Led through the crowd by the chain wrapped around his neck. The frightened being kept his eyes locked on the ground as his body was pelted by words of disdain, spit, and miscellaneous objects flung at him. Formerly one of the top soldiers of his country, he was now humiliated and beaten.
In 2200, India had been a world power for over 100 years; with its growing population came a hunger for more resources and land. Slowly, it began to expand, swallowing up neighbors with some protest, but mostly no resistance from the world community. Things soon changed when it began to encroach upon mainland China, slowly pushing the border northward, and declaring islands which were formerly American protectorates as property of the Republic of India. War soon broke out.
At first, China and the USA, with their allied powers pushed deep into Indian Territory. The tide of the war turned, however, as Indian scientists developed the super weapon of the 23rd century; the size reductor. Quickly modifying the weapon for use on everything from Jet fighters, to tanks, to handguns, the nation of 2 Billion people quickly found itself on the winning side of the war. With victory, came the spoils.
India was quick to subjugate the rest of the world, it’s population ever hungry for more wealth and power. Soon, the size redactor was being used by the civilian population as a means of commerce; quickly turning the beaten nations into toys and pets.
Looking upward at the woman dressed in her traditional sarong, the man attempted to resist his fate, but was drug toward his demise. At the end of the path sat a large glass cylinder. The former American soldier was just recently captured after having fled to Brazil; after being discovered by local authorities he was turned over to the Indian government.
Found guilty of war crimes, the soldier was sentenced to the same fate as most of his compatriots. Shrinking. He was to be shrunk and given to the widow of an Indian soldier as part of America’s reparations.
Looking at his future captor, she was quite attractive. Approximately 5ft 8in tall and deep brown skin. She was obviously fit and her long, brown hair hung down to her shoulders. Her eyes, however, burned with hatred toward the man and she wore a smirk on her face. Shoved into the cylinder, the soldier struggled screamed. At 6ft 3in tall he was intimidating, and his body seemed sculpted straight from stone. His abs peeked from under his tight prison wear. With a flash of light, he was blinded and reduced to 3 inches tall.
Struggling to regain his composure, the, now minuscule, man dug himself from the pile which used to be his clothes. Standing naked upon the orange cloth of his prisoner garments, he looked up to the seemingly endless sky of the glass cylinder. His new owner filled his field of vision. The glass lifted slowly, letting in the roar of the crowd and smell of the air.
Looking down at the pitiful bug struggling in the clothes pile, the woman smirked. She thought about how easy it would be to crush the man now, but that would be too easy. No, it was her duty to make him suffer in this life as much as she could; punishment for the blood on his hands. Stooping over, she grabbed the tiny man in her fingers; the remaining crowd cheered on at the sight.
He felt the warmth and pressure of the giant digits around his body; the man tried to struggle free. His muscles flexed and strained against the grip of his captor. It was no use as he was held tight. Giving-up, he looked up to his new owner’s smirking face. He could tell just by the look in her eyes that she had untold tortures in store for him…he was right.
Looking down at her naked captive, her mind flooded with thoughts and emotions. How pitiful he looked trying to fight away her tawny fingers. How easily she could snap his neck or rip his limbs from his body.
With the appropriate paperwork and ceremonies completed, she made way for her next compatriot and their victim. Her name signed Sita Chabra.
Held tight in the warm grip of his captress, the man shook with fear. Her long fingers curled around him and kept him secure in her palm. It was deceivingly soft, an early betrayal from the universe for what lay ahead for the remainder of his life. How short or long it may be.
As Sita walked home, there were still signs of the war that ended just 5 years prior. Signs that made her feel no pity for her prisoner. Fortunately, India had been quick to rebuild with modern offices, homes, and infrastructure. As she walked past a shopping center, numerous stores sold shrunken pets and accessories. Hundreds of tiny faces stared from glass cases.
Sita continued through the streets on her walk home. Even though the weather was humid and warm with a temperature of 37*C and the walk was nearly 4KM. It was a beautiful day in Surat otherwise. Besides, she loved the exercise.
Unfortunately for her prisoner, the heat inside her hand built quickly. Coupled with the heat and sweat from her body, the little man began to grow weary.
As she walked out toward her apartment in the less developed part of the city, she passed many roadside cafes. Patrons sipped on fruit drinks, all were accompanied by shrunken pets in one way or another.
She passed one café and observed a younger woman, who no doubt saw her parents fight in the war, chastise three shrunken Chinese men. She only got bits and pieces of the conversation, but as the woman towered over the cowering men, she threatened to crush them with her butt. This earned laughs from passers-by.
After a final sweltering Kilometer, Sita arrived home. She stepped through her front door and paused. Her entire body was soaked in sweat. She lifted her right hand and opened it. Her prisoner lie passed out in her palm.
“Pathetic.” She spoke aloud to herself and then lifted her left arm.
As he lay asleep, the man dreamed. He dreamed he was back home in Kansas. He was a teen again, chasing after his crush through fields of wheat. He could feel the white as it whipped against his body while he ran, but then something was off. He became soaked and a heavy odour hung in the air. He slowly stirred awake and screamed in horror at the reality.
