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Robyn closed the door to the den, muting the jubilant sounds of conversation and clinking glasses. A scowl played across her lips. It had been forever since she had last had a cigarette.

Her purple heels clicked loudly on the tiles, echoing as she crossed her parent’s large, Midwestern kitchen. She set her champagne flute on the counter and retrieved the half empty bottle from its place in the door of the double fridge.

The golden liquid hissed as it filled the glass, bubbles racing to peer over the rim. Robyn replaced the bottle and snatched the glass up moodily, slouching against the counter as she raised it to her fuchsia lips. She stared into nothingness, the ring on one of her slender fingers ticking as she tapped it against the marble counter top.

A peal of laugher permeated the cedar wood door, invading her privacy with its unwelcome joy. She gave the door a dark look.

The party had gone on for hours. Friends and family had flocked to the expansive suburban home to congratulate her younger sister Lindsay and her useless, sponging boyfriend Jaime. The happy couple.

Robyn rolled her eyes and took another large gulp of champagne. Never mind that it had been she who had dedicated her time to becoming successful, to spending all her working hours at the office, the long business trips to London, becoming the youngest qualified lawyer at her firm. She might be on the fast lane to becoming partner but did her parents care? No. They expected it of their eldest.

Instead the family gathered around her vain, party girl sibling. Laughing and smiling and coming together to celebrate her getting hitched to some layabout from art school, some hippie with a ponytail that couldn’t get a real job as he was too concerned with ‘finding himself’ to focus on material wealth. It made her sick.

And no doubt that is exactly what he was doing right now. Robyn sighed with irritation and straightened, her tasteful dress clinging to her frame and accentuating her lean and well maintained figure. She drained the glass and set it by the sink before stepping into the hallway.

The bathroom was at the end of the hall by the foot of the stairs. He’d been in there for ages, not that anyone else seemed concerned. They were too busy with their drinks and stories leaving Robyn to check on him. Good reliable Robyn.

She rapped sharply on the door. ‘Jaime, you ok?’ she asked, irritation clear on her voice. Silence, no reply. That was good. At least he wasn’t throwing up more of her parent’s best scotch, the drunken pig. Only she seemed to see him for what he was: a sponge, a waster, happy and willing to live off of her family’s good nature and generosity. She hated him. Strong words but right now, with champagne warming her body, she did.

Robyn knocked on the door again, harder this time causing it to swing open with a pained groan. Her father still hadn’t gotten around to oiling the hinges, typical. ‘Jaime?’ she asked, annoyed and curious in equal parts.

The light was on in the bathroom, illuminating its honey colored walls. It was empty save for a pile of discarded clothes, Jaime’s clothes.

‘What the?’ she frowned, nudging the bundle with the toe of her shoe. Instinctively she looked to the window behind the shower but could see it was still locked from the inside. Great. No doubt the ass hole had been sick on himself and had dumped these here before going upstairs to change. Disgusting.

Her face was a picture of cold anger as she plucked the shirt from the pile and tossed it into the white wicker hamper by the door. Perhaps this is what Lindsay deserved, a life spent picking up after some lazy hipster. She kicked his shoes moodily into the corner. They had better have got a pre-nup, she thought, her lips a thin, irritated line.

Robyn bent down and lifted his cargo pants from the floor, change jingling in the pockets. As she open the lid of the clothes hamper something small and pink slid from one of the legs and dropped to the floor. She squealed with surprise and leapt backwards, throwing the pants against the shower wall where they landed in a crumpled heap.

The thing on the floor was an inch and a half long, lumpy and pink like a baby rat. She took a step forwards, her heart still drumming in her chest. Robyn leaned forwards for a better look, a curl of hair spilling from behind her ear. She tucked it back automatically, her eyes widening with realisation.

It wasn’t something, it was someone. It was Jaime. He had become a Shrinky.

Her mind raced as she took stock of the situation. At her feet Jaime groaned, his voice barely audible, and rolled onto his side. Surprisingly he had failed to notice the woman standing over him. He must still be out of it, she reasoned, the drunken prick.

Robyn moved lightly, stepping between him and the door. Jaime groaned again and threw an arm across his face, shielding his eyes from the glare of the light above. Her eyes never left him as one hand settled on the cast iron door handle. The other she rose to her face, her fingertips gently brushing her bottom lip as it quivered with excitement.

She had found one, she had found a Shrinky. Even better it was someone she knew and despised. Even better, it was Jaime. She closed the door, sliding the lock into place. It clicked loudly, the routine sound now strangely ominous. Her hand left the handle and hugged her side. Silently she watched the tiny man snooze in the middle of the floor tile. He began to snore.

