Darcy stared incredulously at the thimble-sized cup of coffee on the counter, then back at the atomizer in her hands. She put the atomizer down slowly and carefully on the counter, deliberately looking away from the tiny cup to give it time to go away. She turned back and the cup remained stubbornly present, a faint wisp of steam still curling from the coffee within it. Hesitantly she poked a finger at the cup, tapping it with her red-lacquered fingernail, causing a bit of the coffee to slop over the brim. There was no doubt about it, the cup was real and solid -- and much, much too small.
Gently, Darcy pinched the lilliputian cup between finger and thumb, bringing it up to her eyes. She sniffed at the rapidly-cooling liquid. Smelled like coffee. Nervously she darted the tip of her tongue at it. Tasted like coffee too. She dumped the remaining drops of coffee into the sink and slid into a kitchen chair, the tiny cup cradled in her hand. She was still staring wordlessly at the cup when her cellphone rang. Not removing her gaze from the cup, she pulled the phone from the breast pocket of her blazer.
"Crestview Apartments. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. No, I'll take care of it. Sure."
Darcy was property manager for Crestview Apartments and was technically no longer on duty, but since she'd had to fire the superintendant the week before, she had to cover maintenance calls as well. In fact, it was the added stress which had induced her to make the purchase of the antique atomizer from the thrift shop that afternoon, intending to pamper herself by transferring the contents of her treasured bottle of Prada. It was early evening by the time she'd closed the building's management office and returned to the apartment she shared with her daughter, made herself a cup of coffee, and washed out the old-fashioned cut-crystal scent bottle with its attached rubber puffer. She had filled it with water and pumped the puffer a few times to clean out the misting mechanism, and that's when her coffee had dwindled to toy size.
Darcy placed the cup carefully on the table, stood up, and took up the atomizer again, from where it sat beside the sink. Looking around, she spotted a half-loaf of bread and, trying not to think about whether she was completely insane, puffed a mist of water over the plastic wrapper from the atomizer. Instantly it shrivelled away to doll-size. Frowning, Darcy arched her neck down, examining the miniscule plastic bread bag with its barely-discernible lettering. Her frown deepened as she saw the mist of water had left a faint drizzle of moisture on her counter. If she was to grant that her atomizer somehow had the power to miniature things (and that she had not simply lost her mind at last from stress) why had it miniaturized the loaf of bread and not the counter? For that matter, she realized with a sudden flash of horror that she'd taken a tiny taste of the miniaturized coffee, no doubt containing some of the water from the atomizer; why wasn't she doll-sized too?
With sudden resolve, Darcy attacked her cupboards, pulling out a wide assortment of plates, cups, saucers, serving trays, frying pans, and other implements, arranging them on top of each other, largest underneath and smallest on top, in a decidedly odd-looking pyramid. A quick puff of the atomizer resulted in about half of the pile shrinking with a small implosive gust of air, scattering over the surface of the small serving platter on which they had sat. Looking carefully at the faint pinpricks of moisture, Darcy realized that everything which had been reduced had been entirely within the mist, while the serving tray had been only partially misted.
Well, thought Darcy, she might be completely insane, but at least she was still logical. She glanced at the clock and scowled. She needed more time -- a lot more time -- to experiment and figure out just what the hell she had discovered, but she had a job to do first. The phone call had been about the tenants in 1205... again. Before she did anything else, she'd have to do her job.
Darcy grabbed her purse, her large ring of building keys, and headed for the door. She stopped in the hallway and regarded herself in the mirror. She was blonde, she was still slim and attractive at the age of forty-five, and she had no intention of doing anything about her personal vanity. It was vanity, after all, which kept her going to the gym three times a week, careful to replace the curves which age had taken away with hard, taut sinew of equal attractiveness. She liked being sexy, she liked having sex with sexy young men, and she'd do whatever it took to keep it that way as long as she could. She ran her fingers through her straight, shoulder-length hair to loosen any tangles, and buttoned up the front of her cream blazer which she knew pulled her breasts up in a very eye-catching way. Her beige slacks weren't quite as crisp as they had been that morning, but she pursed her lips and decided they'd do. She opened her purse and quickly touched up the classic red lipstick she wore to match her fingernails and toenails. Darcy knew that always looking like she was heading for a nightclub made people think of her as a bit skanky, but that was okay with her. Better skanky than old was her credo.
