Dee flicked on the lights. The large, familiar space of the gym appeared before her. It was empty, and her booted soles echoed loudly as she strolled between the dormant machines toward the center of it all: a training area filled with punching bags.

Already a tall woman, Dee towered in her shiny black knee-high boots with their thick tread and heel. Her long brown hair rustled about her shoulders as she walked; Dee was thin like a rail, with long limbs and a straight body. She had only the barest curves, in profile, and straight-on. Dee's body used to bother her -- boys would make fun of her for her small breasts; or for having "no ass," as leering anatomy-challenged men sometimes observed in their oh-so-professorial stupors -- but with age and wisdom and her love of kickboxing, Dee arrived at that coveted place where she didn't want to be anyone else. She had a dark complexion, russet-brown, with darker brown eyes to match; hints of her Arab heritage from several generations in her past, though Dee never identified as much other than the American she was born as. She only knew English, and spoke with an accent shaped by the southwest, where she grew up.

She approached the gaggle of punching bags hanging there; in the center, a thin, pale man was bound to a heavy bag with thick, gleaming chains, which pulled his limbs tight around the curving surface of the leather; his wrists and ankles were red and raw; he whimpered softly behind the socks she'd stuffed in his mouth that morning, after her run. Even blindfolded his head was aimed at her, the sound of her steps giving her away. Dee smiled to herself as she saw how each echoing step made him flinch, and shook his naked body.

He was utterly terrified of her.

Dee's lips twisted into a little smirk, and she dropped her heavy gym bag with an echoing thoom. She sat on a bench by her hanging prey and relished his muffled, wordless begging as she noisily unzipped her knee-high boots and slipped them off; she peeled her ankle socks off next and tossed them aside, too. Then she stripped off her leather jacket and sweater, standing up from the bench in a black spandex tanktop and leg-hugging capri-style pants -- black, too. She tied her hair back into a loose ponytail, and then she pulled some white tape out of her duffle bag and wrapped up her hands, then her feet. Each of her steps left damp footprints on the ground as she walked over to where the chained man hanged. His head was just a little higher than hers, and he shook as if the room was full of ice.

"I've had a long, frustrating day at the office," Dee announced, "And I've been thinking of you the whole time."

Dee's smirk widened as she gave the helpless, gagged, naked figure one last look. Then she squared her stance and punched the pale man in the chest with a satisfying slap. She settled into the movement, alternating hands as she beat against his chest, each powerful punch sending aural waves out to the corners of the room and back to her. She threw her shoulders into it, letting out grunts with the effort as her knuckles hammered the same spots over and over again. It didn't feel like punching the heavy bag itself, which would already have had Dee's arms a little sore; the man was softer, and she liked how his soft body gave in ways the bag didn't. His flesh was tomato red where she repeatedly struck him, and his whimpers turned into tearful gagging on his mouthful of her socks.

Dee laughed, indulgent, starting to feel the rush of power she just couldn't get enough of; beating him was really hitting the spot. She settled back on one foot and swung her other leg up, kicking the man in his sides, just under his ribs. She practiced the motion a few more times, striking in the same spot always, and then alternated legs and sides of his body. She smacked him with the hard cuneiform bones along the tops of her feet, then she did a little half hop backwards and drove one of her round hammer-like heels into his stomach. The heavy bag he was bound to kept him from flying back too much; he was subjected to nearly the full force of each of her powerful leg snaps. She felt things inside him shift around beneath her sole as she struck him -- things she wanted to break and burst and rupture.

"Whew," Dee muttered after a dozen more hard kicks. Then, with a purring "mmm," she circled the bag, inspecting his shaking, battered body and the gleaming chains that held him. It was suddenly so silent in the gym without the sounds of her beating him; there was only his sobbing through the socks, and the noise of the night and the world outside: passing cars, chirping crickets, a plane. Air conditioners droning high above kept her body cool, though she could feel herself starting to sweat. She took in a deep breath of the crisp air; she could smell the musk of her own sweat, and something sharper: his deep sweating, produced by pain and fear.

Dee stopped in front of him once more and looked him over; his chest was starting to bruise -- angry purple splotches surrounded by jaundiced flesh -- and his sides were burning red. His stomach was covered in black and blue spots where her heels had struck him and broke open capillaries beneath the surface tissue. She ran her hands over his body as she admired the marks; poking into a bruise here, squeezing a developing welt there.

