Giantess World
God knew how long Jenna let this phase go on. The enforcer had to be tuckering out her feet and toes now, the Alpha bitterly thought, but the young woman sure didn’t show it, in fact only hastening the longer they went together. Sometime in the dizzy interim, Alma lost the rest of her lunch, which did nothing to improve the quality of the claustrophobic, balmy, throat-burning ride. She was drenched in her own sweat and bits of upchuck, glossed in with a sealant of dried Omega saliva, dotted with tiny bruises, and so turbulently woozy that the little woman might’ve keeled over unconscious if she was made to stand on her own two feet and bend over now.
When at last, and all at once, she was granted this exact opportunity, and Jenna’s toes abruptly parted to liberate the comparatively crumb-sized monster, Alma landed cat-like on all four limbs. Through the exhausted haze, she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at her steeliness, right before she rolled forward and conked her head hard on the floor due to the sensory equivalent of jumping off a moving roller coaster caught up to her. The Omega’s bulbed toes retracted just far enough to give Alma her recuperation space, but remained penned on either side of her, forming an impassible gulch of white. Massaging her aching temple, Alma was surprised to find her body was, all things considered, still in working order after that repugnant ordeal. Maybe the sky-high bitch wasn’t the mistress of torture she thought herself to be. The tiny Alpha laughed as loudly and theatrically as she could muster.
“Don’t be too proud of yourself,” Jenna said, crouching down again. “My little trick doesn’t give you the constitution, the vulnerability of a Beta. Just the size. You’re no tougher than you ever were.”
Alma grimaced hard at this information, but kept her head down, not letting it show. She tried closing her eyes, but this only made the drunken dizziness worse.
“And frankly,” the Omega continued. Her countenance had yet to crack, but her words burned hotter the longer they streamed. “I don’t think you’d have what it takes to last more than a day existing under the conditions that Betas have to, just to get through the weeks and months and years of their lives. Can you imagine having to rely on the kindness of family, friends, and strangers who just happened to arbitrarily have such a strength and size advantage over you, regardless of whether they deserve that advantage or not? Can you imagine waking up for the first time to a world that, only a generation or two before you, was structured in every way to keep you down, to exterminate you? Can you imagine what that’s like, to know there’s still walking-talking fly-shit relics like you crawling around the Earth, with the sole purpose of making life hell for them, when they’re already up against a wall from the day they’re born?”
The Alpha panted, clutching her ribs, and turned herself over to face the gob-smacking view of her towering custodian again. Jenna dipped lower, bringing her eyes a paltry ten feet from the ground, just close enough that her face could block the rest of Alma’s view.
“Can you imagine…” Jenna murmured. Her bulky thumbpad came to bear above the Alpha, but didn’t touch. “…how many of them would be better off, would be alive today, if someone had just played the numbers game and done with you what needed to be done? And after all that, can you imagine the amount of willpower I’ve needed this whole damn year to keep from giving you the kind of mercy you deserve?”
The Omega’s thumb came down now. Aiming squarely for the dinky prisoner with the center of the spiraled oval of her fleshy fingertip, Jenna applied adequate pressure for the outer rings of her fingerprint to touch the floor, while at the center, tender skin molded in a cookie-cutter shape around the snow-angeled form of Alma. Having reached and acknowledged the exact quantity of her strength needed to completely bury the tiny woman in the meat of her giant thumb without hurting her, Jenna kept right on adding pressure.
Below, Alma was plunged into soundless, airless, darkness. There was none of the chaotic variety of before, where at least between Jenna’s toes, the woman’s unique troubles were jumbled every half a heartbeat. Now there was nothing except the heady lotioned aroma of the flesh pad and the slick concentric rivets of that fingerprint like wide ripples in a lake. With such an extreme size disparity between the two women, the texture of Jenna’s skin was tougher, yet still managed to be soft and almost doughy, though that effect was severely dampened the harder she pressed. Muscle burgeoned beneath the delicate peachy exterior. In time, the Alpha could no longer distinguish the terrain of flesh above and round her from the hard floor at her back; everything was unforgiving, all-encompassing, cutting off her five senses one at a time.
For the first thirty seconds, counting to distract herself from the mounting discomfort and soreness, Alma blew all this off as an empty threat. Jenna talked a big game, especially during the early days of this internment together, firing off all manner of poisonous words, then pretending to follow through on those promises of definitive violence, stopping just short of delivering on them. Lately, though, she’d mainly let her actions do the talking, and only today, the giant had been chattier than she had for any of their sessions in a couple months. So naturally the Alpha was inclined to see this as one last cruel gag. One final chance to fake-out that yes, this time, Jenna really was going to do the deed. If Alma wasn’t so immobile and helpless now, she’d have scoffed aloud.
Then, when the first sixty seconds passed, and there was no sign of relenting, the microbial possibility that this might not be a joke occurred to Alma, if only half-heartedly.
