Sheila woke with a start and sat straight up in bed. A sound that made her think of a door slamming, as loud as a thunderclap, rang in her ears; her adrenaline raced up and down inside her chest like galloping horses.
She clutched her covers over her rising and falling chest; her eyes searched the placid darkness of her large room. Nothing was out of order: there were no vaguely human shapes standing in the darkness -- at least, not after she inspected each apparition long enough to figure out what the phantoms really were.
Sheila slipped out from under her blankets' protective warmth and into the cold air of her room. Her slender, arched feet found the cozy insides of her furry slippers; she drew a robe around herself and stood. Then Sheila went over to the panel on her bedroom wall, which housed her emergency miniaturization device. She'd never used it on anyone, but just knowing what it could do and having the small, egg-shaped gadget in her hand made her feel instantly more at ease.
A small smile slowly shaped Sheila's lips. It was empowering, even, to have the EMD in her clutches. It was like holding a gun: if she found an intruder, Sheila was well within her legal rights to shrink that person down to the size of a doll and hold them captive until the police arrived. Sheila's mind thought back to news stories depicting homeowners shrinking intruders and then "accidentally" stepping on the person before the police arrived. Sheila very nearly hoped she found someone trying to rob her house. The thought of someone so small before her was exciting.
Padding through the long hallways of her house, the blond smirked, feeling suddenly like a ferocious predator on a hunt. She kept the lights off as not to disturb her two daughters. She stopped to peek into their rooms and saw how neither stirred. The more Sheila ventured into the tranquil gloom -- making her way down the stairs and through the first floor's many rooms -- the more she questioned whether there ever was a noise to begin with.
The woman paused in the kitchen, preparing herself a light snack. She poured a small glass of wine to settle her nerves, and sipped at it as she stood there in her robe, playing with her mussy, golden tresses that spilled around her shoulders. Though on her own, in her fifties, and a mother of two, Sheila was wealthy, and spent money to maintain herself: even in the middle of the night and without any makeup, she looked serene, with fine blemish-free features constantly rejuvenated by creams, moisturizers, and the kind of care only afforded by expensive salons.
She popped the final hexagonal chocolate cracker into her mouth and gave her glass a quick rinse. Sheila intended to head back to her room, but paused when she saw something that surprised her. To anyone else, it would have been a pair of simple sneakers, but to Sheila, they weren't just any shoes. The faded, pitted, gray-colored trainers were what Sheila's maid frequently wore, though she often switched to a pair of house flats as she cleaned. Apparently, Lakshmi had forgotten her sneakers before retiring to her quarters, outside, behind the garage; Sheila bit her lip.
The woman hooked her fingers into the sneakers and then quickly scurried toward the stairs. The small hairs on the back of her neck tingled with static; she suddenly felt very naughty: as if she'd stolen something and could get caught at any moment. She supposed, really, that she had; her sleepy daughters could wander out and see her at any moment -- and then what would she say? Sheila shook the thoughts from her head as she made her way to her room; she could just tell them she was putting them out of the way until she could return them to Lakshmi.
And it was true: she would return them -- to the kitchen, not Lakshmi, before she went to sleep. But Sheila couldn't let such a rare opportunity slip by.
The door to her room closing behind her was all the safety she needed. Sheila brought one of the ratty gray trainers up to her face and hungrily sniffed. The musty odor of Lakshmi's feet filled Sheila's every breath: an acrid dampness, like the scent after a rain, with a strong, salty tang. She pushed her face deeper into the mouth of the sneaker and inhaled again, greedy for more; she wrinkled her nose. The smell was different; she didn't like it: it was sour, and reminded her of cheese.
Sheila held the shoe at just the right distance and breathed deeply, in and out, trying to keep the scent always in her senses. One of her hands snaked down between her legs and she leaned against the door and moaned. She gently brushed her fingers over her lips as she imagined pressing her face into the soles of her maid's feet. Sheila's eyes fluttered opened and she moved swiftly over to her bed, shedding all her clothing in the process, and gathering up Lakshmi's sneakers and the vibrator she kept in the top drawer of her nightstand.
For hours, Sheila drew in the aroma from the sneakers, lost in the fantasies the scent inspired, vibrator humming obediently against her clit as she imagined how she might serve her mistress the next day.
###
"Okay, Miss Sheila, see you next week!"
Sheila tossed the magazine that she was pretending to read aside and then leapt up from her chair. "Wait," she started, and panicked; she walked toward the kitchen, where Lakshmi's voice came from. "Um, I still need to pay you!"
The homeowner -- blond hair in an elaborate braid done at the salon that morning -- looked ready for a jog, dressed in an orange zip-up sweatshirt and black tights; she had a pristine pair of sleek black-and-gold sneakers on her feet.
Lakshmi, on the other hand, was exhausted from doing her weekly "big clean" -- it was the last chore between her and leaving for the weekend, and seeing her family. Though Lakshmi and Sheila were close to one another in age, Lakshmi didn't get the other woman's spa days or expensive ointments: the maid looked as tired as she really was. She wore a drab green shirt with brown pants, and her usual house flats; she had her unruly black hair tied back in a messy ponytail, and the Lakshmi's shirt was dark with sweat under the arms.