"You know I'm going easy on you, right?" Her only response was his pathetic, gagged whimpering. "I mean, if I wanted to really hurt you, I'd do something like..."

Dee swung an arm, catching the man's face with a powerful hook; his jaw popped loudly as she cried out, "THIS!"

She reset her stance. "And..."

Dee spun, swinging one of her long legs wide in an arc that brought her foot back to his torso; she felt a couple of his ribs crackle beneath her heel as she again called out, "THIS!"

Then she paced in front of him again, admiring the way he broke down crying; Dee also paid attention to how her fists and soles felt a little sore in a way she enjoyed. She approached the bag and brought her face close to his, smiling, though he couldn't see it -- but he could clearly hear her glee in her voice: "Aww, poor baby." As she admired the way he shook in her presence -- and how one side of his torso was a little caved in from where his ribs cracked -- she fondled his flaccid dick and balls, feeling them, squeezing them. She smirked when his dangling appendages only barely responded. "Aw; not enjoying this? I thought you were dying to see me again."

Dee let out a low, throaty chuckle. "I want you to last. Not for long, but for a little bit, at least. I could kill you right now, you know: a few quick kicks and I could snap your neck. Hell, maybe even with one. You're such a fucking wimp." He was really sobbing in fear now; he blubbered around his sock-gag, and tears trickled down from under his blindfold. Dee leaned in and licked at his cheek a few times, savoring the salt. "It's so, so tempting, but that's not how I'm gonna finish you."

The tall, thin woman turned back toward her gym bag. She pulled out a large bottle of water and took a long pull, swallowing with an appreciative, "ah!;" next she reached in for a towel and dabbed at her sweaty neck and brow -- she didn't wipe down too much; she liked how it felt to sweat while crushing someone -- and finally she retrieved a black device from the bag, tipped with gleaming metal spikes, like a taser.

Dee walked over to the chained man and, in one smooth motion, jabbed his bruised chest with the device, spikes first. She clicked the button on its side and his scrawny naked body convulsed.

She stood back and watched.

Slowly, steadily, he was shrinking. He shook and wobbled like he'd just been shocked, and there were little reddened holes in his chest where the spikes had bit through his flesh. The chains pulled tighter around the heavy bag with a creak, and his arms and legs were stretched out at more extreme angles. His mouth was forced wider as the inches melted off of him; it was stretched open too wide as he lost a good foot in height in a matter of seconds: his jaw cracked painfully, the socks suddenly a much larger gag. He almost fell from the chains at just about four feet in height, but they held, pinching the bag; the blindfold slipped off of his face and draped from his neck like a bandana; his pale blue eyes found hers, his eyelids red and swollen from crying.

She grinned back at his horrified face.

The man breathed hard through his nose around the wadded socks, his eyes pleading. He worked his jaw against them, as if he might be able to chew them into a more comfortable shape, but the sock-ball proved too dense, and his tortured jaw muscles wouldn't budge.

Dee strode up close to him, her widening grin spreading her lips. She pinched his pale little nose between her relatively large brown fingers and watched how his eyes widened in a panic. He couldn't breath, of course, and she felt how he first tried to blow his nose hard enough to dislodge her strong fingers -- an utterly futile effort -- and then puffed his cheeks out as he worked his breath against her running socks, hoping to knock the blockage free -- it, too, was no use. His cheeks slowly turned red and his face shook as he suffocated, his effort to escape the situation giving way to helpless fear. He grew more pale with each passing second, and red turned to blue, and Dee drank in the sheer terror in his eyes, which flitted toward her, and then away, and then back toward her, and then started rolling upward.

Finally she released his nose.

The diminutive man drew ragged, noisy breaths through his nose, filling his empty body as the colors in his face quickly started to return.

"Wow," Dee marveled, sarcasm dripping from every word: "You almost died right there, choking on my sweaty socks. How pitiful can you get?"

Then she ripped the stale cotton plug from his mouth, and the man gasped in lungfuls of air. Despite all his pain, the sounds he made were clearly grateful; hopeful, even.

"Dee," he managed, between great heaving gasps.

