"I just don't know what could have happened or why he would split like this....it makes me nervous Gwen, it's just not like him and given his condition.... who knows how he might be feeling?"
Sarah was clearly troubled, pacing in the living room, all anxious energy, fretting over her misplaced brother Jeremy. He had just arrived this morning, going straight from the airport to her work to get her spare key, then was supposed to hang out until she got home. They had lots to discuss considering his diagnosis and the subsequent depression he found himself in and Sarah had been eager to try and reach him behind all that fear and uncertainty.
Her roommate, Gwen, was seated on their couch, still dressed in her gym clothes, long, athletic legs tucked under her, a look of restrained concern on her ridiculously beautiful face. She listened to Sarah's nervous rambling and watched with hidden amusement as she paced and called and text, trying to reach Jeremy and all their mural friends, babbling on about the cruelty of his disease.
Gwen could barely hide her amusement and briefly considered explaining to Sarah that she could call off the search as she had already found Jeremy...but having to then explain why he was on his way to her bowels would probably be too much for poor Sarah, so instead Gwen sat back and tried to look sympathetic. Besides, the sight of Sarah so clearly in distress only served to heighten the experience for Gwen, knowing that her loved one would be pushed through her like waste and flushed away. And for Gwen, it was all about enjoying the experience.
As far as she was concerned, the shrinking disease was positively wonderful.
The shrinking disease had hit right at the height of humanities flirtation with moral apathy and as such had resulted in little more than a collective shrug from the populations of the world. By then population control and resource wars had raised global tensions to the point that the strange, inexplicable disease was viewed simply as a way to cull the herd through impartial neglect. Sure, there were agencies and groups and charities and watchdogs all obsessed with the preservation and protection of those afflicted, but, legally in most places, after the disease took full affect, those ravaged by it were no longer regarded as legally protected citizens, they became a public burden to be handled at one’s discretion.
For an elitist sadist like Gwen, that meant she was free to indulge. Which she did, at any opportunity.
Gwen had been practically giddy with excitement when Sarah sadly told her of her brother’s diagnosis, one because it was common to afflict those who shared blood and two because Sarah said she had invited him to stay with her. She had played the role of concerned friend to the best of her ability but perhaps had not tried as hard as she could have. Sarah was a pretty dense girl after all and if the not irregular sight of bloody "dirt" worked into the soles of Gwen shoes hadn’t served as a warning well then.... Gwen felt no need to disillusion her.
Casually tuning Sarah out, Gwen thought back to earlier in the afternoon.
***
When Gwen had stepped into the apartment after a hard workout - her Nordic physique didn't maintain itself sadly - she had been greeted by the sight of the miniscule Jeremy. The onset of the disease had left him a pathetic inch and maybe change in height, naked and terrified, but he had been cautious and in advance had placed near the door the white sheet of paper he huddled on, providing a stark and obvious contrast.
"Clearly, he got the brains" Gwen had thought absently, the sight making her heart rate jump harder than her drop sets had.
He must have felt such incredible relief when she walked in, the sight of her like seeing a goddess come to his rescue. He had immediately started making frantic, desperate gestures to be noticed and saved.
It had taken a considerable effort for Gwen not to stomp the insect immediately, to grind his hopes of safety into the paneled floor along with his body. Lucky for him, she had already sated that particular desire earlier at the gym when she had found one of the trainers shrunken in the change room.
The poor woman had come scurrying out from under the bench Gwen sat on as she pulled on her athletic socks. She had been squeaking something, maybe offers of cash for rescue since those afflicted knew they relied on the mercy of their finders. Gwen had barely paused, seeing the tiny naked woman and then looking to her sweat infused trainers. Gwen had made a point of carving out small indents in each of her shoe insoles specifically to place tiny losers she chanced upon. In went the woman, her screams silenced as Gwen’s sock clad foot forced her down into the indent. She had not settled properly before Gwen stood up and she felt a few tiny cracks under the arch of her foot and the vibrations of the woman’s screams on her sweating skin.
