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Cindy and I walk up the steps to her front door.  She bends down to pick up a package along with the day’s mail.  My eyes immediately focus in on her petite, upside down heart shaped ass.  

Don’t get me wrong, Cindy is the epitome of female sexiness, albeit in almost contradictory ways.  Cindy has the face of an international runway model, with golden, slightly curled hair.  She has the slender body of an athlete, the overly huge yet unnaturally firm breasts of a porn star, a small rounded ass, the intellect of a rocket scientist, along with the compassion of a PETA member and Vegan combined.

“Hey, my Aunt Jenny sent me a package” Cindy says excitedly.

“Great” I tell her as I look back around her neighbors houses anxiously.  “But can we get inside before anybody sees us, I mean me?”

“Relax butt boy, you’ll be under my ass soon enough.” Cindy replies as she raises and lowers the package as if judging its weight.  She grabs a keychain from her purse and unlocks her front door.  We both enter quickly, both of us taking a look back outside to make certain we entered unnoticed.  Locking her front door behind us, we walk down the main hallway and into her kitchen where she puts down the letters and fliers that arrived in the mail on the island countertop, then carefully sets down her Aunt Jenny’s package.

I notice Cindy looking at the package from her Aunt Jenny in a quizical odd way.  She had a look on her face as if thinking of a distant memory.

 

 

A Few Years Ago

 

 

Cindy squeezed the head of the tiny man she held in her hand.  His head molded in as if he were made of Play Doh, his eyes and tongue bulging out in a perverse manner like his head were about to burst.  Releasing her fingers, his eyes and tongue retracted and his head reformed as if she had never squeezed him.

“Did that hurt you?” Cindy asked concerned.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I enjoyed it.” the five inch man answered, a stern look on his face.

“They don’t feel pain, well not like you or I do Cindy” Aunt Jenny told her, who looks more like a twenty year old than a supposed forty year old woman.  “That doesn’t mean we should ever try to hurt them, at least not intentionally.”

Cindy reached down into the box and grabbed another shrunken man with her free hand.  She held both men up, one in the grip of each of her hands, as she looked upon them as they were living toy dolls.  “What do you do with all of them Aunt Jenny?  What are they for?”

Aunt Jenny pats the cushion next to her on the couch for Cindy to sit next to her.  With a shrunken man in each hand, Cindy plops up on the couch beside her aunt.

“You see Cindy, a long time ago our ancestors, your ancestors studied nature, what we called herbalism is called chemistry today along with alchemy or today’s physics.  They made many mistakes; yet they also made many discoveries.”

“What does that have to do with these tiny men?” Cindy asks as she holds the two men, one in each hand up to her aunt.

“At one point your female ancestors; your great, great, great grandmothers discovered how to alter their men.  They found a way to change them in every conceivable way, except one, making them larger.  They stumbled upon ways to alter their men to make them smaller, change their form, change everything and anything about them; but they could not add to something that was not already there.”

“So……they could subtract, but not add to a man?” Cindy asks cautiously.

“Well in so many words, yes.  Only the entire man would always be there, in one way or another.  For instance, the two men you are holding, they are each shrunken in size, yet their physical size still exists in the form of energy inside of them; hence you didn’t crush his skull so much as displaced it’s mass.”

Cindy, ever so much the astute intellectual, responds “In other words, they are full grown men no matter what their size or shape.  It’s like borrowing from Paul to pay Peter, it’s always the same amount one way or another just in different forms.”

Thinking for a moment, Aunt Jenny tells Cindy “Why yes, that’s one way to look at it, although I’m quite sure that is not what that idiom means; but the overall concept is correct.”

Cindy brings the two men she is holding up to her face.  She looks at them both intently.  They are both much older men, perhaps senior citizens.  “These two look old.”

“He He He, they are; but they both my personal slaves who begged to serve me in return for eternal life in whatever forms I make them, just as all the others in the box, and, huh-hum, elsewhere about me.” Aunt Jenny states cryptically.  “Would you like these two, for your own?”

“Really?  Can I?  May I Aunt Jenny, please, please, please?” Cindy asks excited.

The two men look over to Aunt Jenny and each shakes their head “no”.

“Hmmm, when I was a young girl a distant relative of yours had a pocket knife for his nephew.  He knew his nephew was too young to be responsible with a sharp object, so over time he taught his nephew how to use it properly and safely, making his nephew wait until he was old enough and mature enough to use it wisely.  When his nephew came of age, and with experience, he gave him the pocket knife.  Now you Cindy want to hold the lives of two shrunken men literally in your hands.  Do you honestly believe you can do so and be a good provider and owner of them?”

Cindy was about to blurt out “yes” when she thought better of it.  “I don’t know Aunt Jenny.  How would I know?  When did you know you could to all these shrunken men in your box…..and elsewhere?” she shrewdly added.

