swallowing what remained of the cheating, shrunken, chewed husband.


“Thank you so much to my fan for sending me this wonderful snack. He was delicious. Remember, if you're watching this, and you’ve recently shrunk, send me a message right away so I can set up your own one way trip to meet me. I can’t promise you won’t end up like that cheater, but hey, you might end up like these two…”


Grace picked up Emily and Anthony in one hand, showing their still dripping forms to the camera. Even in the intense light, suspended from Grace’s hand by Emily’s embrace, Anthony realized he didn’t have any more in him. The darkness at the edges of his vision began to close in. The chill of being dripping wet started to fade into the warmth of unconsciousness.


Before the darkness took him, he felt Emily’s body turned toward Grace, and he saw Grace at lip level. She smiled. Her red lips allowed her white teeth to gleam through. There was no trace of the man she’d eaten, and all Anthony could think of before he passed out was how eager that smile seemed. Eager to consume him too.

8: Incident at the Center. Prequel Chapter by MrD
Author's Notes:

Okay, so I wrestled with making this it's own stand alone story, but it features Grace, and is more from her perspective.

This chapter is set a few months before the events of the regular sequence of events.

This features Grace being vindictive. It gets painful, violent, and ultimately fatal for the unlucky party.

We'll pick back up with Anthony's plight next time, he's got points to earn, after all.

As always, thank you so very much for reading.



"Because in addition to being unsafe for the residents, it's a liability issue, Bob." Grace's exasperation was just barely contained in her voice, but only because her fingernails were expressing it on the desktop in a series of rapid, rhythmic, angry, taps.


"Imagine if, in the middle of the night, one of those seventy five millimeter tall people got up, went to the door of their pod, opened it, and fell to their death. Is that the kind of story you want to read about in the morning paper, Bob?" Although a bit more of her anger was sleeping into her tone, the concern was a genuine one. It hadn't happened at her placement center, Grace was far too methodical for that, but at a placement center in a neighboring state, there had been an incident.


A door to a pod had been left open, while the placement center employee dealt with some other issue. The resident in that pod, whether deliberately or accidentally is unknown, had fallen out. From there all it took was the placement center employee being a little too oblivious when returning to that pod to reduce that resident to a red smear under a work clog.


"Bob, we've been over this. The only real measure we have preventing that right now, is that most of the residents can't open the door on their own. That's not good enough to ensure there won't be problems in the future. We need coded locks on each pod, or at least key locks."


Grace wanted to throw the phone, it was difficult enough dealing with the central office, but the budgetary director often made things even more confounding.


"Yes they need to lock, Bob. You purchased an abandoned strip mall that is somehow in the bad part of town, and in the middle of nowhere at the same time. What if somebody were to break in? There's nothing that would stop them from just walking into the pod area, opening a door, reaching in, and abducting a resident. They wouldn't even need to abduct them, there's no building alarm so they could do whatever horrible thing they wanted to do in the building. Who knows what that sort of pervert would do with a shrunken person?" Grace asked, fully aware of what that sort of pervert would do with a shrunken person.


"Look, Bob, right now the only security freature these pods have is that they're connected to the wifi, and I get notifications on my phone when the doors are opened. That's it. We don't have locks or cameras or anything else, just my phone going off saying 'Door A3 was opened at 4pm'." Grace explained. "Because it doesn't tell me who did it, or …"


From outside Grace's office came the sudden, rapid chiming of the receptionist bell was only slightly muted, but it was still audible.


"Bob, I gotta go, someone's at the front. No, I don't know what happened to my receptionist working today, you made me fire Celeste, and Eliza is flakier than, well something flaky. Please just read the white paper that I drafted on this, it's already in your inbox." Grace really wanted to add that it had been in his inbox for a week, and was in his inbox multiple times since then.


Grace wasn’t a fan of the placement center’s check in process. Basically Eliza would take someone in, they’d be brought back to Grace’s office for processing and then admited to one of the resident’s pods while they waited for permanent placement. When it came to admitting new residents or the day-to-day operations of the facility, Eliza could technically do almost everything Grace could, but Eliza had one too many brushes with nearly crushing, drowning, or in one particularly alarming case, incinerating new residents. Grace preferred to keep Eliza at her desk, focused on her phone, and what her admirers were texting her. As Grace made her way to the front of the center, the bell continued to ring.


Emerging from the hallway that led to her office, the supply closet, and the temporary placement pods, Grace was a bit alarmed to see no one sitting at Eliza’s desk, and even more alarmed to see someone standing on it.


The person standing on the desk, and rapidly pressing the receptionist bell with his foot, was the largest shrunken person that Grace had ever seen. She couldn’t be sure, but he looked almost three hundred millimeters in height, wearing clothing fabricated from what appeared to be a bag originally stitched to hold a moderately priced bottle of liquor, forming a kind of deep purple tracksuit. His hair, probably longer tha he would’ve like, Grace noted from the fact that the natural brown color had pushed the platinum blonde out, creating a two-tone hairstyle that looked unkempt.


“Holy shit, at least some good came out of this.” He said, preempting Grace’s introduction. Grace had enough experience with men staring at her chest, and shrunken men staring at her chest to follow his gaze, although he wasn’t being particularly subtle about it at all.


“Eliza, has this man been checked in?” Grace asked, more than a little loudly, hoping Eliza would pop up from under her desk, or from the restroom, or even down from the ceiling at this point.


“Ain’t nobody here but you and me, sweetness.” The tiny man said, finally relenting on the receiptionst bell.


Grace shuddered internally and contemplated picking up the man and chucking him outside the door to the placement facility as hard as she could, but restrained herself. Instead she walked around behind Eliza’s desk to see if anything was amiss. Once there she found a sheet of paper, an index card, folded in half to stand on Eliza’s keyboard. While grace picked it up the man on the desktop did his best to look unconcerned.


The note unfolded to read; “Gone home for the day!” Below that, furiously scratched out; “Friends called from out of state.” below that; “Didn’t want to interrupt your call.” and finally at the bottom, in more fresh ink; “Doctor’s appointment.”


Grace crumpled the paper in her hand, and a scowl must have crossed her face. Because the man on the desk piped up again.


“Whoa, scary. Bad news?” He asked. “I can help make it better.”


The ‘chuck out the door’ option was looking better and better.


“No, Mr…?” Grace inquired.


“Justin. Justin Sullentropp! Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of me?” He asked incredulously.


Grace stared, trying to come up with a more polite way to say the first thing that had entered her mind. When she didn’t respond he tried again.


“Justin Sullentropp, you know? The hottest new singer in the county? I’ve been on all the radio stations, and I’ve played at every club in this town!” He sounded hurt that Grace didn’t recognize him.


Grace wanted to ask him who still listened to the radio, but thought better of it.


