Debra heard her alarm go off, and she groaned. She forced herself to stay on a regular schedule, even on her days off. She opened her eyes, seeing nothing as she had for years. She fumbled on her nightstand for her sunglasses, more for the benefit of everyone else than for her, and slipped them on.

The accident years ago had taken her sight, but she’d made the decision to keep on living, it was all one could do really. As she moved through her house she felt a certain ease, everything here was set exactly where she wanted it, it was one of the few places she could almost feel normal. No bumping into things or tapping with her cane, in her mind’s eye could almost see the furniture and materials around her.

Well, there was one thing that wasn’t always where she’d left it, but it was something that she enjoyed finding. She smiled, listening keenly for the small footsteps.

“You’re in this room,” she said calmly. She scrunched her toes against the carpet, knowing that wherever he was, he’d probably be looking at them. She sniffed slightly, she very deliberately bathed him in a very strong-smelling body wash, and her nose twitched as the faintest hint of vanilla reached it.

He’s close then, she thought, stepping casually through the living room and pretending she wasn’t looking, probably within a few feet… She kept moving through the kitchen, that tiny waft of vanilla seeming to follow her. Oh, he’s following me… or leading? She tried not to give away her calculation as she turned on her coffee machine. The smell would cover up the target of her pursuit, but once he was on the kitchen tile the game was all but over anyway.

Her smile became a full grin as she heard the soft pitter patter of his feet on the tiled floor. She kept facing bubbling coffee machine a moment, letting him think she hadn’t noticed him.

She heard a stifled giggle, oh, that was a mistake, she thought with a smirk. She twirled around and brought her bare foot down right on the spot where she’d heard the laugh from. There was a cry of surprise, and her toes scrunched around the squirming form of the tiny man.

“Okay!” Thomas shouted, “you win!”

Debra lifted her foot off the ground, the tiny man squirming as her toes gripped him. Her hand reached down for him next, and her slender fingers gripped his entire body between her thumb and forefinger. She brought him up to her face, more for his benefit than hers, she couldn’t see him anyway, but she could feel the pinpoints of his legs as he stood up in her palm. The vanilla scent on him was slightly marred by the slightly tangy odor of her feet, but that was okay… Thomas getting dirty just meant an excuse to scrub him down later.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” he asked, speaking as loudly as he could without shouting.

“We need a few things from the store,” Debra said, “and there’s a concert in the park this evening, what do you think?”

“I’m in!” he shouted.

She smirked, gently bringing him up to her ear. He was able to ride semi-comfortably behind it, shielded by her hair. More importantly, he could speak to her without shouting, largely unheard or unseen by anyone who didn’t know to look for him.

At one-inch-tall Thomas was a particularly small tiny, even most of his peers towered over him like giants at anywhere from five to six inches. In the aftermath of the shrinking plague those affected had segregated themselves off from “larger society,” and lived in specialized colonies, everything and everyone there being relatively close in size. For Thomas though, only coming up to the knees of even the smallest other tinies, it hadn’t offered a real sanctuary at all.

Left with the option of being a charity case and a curiosity even in the small world, Thomas had looked abroad for any kind of opportunity he could find. That was when he’d heard about seeing-eye tinies, as companions for the blind and visually impaired even people a few inches tall, or in Thomas’s case one, could find dignified work and value to society.

Most of those who took the job were, like Thomas, looking to stay in regular-sized society for one reason or another. Tinies weren’t particularly common around here, especially not extremely small ones like Thomas, and with his size it made speaking to full sized people difficult, even six inch tinies usually had to raise their voices to be heard.

Debra on the other hand, had such keen hearing that she could almost always hear him. She could even track him on some surfaces, and it had been nice to be acknowledged in a world that now loomed over him. The two lived lives centered around each other from the time of his assignment, and it wasn’t a surprise that they’d quickly found feelings for each other.

The trip to the grocery store was easy and uneventful, “Stop,” Thomas said, peering out at the crosswalk sign, “and… walk sign’s on.”

As she pushed her shopping cart through the aisles, she was reminded of one of the advantages that a tiny had over the traditional seeing eye dog.

“There’s a new flavor of that cola you like,” he said, eyeing the promotional display. She stopped, intrigued, “chili lime?” he explained, “ugh, there’s a little cartoon of a lime-guy on fire.”

“A lime guy?” she asked, her mouth quirking slightly, “like… what’s he look like?”

“A lime, with arms, legs, and a sort of face, he’s got a chain and a beanie cap, I think he’s supposed to be a rapper,” Thomas explained, “he says, this cola is hot, and hot is written in flaming letters.”

“Hmm…” she mused. She personally loved spicy things, but in a cola? “Where is it?” she asked, a smile on her face.

