The crowd moved like waves on an ocean, shifting around and dancing to the music as it they were a single being. Thousands of lights from phones recording videos were like stars in a sky of flesh, hair and clothing. As she sung her latest hit single, Candy J felt truly godlike. She imagined that this was how Zeus and his ilk would have felt like in the days of ancient Greece had they been real. But Candy J was real. Candy J was real and everyone loved her. They gazed at her above them, that porcelain white skin and eye-catching pink hair, a symbol of their conjoined desires.

“C'mon guys, you know the words!” The singer spoke to the crowd as the beat built up towards the final string of choruses, another show approaching its conclusion.

Candy J held the microphone out, pointing it towards the surging crowd. Her eyes closed when the chorus was only moments away, feeling the energy of her fans flow through her. Involuntarily she flexed her butt cheeks and felt the tiny man trapped in her crack struggle, bringing her back to reality just in time.

Want the squeeze, Want the squeeze?

Want the pressure, Want the pressure?

They wanna please,

Cause I'm a lady of leisure.

Tens of thousands of her fans sung her part for the chorus and the back-up singers stuck to their part, repeating it over and over again which delighted Candy J. As all things must however, the song came to an end, signified by the music slowly growing quieter and quieter. But even in the total absence of music the young men and women (mostly women) kept on singing.

Laughing happily into the microphone, Candy J silenced them with her powerful voice. “As you all know, that was Lady of leisure. I must say, I am very impressed that you all know the words so well.”

A resounding response of woos and cheers caused the pop star to laugh again. “How lucky am I to have such adoring fans? If it weren't a massive violation of my deal with the Shrink Correctional Association, I'd hand out shrinkees to everyone!”

Candy J wondered how she had lived her life before becoming famous. The buzz she got from her adoring fans was unmatched; even as she stood before them in this moment, soaked in sweat from dancing around in her pink latex costume with fingerless white gloves and white boots, the singer felt beyond beautiful. Back in her early twenties, all she had wanted was to be famous, to possess a loyal and loving fan base. When she hit twenty-five, depression struck, worrying that her dreams would not be realised. A deal with the Shrink Correctional Association saved her. They extended an extremely lucrative offer to a hopeful woman in her mid twenties. They saw her talent and funded the ascent to stardom, turning her into a discrete singing and dancing advertisement for their agenda. They had turned that lost soul into the pop star known as Candy J.

Despite wanting to keep these people happy and cheering for her, perform an encore, there was someone waiting for her backstage. So Candy J waved goodbye to the crowd, her parting words broadcast her hesitance to leave to the entire area. Her hip swaying walk off of the stage was scored by shouts of “We love you Candy J!”

Moving through the corridors backstage felt a like claustrophobic after spending hours dancing, singing and sweating on the open air stage. She spared a small smile at the thought of the tiny man trapped at her backside, bathed in both darkness and ass sweat, experiencing claustrophobia far greater than she would ever have to suffer. On the way to her dressing room, Candy J passed by other rooms with open doors. Inside two large rooms that usually function as a locker rooms for the soccer team that called this stadium home and the away teams that visited, were the dancers and back-up singers that had performed alongside Candy J this evening.

A pair of SCOs moved from dancer to dancer, reclaiming the shrinkees that had been lent by the Association for tonight's performance. The female dancers removed their shoes and socks, emptying the tiny men and women out of those socks into the waiting palms of the SCOs, who then placed the tiny people into storage devices made to transport dozens of shrinkees at the same time. The women looked sad which was no surprise to the star of the show, she had seen the faces of delight during the dance recitals where they were granted access to the shrinkees. How they had laughed as they practised the dance routines, stomping on the bodies of criminals in rehabilitation. The little show they put on for the crowd prior to Candy J's performance, where they stripped down to their bare feet and toyed with the tiny individuals given to them for the enjoyment of the onlooking crowd, had been how the dancers said goodbye to their 'dance partners'. These shrinkees would return to their regular rehabilitation sentence and different ones would be provided the next time Candy J needed some for her dancing retinue.

Continuing on to her own dressing room, one marking with a temporary star and her nameplate, the singer didn't stop for a moment. Bursting through the door, she locked it behind her, giving privacy that was much needed after having basically none under the all seeing eyes of the crowd of fans. She sighed and took a seat.

“Hard show?” Asked Vanessa, Candy J's bodyguard. The security expert had been unneeded up on stage, so the pop star left the muscular, short haired woman alone in the private dressing room with a special task to keep her occupied. In those strong hands a remote control was held, one finger pressing hard on a button before releasing it.