“Well, Mr. Sullentropp, let me be the first to welcome you to the placement center. I apologize for the delay in getting you checked in. If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get here?” Grace asked.


“One of my, uh, one of my friends dropped me off.” Justin said, suddenly unwilling to make eye contact.


“Okay…” Grace said, willing to let the topic drop for now, the processing system didn’t care too much about how the resident arrived anyway. “Why don’t we head back to my office and we’ll get you checked in?” Grace offered.


“You can take me anywhere, sweetness.” Justin said.


“Please, call me Grace.” She said through gritted teeth.


Grace reached out and picked up Justin by the torso. She was unaccustomed to someone so large. Previously the largest resident that had ever been admitted to her center was about two hundred millimeters, and Justin was clearly in excess of that. As delicately as she could manage, she carried Justin back to her office where she set him down on the desktop. She sat in her chair and began working.


The check in process was fairly banal, basic questions about who, when, where, and how were covered in short order as Grace entered the information into her computer. As much as Grace disliked Justin, the process of entering him into the system was proceeding without too much incident, although virtually all of his answers were supplemented with unwanted comments that made the bile rise in the back of Grace’s throat.


Of particular note to Grace was Justin’s size. While she had heard of people shrinking to outlier status, either significantly smaller or significantly larger, most of the people that had been admitted to her center fell within a reasonable deviation of the mean. Justin was too tall to be measured by her standard calipers, Grace had to break out a ruler from the office desks original function. The ruler, made of rusting steel, was so old it lacked metric measurements, requiring Grace to do a bit of mental math to come to Justin’s new official height; two hundred and seventy seven millitmeters.


Near the end of the process, an error occurred in the archaic in-between system that communicated Grace’s more modern program with some of the federal government’s significantly more ancient code, preventing the process from completion. Grace almost swore aloud, knowing this would extend her time Justin, especially given the documentation for the in-between program was all hard-copy.


Grace turned away from her computer to a filing cabinet behind her, and sifted through the folders filled with miscellanae related to the operation of the placement center. Procedures, back up plans, emergency plans, processes, contact numbers that had been out of date when the center opened, and of course, software documentation for the inbetween program. Grace quickly diagnosed the problem an replaced the file.


Grace turned back from the filing cabinet only to find Justin, completely naked, lounged across her keyboard, his head propped up on his arm, a grin across his face, and an erection raging between his legs.


"Mr. Sullentropp! What are you doing?" Grace exclaimed.


"What?" Justin asked. "You don't like what you see?" He waved the arm not supporting his head in the general direction of his dick.


"I'm at work, and you're like not even a foot tall!" Grace said, trying to comprehend the audacity someone would need to strip naked and present themselves to another human being a half dozen times their size. Or just another human being for that matter.


"Oh, are you not into dudes?" Justin asked, still naked, still unconcerned with his nakedness. "I mean, I don't mind. I could help you with that."


Grace's jaw dropped.


"'Help me with that'? With what? Being gay? What the fuck makes you think that I need help…" Grace stopped. Her brain trying to work through the indignation of being told she needed help to not be a lesbian and tripping over a mental obstacle called 'Tony'. "Wait a fuckin' minute, I have a boyfriend, you asshole!"


"Well he's not here, is he?" Justin offered. "Come on, lemme at that pussy!"


An image of Grace's fist dropping onto Justin's prime body, crushing him dead in a single blow flashed in her mind. The only thing stopping her was the fact that he was reclining on her personal keyboard that she'd purchased when the one that had been issued to her, apparently a relic from the late fifties, had finally crapped out.


“Jesus fucking christ, dude. Just put your fucking clothes back on and get off my keyboard so I can get back to work.” Grace sighed, exasperated and disgusted.


“Fine, you wanna be a cunt, be a cunt!” Justin said, rolling off the keyboard, before getting up and walking to the edge of Grace’s desk. When he realized he had no where to go, none of his indignation had faded, but with nothing to vent on, he simply sat at the corner of the desk, facing away from Grace, and pouted.


Grace sighed, again in disgust. She went to resume entering Justin’s information into the system, but paused before her fingertips hit the keys. She pulled a cleaning wipe from the tub on her desk and thoroughly wiped down the keys with pleasantly lavender scented, germicidal, solution before going back to work. The rest of her work went uninterrupted, but Justin somehow made the process diffiult just with his presence.


Finished with the data entry, Grace stood from her desk and ignored Justin’s quizical glance as she walked by him. Normally Grace would carry the resident to their pod, but Justin complicated that two fold. For starters, he was too large to actually utilize the pods. The pods were designed for a maximum height of around two hundred millimeters, and Justin was near enough double that. The other complication was Grace wanted as little to do with Justin as was humanly possible.


Grace left Justin in her office and made the short trip to the supply closet. She would need to find a better solution for Justin in the immediate future, but given his unique situation, it was unlikely he’d spend too long at the placement center. She just needed a way to keep him relatively comfortable and safe for the night and she’d deal with a more permanent solution in the morning.


She found a rather large plastic crate, the kind of thing used by government organizations for decades before finally being retired to some kind of, well, underfunded stock room for an underfunded social program. She also seized a set of three paperclip holders, dumping the contents onto the supply closet’s shelf, to serve as resceptacles for food, water, and any biologicals Justin would need over the course of the night. Grace was finding it really hard to give a shit for Justin’s comfort, but some part of her hated the solution of treating him like a wounded animal, even if it was only for one night. Finally she grabbed a bottle of water and one of the meal kits for residents; a pre-prepared single serving of, according to this container, meatloaf and vegetables.


She returned to her office, crate in her hands, containers in the crate, and was alarmed to see her desktop devoid of Justin. She almost panicked, almost dropped the container and called out to find the little fucker, but almost immediately on stepping into her office she heard a voice come from under the crate.


“Hey! Watch where you’re going! You could’ve stepped on me!” Justin screamed at her.


Grace sighed, both relieved that Justin hadn’t disappeared somewhere into the center, and paradoxically disappointed that he was still here.


“Please don’t wander around on your own, Mr. Sullentropp.” Grace said. “You could get stepped on…” She acknowledge. “or worse.” She muttered under her breath.


“What did you say?” Justin demanded.


“I have your sleeping quarters for the evening. It’s not the best, but your situation is unique and we’ll have to work with what we’ve got. We’ll find a better solution tomorrow morning.” Grace said, her voice returning to a pitch perfect customer service cadence.


“I have to sleep in a fucking box?” Justin protested.