“About five feet to your left,” Thomas sighed, “get that stuff if you want Debra, but keep me away from your mouth after you drink it.”

“Aw, don’t like spicy stuff?” She cooed, placing the drinks in her cart.

“I don’t mind eating it,” he laughed, “but having it coat your whole body is… it’s not a fun experience.”

They went through the rest of the store, Thomas knew her tastes well, and he could guide her not just to the items she wanted, but he would give her advice on what variants were available, and what was on sale. He was her private little voice, whispering in her ear and helping guide her through the store.

“Get the coconut shampoo,” he said, “two bottles over.”

She paused, giggling, “I really prefer the strawberry.”

“You don’t ride in your hair for hours every day,” he said, stroking one of the strands hanging around him, “I think that, in exchange for my services, I should get to pick what my workplace smells like.”

She shrugged, and tapped two bottles over to grab the coconut shampoo. If her tiny man wanted a more tropical fragrance, it was a small thing. She always picked his soap after all, always the strongest scents she could find to make his tiny form easily trackable, and she would strip him down and wash him with those in the sink sometimes up to three times a day, keeping the smell fresh and lingering.

Later, as they were entering the apartment, he called for her to stop, “There’s a notice on the door,” he said, “it says… maintenance will be by next week to change the air conditioning filter.”

“Good to know,” she said, turning the key as they walked inside. Having a seeing-eye tiny was certainly a luxury, she wondered for the millionth time how she’d ever functioned without Thomas.

After putting her groceries away, she lifted Thomas out from his perch behind her ear and placed him down on her coffee table. She took her phone out of her pocket, casually using voice activated searches to check her favorite recipe blogs. She placed her phone down on the table and let Thomas peruse them quickly.

“Okay, Charlotte’s Kitchen has nothing, Cooking with Tom is still on that Indian food kick, and Elsie’s Recipe World has…” His voice picked up a little, “a cherry brandy chocolate cake?”

“Hm…” Debra thought, “do we really need more sweets?” She jokingly reached down a finger the size of his torso and poked his belly.

“How would you know what shape I’m in?” Thomas said defensively, “for all you know, I have a six pack!”

“You don’t,” she giggled, pushing him over completely and letting her finger roll over his body, “you’re actually getting just a little chunky! Too many cookie crumbs, I think.”

She paused, letting the pad of her finger linger on his face. He was so small that it took a lot of time touching him to get a real idea of what his face looked like. She imagined him as somewhat boyishly handsome, and while she’d never seen them, she pictured him with kind eyes.

She paused, suddenly realizing something, “Thomas,” she asked, “what color are your eyes? It seems strange, to know you this long and not know that…”

“They’re green,” he shouted, fighting the fingertip wrestling him against the wood.

“Green,” she mused, updating her mental image of him, “I like it!”

“T-That’s great!” he shouted, fighting against the single digit as she continued to touch him, “can you let me up now?”

“Hmm…” she thought, “what time is it?”

“Two thirty,” Thomas grunted, still struggling against her finger.

“I think you’re due for your next washing,” she giggled, pinching him up and carrying him to the bathroom.

“Oh come on,” he muttered, “already?”

“We’re going to the concert tonight,” she said sweetly, “I want a fresh scent on you every time we go out, you know if we get separated it’s going to make finding you much easier.”

“All right,” he muttered. She set him on the edge of the sink, and he began stripping his clothing off. At his size, clothing was hard to come by, even normal tiny-tailored items wouldn’t fit him, and he carefully put them in a small hamper next to the faucet.

“You ever rethink just going without clothes?” she giggled. She knew the answer was a hard no, but it was something she liked to tease him about. “I mean, it’s not like you need to worry about me seeing you naked…”

“What about everyone else?” he laughed, stepping into her palm, “and besides, you’d still find plenty of ways to perve on me.”

“I grow my hair nice and long so you can hide in it while we’re out,” she said sweetly, “most people don’t even know you’re up there by my ear, let alone what you’re wearing.”

She paused a moment, trying to decide which soap she would use on him this time. She had the bottle order memorized, and her hand lingered on the second to last one in the row. Lemongrass, she decided, squirting a few globs onto the tip of her finger. She briefly ran him under the warm water, then, just like before, her finger came down, easily pinning him to her palm as she rolled the scented suds over his tiny body.

This was how she got her best feel for what he looked like, and she savored these “bathtimes,” casually scrubbing down every inch of him with just the tip of her finger. She explored every part of him, down his back, his little butt, his feet… she even liked to trace up under his armpits, enjoying the slight giggle as she scrubbed him powerfully.