The atomizer sat stolidly on the counter, and Darcy glanced at it uneasily. Her daughter would be home from her date soon, and she didn't want Samantha to play with it. She glanced at the clock again, aware minutes were ticking by and another noise complaint would no doubt be on its way soon unless she did something fast. On impulse she snatched up the atomizer and shoved it in her purse, then left the apartment at a trot.
Darcy's heels made a clickity-clack-clickity-clack tattoo across the hard floor tiling as she hurried to the elevator. She wore white, strappy, toeless, high-heeled sandals that gave her an extra four inches in height and would have been more appropriate for a night on the town than a day in the operations office of an apartment building, but inappropriately sexy footwear was like Darcy's trademark. And while it would have surprised no one to discover she'd fought pitched battles with assorted bosses and employers over the right to wear such footwear, they'd likely have chalked it up to her preening vanity. And they'd have been wrong.
It was evening and Darcy saw no one as she rode the elevator up to the 12th floor where her problem tenants lived. Well, some of them, anyway. Crestview Apartments had seen better days, and its social class of its tenants was slowly declining as the seniors who had previously made up most of its clientele left to get away from the students and single mothers on social assistance. So far Darcy had managed to keep the worst of the crackheads and junkies away, but she knew it was just a matter of time until the building owners' unwillingness to pay for proper upkeep combined with a greed for rent regardless of source brought unwelcome tenants who would drive the rest away. Well, she'd cross the bridge when she came to it. For now, she'd settle for bringing peace to the 12th floor.
Darcy rapped loudly on the door of 1205. Loud enough to be heard over the thumping bass of the stereo which rattled the door in its casing, and was the source of the noise complaint. This was not the first time, nor even the fifth, that she had been forced to do this. In fact, the tenants of 1205 -- four college girls who shared the three bedroom apartment -- were several months behind on their rent, and Darcy was preparing to file eviction proceedings against them. For all that they declined to pay rent, they were a larger headache for Darcy than the rest of her problem tenants combined.
The door opened a crack and a bloodshot eyeball peeked out, at about chest level on Darcy. Darcy was only three inches past five feet herself, so she knew it must be Sunny (whose real name was Sun-soo, Darcy knew, from the lease), the tiny first-generation Korean girl whose immigrant parents had provided the deposit on the apartment. How such exceedingly polite parents had produced such a foul-mouthed harpy of a child was a mystery to Darcy. From the look of the glaring pinkish eyeball and the smell leaking from the apartment, Darcy judged that Sunny was well-stoned, a small mercy since it meant she would be somewhat less shrill and abusive than was her wont.
"What?"
"Music."
"Tell them to wear earplugs."
The door slammed shut in Darcy's face. A few seconds later the music surged even louder.
Darcy counted to five, slowly, a vein throbbing silently in one temple. Then she knocked again, loudly.
The door opened a crack again and Darcy simply shouldered her way into the apartment past a stunned Sunny. The door swung shut on its spring silently behind her. Darcy looked around and wrinkled her nose. She knew as a building manager that girls could be just as messy as boys, but how could human beings willingly live in such filth? The tables overflowed with magazines, textbooks, notepaper, empty pizza boxes, hosiery, and dirty cups. The short carpet was nearly invisible beneath a morass of discarded shoes, crumpled paper, stacks of dirty plates congealing with pizza grease, open and empty compact disc cases, and drifts of clothes in various states of uncleanliness. On a small cleared patch of carpet sat a smouldering bong.
"Hey, what the hell!" shouted Sunny, too surprised at the building manager's forceful entrance to do anything about it. "You get out now!"