Grace ignored him and returned to her desk, simply stepping over Justin as she did. She didn’t care that he might catch a glimpse up her pencil skirt, she valued showing him how small and insignificant he was to her more. At her desk, before she sat down, she pulled the fleece lined blanket she kept for warmth in the poorly insulated office from teh back of her chair and began to use it to line the interior of the crate. With most of the crate lined, and excess available to be used as a blanket, Grace placed the three containers in the crate, one distanced well away from the other two. She had plenty of bottled water, and more than enough meals that were deliverable to the residents, but all of the pods had functioning plumbing; Justin would have to make do with a paperclip container.


Grace brought the prepared crate back down off the desk to where Justin had been observing her, and tilted it toward Justin.


“Go on, get in.” She ordered.


“Why do I have to sleep in a box?” Justin asked, refusing to move.


“Because it’s the middle of winter, and this office doesn’t retain heat or air conditioning well. While I don’t really like you, I absolutely don’t want you to freeze to death.” Grace said, and then when Justin’s expression lit up in some kind of misinterpretation, she clarified; “Too much paperwork.”


Justin scowled, but didn’t say anything as he climbed up over the lip of the crate into the soft fleece of Grace’s blanket. For all her disdain, Grace was happy to see that Justin seemed to be enjoying the small comforts she could offer, although she made a mental note to have the blanket washed, re-washed, and washed again when Justin was long gone.


Grace carried the crate as gently as she could manage to the corner of her office that had a vent nearer the floor. She placed the crate against the wall, as close to the vent as possible, affording Justin as much of the heating system as could be managed. Before Justin could strike up any more offensive conversation Grace walked back to her desk and got the meal kit and a water bottle. She uncerimoniously dumped the meal kit into one of the empty paperclip containers, and filled the other with water.


“What the fuck?” Justin protested after seeing his evening accomodations closer resembled a gerbils than a humans.


“Look, I know it’s not great, but it’s for one night. You won’t fit in one of the pods where the other residents stay. This will keep you warm, fed, and give you a place to use the restroom if you need to. Like I said, tomorrow we’ll have a better solution.” Grace said.


She didn’t wait for Justin to object, instead returning to her desk and turning off her monitor, and gathering her things.


“I’ll be back bright and early tomorrow morning.” Grace said, slipping on her jacket.


She double checked her desk, realizing Justin’s makeshift clothing was still there from when he disrobed on her keyboard. She picked it up and walked back over to the crate. Justin was leaning against the side, only slightly shorter than the wall of the crate. Grace dropped his clothing into the crate.


“And please do me a favor, don’t pull that shit with Eliza. She’d lose her shit.” Grace said.


Justin didn’t reply, instead walked away pulling a section of the blanket over him.


“Okay, goodnight.” Grace said, unconcerned.


She made her way out of the office, turning off her own office lights, but leaving the center’s lights on, as normal. She passed the reception desk, and exited into the cool winter night, after briefly checking that no one was outside waiting for her.


The ride home was boring and Grace’s time at home seemed too brief. She swapped out her black heels for comfortable slippers, her pencil skirt swapped out for sweatpants, her blouse and jacket for a ratty tank top that she wouldn't be caught dead in out of her apartment.


She had thoroughly set about destressing, texting Anthony, putting a mediocre dinner in the oven, and curling up on the loveseat to await Anthony's arrival and watch horror movies.


In truth, hours passed. Anthony worked a later shift than Grace did, and it wasn't uncommon for him to head home before coming over.


Only after watching a few episodes of a comedy show did her wait get interrupted. It had grown dark out, but Grace's phone buzzed to life. She expected to see a text from Anthony, announcing his evident arrival, but instead saw a notification she never wanted to see at home. One of the pod doors at the placement center had been opened.


Grace considered herself many things, but rash was not one of them. The system that reported the doors was not the best in the world, nor was it the most robust. It was perfectly reasonable to guess that one door sensor being tripped could be an error. The sensor that had been tripped was on the bottom row of the pods, on a pod that was uninhabited. Still, she didn't set her phone down. 


Just when she felt that she could relax, and chalk it up to an electrical problem, or a false signal, a new notification came up. Another door, on the bottom row, opened up, this one had a resident in it.


Grace leapt from the loveseat faster than she'd ever done. She snatched her jacket near the door, and flung her slippers off slamming her bare feet into a pair of winter boots that were waiting for worser weather. The door slammed behind her, lights, television and all still on as she bolted to her car.


Being pulled over would’ve been disastrous. Grace would’ve been forced to explain her job, the warning indicators on the pod doors, the nature of her suspicions, and all of that had the potential to snowball into unwanted attention to her own activities. Although she had only ever taken a plaything from the placement center once, a test run, really, to see if she could appropriately obfuscate her actions, that had been a willing volunteer. It would still not do to have her personal life investigated as a matter of interest to some malfeasance at her office.


She pulled up to the otherwise desolate strip mall and checked her surroundings. A robber wouldn’t find anything of real value in the placement center, and there was nothing around it to steal either, but Grace’s paranoia wouldn’t allow her to proceed until she confirmed there was nothing moving in the dim street lights still active in the area.


More confusing was the scene at the placement center itself. A few of the lights in the center never turned off, long fluorescent bulbs that cast harsh white light over everything in the area as a safety measure, so even though the center’s lights had been flipped off, the reception area was clearly visible, and there was no indidication of what Grace had expected.


The glass to the windows and the door was still intact, the door itself still closed, everything looked as Grace had left it earlier that night.


Grace hurried inside, cursing the lock as she worked the door open. She immediately locked it behind her as well, no reason to invite anyone else in.


The center's lights, fluorescent tubes, were on all the time, so it was immediately clear that no one was in the receptionist area. Grace sped back to her office, only quickly glancing inside to see that nothing wasn't amiss.


As she crossed into the pod area, however, she knew she forgot something, and standing in the doorway to the pods, she immediately recalled what she'd forgotten, and was mortified to confirm one of her worst suspicions.


“What the fuck are you doing?” Grace asked, too stunned to act.


The lights in the pod room were as clear as they were during the day, so she had no trouble identifying what was going on, but it still left her beside herself. Sitting in the middle of the room, as naked as she had left him in the crate, knelt Justin. Under him, pinned down at the head by one of Justin’s feet, was one of the other residents, tears pooling under her face on the floor. Grace recognized the woman, Bethany,  a former graduate student that had been working in biology when she caught the virus and shrunk to sixty five millimeters. She had only been at the center for a week. Justin’s erect penis sliding back and forth between Bethany’s raised buttcheeks as Justin’s other hand held her hips up.


“Oh, hey, the lesbian’s back.” Justin said, barely pausing in thrusting against the woman as he did. "What are you doing back so soon, tits?"


“Please help me!” Bethany cried out.


The sudden plea for help snapped Grace out of her stunned state and she immediately closed the distance to where Justin was assaulting the woman. Neither of the shrunken people seemed accustomed to the sesnation of someone so much larger than them moving with such speed directly at them, and both Justin and the woman cried out in shock, Justin falling forward over the woman as he did.