"No talking," she ordered.

He swallowed, making a pained face. "D-Dee, please!"

"I said," the woman began through gritted teeth -- she slapped him across the face; the sound of it rang through the large space of the gym -- "no" -- she slapped him again -- "fucking," she continued, and this time struck him with her closed fist right between his mouth and nose, "TALKING!" The force of her blows were much more dramatic now that he was only four feet tall, and his cheek split open, a glistening scarlet slash; blood trickled from his nose, which was turning cherry red. He spat out a tooth.

But she didn't stop there. Dee squared herself in front of the bag and started working the man's stomach again. Smaller in stature, she towered a good head again taller than him now, even chained to a heavy bag. She felt her fists sink deeper into his soft body with each blow; fleshy organs shifted around on the other side of his thin-seeming flesh; a strike a little too high busted one of his ribs with a pop, and a dark purple bruise immediately spread out where she'd hit him. Dee cocked an arm back and brought it forward as hard as she could, grunting from the effort and hitting him square in the stomach; the man shuddered and shook; a spray of blood shot out of his mouth.

When she stopped, he didn't say anything for several moments; he only coughed up more blood. She waited, standing there and looking him over with a pleased smile; she ran her fingers over his cuts and bruises as he whimpered.

Dee jabbed him again with the device, and laughed as he convulsed once more while making a pathetic gurgling noise. Blood bubbled out from his nose as he struggled to pull in wet, sloppy breaths, and spittle dribbled out of the corners of his mouth. Finally he slipped free of his bonds, too small to be held by them any longer, and collapsed to the ground with a clattering of chain links, in a heap at Dee's feet; a heap that twitched and grew smaller by the second. Dee looked down on him as he shrank beneath her, quickly reducing from four feet to two.

The battered, bruised, bloody man curled up on the ground shook as he finished shrinking. He was too afraid to look up at Dee now, who gazed down at him, delight twisting her features. Dee laughed and laughed, her voice echoing about the room, haughty and self indulgent. The tall woman, glistening from head to toe, put her hands on her hips and planted one large foot atop him; it covered a whole side of him, pressing his arm down against his body as she compressed him beneath her warm, soft sole; his head bobbed around above her long, brown toes with glistening purple nails, and his legs kicked comically to and fro from where they stuck out under her heel. Instinctively he struggled and squirmed to get free, but her foot held him fast, keeping him down as she bellowed louder with laughter.

When Dee's foot lifted, the man made the barest effort to move himself; his body was sore all over. He had only managed to pull himself up from the floor by half -- with quite a groan -- when he caught sight of Dee's leg coiled back; he yelped; Dee's leg swung forward in a blur of rapid movement. She caught him square in the belly, kicking him the way one would punt a soccer ball. The move lifted the two-foot-tall creature bodily off the ground, and sent him tumbling away from the towering woman, who was now nearly three times his size.

The punted man rolled over and over, finally flopping onto his back with a soft yelp; he held himself around his damaged middle and moaned.

Dee chuckled, hands still on her hips. She started making her way over to her fallen prey, light on her feet, walking on her tippy-toes.  "Think you can beat me, tiny? Aren't you at least going to try to fight back?" Another moan was her only answer, and she chuckled.

The man could only watch as Dee rose higher and higher above him as she stomped nearer and nearer, her shadow stretching out to consume him. She wore a pleased, cruel smirk as her dark brown eyes gazed down on him; his eyes widened as her leg lifted and he was presented with the rosy, dusty expanse of her large sole -- the white wrappings were grayed with dirt from the floor, and red with his blood.

Dee's foot crashed down, but she didn't get to feel the delicious crunch of the tinier human crumpling beneath her; he rolled to the side at the last second, flopping onto his back and heaving as he stared up at her like a deer caught in headlights.

Dee's smirk grew. "There you go! Now dodge this, too."

She swung her other leg up and cocked it above the man for another stomp. Again he tumbled out of the way at the last second, just before her foot slapped down where his head had been moments before. A sweaty footprint marked the spot when her sole raised from the ground.

This time, as the man rolled, he managed to pull himself up. He took off running, his gait awkward from the abuse, Dee's delighted chuckles hot on his heels. He could hear her big feet slapping the ground just behind him, and yelped each time.