There was no way to know how long exactly the Alpha had been smushed under Jenna’s thumb now. If this session was measured in hourglass sand, someone had tipped the thing on its side just as the last grains were about to trickle through. The lack of oxygen couldn’t be relied couldn’t on as a yardstick, either; Alma had a talent for holding her breath even before her arrest at the convention center last year, having endured chokeholds and dunk tanks alike, though she’d had to become better at it in Jenna’s care just to avoid passing out every other day from their sessions. She felt now that she was just recycling the same stale last gasp in her throat, while the rest of her was bent like putty under the weight of the Omega’s single finger.
What if this was it? Maybe it was the fact that her brain was being pressed into the second dimension right now, along with the rest of her, but Alma’s fever-dreaming mind drifted to the last words she’d heard before being made into a singularity under the Omega’s oppressive thumb. The Alpha would’ve preferred different thoughts other than Beta-related chit-chat to occupy her final moments, but this was what she had. The question of feeling powerless, fearing what might become of her just for living life her own way, was an enraging irony to Alma, because it was how she felt living in the shadow of Omegas, unable to follow the natural law ingrained in her psyche and ancestry. Oh, how she wished to throw those ideas back in Jenna’s big fat face. Was it a crime to squish bedbugs crawling through one’s own property, to tread on blades of grass when stepping out the door? Suppose there was an even larger class than Omegas: an Omega to Omegas, who reshaped the world to fit their own ethical vision, would Jenna still be so quick to judge the affairs of lowlier creatures?
At the base of her hatred, the Alpha couldn’t shake one last thought from her mind, now that she’d been reduced to something approximating a Beta’s size. Was it not a charity to put the things out of their misery, when so many out there wanted them dead, and their every move chilled them to the bone? Look how easy it was to strip her free will; who wanted that eventuality hanging over their heads? In this moment, with her last gulp of dead air about to run out, the little woman actually found the one and only point of empathy she possibly could have shared with the cursed runts. It wouldn’t be so bad to fall “asleep” now, especially if it meant she didn’t ever have to look up at another damned Omega.
Then Alma left the void.
“That, right there, is about how much willpower it took me,” Jenna said, answering her own question at length. Her thumb withdrew, curling and wrapping over her balled fist until her knuckles creaked. “Yes, it may shock you to know that I have learned a thing or two during my time with you, scum-stain. Willpower is the big one, obviously. But also a saint’s patience. Not to mention, second only to willpower, you’ve taught me creativity, the improvisational kind that even sixteen years of violin lessons couldn’t fully prepare me for. Because there was no way the type of enforcement I’ve used on any of the others before you would’ve been enough. I had to write my own rulebook in your case. So… congratulations, I guess.”
Pure atomic rage resuscitated Alma all on its own, even before her shriveled lungs refilled. First it hit her that she had to stare up at that victorious half-smirk on those giant pink lips yet again, then the double-whammy revelation that her own brain had just come to peace with the idea of dying in exchange for never witnessing this vision again. Foam dripped over the Alpha’s bared teeth.
“I can see you’ve got a lot to say to me, and you’ll still have your chance, but hold that thought for now, if you’d be so kind,” Jenna instructed. “I need to take care of something real quick.” The giant’s fist reopened to another claw, coming down over Alma much in the manner it had to commence this day of torments. There was no period of confusion this time for the Alpha; she felt the compelling magnetism of this wretched process taking hold, suspending her and once again shrinking her down. She understood.
As before, Jenna clutched her trembling arm, her skin still healing from the last compression, and allowed herself to be wounded a second time for the sake of shaving off Alma’s already-miniscule stature back to the absolute minimum. Again the Alpha tried to savor the reality of her torturer’s self-inflicted pain, but somehow the little triumph wasn’t as sweet, after the series of events she’d just gone through. What had Jenna done to her, Alma furiously pondered, that she couldn’t even feel much joy now in seeing an Omega in agony?
“Oh, little thing, you don’t know how lucky you are that this hurts so bad, or this would’ve been how we started every single morning, afternoon, and night for the last year,” Jenna said, wincing. She sat cross-legged on the floor now in front of her newly shrunken charge.
Alma hadn’t lost more than a couple inches this time, as the process slowed the smaller she got, but even such a meager amount lost, weighed against her pathetically small total, redoubled her perspective scale of Jenna. It only added a dash of mercury to her broiling insides.
Cradling her blotchy forearm again, and twitching every few seconds, Jenna marathoned through the pain with a smile on her face. Then, collecting her bearings, she wiped away a visible gleam of trauma-induced sweat from her forehead. Her tongue clucked against her palate, perhaps a coping mechanism.