Grace didn’t waste any time, and snatched Justin up off of Bethany. Grace spared him no gentleness, but still his squirming and shouting in protest had little effect on Grace. He continued to spew protests and profanity as Grace more delicatly picked up Bethany, still weeping.


The temptation to spike Justin into the cold linoleum floor with all her might was almost overpowering, but as angry as Grace was, she was never rash. Bethany might agree with what she did, but still provide witness against Grace if criminal charges were to be brought. Justifiable homicide was still homicide, and it would be extremely problematic if Grace’s cabin were to come under investigation.


“Beth, look at me…” Grace said. “Did he…?” She didn’t want to finish the sentence, and the implication was enough.


Bethany shook her head, now cradled in Grace’s hand, she clung to Grace’s finger.


“No. No, not yet. He had just pulled me out of the pod when you got here. But if you hadn’t shown up when you did…” Bethany’s words caught in her throat.


“Hey, I know, I know, look, I don’t think its best that you be alone, but I’m the only one here, and I don’t want you to have to be anywhere near him.” Grace started. “So I’m going to put you in one of the top row pods, and let you get cleaned up. Take a bath, try to put this behind you for a bit, the police will be here before too long and you’ll need to talk to them.”


From her left hand, Justin laughed.


“What the fuck are they going to do?” Justin said laughing. “When was the last time a fucking shrunken guy went to jail?”


Grace scowled at him, but did not respond directly to Justin. “Don’t you worry about that, when the police get here, just tell them everything you know. I’m going to take him back to my office to wait for the cops.”


Bethany nodded, and Grace did her best to keep her comfortable while opening one of the vacant pods on the top row. It was difficult, she didn’t want to put Bethany down, for fear of Bethany becoming inconsolable, and she didn’t want to put Justin down for fear of him making a break for it. Even through the difficulty, Grace managed to open the pod and set Bethany in.


“I’ll be back to talk to you when the cops get here, and I’ll make sure I have some clothes for you when I do.” Grace said before gently closing the door.


Grace stood by the bank of doors leading to the residents’ pods, leaning against the wall. Right now, the placement center was about eighty seven percent full on pods, and Justin had managed to open at least four. The fact that he hadn’t terrorized more residents was dumb luck. She turned her back to the wall and slid down to the floor, holding Justin in front of her. She stared at the largest shrunken person she’d ever encountered, naked in her hand and still fully aroused.


“You know I’m just gonna say she was into it.” Justin said. “It ain’t hard to walk after one of these.”


Grace silently considered his words for a moment, and his actions. Complicating the whole affair was her own course of action. She considered for a brief moment, simply doing what she’d told Bethany she’d do. Call the cops, throw Justin in a desk drawer and lock it until they arrived, then deal with all the fallout of this absolutely fucked up situation. But she hesitated. Grace wanted as little police involvement as possible. Both as a general rule, and a point of personal preservation, Grace avoided speaking to the cops. Suddenly she had an idea.


“You really fucked up.” Grace said.


Justin’s confident expression faded, only just a little, but it was there. Grace stood back up and proceeded back to her office, idly carrying Justin in one hand at her side the whole time.


Grace sat down in her chair, and let Justin fall from her grasp to the office floor between her booted feet. The floor was a clean, but extremely worn linoleum, checkered in black and white squares, each bigger than Justin's body, and provided very little cushion as he hit the ground.


Before he could finish his scream of terror from the sudden drop, the sole of Grace's boot was on him. Even through the worn insole and rubber, Grace could feel Justin's body underfoot, and his legs suck out from under her heel. With her normal playthings, the boot would've been too thick, too rigid, and too large to really get any sensation through it, but as she'd expected, Justin's relatively larger size allowed for some unique advantages, for her, anyway. Grace expected Justin wasn't enjoying the experience as she was.


As she increased the pressure, she was satisfied to learn that she could feel a broad outline of Justin's body, something she'd never be able to manage with the smaller toys.


The rubber sole didn’t completely envelop Justin, and Grace was thrilled to find she could hear his screams from under her boot. The soft rubber, coated with bits of dirt, little pebbles, moisture from the snow and ice outside, but still didn’t completely smother Justin, allowing him to take pained breaths, and to scream as the boot pressed into him, and with every moment dragged him over the linoleum. To Grace, these were subtle movements of her ankle, to Justin, it was wrestling a giant, rubber mattress that was committed to crushing him.


Grace’s mind raced with the possibilities, but one stuck out at the moment. With her left foot still keeping Justin pressed into the floor, Grace pulled her right foot up on her opposite knee and slipped the boot off. The boot came free with a hefty tug, sweat and the fluffy interior of the boot making it a bit more difficult. Grace would’ve normally regretted going out, even in the cold winter night, without socks for her feet in these fur-lined boots, but suddenly the glistening skin on the sole of her foot, suddenly exposed to the cool air, seemed like an advantage.


She took her foot off Justin, elated to see his body already bruised and covered in abrasions from her boot, but even more so for the brief glimpse at his face. Gone was the arrogance. There was no look of anger or rage. Instead, for the couple of seconds that Justin has free of Grace’s boot, his face was a contorted, dirty, bloody-lipped mess of uncontrolled fear.


As much as Grace enjoyed that look, that expression of utter terror, that look in Justin’s eyes that told Grace all she needed to know. Justin knew. Even if he didn’t have the words to express it, even if he didn’t have the time or breath or wherewithal to actually state it, Justin knew his position. Grace wondered if he knew it because of what he’d done to the other residents of the placement center, but even if Justin didn’t, he knew it because of his immediate position under Grace. Being put under her boot had reminded him of who he was dealing with; someone bigger.


Grace took her time in dropping her bare foot onto Justin. She wanted him to really have an appreciation for her unwashed sole descending on him; the sheen of sweat that covered her foot, the bits of lint and dirt that clung to it and under her toes, the heat that radiated from her foot, and of course the smell. Grace took pride in her hygiene, but there was no avoiding it, walking around her apartment barefoot, cramming her bare feet into fur lined boots, driving the thirty minutes back to the office, and all the walking around since had resulted in a pair of hot, sweating, stinking feet.


She wiggled her toes as they closed in on Justin, she made sure that her size advantage was clear, her toes well above his head, and the ball of her foot closing in with his face. As her sole descended on him, Grace was ecstatic to feel his hands, more clearly than she could with any other plaything, contact with her skin, and subsequently slide off in the sweat as she pressed into him.


This time Justin’s screams were silenced as Grace’s sole enveloped him from above. His hands, slipped off her skin, were spread eagle as her foot continued to drop, and smother him from all sides, spreading over him like a tide of flesh. 