"Fe fi fo fum!" Dee giggled, stomping her feet after him.

Then the stomping stopped, but the man kept running. He wasn't in her shadow anymore; he didn't sense her looming presence over him. After running a little more -- his body absolutely exhausted from the effort, and from how terror drained him -- he slowly turned, and saw Dee many steps behind him, hands on her hips and smiling.

He swallowed. "Dee, this is nuts. Please, please sto-"

Dee took off at a sprint as if a starter pistol had gone off. She quickly cleared the distance between them, and leapt into the air above the man. His words trailed off into a wordless scream as the giant woman filled the space over him, arms out, legs ups and coiled, big sooty soles together and ready to stamp him flat upon landing. He threw himself wildly, bodily tossing himself out of the way as both of Dee's feet hammered down onto where the man was moments before with a thunderous SMACK! like a gunshot.

The man groaned against the ground, but Dee didn't let up. She followed him, raising a foot over him, preparing another relentless stomp. Off his feet, the man could only roll to the side, narrowly getting out from under the lowering sole. He was forced to keep rolling as she stomped and stomped, and with all his remaining might brought himself to his feet, so he could run from her once more.

"Nice moves!" Dee's compliment didn't sound sincere; her voice was filled with the thrill of the hunt. "Time to get serious."

The man chanced a glance over his shoulder to see what was coming. Dee was crouching down, her face predatory, her huge body turning: she had one long leg straight out to the side, and was sweeping it toward him. As it swung in an arc the little man knew he wasn't going to be able to run fast enough to clear the leg. He squeaked and jumped upward, hoping to bound over Dee's powerful appendage like a hurdle. Instead, her leg caught both of his, and he was knocked sideways in midair.

He held out his hands as he went down, but it was a flailing motion. He landed hard on his face and chest with a smack before the rest of his body slapped down against the hard floor of the gym. He pushed himself up, whimpering; strands of snot, red with blood, dripped from his flattened nose; he spat out another two teeth with a pained moan.

Dee gracefully transitioned from her sweeping spin into a standing position, and wasted no time: she quickly stepped to the fallen form and raised her leg again.

"Dee!" He cried at the sole hanging overhead.

Dee stomped down onto him, her large foot covering most of his upper body. She caught him as he made a last-ditch effort to roll out from under her, but he was out of energy, and she was just too fast. Her warm sole settled on him, heavy, then too heavy; he felt his shoulder bones and ribs get compressed inward; all over his torso, pieces of him popped out of place, or snapped, or crunched. Unbearable pain flooded him as Dee's huge foot pressed down even more, eliciting a few more delicious crackles.

"Mmm," the giant woman purred. "Gotcha."

She kicked his shoulder, knocking him onto his back.

"Please," the man begged, stuttering over the word. His bruised, cut, stomped body was piled at Dee's feet; with his tiny stature, she positively towered over him.

Dee didn't let him say any more. She quickly raised a leg and rubbed her hot, sweaty sole all over his face, smothering him with her scent. "How's it feel to get your ass kicked by you ex-girlfriend, loser? I bet that's pretty humiliating, huh." Dee laughed and wiggled her toes roughly over his already broken nose. "You always were pathetic when we were together. I see that not much has changed. Have you even had sex since we broke up?" The broken man looked up at her, his face full of pain, his eyes full of tears. Dee only smirked. "Yeah, I thought not." Her smirk widened, her voice dripping, smug. She covered his pitiful visage with her foot. "Smell my feet," she taunted, forcing his nose deep between her toes, pinching at it until it crackled; she then went back to rubbing her soft, fragrant sole all over his face.

Then Dee forced her big, wiggling toes into his small mouth, one by one, sneering. "You're right where you belong," and she pushed her toes in deeper; "Get your tongue in-between my toes; lick up all that sweat and lint, you fucking loser." He blubbered and cried as she felt his small, hot, wet tongue lap limply at her flesh. "Tongue out!" She ordered, and rubbed her sole all over the wriggling little organ, pressing it flat against his chin as she used it to scrub and soothe her skin. "That's right. Clean my foot, you little bitch. Swallow or I'll knock your fucking teeth out. Well," Dee allowed herself a giggle that belied her fierce violence, "the rest of them, anyway." She watched with satisfaction as lint from wearing socks and grime from the gym floor collected on his tongue, and she pushed the pinkish appendage back into his mouth with her toes and felt him swallow. "Lick," she ordered again, and his warm, wet tongue slid deep between her toes, dislodging the gunk there.

