Heather grabbed the towel off the rack by the shower, stuffing Ben into it. She proceeded to dry every inch of her body, squishing Ben into her moist flesh until she was fully dry. With one hand she grabbed Ben, tossing the towel to the floor with the other. She stepped out of the bathroom and into her bedroom, where she roughly tossed Ben onto the bed, paying him no attention. In her current mindset, Ben was a tool now, not a person. 

She rummaged through the chest next to the bed, withdrawing a lube dispenser. Heather squirted lube into both hands, tossed the dispenser aside, and began rubbing her hands together. She locked her eyes on Ben and smiled a toothy, predatory smile. Ben struggled to get to his feet on the uneven bed surface. Before he could even stand upright Heather’s hands were upon him once more, this time spreading the lube across his body.

Both hands clasping Ben tightly, she brought his little face straight to her plump lips. “Are you prepared to become an offering to your goddess?” she cooed. Her breath was intoxicating. Realizing this, Heather opened her mouth wide, bringing Ben’s head between menacing teeth. She exhaled, filling his lungs with her breath. Her tongue curled invitingly. Heather always had an oral fixation, but Ben was still not small enough to satisfy those urges.

“Your goddess demands satisfaction.”

She brought him back down to her pussy. Oh God what if AJ was wrong? What if I’m not impervious to harm? What if I drown in her- his thoughts were cut off as Heather slid him, face first, past her lips, inserting Ben partially into her vaginal canal. It was warm, far warmer than he appreciated when he entered with a lone organ. He could hear Heather’s moan reverberate through her body.  She pulled him out, and in that brief moment Ben looked down at his chest, now covered with her juices. No time to contemplate, he was going back in. This time harder, and deeper. Ben found himself being moved fast, then slow, as Heather tantalized herself.

The fleshy cavern squeezed his body, and began to fill with fluid seemingly from everywhere. Ben gasped for air, accidentally swallowing loads of her vaginal secretions. He didn’t seem to be drowning though. The supplements worked! He thought, as Heather continued ramming him into her love canal.

She withdrew him fully, and laid her back on the bed, holding him between meaty, propped up legs. Holding Ben in her left hand, she grabbed each of his arms with her right. Between pinched fingers, she balled up Ben’s hands into fists, and placed them on each side of his head. Two huge fingers pushed his tiny elbows against his stomach. He looked like a boxer with his guard up.

“What good is a nine inch dick if it’s all shaft and no head?” she scoffed. Pretty airtight logic, to tell the tr-

She stuffed her human dildo back into its fleshy prison. This time all the way in. The cave wasn’t quite as constricting now, but it was completely filled with her juices. She thrust him, harder and harder, her rapturous moans booming in his ears. His entire body was being manipulated by just two of her fingers, while two fingers from her other hand massaged her clit. Ben lost count of how many of Heather’s orgasms he experienced before the pumping and moaning stopped completely. 

Heather released her hold on Ben, and took several minutes to catch her breath. Ben prayed that she wouldn’t fall asleep with him stuck in her vaginal canal for the next several hours. His prayers were not answered.

Heather napped for two hours, blissfully indifferent to where she had left her toy boyfriend. Ben struggled for a time, seeking to gain purchase somewhere in her vagina, but the surfaces were too slick and he was too cramped to move in any direction. Eventually, he tired himself out, and also drifted asleep.

When he awoke, he discovered his feet were no longer hanging outside of Heather’s vagina. He’d shrunk further, having lost yet another inch. The humid cave began to shift as Heather woke up and got out of bed. Monstrous fingers slid into the damp cave to retrieve its once-forgotten resident.

She sat him on her palm, lifted in front of her face. “You’re a mess,” she said, smiling. He was covered head to toe with white goo. She opened her mouth to say something else, but stopped, realizing that Ben was utterly irate.

“I could have DIED, Heather. I could have fucking died in there,” he squeaked. “You don’t know the limits of those supplements! Maybe they- maybe they-” he was so angry his brain fumbled about for the right words, “FUCK!”

Heather stared at him with a subtle hint of indignation. He looked into her green eyes and saw someone who might just snuff out his existence for daring to protest... But he couldn’t be sure.

Her expression changed to remorse. The illusion that she was an actual deity was broken. In her fantasies, her subjects never dared object to her desires. This wasn’t a fantasy; it was the real world where she might have nearly killed her real boyfriend. The regret on her face looked sincere, but Ben couldn’t tell anymore.