Gwen barely gave the bug another thought as she walked out of the change room, taking small delight in knowing the woman would likely suffocate on her foot sweat. Somehow, the woman had lived through the entire, sweaty workout. Feeling her slight but consistent struggles against her high arch, Gwen had opted not to change and instead kept the woman in her shoe as she emptied her locker and walked out to her car. Once there she had popped her heel out and let the little bug squirm her way to freedom, coated in her sweat and sock lint, an arm twisted at an odd angle, her hips looking askew. Sneering down at the determined little survivor, Gwen had popped her heel back in then stood directly on the thing, its body collapsing in a litany of wet squelches, as she found her phone and snapped a quick pic of the crimson oozing from beneath her. She’d post that later.
That was why she had been able to resist adding Jeremy to the list of people she had worked into her soles.
Instead, she had kicked off her shoes, aiming one to go dangerously close to him and causing him to flinch, and walked forward, planting her hot, sock clad feet on either side of him and bending at the waist to look down upon him. He had covered his manhood in frail humiliation and flinched at her abruptness, his miniscule voice attempting to explain and reason, his eyes looking up at her massive presence. She had wiggled her toes slowly, feeling the slick wetness between them and watched his eyes track her movement. She hoped their scent reached him.
Gwen hadn’t yet decided what she would do with him so she had reached down and plucked him from the floor, then stood upright and with her other hand hooked her thumb into her panties and waistband, pulling them forward enough to drop the squirming loser in, a tiny cry of fear barely audible. He hit the slightly damp fabric like a slide and she let it snap back in place, feeling him pressed against her stubbled womanhood. She traced her hand over his tiny form through her tight capris and briefly ground what she believed was his head against her clit before walking into the living room
There she found his clothes, his backpack and the slightly strange aroma that accompanied the sudden onset of the disease. Something to do with the cells suddenly combusting she had read, or something like that. The specifics of the disease and its biological effects were still being studied intensely and, frankly, were beyond her interest really. Checking the time, she saw she had a couple more hours before Sarah got home, she was already anticipating that.
So, she had gathered up his belongings and moved them into her room, each step causing her tight athletic pants to constrict on the loser and rub him against her moist lips. She could feel the heat growing there, the arousal at having total domination over someone, a loved one of a friend at that. He wasn’t struggling as much as Gwen would have liked, but that was ok, he wasn’t going to be there much longer.
She went through his things, pocketing the meager cash he had and flipping through his phone. There she found a contact list of other people carrying markers of the disease like him, some type of local support group. Gwen had carefully copied over that information.
“Thanks for the list loser, this is too perfect.” she had said casually, tapping him roughly. “Guess it makes sense, insects like you must be desperate to still feel human, right?”
Then she had found an envelope marked Sarah. Opening it and skimming the first couple paragraphs, she realized it was some type of poorly written, heartfelt declaration to her. Gwen laughed at that and brought it with her back to the living room, pausing to get a drink and light a scented candle to help disperse the unusual scent.
She sat down just gingerly enough to avoid damaging Jeremy and then put her feet up. Her left hand held the letter open while her right went under her waistband and found poor Jeremy. Gently, she took hold of him and then began to work him against herself, relishing the feel of her stubble no doubt abrading his face as she read his note aloud.
It was truly heartfelt, a statement of his intent to retain his humanity in the face of this terrible affliction, to not give in to depression, that his loving sister helped give him strength and reminded him he was still a man ect ect. Gwen could barely keep it together as she read the note aloud, the juxtaposition of its intent and his current predicament too much for her. Her laughter was as cutting and cruel as it was lovely, her body vibrating with malicious mirth.