“Full disclosure,” Jenna said, still catching her breath. She began methodically rolling up the sleeve of her semiformal teal blouse over the arm she’d just used, bunching the ruffly fabric, until it perched atop her shoulder. “There’s not much point in me doing that to you over and over again just for the sake of seeing you tiny and powerless. I’m not enough of an idiot like you to fail to recognize how the world works. For example, I know you’re going to grow back to your regular size in a few hours, and I’ve had to learn to live with that, stupid as it is. That’s just a downside of life. Another one is that I usually have to push myself hard to work up a really good sweat. However, there are other benefits to compression, aside from putting you in another person’s shoes, so to speak. We did enough of that this year even without compression that I think you get the point of what it’s like being in a shoe while someone else wears it. No, I didn’t do this again just to shrink you. I did it because…”
Letting the view do the last of the talking for her, Jenna shakily lifted her hurting arm. This revealed, to her tiny audience below, a full picture of her armpit, soft and clean-shaven and blanched paler even then the rest of her porcelain-freckled flesh that usually had at least some sun exposure. This patch of unblemished skin shone, practically glimmering, and Alma realized it was because of greasy sweat smeared across her flesh. It thickly coated the whole area of her pit; already the stuff was traveling in running beads down the giantess’s bicep as residual from the body-straining effort to physically shrink another human being.
The Alpha picked up the briny odor like descending morning mist. Even from this far below, it was tenfold the potency of what she’d experienced between Jenna’s socked toes, and that was with her face being ground into the stagnant threads. Before this moment, Alma wouldn’t have guessed Omegas, so perfect and idealistic, would’ve been capable of producing a stench like that. She’d noticed Jenna sweating before, sure, even experienced some of its whiffy charms when their sessions intentionally took place during the ginger giant’s workout routine. This was still in a new league. It was gratifying to see, or rather smell, such a humanizing flaw, yet at the same time, the Alpha knew she couldn’t celebrate.
Jenna didn’t speak again. Instead, she stuck her tongue out as far as she could like a happy dog, and raked her thumbpad along its sticky tastebud-pocked curve. After two more strokes for good measure, the astronomic strawberry-blonde lowered her hand in the shape of a thumbs-up toward her captive, who was already so repulsed she was starting to subconsciously wish she was being smothered under a finger again, where at least she wouldn’t have to smell such a vigorous sweat.
The Omega only had to brush her spit-slicked digit along the dot-sized woman and Alma adhered swiftly to the gooey surface, in the way of a stray fleck of food discovered loose on clothes and too pesky to be collected any other way. The method worked even better than the magnet rope. Jenna’s hand rose slowly again, her thumb pointed intentionally down, so the Alpha was forced to watch the ground spinning out from under her while stuck on the girl’s fresh saliva like flypaper. At the height of her rage, nausea, and existential dread, Alma allowed herself the luxury of a scream.
With her damaged arm lifted over her head as high as it could reach, still trembling but nonetheless holding firm, Jenna’s opposite hand swooped the Alpha in toward her destination. The closer she came, Alma’s nose and throat started tingling, then stinging, at the salty pestilential smog wafting down from the source. It occurred to the little woman that this bodily excretion would be sustainable if she still stood over five feet tall, even in the presence of an Omega’s voluminous sweat. But she wasn’t five-foot-something, she was three measly inches, and that meant the musky odor was inflating her lungs and shooting up her nostrils like pepper spray.
Once in position, there was no more hesitation. Jenna thrust her thumbpad into her own sweating pit. Vile, miasmic flavors sent Alma on something equivalent to a trip from back-alley narcotics. Rancid balm scorched her throat, rich and almost primordial. It was an odor aged like fine wine and just waiting for the chance to come out now, as the impeccable hundred-foot-plus specimen only occasionally had cause to truly sweat, not just fashionably perspire, even under duress that would’ve caused buildings to split.
That sweat, slippery yet in places almost jellied as melted lard, caked itself over Alma’s body with each minute smudge of Jenna’s finger in all directions. The Omega spared her hostage no square millimeter on the tour, shoving and massaging her into every spiced crook and every skin cell. This experience of being caressed through the titaness’s hellish fluid was a repulsive symbol, an almost-living embodiment of every foul notion in Alma’s skull projected now on her; the putrid stench and the zesty globules unavoidably water-boarding the little woman’s throat matched the vitality of her own immortal wrath. But for what may well have been the very first time, beaten down from every possible angle of her mind and body, Alma was losing the fight in a way that even she had to acknowledge, if only for a second, but that was all it took.
“Your surprise is coming soon,” Jenna announced, stopping the onslaught for just long enough to be heard. “All you’ve got to do is keep breathing, and she’ll be here before you know it. Trust me. You won’t want to miss it. So keep that little chin up.”
The Omega was gentle now, in bracing contrast to the force she’d previously used to nonlethally squash Alma into the floor, and there was no question in the Alpha’s mind of why. None of this was meant to demonstrate Jenna’s physical might. She’d done plenty of that, more than enough for Alma to never forget. There was no need anymore. Rather, this was the capstone, or so the tiny woman desperately wished to believe, because having reached a zenith of catastrophic emotions, it didn’t seem feasible that the Omega had any worse tricks in her rolled-up sleeve. Whatever this taunted surprise was, if it was in fact for Jenna to finish what she’d started shortly before with her thumb, then Alma would have been content.