With a man or a larger woman Darcy might have felt threatened, but Sunny -- dressed in nothing but shorts and a sloppy powder-blue sweatshirt -- wasn't enough to make Darcy worried. Stepping around the piles of clothes, Darcy made straight for the stereo sitting on a shelf of a rickety wall unit and poked at random buttons until it produced silence.
"Stupid skank! Don't touch my fuckin' stuff!"
It was only Sunny tripping over a bra strap which saved Darcy from getting a baseball bat to the head. As it was, Darcy was able to roll her left shoulder instinctively forward to catch the blow as Sunny stumbled awkwardly with the large wooden implement she had snatched up from somewhere. Darcy's shoulder hurt, but nothing worse than a bruise. She felt surprisingly calm, given the circumstances, and by the time Sunny had rounded for a second swing, Darcy had the atomizer out of her purse.
Four quick pumps misted a cloud entirely around the enraged Korean, who shrank down into the detritus on the floor with a soft implosive pop. The baseball bat, already arcing around, flew lopsidedly free to clatter against a wall.
"Well," said Darcy. "That was... different."
A movement at Darcy's feet reminded her that there was a miniature Korean stoner co-ed down there somewhere. Crouching down, she picked delicately at the trash, pulling aside an old Chinese food carton to reveal a tiny -- and still utterly furious -- Sunny, shaking her fist and chittering like a squirrel. Carefully, Darcy reached down and pinched the back of Sunny's sweatshirt between thumb and forefinger, hefting the tiny girl rapidly upward until she could, still squatting there on the floor, gaze closely at the little wriggling form.
The sweatshirt bunched up around Sunny's shoulders, baring her midriff making it awkward for her to move her arms, but her legs and feet thrashed violently, causing her to swing back and forth in Darcy's fingers like an angry pendulum. Darcy stared, fascinated. The miniature girl was no more than two inches high, maybe a little bit less, but perfectly formed in every way. She was still staring when she heard one of the bedroom doors open.
Thinking quickly, Darcy grabbed the cardboard Chinese food container (greasy and still containing the sad, crusted remains of the noodles it had once contained) and dropped Sunny into it, folding the cardboard flaps shut to trap the girl inside. Then she hid the box under an old t-shirt and stood up.
"Who th'fuck're you?"
A tousled blonde girl, one of Sunny's roommates, stood in a Ronald McDonald nightdress in the doorway of her bedroom, one hand pressed to the door jamb and the other mopping at her face. Bleary-eyed and smelling of alcohol, she clearly hadn't seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. How she had slept through the stereo's racket was beyond Darcy, but she supposed the girl was used to it. What was her name? Jenny? Donna? Something like that. Darcy eyed her warily. She was much larger than Sunny, larger than Darcy herself, too, by a good margin. Had Darcy been poetically-minded she'd have thought of the girl as statuesque, with a large chest and softly-rounded hips. Dina, that was the girl's name, remembered Darcy. She'd met the girl only a few times, usually staggering drunkenly through the hallways at night with a different boy in tow each time.
"Building manager," said Darcy, in the most authoritative voice she could muster. A trickle of sweat rolled down her spine. She was thinking furiously. She had no idea how to un-shrink Sunny, or even if it was possible, and she was pretty sure it would be considered criminal to do so. At the very least she'd have to tell the police about the atomizer, and she was not at all sure she wanted to give it up, without even having time to consider the implications. If there was any kind of investigation, Dina would surely remember seeing Darcy in the apartment. Licking her lips nervously, reached into her purse and pulled out the atomizer. Dina blinked at it owlishly, still half-asleep and confused. She was still puzzling at it when Darcy gave her four or five quick pumps, making sure to mist the girl's entire lengthy body. Like Sunny, Dina vanished with a pop, dwindling down to the floor before Darcy.
Without pausing, Darcy darted quickly to the two other bedrooms, satisfying herself that there was no one else present. The other two girls were obviously out somewhere, though they could return at any time.