Raising an eyebrow in acknowledgment of Cindy realizing she had made many tiny men into objects of intimate apparel, Aunt Jenny answered “I knew when they worshipped me.  I am not merely their owner, but their God, their God they trust, obey, and worship.  When they looked up at me as their one and only God and I looked down upon them as my worshippers and property I knew that it is actually I that hold all the responsibility.  I am the one that must reward when they have earned it and retrain them to appreciate me when they behave incorrectly.  They are my worshippers and my personal pets, I am their God and their Owner.”

“Why should you owe them anything Aunt Jenny?” Cindy asks confused.

“And that question is precisely why you are not yet ready for your ancestral right to the powers you shall some day inherit.”

Cindy looked from her Aunt to the two men in her hands.  “But they are so small; they are nothing to us Aunt Jenny.”

Smiling at her niece, “So you think, what if they provided you with loving, caring, comfort?”  That said the two men transformed in Cindy’s hands to a pair of pink, fluffy socks.

Cindy held up each sock and gazed in amazement.

“They’re not just socks, they are your ankle socks, your gym socks, and they can be your nylons, your fishnets, and anything you wear upon your feet other than your shoes.” Aunt Jenny giggled.

“They’re my socks?” Cindy asks “But won’t my mom notice two shrunken men pretending to be my socks in the wash?”

“First, you don’t need to wash them, they actually clean your feet the more you wear them.  You can put them through the wash, but it doesn’t clean them anymore than they sniff and lick your feet clean on their own.  Secondly, your mom, Susan, was the one that asked me to tell you about this.  She has a box full of shrunken men, and yes, some clothing just as I do.  Cindy, welcome to the future of your life with men.” Aunt Jenny smirks.

 

 

The Interim Years

 

 

“I noticed you haven’t put any of your socks in the laundry over the past several months.  No nylons, no gym socks.” Susan remarks.

“I noticed you have been wearing the same pair of fuzzy slippers for years.  Not to forget you evening assemble of a corset, garter straps, fishnets and frilled rumba panty beneath your robe every day.” Cindy replies sarcastically.

Cindy’s mom Susan smiles, “So you took Jenny’s words to heed.  You’ve been wearing the same two men on your feet for months now.  How does it feel?”

Cindy took a moment, then answered “Right, it feels right, it just feels right.  Not a moment goes by that I don’t feel them sniffing and lapping at my feet.  It just feels the way it should be.”

“Did your Aunt Jenny bother to tell you how many men she owns?  Did she tell you how many…..service her pleasure?” Cindy’s mom Susan asks.

Cindy thought about the question for a while.  “Aunt Jenny showed me a box with dozens of shrunken men in it, perhaps 60 or more tiny men.  She said you have a box like that too.”

Susan laughs aloud.  “That’s how many your Aunt Jenny has in one of her boxes.  How many she has on, or rather IN her person is all together a different matter.  Did your Aunt Jenny bother to mention she has colonies of hundreds, if not thousands of men living in her pussy and up her asshole?”

Cindy went silent, the thought had never occurred to her more or less such a concept.  Cindy thought about this, then the obvious question came to her mind.  “How many shrunken men are in your….huh hum…..pussy and asshole?”

Susan smiled at Cindy, then almost as if a repeat of before, she patted the couch for Cindy to sit down next to her.

“My dear, you have no idea of either the potential or the joy you have before you.  Yes, by my last estimation I have over two thousand tiny insect sized men living in my pussy, each one dedicated to me, worshipping me as their God, desperate to please me and give me orgasm after orgasm in tribute.  And in my asshole, I guess about eight hundred or so stuck up there, I’m not sure nor do I really care about my asshole worshippers all that much.  As to my garter, garter belts and panty, yes they are all living and breathing men caressing my body.”

“EWE!  That’s disgusting mom.” Cindy sneers out.

“Oh really. Those pathetic insects living in my asshole worship me devotedly.  My living corset cups lovingly hold my breasts, my garter belts strain in joy of my legs, and my panty caresses every inch between my legs.  And once more, your close friend, butt boy, that boy you hang around with, well with our powers comes along insight, and your close friend, that butt boy, is obsessed with your asshole.  Perhaps you should have thought about that before making his face your afterschool seat cushion to sit on for the past couple of years while you did your homework.”

 

 

Present Day

 

 

“Cindy!  Hey Cindy, are you ok?” I ask, her current daydream having made her distant.

Shaking her head, Cindy looks at me, “I need to know, right now, do you like me, or do you worship my asshole?”

I am taken back by such a straight forward question from my childhood friend and classmate, who said she would help me with my current school and family situation.  The question is so out of our norm I am left without any idea how to answer.

“Just be honest” she tells me comely.

Before I even knew what I was saying, I told Cindy “I worship your asshole Cindy.  I always have.”

Cindy took in a deep breath and looked away from me.  “Alright, ok then, go upstairs, take off your cloths and wait for me lying down on my bed as usual.  You need to know, this time you are not going ‘home’, you’re going to have your dream living up my asshole, forever.”

 

 

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