George checked over his body; his once well-fed physique was beginning to diminish, replaced with a thinner, leaner him. His body was a deep red, still burning from his intense workout. Patches of dark blue and grey littered him, each one a painful reminder of the torture he was going through. He nestled further into the corner of his shoe-box, the large would-be room lay lidless on a table in her living room as she waltzed around picking up socks and other miscellaneous clothing items. Laura had decided to spare George anymore torment for the day, not so much from kindness but out of fear of literally killing him. After a tasty lunch of a salad wrap Laura cleaned up in anticipation of her arriving friend Ameile, not wanting to shock the girl with the horrible state of her dorm. Not a few minutes after the busy tidying was over a knock at the door rung through the dorm, unfathomably large to the still recuperating George.

"Amelie, so good to see you!" Laura said in a tone so warm and foreign to George, the high walls of the box blocking his vision of the cordial greeting.

"I know, it's so good to see you too!" the other girl replied as they leaned in for a hug. 

The two giants began chatting, George listening in as a way to entertain himself, not useful to Laura at the moment so practically non-existent. They continued their conversation as they walked around the well lit dorm, laughing and sharing anecdotes, their young lives free and content. In a strange way this comforted George, their funny stories a source of amusement to him, silently laughing along with them. George never realised how funny Laura could be, the way she spoke so light-heartedly, the sound of voice, her care free attitude. George was shaken from this strange new opinion of his tormentress by a shadow eclipsing the light above him, a new giant face which he guessed was Amelie. He dark brown hair pulled back behind her head into a long pony tail, drooping against her neck as she angled her head down to peer into the rectangular port hole of the lidless box. 

"Oh my, who is this cutey?" Amelie smiled down, showing her white teeth and ruffling her brow. George found it hard to read this expression, whether it was one of cruelty, ones that Laura adored so, or if it was a genuine smile that one may bar to any cute animal or pet.

"Oh, this is, uhhh... Jeremy or something." George reminded of how little he meant to her in the long run, not caring enough to learn his name. "He's not actually mine, he's a friends. I'm training him after he was being a little shit."

"Awwww, was someone a naughty widdle boy?" Amelie teased down, bringing an ivory plated finger down and messing his hair, George not moving from a combination of tiredness and obedience.

"We just got back from the gym, so he's having a little rest."

"Awwww, no playing? Damn, I'll have to come back when he's up to it. Won't I little guy?" she poked George's face, the translucent tip of her finger nail hitting him on his scalp.

The girls went on with their conversations, the eaves dropping enlightening George to the fact that they would be leaving soon; ready for a night out on the town, which evidently meant leaving George alone, which was fine by him. 

"I really should have gotten a mani-pedi beforehand, damn." said Amelie as she inspected her unpainted nails.

"Oh, I have some nail polish, we could do them quick right now if you wanted." suggested Laura.

"Oh, really? Okay, just really quick."

With that the two girls began to paint their nails, a quick beauty treatment before a night of drunken revelry. Mid nail session their voices became hushed, followed by soft snickering, their muffled whispers unnerving him a bit. Seconds later Laura strolled up to his box and stolen him, relocating him to the same glass table he was humiliated on yesterday, now covered in various different coloured bottles, no doubt for their waiting nails. The feet of the two girls pressed on the table, white tissues separating their peach toes. George sat confused, he didn't much have the energy to stand up, and was a little worried at what the two were concocting. 

"Curl up." ordered Laura, George responding by bringing his knees to his chest. 

Laura plucked his entire body up, careful to not unravel the ball that he was in. Removing the white tissue between her left big and second toe, she replaced the wadded up fibres for her toy, serving the simple purpose of separating her toes. Amelie threw her head back in laughter.

"Oh god Laura, how do you come up with this stuff?" she cried in hysterics as she looked at the tiny ball of a man degraded to being a toe separator for her friend. 

"Comes naturally to me." she shared in her friends laughter as she began to drag a brush tipped with blue goo along her giant pinkish plates.