Dee allowed herself to luxuriate in the feeling of the prone man lapping at her toes. "Worship me, bitch," she demanded, and made sure he cleaned each wiggling, insistent digit. Then she shifted her stance and brought her other foot up, slapping him in the face a few times with her sole before pressing the undersides of her hot, grubby toes against his lips once more. "Keep going." He did, and she didn't let him stop until each long, brown shapely toe was clean, all over and in-between, and shining with his saliva; she wiped them off on his bloody face.

Then she turned and walked away, leaving him lying there, heaving and destroyed, the salty, bitter flavors of her feet in his mouth and the sharp, sour smell of her sweat all over his face.

He tried to pick himself up, but he could barely move. Every motion he made to rise up sent pain flowing through him; things were broken inside his small body, and nerves screamed with every little motion. His torso shifted uncomfortably, unnaturally, and his splintered ribs threatened to shred his organs if he pushed it too far.

Dee hummed to herself, rustling through her gym bag for another device. As she walked back toward her fallen prey -- grinning at the sight of him, too helplessly broken to escape her -- she pulled the wrapping from her hands, and then her feet, and left the wet, bloody bandages strewn across the floor in her wake.

The tall, lithe woman loomed over the two-foot-tall, quivering mess of a person down at her bare feet.

"Oh god, don't shrink me again," he begged with a little moan of despair.

"Nah, not yet."

He saw then the device Dee had in her hands: her phone. She held it up before her, ignoring him as she swiped her thumb against it, as if checking a text she just received.

"Here we go," Dee said, and cleared her throat. "This one's from last month: 'Dee, please just give me another chance. You were the best thing to ever happen to me. I don't think I can go on without you.'" She grinned down at him, wolfish, and then looked back to her phone. "And two weeks ago: 'Dee, you're the most beautiful person ever. I can't bear it if we never talk again. I'm dying to see you again' -- great word choice, there -- 'please just call me back, or answer the phone.' Sheesh!"

"I'm sorry," the man said, sobbing. He was trying to crawl away, but Dee planted a heavy foot on him. Even just the weight of it sent pain coursing through him up and down. His frame seemed even smaller than his two feet of height beneath her, curled up as he was; if she pressed her foot through to the floor, she'd crush most of him beneath it, she mused. It was a tempting thought, but Dee wasn't satisfied yet.

"You called me seven times last week. You won't stop liking my pictures and resharing everything I post. Get a life, loser! And then this" -- Dee turned her phone around so he could see the picture he'd sent her, twisting his face up and peering at it from over her large toes; it was taken from across a street: Dee was sitting at a table outside a cafe, and across the table was another man -- "THIS? 'Happened to be in the area, and saw this. A little early to start dating again, don't you think?' Ha! 'In the area,' my ass! Are you fucking stalking me, you creep?"

"N-no, your friend told me that-"

"Shut up, you goddamn liar," Dee said. She took her foot from atop him; he flinched as her towering form started to lower down. "You just miss me, don't you? Is that it? You just want me back; to be together again." She put her phone down on the floor next to them, and then straightened again, reaching for the waist of her form-hugging capris. "You miss me fucking you, don't you?" His eyes widened as Dee pulled her black leggings down and then lifted her long bare legs free, one after the next. Above him she was nude from the waist downward, the dark folds of her pussy between her russet brown thighs, under the trimmed curls of her black hair.

Then Dee lowered again, and before he could escape her, she sat heavily on his chest.

His face strained under her weight. She wasn't careful where she sat on top of him. Beneath her, something snapped -- another rib. He could feel the coolness of Dee's cheeks on his bare chest; the long hot line of her pussy lips, and a thin trace of wetness.

"Okay then," Dee said. She scooted forward and hovered her pussy over his face. The musk of her sex reached him, even through his crumpled nostrils; he could feel her warmth on his cheeks. "I'll fuck you." Her lips lowered down and smothered his small face; her impossibly soft folds settled over his chin and mouth and nose. "Nice and hard." Already she was wet, and he had trouble breathing through the viscous fluid between her pussy lips that she smeared onto his face; it tasted like a mild syrup, sweet and salty, on his lips. "One last time."