Immediately, Grace knew this would be an experience to be savored. She’d grown accustomed to the feeling of fifty millimeter tall people, even hundred or hundred and fifty millimeter tall people under her feet, but this was rewarding in a new way. He was still small enough that he was utterly helpless against her foot, but large enough that every twitch, every suppressed motion of his limbs was transmitted through her sole. She could feel everything and loved it.


Just as quickly, Grace recognized a blossoming warmth between her legs. Although Grace was normally very strict about separating her hobbies from her work, however much the two seemed to overlap, this was registering as everything she typically enjoyed in the privacy of her cabin's basement, and the anger at Justin for complicating her life, assaulting a resident, and being, in general, an annoying little shit, really made the risk worth it.


A part of Grace was also disappointed. The sensation of such a large victim struggling under her foot was so novel, enthralling, and rewarding that it was a shame she'd be unable to really explore the opportunities it would present. Grace's mind went briefly to some of the possibilities that were squandered; she imagined his tongue would feel especially good in a variety of applications, she wondered if her own tongue could be forced inside him, even a little bit, without permanently damaging him, the thought of being able to cram him inside of her and feel every feature of his face as he fought against her, the more unique scenarios that Grace understood would never be realized now, the angrier she got.


"Goddamnit, you really fucked up." Grace said, almost to herself as much as the man under her right foot. The shrunken asshole had given her a bad feeling when he'd shown up in that box earlier, but Grace had ignored her own instincts.


She lifted her foot, just enough to allow him to breathe, before pressing it back into him. The office's linoleum flooring provided no comfort for him as she made sure that her foot was not only suffocating, but painful as well.


Grace shifted the pressure in her foot, savoring the feel of the diminutive man's face conforming to the ball of her foot in different measures. She allowed his face to slip to the side, then lifted enough to push back down to crush his nose directly.


"It looks like we're only going to get a short time together." Grace said, again almost to herself, there was no way Justin could hear her, both his own screams and the sweaty skin of her sole preventing her from being audible.


"So let's make the most of it." She said, pressing hard enough that she could feel the cool linoleum against her skin, and Justin's body straining to hold it's shape under her strength.


Grace was accustomed to the limits of shrunken people, she’d pushed her smaller toys to their extremes more than often enough, and she’d accidentally gone beyond those limits plenty of times, lost in her own lust, she’d felt a tiny body burst under her sole, or saw the tell-tale spurt of red from under her thigh. At first, she had been shocked to learn just how frail they could be, especially the smallest ones. But Justin was proving to be an exception, his size granting him more resilience than even Grace has expected, allowing her to indulge in activities that would’ve been brought to a messy end almost immediately with any other toy.


When his struggles to push her foot off of him weakend, and his writhing attempts to slither out from under her sole slowed, Grace recognized the signs of fading consciousness. She let up, her heel still pinning him to the floor, but raising the ball of her foot to allow him a breath.


For a moment she waited. Obscured behind her foot, she couldn’t see his face any longer so she wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. But, in the stillness of the office, no fans running, no computer on, Grace could hear his ragged breathing. Even with her foot above him, she could hear his breathing growing more and more rapid, shallower and shallower. Grace could feel the tugging at her heel, as he tried to free himself from under her, with every ineffectual pull his body from under her heel, his breathing grew louder and more desperate.


Grace could have listened to that panicked respiration for hours, but she was eager to see what else could be drawn out of the man who had thought himself above consequence only minutes ago. She allowed the ball of her foot to begin slowly falling back toward his upper body, and was rewarded with a satisfying scream of terror, complemented with desperate, monosyllabic pleas to ‘stop’ and ‘no’ and ‘please’.


Grace ignored them all and let her foot continue its unstoppable descent back onto Justin’s body, the feeling the wet warmth of his body as he had apparently abandoned trying to push her off him, and focused his desperate efforts to sliding out from under her heel. It didn’t work as she pressed back down, silencing his cries and stilling his efforts.


Without relieving the pressure of her foot on him, Grace began to slide her foot back. As she did, she marveled at how she could feel his head against her sole; his hair, his forehead, his nose, his lips, and his chin all slid up her skin.


His face appeared between her toes, next to her big toe, which was only slightly larger than his flushed red, sweat drenched, bruised and scuffed face. As his head emerged from under her foot, or at least, emerged between her toes, he resumed screaming.


"Hey, shut up a moment." Grace said.


Surprising both of them, the simple command worked and his desperate screaming gave way to labored breathing.


Grace took her time, while this whole incident would need to be wrapped up before Monday morning, and she'd need to find a solution for the resident that Justin had assaulted, for right now, Grace could enjoy the expression of manic fear on the face looking up at her between her toes.


"Do you regret what you did?" Grace asked, breaking the tense silence.


The look of shock, confusion, and sudden anger that washed over Justin's face was enough to bring a laugh out of Grace's throat, and that was enough to push Justin into an indignant, if entirely impotent, rage.


"Fuck you, crazy bitch! I'll fucking kill you!" He screamed, straining against her foot still covering most of him. His forearms, and a bit of his legs still stuck out from under her foot, and as he raged, his limbs thrashed, equally as ineffectual as his words, but it was still hilarious to watch. Grace gave him a few moments of waving and kicking, letting himself tire out.


“Oh, no.” Grace said, when he’d returned to simply struggling to breath, instead of struggling against the impossible weight of her foot. “Such a dirty mouth. We’ll need to correct that immediately.”


Grace leaned forward in her chair. She brought her face directly over Justin’s, and brushed her hair from her face and back behind her neck. It was a bit of strain to look straight down at someone under her foot, but Grace managed.


“Perhaps we should wash your mouth out? I don’t have any soap, but I think I’ve got an idea.” Grace offered, her tone had changed, almost instinctively from sitting in her office chair. She spoke to Justin as though she were still speaking to a placement center resident, some who had recently shrunk, and couldn’t adjust to their new life.


“What… what are you talking about?” Justin’s fury was gone almost immediately, replaced with an audible nervousness that shook his voice. Grace wondered if the sight of her face, so far away to him, moving into position above him, had triggered the change in his tone and attitude.


“Like I said, it seems you’re having difficulty with your transition and new surroundings, I think helping you understand your new place will improve your attitude significantly. To start, I’m going to wash your mouth out, so open up.” Grace said subtly aiming herself over Justin as she spoke.


Grace pursed her lips, making her intentions clear as she looked under the rims of her glasses, down her nose, at the dawning realization materializing on Justin’s face. He began to shake his head back and forth in protest, but didn’t seem to be able to find the words to vocalize it.


All of his head shaking did nothing to stop Grace from using her cheeks and tongue to push the saliva in her mouth to the front, building up at her lips as she did. She fought a smile as Justin’s mouth gaped wide in horror, a reflex that would serve her purposes very nicely.


