To Heather’s delight, she found that she could now lift Ben with a single hand. She held him above her as she lay in bed, staring up at her now nine-inch boyfriend. Powerful fingers squeezed and prodded Ben, as Heather examined her subject. She brought his tiny face to her lips and planted a kiss that almost engulfed his entire head. Then, in an instant, she began to lap his face with her tongue. Pulling him back slightly, Heather chomped her teeth at him in a display of predatory power. She was calling the shots now.
Ben found himself roughly deposited on the bedroom floor, as Heather’s monstrous tanned legs crashed the ground around him. Just to prove a point, she flexed her muscular calves, thickened from years of playing soccer. She rose from the bed, towering over Ben, who stared straight up, watching her legs reach their focal point. He coveted this view, but realized he would have to share it with others in a few months when Heather grew. His heart sank slightly.
As Heather walked to the bathroom, Ben scampered close behind, eyes fixated on the undersides her soft, golden feet. He began to notice things about her feet that he never noticed before, like the way her plump toes gripped the bedroom carpet while she walked. From this angle, he gained a new appreciation for the gentle curvature of her soles, the way tiny flecks of dust stuck to her heel, how she kept her nails perfectly pedicured. Not a single grain of dry skin was to be found anywhere on her soles. Gallons of moisturizer and twenty five years of rigorous maintenance bestowed Heather with feet worthy of a goddess. Perfection. From his lowly position, Ben even found himself overwhelmed by the sensual aroma of her peds, which hung like an invisible mist in the air about him.
Much as he resented this shrinking business, he couldn’t wait to be smaller. An insignificant speck boldly exploring a new world - Planet Foot. He would chart every crevasse and wrinkle of skin, sample sweat from every square inch of her sole, perhaps even sustain himself for days exclusively off her perspiration. His mind wandered back to something AJ had said, about the option of becoming permanently shrunk. Would that be such a bad existence? It would be if Jason ever found out. He realized. If Ben was permanently shrunk, Jason would move in for the kill, and Ben wouldn’t be just Heather’s plaything. He’d belong to both of them. Not an option. He resolved.
Heather brushed her teeth in the bathroom. She picked up Ben’s broken watch, still left on the countertop. “Oh honey, your prized watch!” It was the first time she noticed the crystal was cracked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it. You must be heartbroken.”
“Yeah, can you take it to the repair shop on 4th?” he attempted to say, but what came out was unintelligible high-pitched squeaking. Heather chuckled to herself, looking down, way down, at her adorable pet boyfriend.
“Don’t worry, I’ll send it in for repairs,” she said, somehow understanding. She examined it closely for the first time, now that it was free from Ben’s wrist. “Hey, there’s an inscription on the bottom. I never knew that. To my dearest friend, Ben,” she mumbled to herself. “Who gave you this thing anyway?”
Ben gazed up, way up at her, admiring the lines of musculature in her toned legs, the firm, yet plump mounds of her buttocks, the way her long blonde hair draped across her back. He hugged her right calf, felt its warmth and power, and kissed it.
“Somebody’s horny,” she said, shaking him off. As he fell to the ground, Heather brought her right foot gently on top of him. She shifted her weight, applying just enough force to firmly plant Ben against the bathroom tile. Ben’s chest was nestled under the ball of her foot. His head was squeezed between her big and second toes. Her sweet foot odor filled his lungs; he wasn’t even breathing air anymore. “My subject,” she said.
Subject. A thought shot through Ben’s mind. When AJ described Ben as her “subject,” she meant it in a scientific sense. But when Heather said the word, it took on a different meaning. Heather said the word as if to fancy herself a queen, with Ben as her lowly royal subject, he realized. That didn’t sound so bad, Ben thought. But what kind of queen would Heather be?
“Do you like this? Because I like you like this,” Heather took on a different tone than Ben had ever heard from her. She wasn’t just having fun with him, she was dead serious. He had finally become one of those dolls Heather always fantasized about. Something that existed just to please her. It had no agency, no voice, no ability to object to her will. Superficially, Heather was a very charming, fun-loving person, but Ben was just now starting to see what’s beneath the surface. How did it take five years to notice this? He wondered.
His train of thought was interrupted when Heather’s toes gripped him, lifting him back onto his own feet.
“It’s shower time. Get those clothes off, little mister,” she ordered, snapping her fingers at him. Ben did as he was told. The elastic clothing had already outlived its usefulness anyway. Heather started the water running.
They stepped into the shower, and Heather began to wash her hair. Ben washed himself with the soapy water that ran down her leg. He looked up at her again, the way he had during their previous shower, but the view was different. She was so much greater now, and he the lesser. Ben admired her massive, perky breasts, before glancing slightly downward at her clean-shaven vulva. He had a hard time moving his eyes off that target, until Heather was finished with her hair. She looked down at him and smiled.
“I need you to get me extra clean today,” Heather said, handing Ben a dollop of soap. Eagerly, he began with the tops of her feet, ensuring every inch was pristine. The skin was slick, but at his height he could feel every bump and fold. When he finished, she lifted her feet up, one at a time, and he scrubbed the undersides with his hands as thoroughly as his strength allowed him. She gave him more soap, and he began to hand wash her calves. She flexed them, periodically, while Ben toiled away on their rock hard surface.
Satisfied with his handiwork, she leaned down, extending an upturned palm next to Ben. The unspoken intention was clear. He stepped onto the palm, allowing her to raise him to the level of her thighs. A large finger offered him more dollops of soap. He continued with his duties. Heather had a slightly thick build, but she wasn’t out of shape. There was serious power in those massive thighs of hers. Ben tried to figure out just how many of himself could fit into the sheer volume of just one thigh, but gave up. She was the mathematician, not him.
She moved him behind now, right up to her buttocks. But before Ben could begin the hand wash, Heather’s other hand grabbed his upper body, covering it with soap. She then proceeded to use him as her sponge, rubbing him forcefully across the surface of her ass. The skin of her cheeks enveloped him. For a few moments, her ass became his whole world. Ben came, furiously, and squeaked with pleasure. None of this gained the notice of Heather.
Applying more soap, she took him underneath, washing between her legs. She held him upside down, and using her other hand pushed his face between her vaginal lips, holding him there for a moment. Heather withdrew Ben, his face briefly covered with the sticky residue of her excitement. “A taste of what’s to come,” Heather said. It was Saturday, and she clearly had big plans for him for the rest of the afternoon.
She moved him across her stomach, then her arms and shoulders. She lifted each arm up, and used Ben’s face to clean each armpit. Then the breasts. She cupped her hand around each breast, letting its natural weight pin Ben to her palm. Heather was more delicate now, as her breasts were extremely sensitive. He glided over the smooth surface, and she made sure to bring him face to face with each nipple, burying his face in both.
The water stopped. Ben was raised to Heather’s face. She smiled, and planted a supple kiss on his head. Heather looked incredibly satisfied, and stared down at her subject for several moments, thinking.
Finally, she said what was on her mind. “Nine inches is a pretty good size, don’t you think?” She lowered him back down to eye-level with her genitals. “Think you’re still big enough to please me?”