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Story Notes:

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.

Author's Chapter Notes:

"A Dwindling Defense," originally posted Jan 2006

SLOW SHRINK, FEET, HUMILIATION, CRUSH

In the dining room they argued -- a large white
room with a long table, surrounded by chairs,
and slatted windows. Oh they argued about
everything -- she never made time for him, he
didn't want to go out; he played too many
games, she wanted to just do the same
things again. He brought up men that she had
looked at for a little too long. She mentioned
women that he called too often. All with raised
voices, fingers and glares. They had loved
one another and had been acting fine ten
minutes before but, as it often does, one little
nitpick led to another, and it snowballed. They
still loved each other of course, but their
emotions ran strong and led with the force of
a flash flood.

They chased one another around the table,
yelling and shaking heads and moaning
incredulously. But one time, turning around on
her to argue, he noticed something was off.
His eyes, by memory, flashed to where hers
should have been. But they weren't quite there.
A little lower. He still yelled his piece;
reality took a moment to catch up to his
anger.

She came back at him, equally enraged, but
she stopped. His eyes had changed, gazing at
her not as one looks upon someone else, but
as one might view an experiment. There was
a sudden interest in his look.

"What?" She asked, but she knew it was
dumb when she asked it. "You... you're..." He
couldn't speak. It was very slow, almost
imperceptible, barely noticeable. Every few
seconds that passed, she seemed to lose
another centimeter or so in height.

And then panic hit. She didn't understand it.
Why was it happening? He didn't either. Fear
flashed in her eyes. "Oh my god!" As the
seconds pressed on, the shrinking felt more
pronounced, faster, in those frantic moments.
"Oh god help me!" She started waving her
arms before her, as if both hands were
burned. She gripped his shoulders and
squeezed them; they only made her hands
feel so much smaller. They were noticeably
larger, stronger. Normally she was weaker and
smaller than him, but suddenly, she was
growing weaker, growing smaller.

"How?" The question was genuine. He even
cupped her elbows with his hands. "What can
I do?" But then the irrational anger of the
argument, all but forgotten by her, welled up
inside him once again. His tone changed; it
held force. "What do you want me to do
about it?"

She was taken aback and released him. She
was now looking at the lower area of his
chest, when she used to look him in the neck.
"Oh god, you can't be serious? Are you
serious?"

He crossed his arms. For a moment they
stood there staring at one another. She tried
to be defiant. Don't be scared, she told
herself. Maybe the shrinking will stop. But it
did not, and soon she was at the bottom of
his crossed arms. She felt her eyes filling with
tears as she tried to return his cruel gaze.

"Please...."

Suddenly a small smirk formed on his lips.
"Wonder how small you'll get?"

She erupted and flung herself forward. "You
bastard!" She spat and swung one arm,
punching him in the stomach. He felt thicker, it
was hard to describe. Suddenly impenetrable.
And the worst part, when she glanced up, was
that he was looking back down at her, his
smirk having widened. A few more soft, futile hits,
and she simply held her fists to his stomach
and let the tears flow freely down her cheeks.
"You bastard...."

He simply watched her dwindle, her head hung
in defeat. She went down passed his belt,
nearing the top of his thighs. He reached
down and patted her on the head, and then,
curling a hand behind it, suddenly forced her
face into his crotch. She had been starting to
look up as he did, responding to the pats, and
he pushed her square into his hard member
and held her there as it throbbed through the
material, against her face.

At first she was stunned. And then she tried
to pull back, but he held her there. He used
his hand to guide her face side to side,
stroking across himself with her nose. It
hardened more and pushed against her. "You
know, if you stay this size, I don't think I'd
really mi--"

She let out a wordless scream and hit him.
She brought one arm up in a tight uppercut
and hit him up under his cock, pushing as
hard as she could. He gasped and doubled
over, releasing her, and she took a few steps
back. He was even larger now, and, looking
down at her, truly frightening.

"You little bitch!"

He came at her. She darted to the side,
running under the long table almost unimpeded,
as she didn't have to bend down. He tore at
the chairs there.

"You are going to be so sorry!"

She doubled back toward the doorless frame
that led into the kitchen, pushing a chair out
to the side as she did and hearing him grunt
at the impact. She entered the kitchen, and
tripped.

It hadn't dawned on her before, as she was
wearing a pair of shorts and an insubstantial
top, but her clothes were not shrinking with
her. She moaned, stunned at the fall, and had
no choice but to crawl out of her clothing.
She had not been wearing a bra and, as she
stood above the pile, her panties slid away,
leaving her naked.

She turned; he stood behind her, watching.
She couldn't help but wail quietly at the sight.
He was a giant. She came up to his knees
and now he was a powerful giant looming
over her.