Dina stood rocking back and forth in her fuzzy pink slippers on the bare wooden floor in the doorwar of her bedroom, unable to process what had happened. Being sozzled didn't help, and she was half-convinced she must be dreaming. She only looked up when she became aware of ten gleaming red sets of toenails the size of truck tires set in a line in front of her.
Darcy returned to the tiny blonde girl and stood before her, amused. She made no move to touch the girl, she simply stood there, the tips of her sandals so close that Dina could have reached out and touched a toe. At this thought, Darcy shuddered. She was feeling very strange. The sight of the miniscule blonde girl helpless and powerless on the ground was causing her some very odd and disturbing sensations. She shifted her weight uncomfortably, squeezing her thighs together. She couldn't deny it any more, what Darcy was feeling was unutterably horny.
What few people outside of her bedroom knew was that Darcy had a very good reason for wearing sexy high-heeled shoes: they turned her on like nothing else. They made her feel sexy and powerful, they always had, and she loved nothing better than crushing a stiletto heel into some hunky man's balls and hearing his grunt of pain, or placing one sandaled foot on a big man's forehead and pushing him over like worthless sack of potatoes as he kneeled naked and obedient before her. What was bothering her at the moment was that she was, had been, and always would be straight as a rock-hard penis. There was no denying that she loved and craved the cock, and had no interest at all in other women. It wasn't that the idea offended or worried her, it's simply that she'd never felt the slightest sexual attraction to another woman. And now, to her amazement and discomfort, she found that seeing a tiny woman juxtaposed next to her white, latex, strappy sandals with the four-inch heels was making her panties moist, no doubt about it.
Without consciously thinking about it, Darcy lifted her right foot and brought it a few inches forward that brought the tip of the sandal into hard contact with the little blonde girl, who was bent forward forcefully at the waist, then propelled breathlessly to her back. Lifting her heel while keeping her ball of her foot firmly on the ground, Darcy lifted her toes and used the tip of her sandal like a spatula to dig underneath the fallen doll-girl. With the lower half of her body on the tip of the sandal, Dina struggled to crawl free, but Darcy's toes arched gently down to pin the girl in place. Then, scrunching her toes, she dragged the tiny girl fully onto the sandal and beneath the arch formed by her middle three toes.
Darcy closed her eyes. She could feel every squirming motion of the tiny girl under her toes. The furry cloth material of the girl's nightdress was ticklish against the underside of her toes, the warmth of the girl's legs easily felt struggling helplessly and writhing with delicious panic. She could even feel the girl's hair sliding against the side of her big toe as Dina fought to free herself from her fleshy prison.
Darcy looked down. The girl was invisible. Her toes, small, pink, delicate, packed tightly together, were very slightly humped. Beneath that hump, she knew, an entire human being was fighting and clawing and struggling desperately with all her might, reduced to utter helplessness. The knowledge made Darcy's knees tremble and, to her enormous surprise, she experienced a very small orgasm which went rippling up her legs into her spine.
Darcy pressed her toes a little harder, encouraging Dina to struggle with even greater desperation. She scrunched her toes again, pinning Dina between the tips of her toes and the ball of her foot, then released her. Darcy panted a little. She could do anything she wanted, absolutely anything at all to this girl. This girl, beautiful and desired by men, was her plaything to do with as she pleased. Darcy cupped the crotch of her slacks in one hand and groaned. That was when the two other roommates returned.
Toshina and Timone were sisters, less than a year apart and enough alike that they could share each other's clothes. Their skin ranged in tone from bronze to beige depending on exposure to the sun, and could have been just heavily tanned except for the tight, kinky curls each girl possessed, braided into corn-rows on Toshina (the older sister) but left to grow somewhat longer on Timone (who hoped one day to be able to manage dreadlocks). Having come home together early from the club (neither had been able to score any 'E' and they were desperately bored with the quality of the men who had shown up), they were still dressed in their party clothes: Toshina in a tight skirt and heels with gold lame blouse, Timone somewhat more subdued in leather pants, boots, and a tight, bodice-hugging t-shirt. They arrived chattering to each other and were not surprised to find someone they didn't know in their living room -- although it would have been more common to find a man than a woman -- although they certainly didn't expect it to be the building manager.