“They were insatiable Vanessa! I performed song after song and all they wanted was more. I need a glass of wine.” Candy J fell onto the comfortable couch that had been set up for her. In the moment that she closed her eyes, eager to be lost to the world, she sniffed and picked up on the scent of Vanessa's smelly socked feet, her steel toe capped boots discarded onto the floor. “Ewww that smells so bad, fucking hell.”

Vanessa smirked, playing with a tiny woman between her stinky soles who had been blindfolded, gagged and bound. All she could do was wriggle around like a helpless worm. With every touch of the button that Vanessa had her finger primed to press, the wriggling increased.

“You told me to torment her with my feet, so that's what I'm doing.” Vanessa excused herself.

“I know that! I just didn't expect your feet to be so damn aromatic!” Candy J laughed, sitting up and pouring herself a glass of white wine from the unopened bottle sitting in an ice filled bucket on the table. She sipped at the wine, enjoying the feelings of the tiny man struggling not only from the pressure of her strong ass cheeks pressing him from either side like a vice but also from the weight of her sitting atop his small body. Candy J watched Vanessa continue to kneed the 6 inch woman with her filthy socks. When people were shrunken, the traditional size that they were diminished to was 3 inches, though that wasn't the only size available. The Association could shrink anyone down to a minimum of 1 inch and a maximum of 1 foot, though the majority of equipment was built with a 3 inch human in mind.

When Candy J had been given the opportunity to have this woman in particular shrunken down, the pop star had decided 6 inches would be preferable, given that she intended to turn the girl into a tiny slave. The girl had once been called Gertrude, not that Candy J ever intended to use that name. To the world famous singer the tiny was only called 'slave'. What did this now shrunken woman done, you might ask?

Before she was convicted of stalking Candy J, Gertrude had run a channel on a video sharing platform where she made videos mocking the pop star, both on her style of music and her connection to the Shrink Correctional Association. The girl claimed that without the Association, Candy J would be nothing; a statement that greatly annoyed Candy J. Not only that, but Gertrude had branded herself as Candy J's biggest hater, challenging the diehard fans of the pop star to just try and take her channel down. Candy J had gone one better, paying some fans to kidnap the women off of the street. From there it was easy to plant evidence and frame Gertrude as Candy J's stalker, putting her fingerprints all over dressing rooms and placing 'stolen' panties in the girl's home befoe putting her back and informing the police with an anonymous tip. In court Gertrude had been given a long shrinking sentence, but Candy J had intervened and essentially made the newly shrunken Gertrude into a slave with the intention of breaking her, turning her from Candy J's biggest hater into Candy J's tiniest fan.

Vanessa had proved integral in the breaking of Gertrude with her big, stinky feet. Even though Candy J had sweaty feet after her performances, Gertrude would happily run to them and lick them clean when faced with the threat of being imprisoned within the security guard's sock for a few days. That was exactly what Candy J wanted, for a young woman who once totally hated her and the music she made to worship her like a goddess. The pair of underwear that the tiny slave wore definitely helped speed up the indoctrination process. Made of metal, the underwear was locked onto the slave's miniscule body, cutting off the shrunken girl's access to her own genitals. A rubber vibrator attached to the inside of the underwear was plunged deep into her pussy, controlled by the remote control currently held by Vanessa. And, just as Candy J had instructed when she handed over her slave to Vanessa this morning, Gertrude had been edged all day long, only able to voice her frustrations to thick, heavy socks laden with foot sweat through her ball gag.

Putting the glass of wine aside after several refreshing sips, Candy J looked down at her shiny white boots. They were high heeled just to the point where she could dance around the stage without falling over and had the toe section missing, displaying her toes which were painted pink if you hadn't already guessed. She made them do a little Mexican wave, each of the toes rising up and coming back down in a pattern, making a near inaudible slap as they reconnected with the insole. Candy J reached down and unzipped the boots using the zips on the instep sides and slipped out her elegant size 7s. Bringing one foot up to her face, she gave the appendage a sniff up around the toes. “Bleuurrgh. Stinky.”

“I'm sure they aren't as bad as mine.” Vanessa overheard the comment and replied, clamping all five toes around the tiny's head as she did.

“Obviously my feet aren't as smelly as yours are! What I'm concerned about here is not having my feet be perfect for her. The point to all this is to make the slave see my feet as divine so they must be perfect in her eyes!”