“Let’s get you washed off,” she said, with contrition.

Moments later, Ben was bathing in the sink, which Heather filled with warm soapy water. Off in the distance, he could hear the clicks and beeps of Heather's phone. She was now fully dressed in a yellow tank top and jean shorts, responding to hours of backlogged messages. She came back into the bathroom to check on Ben.

“Hey little guy, all clean now?” she smiled warmly at him. This was the Heather he fell in love with. Caring, gentle, warm. 

“Yeah I’m better now,” he peeped. “Sorry to yell at you earlier.”

She could just barely make out the gist of what he was saying.

“Listen, I’m gonna drop your watch off at the shop, then go have some drinks with a friend, okay?” 

He looked at her quizzically, knowing some friend meant Jason. She gently pulled him out of the sink and dried him off with a hand towel.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be out late. Anyway, I brought you something to keep you company!” she pulled out of her back pocket a hot pink jogging sock. From the smell, Ben could tell it was from Heather’s workout session two days ago. It was ripe.

This was the warm, loving Heather. The one that indulged Ben’s foot fetish without judgment. The one that picked him up and deposited him directly into the pungent sock. The acrid smell of her foot sweat both revolted and aroused him. He looked up and saw Heather staring down at him. In an instant, they both perceived each other’s satisfaction. Ben wondered if Heather was using his fetish to subjugate him further. He barely had time to consider this before the hole at the top of the sock closed, and Heather tied it into a knot, sealing him in with nothing but darkness and the aroma of her sweat. He felt himself being lifted now, and carried, he couldn’t be sure how far, and then dropped somewhere he suspected might be in the living room. 

He heard Heather stir about the room a bit, the familiar jingling of keys, the rustle of her purse, the hard clop of high heeled mules. “I’ll be back in a bit. I love you,” she said, gently. In the dark world of Heather’s foot sweat, Ben could hear the distant sound of a door opening and closing. She was gone, and he was left alone with only the oppressive scent of her feet.

He was in heaven. A small part of his brain thought otherwise. Through a haze of ecstasy, a tiny voice in his head speculated that this was just another means of control that Heather was exerting. That she was trying to get her tendrils into his mind and create a perfect, obedient subject. That she hadn’t abandoned her god complex. That voice was ignored, however, as Ben buried himself further in the damp fabric.

Hours went by. Ben continued to shrink. And he wondered if she would ever come home. Finally, he heard the sounds of a door being unlocked, and abruptly opened. Footsteps. Awkward, irregular footsteps. Two sets, one heavier than the other. Both irregular. One moreso than the other. The lighter steps stumbled a bit, then Ben heard loud clops against the ground as Heather, clearly drunk, kicked off her shoes.

“You’re a better singer than- well- you’re a better- pretty good anyway,” Heather clearly had way too much to drink. “Didju wanna drink? Lemme just.. I gotta. Ok.” Hammered. Ben heard her stumble across the room and disappear into the bedroom, where he figured her brain’s lowest functions autopiloted her straight to bed. She’d wake up ten hours later.

The heavier footsteps came closer, closer still. Too close! Ben knew his hiding place had been spotted! His heart pounded. He couldn’t hear anything; the footsteps had stopped. He tried to remain still, and give no sign that anything was inside the sock with the knotted end. Stupid! Of course something was inside! Of course he was inside!

It was dark. He had been in the sock for hours. How much had he shrunk since Heather tossed him there? How small could he-

Oh God. The end of the sock was grabbed by something very large. Ben felt the sock shuffle as the knotted end was being untied. No. No! He wished to be somewhere, anywhere else, anywhere besides cornered inside Heather’s jogging sock with nowhere to hide. He already knew who it was that found him, before Ben ever saw the monster’s face. It was Jason. 

The sock was turned upside down, and Ben came tumbling out. Straight onto Jason’s huge, powerful hand. Ben looked about, got his bearings, and figured he was six inches tall now. Far, far too small to fight back.

“Now why would she put you in there, little guy?” Jason asked, eyeing the sock. “Unless you had some kinda foot thing.”

Ben looked at him defiantly, but his defiance didn’t matter a shit. In the distance, he could hear Heather snoring. No help was coming.