With a gentle push from her lungs, the relatively small glob of spit fell from between her lips. The misshapen blob of fluid crossed the gap between Grace’s lips and Justin’s still shocked face within a second, but it seemed to hang in the air, dropping slowly like a balloon deflated.


Grace was disappointed to feel the wet slap of her own saliva on her big toe, a very near miss as spit splashed against her French tipped toenail, her skin, and only a portion of it landed on Justin’s face.


The splattering against his cheek and eyes brought Justin out of his horrified trance and he started screaming again, fixated now on the spit still sliding down Grace’s big toe, closer and closer to his face.


“Oh, shoot. I missed.” Grace lamented, although genuinely disappointed in her accuracy, she hadn’t dropped her customer-service voice, giving the comment an air of sarcasm. “Well, we can’t let anything go to waste, budget cuts are a bitch.”


Grace didn’t give Justin any time to contemplate what she meant as she angled her foot forward, catching Justin’s head between her toes and clenching them down on his shoulders at the same time. In an instant his face was smothered both in between Grace’s toes and with the remainder of the spit that she had accidentally deposited on the side of her big toe. Justin’s screams returned, muffled and muted by the oft neglected skin between Grace’s toes. She made sure to flex and wriggle her toes, as much as her toes’ grip on Justin’s body would allow, rubbing the spit and stink into his face, and being none too gentle with him in the process.


She only released him from her toes’ clenched grip when his screams and flailing had finally subsided a bit, the threat of passing out closing in. She let him fall back to the floor, but didn’t let up with her foot, returning him to a world view framed by her toes, looking up at her giggling countenance. Justin’s fighting seemed to be all spent and he simply lay on the floor, his gaze unfocused, his breathing shallow and irregular.


“See? Sometimes, when you’re smaller than you’re accustomed to, certain changes in your life are unavoidable.” Grace coached, almost the same words she’d provided to a woman who had been an architect, a man who had been a police officer, and countless others. “Now, let’s try this again, open your mouth.” Those words were relatively new, however.


Grace decided against trying for a precision strike this time, and instead opted for a surface saturation approach. Grace let her tongue roll out of her mouth and hang above Justin’s face. Though only the tip of her tongue was visible to her, Grace could at least see the drool forming and watched it fall in a long stretching string to her target.


The strand broke mid-fall, but Grace continued to let spit flow from her tongue. The saliva rained down on Grace's toes, the top of her foot, the floor, and, most satisfactorily, Justin's face. This time, however, he clenched his eyes shut, and kept his mouth sealed as Grace let more and more wash over him.


When she was satisfied with the deluge of spit she'd rained down on Justin, Grace sucked up the remaining saliva hanging from her tongue and pulled her tongue back into her mouth.


"You were instructed to keep your mouth open, Justin. You're going to need to learn to obey the bigger people in your life from now on. You could be in danger if you don't, someone might tell you to get out of the way and then accidentally sit on you, or even…"


Grace lifted her foot off of Justin just a bit, enough to allow him to draw a deep breath, despite her saliva still coating his face. But her foot only raised enough to reposition itself, denying Justin the ability to escape as a deeper shadow feel over him, the ball of her foot again hovering over his head.


"Step on you." Grace finished. She didn't stomp on Justin, that wasn't necessary. Grace simply let her foot fall, and then made sure Justin's head was completely smothered.


Grace twisted her foot to really work the saliva into Justin, like she was gently snuffing out a cigarette. To Grace, the action was gently, almost delicate, informed by her experience with smaller playthings, but she knew Justin wouldn't be experiencing a gentleness. To him it was likely a violent attack from a stenchy sole, and a pungent sheen of spit to add to the humiliation.


She could feel his head, turning side to side as she twisted the ball of her foot over him, the skin and spit grinding into him. With each cycle, Grace applied a little more pressure, testing the limits of Justin's, relatively, larger size. Grace could feel his body threatening to give way under her increasing pressure, and stopped applying more, but she kept her foot pressed into him, holding it still. Justin hadn't had the chance to scream, and what muffled grunts he'd managed had completely stopped.


For a split second, almost too brief to even register, Grace thought she could feel something new. Up through the skin of her sole, Grace could've sworn she felt the heartbeat of the shrunken man beneath her and it was such a beautiful sensation that she felt the warmth between her legs dampen.


When she lifted her foot up this time, she could feel Justin’s body stick to her sole, the sweat, and spit, and grime gluing him to her skin. Grace could tell that his legs dangled while his upper body remained stuck. Although Grace could feel his limp form peeling slowly away from her sole, she shook her foot, like she was clearing a bit of trash stuck to her and was satisfied to feel him fall free.


She set her foot back down next to Justin, framing his battered body between her feet. He had landed ungracefully, his arms and legs at random angles, half on his side, and a bit curled at the torso into a fetal position. Grace couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t look like any of his limbs had been broken, even if he was covered in bruises and abrasions. He still breathed, and although it was difficult to tell with her spit and sweat, the floors dirt and grime, and his own matted hair and swollen features, it looked like he was still conscious.


“I hope you’re able to internalize this lesson quickly. The sooner you pick up on this, the better the rest of your life will be.” Grace said. “However brief” She finished, a little quieter.


“Now, the instructions you were given were ‘open you mouth’. Let’s try it again.” Grace said. Only a moment later, his jaw moved, and although clearly in pain, he opened his mouth.


Using her bare foot to roll Justin back into a supine position. She deftly used her toes to move his arms out of the way, off his chest. Then, with a kind of slow, deliberate pace, she placed her foot back onto him, again letting his head remain just visible between her toes, next to his big toe. She applied more and more pressure, enjoying the look of discomfort, and pain spreading over his face, even as he maintained a wide-open jaw.


“Very good, now I want you to swallow as much of this as you can. If I think you’re holding back, I’m going to have to do it again.” Grace said.


This time Grace didn’t just use the saliva in her cheeks, she deliberately swished the contents of her mouth around, allowing more and more to build up. All the while she forced Justin to watch as she prepared, as her sealed lips moved around, as her cheeks and jaw moved. Once satisfied with the volume of spit built up, Grace pursed her lips over Justin again. She spit with as much force as she could manage, and still keep on target.


Like a bullet the glob flew from Grace’s lips. It’s sheer size meant that when it impacted, it hit Grace’s toes, some of it splattering even to her little toe, as well as further up her foot. It also splashed to the floor above Justine’s head. But Grace’s aim was much better, and the collateral splatter was only incidental to the bulk of the saliva hitting its mark dead on. Justin’s face was awash in a torrent of spit, no part of him from his collar to his hair escaped the deluge. And even though he tried to keep his eyes shut against the onslaught of fluid, he obediently kept his mouth open, allowing Grace’s spit to fill his mouth and nostrils.