“Yeah, but you're going to great lengths to impress a shrunken slave. It's unnecessary. Trust me, considering how bad my feet and unwashed socks reek, your feet after a show are going to be a blessing by comparison.” Vanessa didn't look up, focussed wholeheartedly on making sure the tiny didn't get even a hint of fresh air in her heavy breathing, orgasm yearning state. It amused Vanessa how even whilst inhaling her musty foot odour the slave still desired sexual pleasure, indicating just how desperate she was.

“I suppose you're right.” Candy J said as she ran one finger between a few of her toes, making a gagging noise when she felt how slimy it was there. “Gonna lotion these babies up though, just to be safe.”

A hard, authoritative knock came at the door. Candy J sighed, enjoying the final moments that she had with her ass-mate. This one had been a good one, he moved around in all the right ways and was a real fighter. If ever he got to the point where it annoyed her a simple tensing of her cheeks was enough to placate him temporarily. She stood up and sauntered over to the door. Candy J didn't intend to use such a sexy form of walking in the privacy of her dressing room but it had become a force of habit to her, on top of that it felt really damn good when she swung her hips around with a tiny at her ass.

Opening the door steadily, Candy J took a look to see who it was though from the knock she already had a good idea.

“Good evening, Miss J.” In the doorway, smiling, was the shrink correctional officer in charge of transporting the shrinkees to and from the pop star whenever she required them. Angela was a little taller than Candy J right now, with shoulder length light brown hair and a kind face. Her face was where the kindness ended, evidenced by the triple chevron above the Association's emblem on both arms of her jacket: a first-class ranked SCO. On her right arm, just below where the emblem was, Angela wore a blue armband which visually indicated that she was an SCO who dealt with public relations and worked closely with figures like Candy J who represented the Association in the media.

“Hi Angela, did you enjoy the show?”

“Oh it was fantastic, well done as always Miss J. May I come in?”

“Of course, come on. Help yourself to any of the complementary food and drink. There's far too much for me.” Angela had replaced Candy J's previously assigned SCO over a year ago now and still she refused to refer to her as anything other than 'Miss J'. Angela had proven stricter than her predecessor too, enforcing the part of the deal where all shrinkees had to be returned as soon as possible after they were no longer needed by Candy J and her crew. The woman claimed that she wanted to minimise their time away from the rehabilitation process. She saw this whole endeavour as a form of vacation for the shrinkees.

“Vanessa. Would you mind leaving my little slave on the table and rounding up some stinky girls from out there. It was a real heated show tonight so I'm sure there'll be plenty of competition.” Candy J said to her security guard.

“Sure thing boss.” Vanessa replied, putting her heavy boots back on and standing up with the shrunken girl in hand, depositing her on the table with bindings intact as she left the room, handing the remote control to Candy J.

“How goes your slave training? I ask mainly out of personal interest but the more sadistic part of me would also like to know. Have you managed to make her completely devoted to you yet?” Angela inquired, staring down at the tiny tied up on the table, sucking untainted oxygen through her hungry nostrils like a drug.

“I believe her to be well on the way. She already gave us the login details to basically every social media website that she has an account on in order to delete her hateful content and instead upload footage of me at my shows. I bet her subscribers absolutely hate that.” Candy J chuckled. “You're welcome to stay and watch when I remove her blindfold, witness the light in her eyes when she sees the goddess who saved her from the pair of devilishly stinky monsters.”

Now it was Angela's turn to chuckle. “If you think that your security guard has stinky feet, you really don't want to sample an SCO's feet. But I am glad the process is going well. When she does eventually start to view you as an actual deity, you must sit down with me and allow me to make a report. It could be valuable information for the Association.”

“That shouldn't be a problem, so long as you do all the paperwork and I do all the talking.”

“Indeed. Let's stick to what we're good at, shall we?” Angela said with a wry smile. “Not to hurry you, Miss J, but I believe you have something of mine.”

The inner cheek lodger chose that well timed moment to start his violent struggles once again, reminding the pop star that she still had him back there. “OH! Almost forgot about that little guy. You'll have him back immediately.” Candy J knew better than to argue with the stubborn SCO for extra time, there really was no shifting this woman.

Reaching into the back of her miniskirt, Candy J's fingers grasped the shrinkee's body in the sweaty crevice. He had been bathed in the stuff for hours on end so he stuck a little bit and needed a forceful tug but soon enough left his smelly prison. The tiny man was quite young with long, mop-like hair. That hair was currently matted down to his head from the conditions between Candy J's juicy buttocks. “Do you want me to wash him off or...?”