Dee's weight settled onto the small head -- like a baby coconut -- beneath her. She pulled her legs in under her, and wedged them under him, forcing his face up deeper into her sex and trapping him face-up between her thighs. Dee bounced herself up and down on his little head, testing how it felt. The she started to grind herself forward and back atop his exposed, captive face, using his features to stroke her lips; she zeroed in on his smushed little nose, working it rhythmically against her clit.

Dee moaned as she rode on top of the two-foot-tall man beneath her. She could feel him fight and struggle, but her legs kept him trapped, tight as a vice; she flexed the muscles of her legs as she fucked his face, feeling his shoulders crumple inside of her knees, like walnuts in a cracker. "Oh," Dee murmured, riding him harder. She rose up a little, just so she could slam her pussy down onto his face. She did it over and over. "Oh yeah," Dee moaned, hearing a loud crack as she slammed her rear end down onto his skull; he tried to scream beneath her, but was smothered by her pussy. "Oh fuck," she breathed out, happily; she moved her hips in circles on top of him; his face was slathered with the wetness of her lips. He begged wordlessly, muffled by her pussy, shaking as she suffocated him.

"Lick my cunt," Dee ordered, nearly roaring. She mashed her plush, wet lips against his mouth and nose as she rode him, feeling his tongue slide all around. She took his hair in her first and bucked and grinded her sex into his helpless little face, using the contours of it to get herself off.

Dee rocked herself to orgasm atop the tiny man, cruelly lifting his head up by his hair and forcing his face into her as she came. She felt the hot splatter spread out between his cheeks and her thighs and she smeared it all over his face as she continued to work his features against her; she breathed out in a measured way, slowly coming down from her cresting arousal.

"Oh, fuck," Dee murmured, raising a little. Air rushed in, cool against her lips; she dropped herself down a little, wiping herself off on his face. She heard him blubbering and gasping for air. Dee pulled herself back a bit, relaxing her powerful legs and sitting back down on his chest; she grinned down and slapped his wet cheek a few times playfully. "You missed your calling in this life. Maybe you'll be reincarnated as a dildo."

Then she stood up again, and turned, and left.

The man could only lay there. His skull felt like it was probably cracked. Dee's ejaculate was thick and wet and sticky all over his face; he wiped at it with a limp arm, and moaned at the pain that reminded him of his broken nose. His face felt sore; his jaw, too -- he wouldn't be surprised if Dee came back with a mirror, and showed him how his head was crushed like a pancake.

When she returned, however, she didn't have a mirror; she had the device in her hand.

"Oh no," the man whimpered. "God, no!"

"Yep," Dee said happily, and she quickly kneeled down and jabbed him again with the spikes. At his size, they felt like daggers.

He flopped on the ground like a dying fish at her feet. She stood there and watched him, her thighs hot and wet and cooling in the air. He dwindled down and down, until he was no larger than a Ken doll.

"Oh god, oh no, oh god please," the man blubbered, but to Dee it was too quiet to really make out.

She kneeled down, putting the device on the ground and grinning at him. He was curled up again, and shaking. Her face was so tiny, but she could still make out the look of helpless terror, and the tears; Dee reached under herself and ran her finger up her lips, shivering.

"Aren't you gonna run or something?" When he didn't, Dee chuckled. "I mean, I'm going to kill you now, so."

The looming woman didn't think it was possible, but the tiny face managed to look even more horrified; with a pained yelp even she could hear, the little thing pulled itself up off the ground. It took more than a moment, and great effort; shambling like a zombie the little man tried to shuffle away from her, nearly falling over several times.

He couldn't escape Dee. She straightened and stood over him, and wherever he went one of her long legs swung over him and he'd find his way blocked by of her huge foot. She was patient, letting him turn and make his way in another direction, only for her foot to lower again and cut off his escape with a wall of dark flesh.

"You're the perfect size now," Dee gloated. "About as tall as the length of my foot. Just the right size to stomp to death."

"Oh god, Dee, please!"