Darcy had been forced to deal with Toshina and Timone several times over noise. While they were not quite as foul-mouthed and aggressive as their Korean roommate, Toshina was arrogant and dismissive while Timone was sullen and glowering. Timone, the younger sister, had given Darcy the finger several times while passing the closed office door, unaware or uncaring that the CCTV in the lobby had picked it up. Neither cared about the constant noise complaints, and while they seemed to have ample money for clubbing, neither had made a rental payment in months.
It was Toshina, the older and louder sister, who cocked a bangled wrist on her hip and addressed Darcy first. "What the hell you want? And why are you in here?"
Darcy, her heart hammering at being caught practically frigging herself and with a tiny shrunken girl squirming under her toes, spun around and, wordlessly, pumped a huge cloud of mist into the air. A chair, a standing lamp, a pile of dirty clothes on the floor, an end table, and two shocked sisters vanished with an audible clap of imploding air.
Hobbling forward, trying not to put pressure on her toes, Darcy sank to one knee and snatched up the two shrunken roommates, one in each hand. They vanished, so small that her hands hid them entirely from sight. Determined not to be caught off-guard a second time, Darcy dropped both sisters into her purse. It took a little hunting to find the cardboard carton where she'd imprisoned Sun-soo, but she dumped the tiny girl -- still raging and squeaking -- into her purse with her two roommates, then snapped the purse shut.
The squirming under Darcy's foot had stopped. Worried, Darcy bent down, lifted her toes, and pried the little two-inch girl out with her fingers, tipping her into the palm of her hand. Dina was still moving, Darcy could see, because her shoulders shook. She realized that the girl was sobbing, lying on her side, her face in her hands, one tiny bare foot tucked behind the other ankle (she had lost her slippers somewhere). The sight of the weeping girl made her groin tingle again, and Darcy realized that she'd never have felt this way with a man. She enjoyed dominating men, yes, but to break a man down? Terrify him and make him cry? The idea was distasteful and anything but sexual. It was puzzling for Darcy, but then, she had never been given to strong insight, which meant that she was unlikely ever to realize that it was the same jealous vanity with which she maintained her aging body that gave her such intense sexual pleasure totally overwhelming and conquering another, much younger woman. Fortunately, that same unwillingness to think too deeply meant she was free to enjoy this unexpected sexual bounty without much in the way of hangups.
With the thumb and forefinger of her other hand, Darcy pinched the bottom of Dina's colourful yellow and red nightdress at the side and slid it up over Dina's hip. The girl jerked, moving her hands away from her tear-streaked freckly face to push the hem of her nightdress back down. Darcy laughed and pulled harder, lifting Dina bodily from her palm with the force of it. The tiny blonde girl squeaked and fought, but Darcy's fingers were simply too strong. The shrunken fibres were weaker than tissue paper and tore easily away, leaving Dina's lush pink body exposed.
Darcy supposed the little chirps and chittering squeaks would be Dina's begging, which made her groin tingle. Hoping to elicit more, she used a thumb to press Dina in place, while she used a long, hard, red fingernail to part the girl's miniscule legs and rub her itsy-bitsy little vulva with the pad of her little finger. So delightful to feel the soft struggles of the girl against her fingers!
Darcy groaned and threw herself onto the grubby couch. Lifting her right leg and bending her knee sharply, Darcy loosened the sandal strap on her ankle slightly, allowing the heel of the sandal to sag down slightly. As gently as she could, she worked the little pink squirming body of the large-breasted co-ed into the space between her heel and and the sandal. For a few seconds she simply enjoyed the feeling of the hot little body against her soft heel, then stood up and leaned forward, pressing her weight against her toes. Her heel and sole lifted away from the sandal, allowing Dina to slide, screaming, down the arch to collide with a jolt against the ball of Darcy's foot. Very slowly, Darcy allowed her foot to unbend back into place, completely immobilizing the tiny girl against the soft, smooth sole. Darcy leaned back on the couch and lifted her foot into the air, twisting it back and forth, admiring her handiwork. From no angle could she see anything but her foot and the sexy white sandal -- yet she could feel the ticklish poking and wriggling of the naked skin of the trapped little blonde, could actually identify the pressure of the girl's breasts mashed against her sole. Darcy worked her hand down the front of her slacks, pushed the now-sopping thong aside, and slipped two fingers inside herself, sliding soapily into her feverishly-hot womanhood.