Robyn couldn’t believe her luck. As always it had been Lindsay who had found the Shrinkies when they were growing up. Shrinking had affected people for years now and still nobody knew what caused it or why. It seemed it was simple misfortune.

By the time they were children Shrinkies were just a part of life, if you were fortunate or they were unfortunate to be found. No longer protected, these former humans were little more than pests and were afforded the same rights. While trade in them was still strangely illegal, everyone knew at least one person who had one. That was if they chose to keep their find alive.

Robyn recalled Lindsay’s Shrinkies with envy. She could picture them now, an image frozen in her mind’s eye. A man and a woman, both ragged and emaciated, their bodies a patchwork of bruises from Lindsay’s cruel and careless treatment of them.

She had been nineteen, ready to leave for college. Lindsay, one year her junior, had been in her room listening to loud punk music that blared out into the hall. She remembered it clearly.

The male had been on the floor, his arms tied painfully behind his back with rough string. He was bent over the toe of one of Lindsay’s Converse high-tops. It had come up to his chest which caused him to strain as he licked black filth from the white rubber. The intensity and dedication with which he worked had fascinated Robyn. Clearly however unpleasant it must have been to have to clean shoes with his tongue it was preferable to whatever punishment Lindsay would serve if he displeased her.

Lindsay had been sat on her bed, idly chewing gum and reading a music magazine while the tiny woman worked at her feet. The Shrinkie had been stationed on the upturned lid of a shoe box. A pot of bright blue nail varnish, almost as large as she was, sat open next to her. Lindsay rested her foot on the edge of the cardboard surface, the weight of her toes causing it to dip gently to one side.

The tiny woman knelt before her toes, varnish covering her hands, forearms and torso and matting her bedraggled hair. Lindsay ignored her as the tiny woman carefully rubbed nail varnish into her toenails. From where Robyn stood it looked as though she was doing a perfect job. Again such obedience was surely created by fear of upsetting their teenage mistress.

Lindsay had shifted position as Robyn entered her room, he foot sliding forwards to smother her tiny slave. Robyn had reacted with surprise and concern, worrying the tiny creature would be crushed however Lindsay remained unperturbed. Instead she had driven her weight into the woman raising pained squeaks as she was squashed between the bed and the tonnes of teenage flesh atop her.

They had exchanged cool goodbyes. Lindsay had remained seated on the bed while tormenting her slave and Robyn had quickly left. That was the last time she had seen them. Looking back they seemed smaller, more fragile. Certainly the woman had been half the size of the tiny man that had begun to snore on the bathroom floor.

Perhaps they had continued to shrink? She had read online that, although uncommon, some Shrinkies never stopped getting smaller. Provided they were not killed prematurely they would just keep shrinking, day by day, until there was nothing left. Maybe that is what happened to the tiny woman, dwindling away into nothing. No doubt Lindsay would have enjoyed finding new and interesting ways to torture her at every stage until one day getting bored and ending her miserable life.

Or maybe she would have just left her to shrink? It had been found that some Shrinkies lost their need for food, water or sometimes even air. It would not have surprised Robyn if Lindsay had been lucky enough to find one of those that had also been cursed with continuous shrinking.

If that had been the case there would have been no doubt that her sister would have found a way to further break the miniscule woman. She could have just been tossed into an old sneaker, left to live out the rest of her days in solitude. Maybe she was still alive all these years later; a microscopic castaway, maddened by isolation. Lost in a forest of insole fibres as tall and thick as redwoods, the air still laced with the stale sweat of her goddess, spending the days wandering a grimy toe print the size of a continent, waiting for the release of death. Robyn shivered with excitement. That’s what she would have done to her, had she been given the chance.

She scrunched her toes and stepped towards Jaime’s sleeping form. Maybe she would still get chance; maybe it was her turn to get lucky. After all these years she had finally found another Shrinky and this time she wasn’t going to wait.

Lindsay had killed the only she had ever found.

Robyn had found her in the food court at the mall, rustling amongst the trash. Without hesitation she had snatched her from the floor and dropped her into her clutch bag. She hadn’t dared look at her until she was safely in her room.

It was beautiful. The Shrinky was no older than Robyn, a slender girl with a mass of red hair and brilliant blue eyes that stared up at her with a mix of wonder and fear. She remembered sitting in her room, holding her in her hand as sunlight filtered in through the window behind her. The power she exercised over her was intoxicating.

Robyn had spent almost an entire hour exploring her, marvelling at how her fingers could manipulate and contort the tiny creature with ease. The girl shrieked and pleaded, desperately engaging in futile attempts to escape her clutches. Robyn had tossed her back and forth, enjoying her screams as she tumbled through the air.