"I can't hear what you're saying, by the way," Dee added, laughing over his begging as he groveled at her feet. "It's all squeaking and chirping to me. I imagine you're saying something really dumb, like not to squish you." Dee cut the tiny man off again with her foot, and then swept it to the side, knocking him over. "Well, nope; that's exactly what I'm going to do."

The tiny man on his back looked up at his towering ex-girlfriend from between her feet, each one a little longer than he was tall; Dee appeared almost bored as she stood there with her hands on her hips, raising one of her legs and showing him the reddened sole of her foot, and the toes he'd licked clean. There were fresh streaks of grime plastered to her flesh, and a sheen of glistening sweat. Dee's long, brown legs ended in her glistening pussy high above, which she stroked with one hand.

"Please, Dee! OHPLEASEDON-"

Her foot completely covered him as she brought her warm, soft sole down onto him. He screamed into her firm flesh as what was left of him to break broke with a series of snaps and pops; she shivered with delight at how he crackled beneath her foot. Her heel completely flattened his legs from the knees down; the undersides of her large, long toes painfully pressed his head against the hard floor of the gym and he felt his skull crack beneath them, the humiliating scent of her wafting all around him once more; beneath the ball of her foot his remaining ribs snapped and cut up things inside of him like knives; as the muscles along her arch flexed, what was left of his hips shattered. He was utterly smashed, and when Dee lifted her foot he writhed on the ground, like an insect near death.

The sight of him brought a smile to Dee's face, who still had her hands on her hips, and her leg raised; she lowered her foot down toward him again, and he was helpless but to twitch and watch as her sole grew larger and larger in his vision.

"Get one last good sniff in, bug-boy," Dee taunted; she covered him again with her foot but didn't press down. Instead, she drummed her toes over his injured head, beating it against the ground with her fragrant toes like a tiny speedbag. "The last breaths you take in this life will be the smelly, sweaty foot of someone who hates you -- who you still love! What a way to go." She chuckled at her own words, running a fingertip in circles over her hardened clit.

Dee traced a line down his shivering little body with her big toe, rubbing it over his face and his chest, settling the weight of it onto his stomach. He wheezed wetly beneath it, pained, his lungs no doubt shredded by his splintered ribs and filling with blood and other fluids; Dee -- her big toe nearly as wide as the body pinned beneath it -- cackled as she pressed down, forcing her toe all the way to the floor and smashing his stomach flat under it; she felt his spine crackle and pop in a line. He jerked wildly, blood and viscera squeezing out between his legs and a fountain of innards erupting from his mouth; they splattered down around his face and neck like a wreath of gore; black-red blood and plasma seeped out under her toe from his burst sides -- her skin surrounding her big dark purple nail lightened from the pressure she exerted.

"Ew," Dee mocked, but she had a huge smile on her face as she lifted her toe away from her shrunken ex-lover. His flattened midsection lifted up with it, and she had to shake him off. "I broke up with you because you're pathetic. Now look at you: choking on your guts. I think you shit out your insides there, too, buddy. Ah well; better crush you before you bleed out. I do want to enjoy this."

He tried to beg her, but ended up gagging on the stringy organ clogging his throat and mouth; he could only gurgle.

Dee's smile widened as her foot lowered onto him. No part of his broken body responded to the panicked signals his brain tried to send through it. All he could do was wait, pained spasms rocking him as a triumphant Dee covered him up with her rosy sole once more.

"Loser goes smooosh!"

The gooey mess of him was flattened as Dee put all her weight on the foot that crushed him; she applied a rolling pressure from her heel up to her toes, feeling every last bit of him crumple; his final, weak struggles were ended when his tough little skull shattered as she continually rolled her weight from her toes to her heel on top of him, feeling less and less of him beneath her sole.

When Dee lifted her leg to inspect what was left, she found him not on the floor, where there was only a splatter of blood and some shredded bits of flesh and meat and bone, but crushed flat along the length of her sole. She flexed her toes, and his tattoo-like body wrinkled the same way her flesh did, he was so squished.

Dee just laughed.

She peeled his remains from her sole. They came off like a thin pancake of gore. She let what was left of him drop from between her fingertips and plop wetly against the floor of the gym.

Dee walked back over to her bag, and the vibrator she knew was inside.