"Please..." Tears welled in her eyes again. He
looked down at her, a beautiful naked doll. A
sight to pity.

He took a step forward and she flinched, but
he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he moved to
the row of stairs that connected the kitchen
to the second floor and sat on the first
couple steps. She came before him and
kneeled a few feet from where he sat.

For a while, they just watched one another.
She could feel herself shrink. It wasn't so bad
as being able to see it, watching him grow
more powerful, but she had to shift every
now and then as the tiles grew outward
below her.

"Please, do something... Please."

He sat there for another moment, but then his
eyes flashed at her, like he suddenly dawned
on something secret she did not know.

"...What?"

He leaned forward. He started to untie a shoe.
"Oh my god, what are you doing?" He
snickered at her -- "I don't mind if you keep
calling me that." He finished and pulled the
shoe free and put it aside. The aroma
reached her a few seconds later. She had
caught him that morning after she woke up,
when he got back from his morning run. The
air between them filled with the smell of
sweaty cotton and his feet.

He started to untie the other shoe, and
suddenly she felt like it was something she
had to stop, some danger to her. She rushed
forward and started beating on the shoe. She
climbed on top of it and fought with his
fingers, a woman who only reached half as
high as his shin. He gave her a small flick of
one of his fingers and pulled the other shoe
free.

She sat where she fell for a moment and he
looked down at her, wiggling his sock-covered
toes. Then he grinned, and his hands went for
the top of one of the thick tube-socks.

"No!" She dashed forward again, scrambling up
the cold, damp cotton and fighting once more
with his hand. It was futile, he tilted the foot
and slid the sock off, flexing his now bare
sole above her and wiggling his naked toes.
Little bits of fuzz rained down around her, and
the smell of his feet was all around her like a
warm blanket, strong and palpable.

She retreated from him, as he slid off the
other sock. He tucked them into his shoes
and then just waited, looking down at her. She
kneeled again, now only barely taller than his
ankle, and stared up in defiance.

It was horrible, a death sentence before it
began. The shrinking. And he sat there now
like one of those great Egyptian gods. What
could she do, what could she do? He smiled,
and it pounded more fear into her little mind.

She had to appeal. She had to save herself.

She crawled forward toward his feet and
crawled onto one. It was large and smooth, the
flesh a little clammy from his exertion that
morning as it dried. She kissed his foot. He
sat there in silence simply watching her from
above as she kissed. She moved around a little,
pushing and kissing. He tipped his foot, and she
rolled sideways off it, now between both massive
feet. The smell was strong and, as she looked
into his eyes, she still saw no mercy there.

"Please... Please!"

She ran around to the front of his foot. She now
reached his ankles squarely in height. "Don't
hurt me, I'll do anything!" He watched her.
"You want me to serve you, God? Do you?" He
didn't say anything. She rushed forward and
shoved her head between his toes and licked the
warm flesh there. She sucked on the sweat.
Pulling out a small piece of lint she held it
up and presented it to him. "I'm your dog now,
your slave! Don't hurt me!" It all came out
in a pitiful whine. She ate the piece with
flair and swallowed. "I'm your bitch! You are
a God!"

He smiled, and then looked back down toward his
feet. She looked, too. They were so massive now
and slowly getting larger. He lifted a toe and
she pounced on it, crawling under it. She
lapped away and the flesh and he let it rest on
her. After a few moments, he moved it away. She
followed a little, still trying to lick, but
then she saw that he had turned his other foot
on its side. She raced over to it and threw her
body at his sole, rubbing and licking. The
flesh was cooler now, but was still a little
salty and bitter. She kissed and licked.

Finally, he chuckled and she looked up, hopeful.
She had done it, she would live, but as his pet.

"Well..." He looked down at her and, his smile
widening, "I do still want to feel it. So I
better not wait for you to get too small."

She was shorter than the tops of his feet, barely an
inch tall. He lifted his foot over her, and he presented
his sole to her with a tight-lipped smirk that held all
his power in it. That was it, he had won.

She fell backward onto her bottom, and her scream
was quickly smother under his flesh. He held her
there and let her struggle against him, and
she began to run out of air as the clammy sole
molded around her and cut her off from oxygen
or fresh air that didn't smell like his feet.
Then he pushed down and felt her compress.
Lifting his foot, she was still there, on the
ground, a crimson and peach ruin, but still
vaguely a human shape. On his sole were little
flecks of blood. He brought it back down and
settled it on her remains gently, closing his
eyes. He relived that moment several times,
pressing down on her, and when he lifted his
foot again, he had to dig his short nail in to
scrape off what was left of her, the floor
relatively clean.

Chapter End Notes:

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