Grace tried, and failed, not to laugh at the sight of Justin’s entire head covered in her spit.


“Direct hit.” She said through her laughter. “Now swallow it.” She said more sternly.


It was clear that it wasn’t an easy command to comply with. Justin spent seconds in an apparent daze, his vision completely obscured by her saliva, breathing inhibited by both the pressure from her foot and the spit, but Grace was satisfied to see his mouth close and at least a portion of the expectorant slide down his throat, resulting in a coughing and gagging fit almost immediately after. There was no escape from the sensation for Justin though, as more slid into his mouth, from his own face, and from the sides of Grace’s toes. Since he had no way to wipe it away, he was left with only two options, obediently swallow as much of it as he could to continue breathing, or risk Grace’s wrath again by spitting it up, Justin chose the latter.


The sight of Justin fighting not to throw up, and to swallow enough of Grace’s spit to allow himself to breathe again was enough to send Grace’s left hand into the waistband of her sweatpants. She’d resisted indulging herself so far, but the entertainment was getting too good to continue withholding. Her fingers got to work methodically rubbing around her clit and down to her now soaked pussy.


Grace leaned over to the desk drawer, with her free hand, quickly producing from the utilitarian steel desk an old, but still very functional digital camera. The thing had no internet access, no Bluetooth connectivity, hell, it didn't even have a USB port. But it was decent enough for her use. She pointed the camera at Justin, between her toes and snapped a photo. The screen captured the moment perfectly. Her toenails, polished to a shine and slick with spit catching the flash of the camera, her skin, pale from too many indoor movie nights shining bright, and Justin’s face, darkened as though deep in hole, staring back up.


“Very well done, Justin. I’m happy to see you making progress. Let’s document this happy moment. Smile for me.” Grace commanded.


When Justin hesitated, either still dazed from the experience, or unable to hear Grace’s command over his own coughing, gagging, and ragged breathing, Grace applied more pressure with her foot, her toes pressing down around him.


“Don’t slip back into disobedience, Justin. I gave you an order.” She stressed.


Grace smiled as she saw Justin struggle to comply, even through the mask of spit, his reddening face broke into a painful, coughing fit, but the spread of a forced smile was there. Grace snapped another photo, this time doing her best to spread her toes and let the light of the flash illuminate Justin.


She lifted her foot completely from Justin’s body, setting it beside him again and was delighted to see another photo opportunity. Not only did Justin look ragged beyond belief, but the relatively poor state of the office linoleum, combined with the spit and sweat from Grace’s foot, left an outline around Justin’s beaten form in the vaguest shape of Grace’s bare foot. She pressed the button and reviewed the newest image.


Grace savored the next few minutes, posing her foot with Justin’s exhausted form, catching a shot of her big toe obscuring his head, one with him caught between her clenching toes, she flipped him around against her still booted foot, and eventually took that off to sandwich him for a photo between the soles of both her feet, which only led to even more photos of him at the mercy of her feet and amateur photography.


Adding to the degradation were the occasional command, Grace made Justin get to his knees and place a kiss on her toes, or drag his tongue along her foot, licking from her sole, she made him stand on shaky legs, while she pushed her big toe under his junk for the camera, which had deflated over the course of his beatings. And then Grace issued the most humiliating instruction of all.


“Jack off on the toenail.” Grace ordered.


When he didn’t immediately comply, her foot came down again, harsher and quicker than it had previously. She didn’t waste any time, lifting and stomping her foot down again, and again, and again to show her displeasure. After she lost count, she put Justin’s head back between her toes.


“I gave you an order, and if you keep fucking up like this, the last photo I get of you will be unrecognizable.” Grace threatened, her fingers slipping inside of her as she did.


She was careful not to actually crush Justin, or beat him into unconsciousness, but nonetheless the beatings he endured under her stomping foot were savage. When she pulled her foot off him and kept it hovering in place, ready for his unwilling participation, it took the shrunken man many stumbling, falling attempts to actually stand back up.


When he finally managed to climb to his feet, although he leaned on Grace’s foot for support, his left arm holding him up, he quickly took hold of his dick with his right and started tugging away. Grace laughed and caught a photo of Justin pulling his flaccid penis, trying desperately to obey Grace’s most recent order with a body that might not be able to comply.


To Grace’s surprise, Justin’s body did comply, and rather quickly his cock started to grow in his hand. Grace was impressed with how quickly he could get it up, especially given his battered state, but if there was one thing Justin seemed to be an expert in, it was jerking off. She pulled her foot away, leaving Justin standing shakily under his own strength, and repositioned her toes. The nail of her big toe rose up from between his legs and she was able to deftly rest his cock, even as he stroked it, on the shining nail.


“Very good, Justin. See? This is how things should be; you with your cock not even bigger than my toenail, desperately trying to get off, just because I told you to.” Grace gloated. “You might be in for a reward if you can finish fast enough. Now hurry up, we haven’t got all night.”


Justin continued to beat himself off over a foot that had just stomped him almost unconscious, a foot that had pinned him to the floor and seemingly tried to snuff the life out of him through crushing and asphyxiation and even holding him in place to facilitate drowning in spit.


From her vantage so far above it was difficult to tell if Justin was actually beating off faster, but it was clear her abuse had started to take a very deep toll. Even above the extremely soft sounds of Justin’s masturbation, Grace could hear his sobbing.

“I said ‘hurry up’ this is getting boring.” Grace said, a threatening menace creeping into her voice. “If you can’t unload in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to make it a non-issue and crush your dick and balls with this very toe.”


She bounced her big toe up, eliciting a cry of shock and pain from the otherwise sobbing Justin. He noticeably picked up his speed in response though, and Grace didn’t have to wait thirty seconds, it only took him a few more before he tensed up, and Grace was treated to a tiny spurt of semen on her toenail. She snapped a photo of Justin, mid orgasm, disappointed in reviewing the shot that his semen was completely indistinguishable from the remaining saliva on her toes. She regretted not ordering Justin to lick them clean ahead of time, but that might have taken hours.


Her impromptu photo shoot only ended when her phone buzzed. She pulled her hand out of her sweatpants, wiping them off on the leg quickly before picking up the phone and glancing at the caller ID.


“Hey, Tony. Yeah, I’m sorry to ditch like that. Work had an emergency I had to see to. I should be home in a few hours. Don’t wait up. Yeah, love you too, bye.” Grace said.


Before she set the phone back down she glanced at the time.


“It’s getting late, Justin, we should wrap this up.” Grace stated rather flatly. “But, before we do there’s a few more photos I want to get.” She said with more enthusiasm.