With her unoccupied hand, Darcy reached over and opened her purse. Fumbling around inside, she managed to get her fingers around one of the three squirming little bodies tumbling over each other inside, trying to get away from the questing hand. Sun-soo emerged clutched in Darcy's hand while she awkwardly snapped the purse shut again to prevent any escapes.
The Korean girl had calmed somewhat, seeming to realize the gravity of the situation at last. She glared angrilly but silently while Darcy held her with two fingers under the girl's arms, her short little legs dangling free. Darcy bit her lower lip, gave her cunt a few more thrusts, then pulled her fingers free. Grinning, Darcy held her two slick, wet fingers, foamy with her juices, before Sun-soo, causing the girl to grimace in disgust and turn away. With a laugh she wiped the fingers across the tiny girl, pasting her black hair flat and leaving slimy white snail-tracks across the girl's face and sweatshirt. Sun-soo gagged and chittered with rage.
"Don't like that, hmmm?" said Darcy, still smiling. "Think I liked getting hit with a bat?"
Using her two still-sticky fingers, Darcy gave a yank at the blue sweatshirt, pulling it free and leaving Sun-soo topless, her pert little brown-tipped titties exposed. Then, with Sun-soo fighting and kicking, Darcy rolled the shorts down -- no panties beneath -- and flicked them away with a single red fingernail.
Darcy lifted unbuttoned her blazer, and lifted her blouse up to bare an expanse of hard, toned abdomen and a small navel pierced with a simple gold stud. She laid Sun-soo down gently on her belly and, before the girl could scramble away, used a forefinger to roll the girl over and force her face-downward. Absently, Darcy rubbed the girl's teeny-tiny buttocks, enjoying the wild kicking of the tiny feet this elicited. With a forefinger pressed into Sun-soo's back, Darcy began sliding her slowly downward. It wasn't until she passed the belt-line of Darcy's pants that the girl seemed to realize where she was and where she was headed. She began struggling mightily at that point, but the entire strength of her whole body was much less than even the single finger with which Darcy held her.
Darcy kept herself smoothly shaved -- Brazillian waxing being just one more discomfort she endured for the sake of vanity -- and the tiny, wriggling, little yellow-bronze figure slid easily down Darcy's groin. When Sun-soo's flailing limbs touched Darcy's engorged clit for the first time, she experienced a strong, shuddering orgasm that nearly made her lose her grip on her tiny sex toy. Grunting happily, Darcy slid Sun-soo into the mouth of her slit and began sliding her back and forth over her inner lips, slipping wetly, with moist squelching noises, through the freely-running juices. Hooking her forefinger, Darcy slid Sun-Soo face-first into her lovehole, pressed firmly against the top so as not to lose her. The frantic struggles told Darcy that the girl knew exactly where she was, and was in mortal terror.
"I own you," muttered Darcy. And indeed, no one had ever owned anyone more deeply or more totally than Darcy did Sun-soo at that moment. All she had to do was remove her finger and the girl would be sucked down, lost forever inside her. The thought made her groan with fierce sexual excitement, her cunt clenching with multiple orgasms on her finger and its tiny prisoner.
At last Darcy pulled her finger out, amused that Sun-soo was pasted wetly to her finger with gooey white juices. The girl was sputtering and gasping, half-drowned, no longer struggling. She hung defeated, exhausted, and humiliating, adhered with nothing but body fluids to the underside of Darcy's forefinger, her head lolling from side to side and her legs dangling freely.