"In fact," Sheila cleared her throat. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in picking up... Well, fattening your check, so to speak."
Lakshmi rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Come on, Miss Sheila! I told you no more!"
"Don't call me that," Sheila replied quickly, in an urging tone. "Well, not right now, I mean." The blond was flustered, and looked as if she might stamp her foot. "Come on, let's not have this talk again. We both enjoy this. You know you do."
"I told you, I'm no longer your mistress."
Since their fight, Sheila had imagined the moment she found herself in many times, and practiced all the things that she wanted to say. In the theater of her mind, she navigated the conversation eloquently, and Lakshmi accepted her back at her feet. In the moment, it suddenly felt impossible: Lakshmi's words pierced her to her core.
What spilled from her lips was nothing she practiced, and sounded not at all like she imagined. "Please," her voice was a whine, "Please," and it was hard to say any other word, "What do I have to do?"
Lakshmi glared at Sheila; the homeowner found it hard to look back into the woman's intense brown irises -- Sheila's eyes kept flickering away and back. "I want power," Lakshmi demanded. "Not a few dollars to 'get myself something nice.' I want everything."
Hope sprung anew within Sheila -- there was a way to please Lakshmi -- but she was confused, too. Her doe-eyed blue orbs now flittered between Lakshmi's eyes, looking at one and then the other. "What does that mean?" Sheila shook her head. "How do I give that to you?"
Lakshmi walked closer. She was thin, and long limbed. Standing with her legs and back straight she was taller than Sheila, and that's how she stood. Sheila's feet were glued to the floor, she was convinced, and her legs started to shake in a way she worried was noticeable.
Sheila dearly wanted to break the silence as Lakshmi's cold, calculating eyes gazed down on her, but she couldn't. She physically could not force herself to produce words. There was fear in her, and she could smell her own sweat.
Lakshmi's eyes glittered. "On your knees, girl," she said.
Sheila swallowed. She reached out for the kitchen's island; the polished marble counter was cold. The woman leaned on her hand as she lowered herself down onto one knee, and then the next, her bones immediately aching atop the hard, flat tile.
Then the blond looked up at her maid. "Lakshmi, I-"
Lakshmi cocked her arm back and swung it forward, the effort showing on her face; she struck Sheila on the cheek with a room-filling WHAP!
"Stay right there," Lakshmi commanded Sheila, and then the tall, thin woman padded from the room. Sheila watched her feet leave, shy with ecstasy, her cheek still glowing from the slap. She was lightheaded in the best way; buzzed from her submission to Lakshmi.
When Lakshmi returned, she carried bundled papers. Sheila's face scrunched up in confusion as the woman threw the sheets down before her; a pen clattered against the tile. "Sign," Lakshmi commanded.
"What? What is this? A contract?"
"Everything."
Lakshmi stood over Sheila with her hands on her hips, gazing down on her coolly and ignoring her questions. Somewhere, a clock in the kitchen ticked loudly, it's typically soft sound unimpeded by anything other than Sheila's voice. When the woman on her knees did not sign, her mistress left the room once more. This time she went upstairs.
Sheila's eyes glanced over the unfurled papers with worry. They looked very official, like a lease, or an employment form. The blocks of text were numbered and lettered like legal articles, and Sheila tried to take in as much as she could: the document mentioned her and her family, her home, her bank accounts, her possessions -- it mentioned Lakshmi, too: turning it all over to her.
Upon hearing the other woman's footsteps, Sheila called out, "I can't sign this, Lakshmi. This is too much!"
Lakshmi appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a smile on her face, holding something that looked like a small gadget; egg shaped. Sheila's eyelids widened as she realized too late what it really was -- Lakshmi was pointing the device at her, looking over her hand as if she aimed a gun.
"Wait," Sheila pleaded, "Don't!"
Lakshmi's grin turned wicked; she gleefully stared into Sheila's blue eyes as she thumbed the EMD. There was no bullet, or visible beam, just a sensation: a warm tingle spread all over Sheila's body. For a moment, the shiver was pleasurable; a few ticks of the clock later, a queasy torrent hit her in the gut and she watched with horror as her maid -- and everything else -- visibly swelled in size. Then the world stabilized just as fast, but Sheila was a little smaller.
The partly shrunken woman doubled over and vomited, glugging as liquid and chunks spewed out of her. She threw up a second time, regurgitate puddling and splashing on the tile. Sheila, still hunched, glanced at Lakshmi with pleading eyes. "Ugh, sto-"
Lakshmi pinched the device. Sheila's stomach swam, and then so did her vision. The world was growing again -- her organs shifted inside of her, as if the elevator she was in just fell free. When reality solidified and her ride stopped, Sheila was looking across at the top of Lakshmi's chest, in line with her clavicles; her own clothes were loose. The sight and sensation robbed the woman of breath. There was no mercy in Lakshmi's chestnut brown eyes.
"STOP!"