George was so humiliated, no one liked when two pretty girls laughed at your expense, especially when one was basically your owner showing off her new toy. The sheer pointlessness of the task also made him sad, just sitting there, the slight pressure from either side perfectly reasonable compared to other such crushings she had delivered. Laura worked her way right to left, just finishing her right foot, she began to stroke at the big nail that pushed against George's back. The thick chemically sent began to permeate all around him, his head beginning to swim. He coughed a little, he had never smelled the fumes so strong before. He was struggling to stay awake, sounds becoming muffled and darkness creaking into the corners of his eyes. He wouldn't be conscious much longer.

"Oh god I think he's tripping out on the fumes!" Amelie gasped as she was thrown into another fit of hysterics. Laura following suit.

The next thing George remembered after hearing their echoing jubilation muffled by his own delirium was awakening on the same cold cardboard box ground of the shoe box, the lights off, the dorm silent. He noticed a blob of acrylic had stuck painfully to his side, attempting to claw the thing off becoming his entertainment for the evening. As George scraped the last part of with his finger nails, his mind began to wander. George remembered earlier today, her joking with Amelie, he smiled at the memory, the happiest he had been these past two days. Just then mind breaking though hit George: was he falling for Laura?. He tried to reason with himself, he hated her! Her despised her! Sure, she was... beautiful, and funny, and fun, but he hated her! Even if he was full size he would have hated her, or at least he hoped. He knocked this disturbing thought out of his head, crawling into a corner of the box and attempting to sleep. It is always terrifying, the living room at night, seeming so familiar yet lonely in the cool blue of crescent moon. It was especially terrifying after feeling vulnerable in so large a room and with the lid off. Quickly he fell asleep, the lack of sleep from last night making it easy on him. 

George was awakened as a horribly intoxicated Laura stumbled into her dorm, her quaking steps uneven and clearly lacking any controlled pattern behind them. She giggled to herself after a revelrous night of debauchery. Some small bulb went off in her head, reminding her of the little thing she had tucked away on her table. Stumbling over, she peaked her voice over, just barely making out his outline in the moonlight.

"Hey there, hic little guy, how are... uh... ya doing?" George's small room were filled with the scent of twenty different alcoholic beverages, the fumes making him the tiniest bit tipsy. Obviously contented with the silence George gave, she laughed, adding more fumes into the cramped box and stumbled into her room. She was going to be hungover tomorrow, and George had a feeling this would be bad.

As expected, George awakened to the sound of a long, creaky, drawn out grown. The sound crawling out of her mouth and filling the dormitory. The heavy steps of the petite woman shook the table and box he was in slightly, announcing that she was coming, and not in a good mood. With her eyes still closed, she fumbled around trying to find the box of her stress reliever. She took the entire thing over to the couch as she landed with a plod, George becoming weightless for the smallest moment as she did. Knocking the box over, George crawled out onto the table, her feet red and sore after a night of dancing. George knew what he was expected to do, but considering her hung over state of mind he might be able to get away with not doing much. As he was considering this immoral deed, Laura announced her leaning forward with a groan, the exertion to much for her. She picked up the little creature and waved him in front of her face, the wisps of alcohol escaping her lips. "No back chat today, just licking." she deposited him back at her feet. The smell was dreadful, her feet still sticky after a night of dancing. Her toes and heels were bright glowing red after being stood on in high heels so much. He really did not want to look at the practically glowing monsters, let alone pamper them, a feeble attempt to comfort her in her dire situation. Laura was not in the mood for hesitation, picking up again and glowering at him. She opened her mouth wide and dropped him in, encasing him in the ethanol infused moist air. He was becoming drunk off the remnants of last night as she unkindly smashed him against the sides of his mouth, trying to maximise the punishment she could deliver with the minimum effort. George was almost drunk at this point, the smell and movements shaking his brain. He was spat into the palm, the air cooling him down, too much as the saliva took up a chill. He was thrown back down to her aching peds, desperate for relief. He approached a heel and began to rub it, his adding his tongue to help and appease her, her foot covered in tiny hairs and other blemishes, things he tried to wipe away with his hands before licking. God he was pathetic, he thought as he gave in, desperate for reprieve from punishment she would bring. At least his bruises were healing, and he was relatively well rested. As he completed this monotonous task, Laura not showing any signs he was actually helping her, he thought back to last night, and his thoughts about Laura. She was beautiful, of course, he peaked around the corner of her foot to confirm, her pierced ear and brown hair flung back, but he didn't love her right? How could he? He began to think of what would happen between them, the obvious one being that he would be given back to Sarah and be her servant, her demands so much simpler and easier than Laura's, but what if he... stayed her slave? He hated being her slave of course, he would much rather be Sarah's. George imagined Laura being as gentle with him as Sarah, he might find that tolerable. Why did he even like Laura? A chilling thought struck him, was he becoming broken in? He shook all these horrible thoughts away, too depressing for a Sunday morning foot rub. 