For Thomas, these regular washings were a reminder of how much control he’d lost, and at the same time reinforced how much he loved and trusted Debra. With just the tip of her finger she could force him down, manipulate his whole body. The powerful padded tip wouldn’t even notice his feeble resistance if he tried, and being forcibly coated in Debra’s scents of choice was another layer of lingering influence his giant girlfriend would exert over him, one that would fill his nostrils and remind him of her the entire day.

“Scent marking” was a popular technique that visually impaired individuals would use with their seeing-eye tinies. The idea was that it would be easier for someone to locate and track a tiny without the use of sight if they were coated in powerful odors. Dipping the tiny in question in a cologne or perfume regularly was one way to go about it, and while Debra did keep a bottle of Calvin Klein in her purse for emergencies, she much preferred to simply scrub him down with heavily scented soaps and body washes as often as possible, usually at least twice a day.

Debra’s choices were often quite girly, and the Lemongrass today was a nice break from vanilla and strawberry swirl. Sometimes he wondered if she deliberately chose the scents she knew would be the most embarrassing for him, taking joy in covering him in scents that sounded like pop song titles, “Champagne Kisses,” “Night with the Girls,” and “Fruit Smoothie Afternoon,” being some of the more notable offenders. Compared to those, Lemongrass was downright manly.

Debra’s finger traced down his stomach, giggling a little as she spread the soap down. The tip made contact with his waiting erection, and she did a mock gasp as she let the pad of her finger circle over it, causing her tiny captive to squirm slightly.

“Oh, looky here!” she cooed, picking up speed slightly, “hold on Thomas, I need to get a good feel for this part.” She bit her lip, an expression of mock focus coming over her. “Oh yes, it’s very big… very hard, oh my, it’s a nice one, I need to feel it a little more…”

“You’ve been t-trying to get a feel for it for years now!” Thomas said, a mix of pleasured grunts interrupting his words.

“Don’t worry,” she said mockingly, “I’m sure I’ll have a good mental picture of it any time now!”

She kept going, the powerful fingertip was slick with soap as the movement quickly brought the struggling tiny man to orgasm. He screamed in pleasure, and she just giggled as she kept working at him, rubbing his seed away into the lemongrass sea just as quickly as it came out.

She had a good mental image of his whole body of course, cock included, but she loved using washing time as an excuse to play with it. It was one of the few ways she could pleasure him directly at such a tiny size, and she felt like adding in the occasional “release” helped justify the regular scrubdowns with scents that most men, of any size, wouldn’t be caught dead using.

“There we go,” she laughed, rinsing him off with warm tap water. She brought a small tissue down and dabbed him dry, the new smell of the lemongrass quickly filling her nose as she ran his tiny body under her nostrils. “Now you’ll never escape,” she teased, “I’ll just sniff you out!”

“I’ll hide in one of your shoes!” he retorted, “even the nicest soaps in the world won’t be enough to let you smell me there!”

“Hmm… a good idea until the evil blind woman who keeps you as a seeing-eye slave puts on her shoes to go looking for you.”

“Blast, foiled again,” he said with a chuckle, “I’ll have to bring my escape plan back to the drawing board.”

The concert she wanted to attend was a free affair hosted by the city, the band itself was just suburban dads doing classic rock covers, but it was an excuse to get out of the house. She smelled the festival food on the wind, and felt her stomach growl as her tiny assistant helped guide her there.

“And, cross,” he said, guiding her across the street, “Okay, it looks like food trucks are to your left, a few hundred feet.”

“Anything stand out?” she asked.

“There’s a nacho stand, and that fancy burger place you like has a truck,” he said.

“Burgers!” she said excitedly, “guide me in!”

He chuckled from his perch up behind her ear and began relaying directions on the most effective way to reach the truck. She heard the chatter of the crowds around them, and smiled hearing the excited shouting as families ran and played. It was nice being out, and as the line moved and she reached the order window, she thought over her tiny passenger. He usually just ate bits of whatever she was having, but she still liked to get him his own food sometimes, it always made him so happy…

“So, about those nachos,” she said casually, “if I get some, do you PROMISE not to jump into the cheese again?”

“It’s like a hot tub, but with cheese!” he insisted.

“You’ll get filthy,” she giggled.

“Then you’ll suck it all off me, and then you have an excuse to “re-scent” me as soon as we get home!”

She smiled wider, those were both good points, “You’ll get my hair all sticky after…” she said, a smile on her face.

“Please Deb!” he begged, using the pet name he knew would weaken her resolve, “a lot of food has a weird different texture after you shrink, nachos still taste the same, you break off a little bit of the chip, dip it, and you wouldn’t even know you’re tiny!”

“I know,” she sighed, “okay, how many people are in the line? Do we have time to get some before the music starts?”

“There are only three people in it now, about ten steps to your right!”

She smirked as he guided her into the next line. She could hear his breathing pick up as they got closer, and just the teeny tiniest little growl of his stomach as the smell of the processed cheese wafted over them. The vendor quickly finished their order, giving her a carrying tray so she could balance both the nachos and her hamburger.