Sita nearly busted laughing as she heard the tiny screams begin. Her right hand continued the act of rubbing her prisoner into her sweaty, unshaven armpit. It was a trick she had learned from a friend which never failed.
The man’s screams were muffled as his body was pressed into the skin of the armpit. Each press forced him to swallow a mouthful of sweat. Sita’s body odour soon permeated his skin.She pulled her hand back and stared down at her prisoner. His body now reddened and his thick brown hair matted thanks to her sweat.
“Happy to see you awake.” She boomed in her accented English.
He stared up to the face of his captor? Owner? Mistress? He still knew not what to call her. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Amusing. Your body is so fit, but yet I can exhaust you without even trying.” Sita teased.
“Did you enjoy my smell? It will be your smell too.” Sita added and then walked from her front door to a living area. She sat down on a white sofa and leaned back. She kicked her sandals from her dirt covered feet and grabbed a remote. A television on an opposite wall was turned on and the sounds of Hindi filled the empty room.
Both Sita and her prisoner watched the television briefly. Four Indian women on a day-time talk show sat around a wooden table. Their feet were propped-up and being tended to by dozens of tiny people.
“…and remember, it is most important for them to get under the nails and between the toes….” One woman spoke and her cohosts all nodded in agreement…
Sita turned down the television and turned her attention back to the small man in her hand. He wasn’t her first prisoner, but he was the one she had the most interest in. When she learned she was to be given him as a reparation for her husband’s death, it filled her with mix emotions. She knew it wouldn’t bring back Tej, but the ability to make a soldier who contributed to her pain suffering did fill some small part of her.
Her mind flooded with thoughts as she stared at him. She could shove him in her butt and go for a run. Or force him to live under her feet. Maybe if she got horny he could prove some use….
Meanwhile, the man stood with his hands on his knees and stared up to his owner with curiosity. He was still taken in by her beauty and he knew that she was a war widow. “He was a lucky man…” He spoke, his voice squeaky and unintelligible.
Sita’s attention was pulled back to reality as her prisoner spoke. She smiled at his squeaks, but then pulled he phone from her sarong. With a few taps of her finger, the new developed “Tiny Talk” app set to work.
“He was a lucky man.” She read aloud.
“Who was?” She asked the man in her palm with a raised eyebrow.
“Your husband.” The phone displayed another squeak.
She felt her blood pressure rise and quickly crushed her hand around her prisoner.
“DON’T YOU DARE REFER TO HIM!” She boomed. “YOU DID NOT KNOW HIM AND YOU MAY HAVE KILLED HIM! I AM HIS VEGENCE ON THE EARTH…”
The tiny man screamed as the hand gripped around him and enclosed him darkness.
Sita opened her palm to see the man writhing in pain. It made her smile knowing how easily she could hurt him.
“First rule. You do not speak unless I ask you to.” Sita spat. “Is that understood…Keeda…” She smiled as she gave her prisoner his new name.
“Uhhh. Yesssss…” The little man replied and remained prone in the giant palm.
Sita turned her attention back to the TV and watched as the tiny beings were licking the dirt from one of the host’s soles.
“Enough laziness from you, Keeda.” Sita leaned over to where her feet were propped up and dropped the man.
As he fell from his captor’s hand, Keeda screamed and then was silenced when his body came in contact with the soft surface of the sofa.
Sita watched happily as Keeda took in his surroundings and his jaw dropped agape. Keeda stared in awe. Sita’s feet towered over him. The soles covered in dirt from the walk home seemed to stretch a football field above.
“Your duty in life is to earn my forgiveness for the pain inflicted on me and my country. You are lower than the dirt on the ground and will work your way from there.” Sita spoke with intent. “You and all your comrades will learn your places and love them by the time my country is done.”
Keeda waited for Sita to finish and stared confusingly as the soles flexed and wrinkled above.Sita sighed and smacked her forehead with her hand, “Aye stupid gora….”
“LICK THE DIRTS FROM MY FEETS!” Sita ordered which caused Keeda to jump in fear.Keeda slowly approached Sita’s giant left sole. He stared at the heel which was level with him and then upward to the giant toes which seemed to taunt him. He softly placed his hand on the heel and could feel the dirt and dust caked into the dead skin.
Sita grew impatient and slapped her foot down on Keeda. She scrunched her face up as her toes worked to find him, but then smiled as they found their target.
Keeda screamed as his body was nearly crushed by the giant appendage. The massive toes soon wrapped around his body.
Sita was thankful for having long toes as they easily grabbed Keeda. She watched as his body squirmed in her toes’ grip and then brought her leg toward her torso and released her grip. This sent him back to her palm.
“Are you a stupid man? Did I get a broken one?” Sita chastised Keeda. “Look.” Sita pointed to the TV.
Keeda followed his owner’s finger to the scene of a zoomed in shot of tiny men like himself licking and gnawing on the sole of one of the presenters.
“That is your life. It is simple. Easy. “ Sita looked at Keeda who watched the TV. Keeda knew what his task was, but was exhausted form the days events. He looked back at Sita with an exhausted expression.
“I think you need to be awakened again…” Sita then raised her right arm as Keeda’s screams were soon heard muffled into her pit…
Giantess World
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