When she had reached the end of the letter her face was flush and she felt out of breath, partly from the laughter, partly from the wetness she had used Jeremy to produce. Done with her amusement she had pulled Jeremy from her lips moist embrace and held him up for inspection. Her slightly stubbled skin had rubbed his face brutally, the skin looking raw and puffy. His frail, naked body, unimpressive even at regular size, was coated in her slick juices and he smelled of her musk and sweat. He barely struggled as her fingers pinched his sides and held him dangling over her tank top covered chest, her ample cleavage barely contained by the sports bra beneath.
He was breathing raggedly, sucking down desperate lungfuls of air as she inspected him. She saw that he briefly met her eyes but feebly looked away. She had smiled, her perfect teeth flashing, wondering at what he must have seen there looking back at him.
“You’re welcome by the way, guys like you do not get to touch women like me.” Gwen had said, her voice casual and direct, a statement she clearly believed despite the cruelty of the situation. In her mind, Jeremy really was lucky. Gwen was a captivating woman, her body built like a predator’s, all grace and power, her self-possessed air like a thundercloud she wore. And she knew it. Jeremy had been an insect to her even before he had shrunken. Letting him touch her now was just her way of reminding him it was only because she no longer regarded him as human.
He had coughed and spluttered something, probably a plea, maybe he had cried out for his sister or his mother or someone to save him. Gwen had already looked away from him and her hand holding him had begun to drift away as she reached for her phone. Maybe he thought his torment was waning, that he would be given a reprieve and allowed a chance to rest, to plan his salvation. He wasn’t. Gwen swiped her phone open and began to check messages and updates and without so much as a look in his direction, had tossed Jeremy into her mouth.
She rolled him into her cheek as she wiped her fingers clean on her leg, both hands needed to reply to the texts. His struggles became frantic and desperate and she briefly chewed him, enough to maybe crack a bone or two but not to end him, just to quell him. Working up some saliva, she relished her own taste from his skin and briefly understood why so many men enjoyed pleasing her orally. Her powerful tongue bullied him out of her cheek and roughly inspected him. Then she forced him to the back of her throat and swallowed hard while leaning forward for her drink. A few large gulps and her throat was pleasantly clear of all obstructions, her roommate’s brother deposited into her stomach like so much meat.
She had finished replying to the texts she read then tapped out one to Sarah, letting her know she was home and that Jeremy was nowhere to be found and that maybe she should give him a call…. Then she had set her phone down and leaned back, a vicious smile spreading on her face as she tapped at her stomach, faint stirrings still to be felt a few moments longer. Jeremy would die there, inside her, most likely suffocating as her stomachs cruel, inexorable power churned him and dissolved him, from practice she knew very little of his bones would survive the trip, maybe his skull…
***
“Fuck! No one has heard from him Gwen! Beck says he texted her right before he boarded and Jackson says texted him bitching about the food in the airport after he landed but that’s it! Mom and Dad are freaking out now and fuck, I don’t like this! Uurgh!” Sarah’s frustrated, frightened voice brought Gwen back from her reverie, her cool mask of concern still in place despite her minds darker wanderings.
Sarah had collapsed into the arm chair after her outburst and looked with fear and worry out the window, her hand to her lips, her phone clenched in her other fist, her eyes seeing all the things that could have gone wrong…. Well most things that is.
Gwen said calming things to her, placating untruths designed to lessen her stress and anxiety, comforting confidence that all would be made well. While she did so she studied Sarah, and wondered at the girls’ naivety, at her inability to see the predator in the room with her. The world was not a friendly place, humanities lustful infatuation with personal gratification the new religion. The disease had been around for a decade now and in that time, very little effort had been made to better those who suffered its touch. What that said about societies unafflicted members was not kind. But Sarah, poor, sweet, stupid Sarah, sat across from Gwen, the unafflicted, and thanked her for her friendship.
Gwen practically tingled at the cruel irony. She thought back to Jeremy’s letter, his written declaration that he would remain the master of his own fate, that he would remain a man despite his burdens. She would wipe her ass with it in the morning.