The Shrinky was under her foot when her mother had called her down for dinner. To this day Robyn still found it hard to describe the experience. She had been reclining against a pile of throw pillows, her bare legs stretched out on the bed before her. Her eyes had been closed and she moaned softly with pleasure as the Shrinky struggled and squirmed beneath her foot. That a fellow human being could be so utterly within her power had aroused her. With no effort, merely flexing her ankle or shifting her knee she could have ended the tiny creature’s miserable life and there was nothing it could have done to stop her. The thought alone caused her to bite softly upon her lip.

If it was not for her mother’s summons no doubt she would have pleasured herself there and then. Certainly Robyn would have found a way to involve the terrified girl and further improve the experience. She imagined removing her panties and dangling them seductively over her captive before letting them drop beside her, her eyes never leaving those of her prey. She would know what was coming. The tiny girl would try to run but Robyn would catch her instantly, her fingers closing around an arm or a leg. Slowly she would drag her screaming along the length of her legs. She imagined the feeling as the girl clawed at her flesh, begging her to stop. Robyn wouldn’t say a word as she brought her to her hot, moist sex.

The girl would hear her moans of joy as she was pushed against her, her every panicked movement increasing her mistress’ pleasure. The sound of her screams being cut short as she was plunged into Robyn’s hungry vagina would have been orgasmic in itself. Trapped in crushing darkness, her mouth filling with Robyn’s juices as she fought for her life, merciless fingers pushing her deeper and harder until her goddess screamed with euphoria.

It wouldn’t have mattered if she had lived or died.

These thoughts had tormented her as she sat through dinner, barely acknowledging her parents as she counted the seconds until she could return to her slave. Lindsay hadn’t joined them, the typical moody teen that she was. They could hear her music playing upstairs, loud and angry.

Robyn’s bedroom door was open when she returned upstairs. Dread filled her. She raced inside just in time to see her slave disappear between Lindsay’s open lips. The girl had flailed desperately and had managed to grab hold of Lindsay’s lip ring. Her sister turned to her, smirking as her tongue coiled around the girl, tearing her from her hand hold and drawing her into her mouth. Robyn had seen her face clearly; two bright blue eyes filled by horror, red hair slicked to her body by saliva. She had reached out, begging for mercy as Lindsay’s perfect white teeth slammed together, sealing her in darkness.

She placed her hands confidently on her hips as she began to chew, her face smirking and defiant.

Robyn flew at her but it was too late. A singular bulge descended down Lindsay’s throat as she swallowed. She opened her mouth wide, laughing at her sister. They fought.

Her parents split them minutes later, grounding them both. As always Lindsay’s punishment was less severe, Robyn’s arguments falling on deaf ears. Just another squabble between sisters.

Robyn had never managed to get her revenge. From then on Lindsay had made sure to always keep her Shrinkies with her, either tied up in her bag or trapped within her shoes; hour after hour spent stuffed beneath her cruel toes.

But today that would change. Robyn had found her vengeance.

‘Wake up!’ she commanded. She stomped her foot heavily next to Jaime, jarring him awake. His arms whirled wildly as he kicked himself away from her, blinking dumbly through a fog of alcohol. He rubbed his eyes and tried to stand, his movement unsteady and unbalanced by drink.

‘Whatsa, whuzzup?’ he began, yawning widely. Robyn moved her other foot to settle beside him, glaring down at the pathetic insect with her hands on her hips. His eyes widened as he properly registered her for the first time. She watched him as his gaze tracked up her legs, his eyebrows furrowing with confusion.

He staggered backwards, ‘Ruh, Robyn?’ he stammered, his voice a confused and terrified squeak. ‘What’s happened? What’s happened to me?’ He turned his attention to himself, pinching his arms and waving his hands in panic. He scanned the bathroom, his head snapping this way and that. ‘Oh god’, he began, ‘oh god, I shrank!’

He began to wail like an infant. Robyn kicked him.

Though only the slightest effort was made on her part, the tip of her shoe hit Jaime like wrecking ball, lifting him from his feet and sending him skidding across the tile. He screamed in pain, lying on his back spread eagled.

‘Shut up!’ she snapped, stamping her foot an inch away from him. ‘Just shut up!’

Robyn didn’t give him time to whimper a response and lifted her foot over him. He loosed another scream as she brought it down on him, pinning his legs and lower torso beneath the toe of her shoe. For the first time that day a real smile flickered across her lips as she looked down at him. His arms, shoulders and head peeked out from beneath her, writhing in agony. The flesh she held underfoot felt like putty. It would take no effort to kill him now, to grind him into paste beneath her designer heel.

She added a little more pressure causing his tiny, squeaking screams to increase. There was a pop as his ankle shattered under her weight; his shin was soon to follow.