“Okay,” Thomas said, “just move the burger over to the left a little more and… yeah, you should be good to carry it now.”

“All right,” she said, hefting up the tray. It felt balanced enough, her tiny pair of eyes had served her well. “Now, where’s the best place to sit?”

“Okay, go to your left about fifty feet, there’s a paved path to follow and it leads to the far side of the theater, there’s a big section of empty seats.”

“I want to sit on the grass,” she said.

“In that case go to the path, and when we get close to the stadium seating, I’ll tell you and guide you to a nice grassy hill overlooking it, sound good?”

“Sounds great,” she said with a smile. She felt his tiny body grip her ear as she began to move, and he felt her soft hair sway around him like curtains as he gave her directions. It didn’t take her long to reach it, and she sighed contentedly as she sat down, setting the tray next to her.

Idly she reached up to her ear, her fingers pinching Thomas’s small form and lowering it down to the tray so that he could reach the titanic nachos.

“Are you able to climb up to them, or do you need me to put you in the tray?”

“I’ve got it,” he said, hefting himself up with a grunt. He smiled as he saw the jagged field of chips larger than his whole body, and a lake of cheese waiting, “besides, if someone is to be believed I need the exercise.”

“Suit yourself,” she said with a smile.

She started eating her own meal as the concert began. The band was decent, and the crowd was going wild as the top hits of years past were played one after the other. Debra found herself cheering along with a crowd she couldn’t see. It was getting dark, she knew, the temperature was starting to drop, and the crowd was steadily growing subdued as the final songs of the evening were played.

“Uh, Debra,” an embarrassed Thomas called in between songs.

“Yes?” she said, “are you ready to go back in my hair?”

“I kind of… got in the cheese,” he admitted.

She stifled a giggle, “Oh no!” she said in a playful voice, “well you just climb into my hand and-“

“I’m stuck in it actually,” he said with a sigh, “I got in at the start of that last song, and I just kind of sat in it, and now the cheese is all solid around me. I don’t think I can get out.” She started laughing, mentally picturing the tiny man stuck in the rubberized nacho cheese. It took her a few minutes, and no doubt people around her were wondering why a woman, seemingly sitting alone, was suddenly laughing like she was mad.

“Okay,” she wheezed, “hold still.”

Her hand drifted down to the tray. Her fingers grazed over the chips, obviously Thomas hadn’t really touched them, he’d probably just torn some pieces off of one, tiny morsels that one wouldn’t even notice unless they looked closely. She selected one of the chips, a more intact one by the feel of it, and tapped it along the edge of the plastic tray. She felt the yield of the gooey cheese, and with a smile scooped it through the yellow goop as deep as she could.

“Whoa!” Thomas shouted as he was lifted up. He struggled feebly, he was still stuck in the cheese as the chip lifted towards her mouth. He braced himself as the enormous cavern opened up, and the mammoth pink tongue waited eagerly for him as he passed her lips, the air growing suddenly warm and humid.

Debra slowly bit down, savoring the crisp crunch of the chip and the savory flavor of the nacho cheese. She chewed slowly, deliberately, making sure there would be no “accidents” as her tongue searched out her prize. Tiny and light though he was, Thomas’s body was surprisingly hard when pressed, and a moment later something almost like a pebble was caught by her molars.

For Thomas it was like being churned in a massive blob of wet blankets, the chewed mass of the chip and the liquid cheese flowing around him with her movements, leaving him powerless to control his motion. When the teeth finally had him, he felt the familiar harsh suction, pulling all the food away from him as her tongue darted for him like a hungry viper. He was scooped up, plopped up on it, and then carried out into the late evening glow of the park air once more. Her fingers came down to pinch him up, running over his spit and cheese-soaked body as she felt him to determine how filthy he’d gotten.

“I knew it,” she sighed with a smile, “you’ve got another scrubdown coming as soon as we get home, in fact you’re probably going to get my hair gross riding home in it… might as well shower together I guess.”

“If that’s the penance for swimming in a pool of nacho cheese, it’s worth it,” he said with a smile.

“Glad you think so, now I want to hear the finale,” she giggled and lowered him towards her exposed cleavage. She brought him close, almost to the point of contact, before dropping him in, and her finger swooped down on his struggling form to bury him deep between her pillowy breasts, silencing any further protests.

She hummed along with the opening chords of the song the band began on the stage, and a moment later she joined in with the crowd as they repeated the iconic opening chorus. Deep in her shirt, her tiny captive heard it too, though it was muffled by her warm skin, sweaty from the muggy summer evening.

Life is good, she thought happily, listening to the cheers of the crowd in the theater below.