Again, Sheila was helpless to the forces that wracked her up and down, and compressed her from all sides. She dry heaved, liquid sloshing uncomfortably inside her, but she desperately kept it down. It was horrifying, the way Lakshmi's body swelled. A few inches were added to her in all directions. Sheila noticed new, fine details in the texture of Lakshmi's clothes and flesh, as if she now saw the woman in a higher definition than before. It was her entire scale shifting, Sheila realized with horror; she had shrunk so much that her visual frame of reference had changed.
"Miss Lakshmi, please stop," Sheila begged.
"Sign it."
"I can't."
Lakshmi's thumb moved. The shrinking woman's sobs were cut off by another round of vomiting. Her mistress stood there and watched, the smile never leaving her face. Then the smaller woman recovered and found herself looking across at her maid-turned-tormentor at the level of her navel; Sheila fell to her knees with a blubbering whimper. Her sweatshirt drooped over her diminished frame, suddenly considerably heavier than it was moments ago. A SLAP! made Sheila flinch -- Lakshmi tapped her foot atop the tile wearing her worn, ratty flat, waiting.
"Please don't make me any smaller," Sheila sobbed. "Please, please stop." She worked the heavy, oversized pen with both hands and signed the page. Her tears wet the paper. When the tip of the pen stopped moving -- her brand on the page finished -- Sheila lifted her gaze toward Lakshmi and found that the larger woman still had the device pointed at her.
Any shred of hope Sheila clung to was torn away as her stomach tightened; her clothes became loose, and then billowed around her as she lost sight of Lakshmi's gleeful, malicious grin. The tiny woman tumbled through space, end over end, in a soft tunnel. The now mattress-like fabric of her sweater cushioned her fall; the smell of her spring mountain soap was heavy in the air, and the linty, plush dark orange interior of the sleeve smothered her.
Sheila had no idea how small she was; the sleeve was large enough to crawl through, but was claustrophobic all the same.
"Come out, come out, little bug," Lakshmi taunted with a laugh. The tiny woman shriveled up at the giant sound, and very nearly burst into tears. Lakshmi's voice was so large and powerful now. Her laughter was oppressive, like a barrage of thunder heralding a violent storm.
Sheila forced herself to crawl through the labyrinth of fabric she found herself in, unable to stop the tears that ran down her cheeks and left them wet and warm. Rustling nearby told Sheila of the giant's movement: Lakshmi was rubbing her bare foot atop the pile of clothing, feeling for her quarry.
"Please no, oh please, oh god." The words were spilling from Sheila's lips; she couldn't stop them. She didn't want this to be real. This had to be a dream. But no amount of hoping let Sheila escape the grim darkness, or the hair-raising sound of Lakshmi's now huge foot sifting through her deflated garments.
All at once the roaring hush of sliding flesh came right for her, and Sheila screamed, overtaken and pressed flat under an impossible amount of weight to resist. It was like being dragged underneath by a wave, and pressed hard into the sand. She heard Lakshmi's happy, rumbling chuckle high above, and something unknown pressed down on Sheila's naked little body -- Lakshmi's toes, Sheila realized, when they wiggled, huge.
"Found you," the giant remarked happily. Sheila couldn't move, pinned in the darkness; a tart, sour stink reached Sheila, overpowering the scent of her washed linen -- the fabric dampened with sweat, and the aroma of Lakshmi's foot seeped all around Sheila like a fog.
And then Lakshmi's foot left her, and the world started to shift around the little woman; she tumbled down a long fabric slide toward a shaft of light. Sheila screamed. She fell from the sleeve of her too-large sweatshirt and went head-first into the tile floor, knocking into it hard enough to dim the edges of her vision.
Sheila rolled over onto her back, holding her head, only to find that Lakshmi held her bare sole over her, and was frowning down. The tiny woman stared up at the rough, worn flesh hanging overhead with fear and disgust; in the distance was Lakshmi's face, a mixture of pure excitement and gleeful anger. Seeing her maid -- her mistress -- now as a colossus shocked Sheila's mind in a visceral way, as if she'd just been struck by a hammer: Lakshmi seemed infinitely powerful, holding her foot with such disdain over Sheila, as if the tiny woman was born a bug and had always been this way, and it was only right for Lakshmi to snuff her out underfoot.
As the giant's sole lowered, Sheila could see all the whorls and imperfections in the flesh, all the bits of dirt, and smears of dust, hard rough ridges of skin and where it tore, and how Lakshmi's soles were damp with sweat. They were feet that worked hard.
"You dumb little white bitch," Lakshmi growled, and she smothered Sheila underfoot.
Sheila was underwater. She was drowning in a swamp. She couldn't move any of her limbs, not even an inch. The gritty flesh of Lakshmi's foot molded around her, and the air was low on oxygen, and rich with an off-puttingly sour funk. Sheila started to really panic, but couldn't thrash in protest; Lakshmi's foot pressed down so it completely cut off the smaller woman's air supply and forced her nostrils and lips closed. Sheila's body sung with pain from being flattened so brutally against the cold tile, and her lungs felt as if they might burst. She heard her own scream, trapped inside her mouth and ears.
Consciousness-sustaining air never came. Sheila passed out, smothered under Lakshmi's uncaring sole.
Giantess World
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.
Chapter End Notes:
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