Grace reached down and picked up Justin’s collapse form. He was the largest victim of the virus she’d ever encountered, but even still, she could easily pick him up with one hand. As she lifted him up, he was almost limp, her fingers wrapped around his chest, under his arms and brought him up to her face. As she did she knew what to expect, but wanted to make sure Justin had been thoroughly debased of any notion of self worth.


She brought him, chest first under her nose and took a few dainty sniffs of his dirt, grime, spit, and sweat encrusted form.


“Oh! My god, Justin, you absolutely reek!” She exclaimed with mock surprise. She almost immediately jerked him away from her, letting her lips curl in a sneer of disgust that didn’t quite hide her amusement either.


“You smell like feet! Nasty, dirty, unwashed feet!” She stated through an unrestrained sadistic smile. “You really should learn to take better care of appearance too, Justin. If you don’t, getting placed with a nice family will be difficult. The only people who will want you might be perverts willing to do some truly horrible things to you.” She cautioned.


She brought him back to her face, and pressed his cheek against hers as she posed for a smiling selfie, and upon reviewing it, found Justin blankly staring into the lens.


“Hey! Come on now, give me a smile for the camera!” Grace insisted and pulled Justin cheek to cheek for another photo.


This time on reviewing she saw the same forced, pained smile across Justin’s face and it brought laughter to hers. She wasted no time in her next shot, pushing Justin’s face deep into her pursed lips for an intense kiss. The camera caught his hands pushing at her chin as his face was buried into her crimson pursed lips. The next photo was more fun, Grace opened her mouth and encircled Justin’s head with her teeth. He remained quiet, save for his continued weeping, throughout the process and Grace got several shots of him in various poses inside her mouth. Her final photo came as she held him close to her face and snapped a shot of her tongue running up his body. When the taste of him hit her tongue, however, she spat and yanked him back out, genuinely disgusted at the taste of feet and grime.


She set the camera down, satisfied with the memories she'd be able to revisit, and stood from her chair. She brought Justin back up to her face to facilitate easier conversation.


"So, I have to know; why the fuck did you do it?" Grace asked, curiosity getting the better of her wrath.


Justin didn't look like he understood, his face had been so thoroughly abused that no one would've recognized the vain muscician that had tried to come on to Grace only a few hours ago. Most of his features were obscured by swelling and bruises and cuts and abrasions.


Grace shook him to break his trance.


"Why did you try to rape that girl? You had to know there were going to be consequences. You can't be that fucking stupid, can you?" She asked.


"Why do you care? You were flicking the bean that whole time! You didn't have to fuck me up like this!" Justin protested. "And besides, what the fuck makes you any different?"


It was the final disappointment for Grace. Justin truly was a lost cause. As a human being, he was a misogynist and a rapist. As a plaything he was too dense to learn.


Grace let him fall from her grip. From so high up, he had plenty of time to scream as he fell, before impacting hard against the cold linoleum. When he hit the ground, it sounded like something finally snapped, from the looks of it, an arm, and he screamed in pain even more.


Justin squirmed on the ground, and Grace couldn't tell if it was just pained writhing, an attempt to stand, or a misguided attempt to flee, but she no longer cared to entertain Justin's delusions.


Grace lifted her right foot above him, the same one that had been his abuser all night long. She deftly dropped her heel onto his legs and quickly applied enough pressure to turn the bones into powder, the flesh below the knees into ribbons. As Justin screamed in agony, Grace's foot was already hovering over his head.


"What makes me different, is that I'm not the one being crushed underfoot." Grace stated as her sole dropped slowly onto Justin's upper body. The ball of her foot pushed his head into the floor, but this time, even though she worked slower than ever before, there was no restraint. Even though she couldn't see him, she had been here before with smaller disobedient things, and this would end no differently.


The accompanying sound, less a crunch and more a squish, as her skin met the linoleum and everything that had been Justin spurted out from under her sole in all directions and oozed up between her toes, was unexpected in it's nature, but she had felt his skeleton fail, and with it any resistance. Although there was no question in her mind that Justin was dead, it felt only right to snuff out the last of him dropping her heel onto the rest of his remains and crushing it as well.


Grace stood for a moment in the rapidly cooling mess that had been Justin. She knew she still had work to do. A mop and bucket from the supply closet was in order for the floor, the utility sink for cleaning up her foot, and she'd need to come up with a plausible story for Justin's disappearance, although that should be fairly easy. It wouldn't be hard to believe he'd simply fled after being confronted with his actions.


Grace contemplated actually trying to simply deny his existence, wiping his entry from the system like she's been planning for, but she remembered his victim was still an issue, and thought better of trying to make two residents disappear without a trace.


Three and a half hours later, with an interview with the police behind her, she’d told them that Justin had made a break for it when she called them. A counseling appointment was scheduled for Bethany, with a reputable therapist. And the office floor shined with the cleaning power of lemon scented abrasive cleaner, so much so that one of the nice officers had complimented her on the scent. Grace was finally ready to go home. She'd managed to convince the home office to allow her to close up for the following day, and after reloading all of the food and water dispensers for the residents, Grace found herself sitting in her car outside the placement center.


She pulled out her phone and dialed Anthony. After a few short rings he picked up.


“Hey, yeah I know it’s late, I’m sorry.” She said. “Look are you up for a bit? I need to destress in bad way. Yeah, right now. I mean, if you’re too busy, I got a sock drawer. Okay good, I’ll see you soon. I’m stopping by Taco Hell, you want anything? Two Infernoritos and an order of the Nachos Diablo on the side? Will do, see you soon.”



Grace replaced her phone in her pocket and noticed the camera still there. She took it out and turned it on, immediately greeted with the last image she took. She smiled at the awkward photo, but resisted the urge to reach back into her pants. The photo was a bit closer than many of the others, and showed Justin in the last few moments in portrait, although the top of his head was obscurred by Grace’s own out of focus lips and teeth. Behind him, Grace’s tongue provided a glistening wet backdrop, and then there was Justin’s face; beaten, bruised, swollen and covered in spit, sweat and dirt. Across his face, at Grace’s command, a smile showed no mirth, only horror and dread and what had happened and what he likely knew was coming.


“You really fucked up.” She told the picture. “And I’m kind of glad you did.”


Grace turned the camera off and put it back in her pocket. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to use her position at the placement center once in a while. She knew she could easily make someone disappear from the system, but the right circumstances to make that happen would be rare. She knew it would require someone to be admitted to the center with a minumum number of witnesses to their situation, which was rare. It would require planning, and for Grace to be ready to pounce on an opportunity when it presented itself, but it wouldn’t be impossible.


Her phone buzzed, and Grace produced it from her pocket to see a message from Anthony, thanking her in advance for the food, complete with an animated depicition of a cartoon dog with hearts for eyes.


“Still, at least I’ve got you, Tony.” She said to herself.


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