Darcy had always enjoyed her own flavour. She held Sun-soo before her and slowly, languorously like a cat, slipped her tongue out to slide wetly up Sun-soo, starting at the crotch, with its little tuft of black hair, sliding up to her belly, her tongue so large that only the tip made contact, the two sides bulging out to hug Sun-soo like a pair of wet, slimy arms. Her tongue slid further, over the pair of tiny titties, the tip flicking and lashing at them a few times before continuing up to mash Sun-soo's whole face.
As the fluids began to dry, Sun-soo began to separate from the finger, pulling her back free and beginning to wriggle again. Darcy used her tongue as a scoop to lift Sun-soo's feet and calves, pursing her lips around them, sucking on them gently. Bracing the tiny girl in place with her teeth around her knees, she used her tongue to lick the soles of Sun-soo's feet, running the underside of her tongue over the infinitesmally small little wriggling toes. Suddenly, with a loud slurp, Darcy sucked the entire girl into her mouth.
Sun-soo screamed, a scream so loud that Darcy could hear it clearly inside her head. Darcy rolled the girl around, enjoying the salty-sweet flavour of her juices and the more pungent flavour of the Korean girl's terror. She tossed her back and forth inside her mouth with her tongue, pressing her first to one side then the other.
Darcy laid back on the couch, basking in the afterglow of her climax, idly tormenting the girl in her mouth with her tongue, splashing her around and around in an ever-increasing pool of saliva. Now that she was sated, she had time to think rationally about what she had done and what she had to do. She looked around. She could easily shrink the entire contents of the apartment, then sweep it up and dump it in the trash. The police would come looking, of course, but she'd tell them the kids moved out, and who could prove differently? But could she afford to keep them as pets? Or toys? It was just faintly possible the police could get a warrant and do a search if they were suspicious and at this point she simply could not afford to have tiny people found. What was she to do?
The saliva in Darcy's mouth had built up to the point she was afraid she might drool. She pressed the little Korean against her palate with her tongue to hold her in place while she swallowed to get rid of the saliva, then had a sudden, nasty thought. It might be very easy indeed to get rid of the evidence when she was done playing with it. Experimentally, she used her tongue to push the limp and utterly exhausted girl further back in her mouth, Sun-soo's face pressed against her palate, the top of her head pointed to her throat. Then, in a cascade of saliva, Darcy swallowed -- hard.
The girl was almost two inches long, much larger than the biggest pill she'd ever taken, but she was very narrow and was slick with spit. To Darcy's delight, the girl slid easily over the back of her tongue and, despite a screaming, clawing, wriggling panic of howling desperation, went slickly and smoothly down her gullet. Sun-soo had disappeared forever, and no one was ever going to find her. Darcy cooed in pleasure, rubbing her toned belly, fascinated and aroused by the idea of a tiny woman trapped inside her, digesting, terrified and alone, helpless and struggling. Two parents had laboured hard for many years, suffered and sacrificed so their daughter could go to school and become something important. Sun-soo had gone to school, made love, formed friendships, planned and stratgized for the future. And Darcy had gulped that all down without a thought, as easily as slurping down an oyster, just for her own amusement. That thought tilted her past the threshold of orgasm, surprising herself with its shuddery pleasure.
And, Darcy reminded herself, there were three more, one of them still squirming under the sole of her foot. She foresaw that it was going to be a very enjoyable night.
Giantess World
Story Notes:
While this is the first of two parts, it is a complete story on its own, and can be read as such. This story is not to be reposted anywhere, particularly not to GTS City. In fact, I will be cross if I find this story mentioned there at all. This story contains F/f material, crush, vore, cruelty, sadism, et al., all the stuff you have come to expect from me.
I have worked hard to make the story entertaining to read first and foremost. All I ask is that you please do not "skip ahead to the good stuff." I promise you that the characterization and foreshadowing anticipation will improve the experience; pr0n is much more effective when you care about the characters.
All characters, events, locations, and such and so forth belong to me and you can't have them. So there.