Laura managed to force her way out of the sofa, the comfortable grip providing a trap to her. She lumbered over to her refrigerator, the slight moist spot left by George's tongue a speck of coolness on the floor. She retrieved a can of lemonade, remembering so Facebook post from long ago about the benefits it provided to the hungover. She grabbed George and threw him onto the cushion. "You're not doing anything on my feet, try this." she said as she began to lower onto him, careful that the crack in her yoga pants was in the right location. He was suffocated under her giant rear, the crack just providing enough room for him to breathe as the giant black orbs radiated heat onto him, making break out in a sweat. Laura gulped down the lemonade as wondered what she was going to do for the rest of the day, god it was already 2PM? She wondered if she should just sleep, totally forgetting about her little spelunker sealed in a barely survivable position under her. Her question was answered when she fell asleep a few moments later, backing George underneath her. Sealed in the pitch black he wondered what was going on with his mind, his thoughts always going back to Laura. He tried to hate her, he really did, but all he wanted was for her to wrap her arms around him and says she loved him. God he was so pathetic. 

George wouldn't be free until Laura awoke an entire hour afterwards. She got up and began to walk around the house after feeling slightly better. She was making herself a late lunch when she felt something lodged between her plump cheeks. Reaching down, she peeled George out, inspecting him. "What were you doing down there?" she giggled, remembering sealing him there. She dropped him next to he salad she was putting on her sandwich, George quickly sneaking a bite to appease his grumbling stomach. Laura began to think as she nommed on her sandwich, what to do with George? She developed a devilish idea. She searched her tank top for a loose thread, easily spotting one by the bottom. She pulled the very thin string out, tugging on it to determine its strength. Deciding it was adequate, she plucked up George and tied it around his midsection. George was slightly constricted by the rope, nothing too severe, but enough to cut into his skin a little. Taking the opposite end of the string, she fastened it to one of the silver loops that clasped her ear's helix. Now that George was hung from her ear like a simple accessory, she went back to the sofa, sitting down and flicking on the TV. Laura giggled at the slight tug he provided, the strength of her cartilage enough to keep him upright with only the tiniest stretching to her. Taking her phone she snapped a selfie, careful to have George in frame. She posted this to Facebook, bu now sure that her friends loved to see the exploits of George as he was mentally worn down. George didn't fight it, he just tried to ignore the uncomfortable fibre on his skin, surely to leave a red mark on his stomach. George would sit there for hours as she went about her business, too lazy to come up with anymore cruel and unusual punishments for him. He wasn't freed from his bond until he was dropped back into the cardboard box that was now his room. "We've got work tomorrow, so get ready for a long day." she smiled and twiddled her fingers good bye. George was beginning to break down now that he was alone. He had been beaten, prodded, bruised and humiliated, and now he was developing a serious case of Stockholm syndrome. He wished he could just go back, go back, go back.