Through the leather of her shoe she couldn’t feel his tiny fists beating desperately. His miniscule fingers clawed at them, frantically trying to drag himself free. ‘No, please,’ he screamed as she increased the pressure again, cracking more bone, ‘Robyn please, I’m begging you, please!’

Robyn smile widened, ‘ooh,’ she cooed, ‘begging huh? I like that.’ She twitched her ankle and broke his other leg. His screams were arousing. ‘Go on then, beg me, beg me not to crush you.’

‘P-please Robyn, please,’ the words came with difficulty as he tried to choke back the pain.

‘Goddess,’ she corrected, grinding his foot into pulp.

He screamed, his eyes rolling in their sockets.

‘Pathetic,’ she smirked, lifting her foot off of him.

Blood pooled where she had stood, draining from the ruins of his lower legs. His hands flew to them, squeezing the flesh desperately, his mind still refusing to accept what was happening to him. ‘No,’ he repeated between fresh flashes of agony.

Robyn’s eyes remained on him, he lips turned up into an amused smile. The white wicker hamper creaked as she sat on it.

‘I’m going to kill you,’ she promised.

The ruins of Jaime’s legs fluttered weakly as he tried to move. He was pinned in place, a half squashed thing with only moments left to live. His mind was a steel sheet, drummed upon by hammers of blinding pain. He tried to pull himself across the tile but failed, his hands slipping on his own blood.

‘Wh-why?’ he croaked, tears streaming down his face.

Robyn slipped her bare foot out from her shoe, running her fingers across its smooth surface before setting it down on the cool tile. She flexed her toes, they were painted the same fuchsia as her lips. She shook off her other shoe and pushed her two feet together, letting them stretch across the bathroom floor. With a single movement she covered more ground than Jaime could have done in a minute. She smiled at that.

Without a word she picked up her heels and placed them neatly by the hamper before rising and walking back to where Jaime writhed amid the ruin of his legs. Each step was slow and deliberate. She held his full attention, his eyes watching the rise and fall of her toes with dread.

‘Why?’ she asked him in a mocking tone, ‘because I can, because there’s nothing you can do to stop me.’

She moved her foot over him, pushing him onto his back. Her skin was hot and sticky with sweat from spending the whole day on her feet.

Ripples of power moved through her muscles as her foot buried him. The warmth played across her thighs and tickled her lower back. Her womanhood was already wet with excitement.

It took all her effort not to step down and end his miserable life.

The tips of her toes overtook him and rested on the marble. His face, red and contorted with pain peeked from between her first and second toe. His hand flapped uselessly, his arm pinned beneath the ball of her foot.

Her lips twisted into an evil and sultry smile. ‘Because you are nothing,’ she continued over his screams, ‘you were nothing as a man and now you are even less as an insect. You should be thanking me for killing you, for ending your worthless life in such a quick way.’

She lifted her heel, crushing his hips beneath her. ‘Thank me.’ She purred.

Jaime choked on his blood. Every fibre of his body burned with searing pain as Robyn continued to bear down on. The snapping of his bones filled his ears. The smell of copper and sweat and perfume filled his nostrils. He was desperate for an end, for a release.

‘Thank you,’ he croaked.

‘You’re welcome,’ Robyn smiled and stomped down.

Jaime popped like a grape, his skull splitting with a tiny clucking sound.

Robyn gasped in ecstasy as her foot moved through the warm lump of meat and connected with the hard tile beneath. A strand of hair had fallen out of place and stuck to the sweat on her skin. She tucked it behind her ear and blew softly through her trembling lips.

The crackling of tiny bones reached her ears as she twisted her foot back and forth. Blood and flesh bubbled between her toes, liquidated by her weight.

She dropped heavily back onto the hamper, making it groan beneath her. The honey colored wall pressed against her backless dress, cool and soothing against her warm skin.

She rested her ankle on her knee and took her foot in her hand. Blood covered her sole, a thin layer of it spread almost translucent against her skin. Her chest rose and fell, her nipples erect as she took in the ruin of gore in the middle of the room.

The crushed mess that was all that remained of Jaime was smaller than a single sheet of toilet paper. She pulled a length from the roll and gently cleaned the blood from her foot. A soft smile decorated her pretty face as she quickly mopped up the mess on the floor. Within seconds whatever evidence existed of her actions lay soaking up water in the toilet bowl, destroyed forever with a pull of the chain.

Robyn slipped her shoes back on and fixed her hair, smiling at herself in the mirror. She was practically glowing. She turned to unlock the door but paused. Before she left she reached past the shower and unlocked the window, throwing it wide and letting in the sounds and smells of the night. Let Lindsay think her fiancé had run out on her. Just another drunken idiot, stripping naked before disappearing forever.

Robyn let herself out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She would pour herself another glass of champagne before rejoining the party.


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