“I'm sure he'll be fine, I shall let him stew in your odour until his owner collects him. Do you have anything to say to Miss J, small one?”

Candy J made sure to listen close, it was very easy to miss what a 3 inch tall person was saying. “T-thank you Candy J for taking care of me. I had fun.” It was difficult to tell whether or not he was telling the truth or simply being polite in fear of his sentence being lengthened. All the moving around he did back there could have been tormented or passionate, it was hard to tell the difference from the outside. Regardless, her treatment of the poor guy had likely been much better than anything his SCO had done to him.

Wordlessly, Angela tilted her palm and dropped the little guy into a transportation cylinder that she had opened in advance, screwing the lid on behind him. “Well, I'll be off. I'll see you again with a new batch of shrinkees next month.

“Thanks again, Angela. It is always a pleasure to see you.”

“Likewise, Miss J. Take care of yourself.” With that, Angela left the singer alone in her dressing room, discounting the tiny woman on the table obviously. Candy J sighed. Angela made her anxious and every meeting with the damnable woman caused a great deal of stress. She was definitely no pushover, and Candy J assumed that any shrinkee assigned to the SCO would very quickly be broken by that iron will. With an expression still soured by the brief appearance of Angela, the singer downed what remained of her wine.

Candy J rejoined her former hater, sitting on the couch once more. Her bubblegum lotion was sat on the table already and she squeezed a generous splodge into her hands and started lathering it into her soles and around her toes. Before long the aroma of sweaty feet was joined by the sweet scent of bubblegum, not erasing the odour but mixing with it into a not entirely distasteful smell. Candy J decided that it would do and placed the remote control next to the slowly struggling tiny, freeing up both hands to remove the miniature blindfold and gag.

“There there my little slave, you're okay now. The smelly woman has gone away. Right now, it's just the two of us.” Candy J adopted a maternal tone, stroking the hair of the girl who had taken to whimpering. She looked down at the frictionless ropes binding her limbs tightly to her body, clearly wanting to be fully free. But Candy J wasn't that kind.

“You stink of feet slave.” Candy J said with a giggle. “Better give you a wash.” Grabbing the empty wine glass, she poured some of the chilled water sat at the bottom of the ice bucket into it, letting a few ice cubes tumble in for good measure. She didn't let the slave she what she had done, simply picked the girl up by her head and dangled her over the glass before dropping the hand and dipping the slave's bottom half in the freezing water.

“AH!” The slave once known as Gertrude cried out, surprised by the sudden cold water touching her body like a live electrical wire. She kicked and writhed in the air as Candy J pulled the slave back into the air. Because of how resilient the shrinking process made shrinkees, hypothermia and going into shock did not worry Candy J. Her slave would just fine.

“Almost done.” Candy J cooed, her other hand snatching the slave's legs and dangling her upside down instead. The tiny was wide eyed, shaking her head madly and punching out at the air uselessly. Candy J bit her lip, trying to maintain a caring image by stifling the growing urge to laugh. Then, the tiny girl was dunked into the water once more, submerging her head-first up to the waist. Candy J laughed, keeping the slave underwater as she did to not break the image, ignoring the struggling. It was like holding onto a fish in a net wanting to escape, but the fish was as small and light as an anchovy. Managed to stop laughing and keep a straight face, Candy J showed mercy and lifted the shrinkee from the icy water. The slave hung there, motionless apart from the feverish shivers that racked her tiny form, each deep intake of breath a tortured gasp.

“You'll be fine. In fact, I have just the thing to warm you up, my little slave.” Candy J reassured her, putting the tiny body of the slave onto the table, laid on her back. Two thuds later and the slave had a foot on either side of her body, the mixed smell of Candy J's lotion and Candy J's sweat becoming the slave's new air. The pop star picked up the controller for the tiny, pleasure granting underwear locked onto her slave and showed it to the girl, whose eyes lit up upon seeing it, those little fingers that yearned to carress a set of nipples. She was desperate for pleasure, and willing to do anything to receive it.

“It's funny that you used to be such a prolific hater of mine, slave. Now you're literally laid at my pretty feet, begging for an orgasm.” The relative giantess laughed, lifting a foot and lowering her silky, damp sole onto her slave's body, positioning the toes above the slave's face so that the girl could kiss and worship them. Candy J bit her lip at first contact as the sudden cold to her sensitive sole stung. Ever since she'd first had her toes sucked many years back during sex, Candy J had been obsessed with the sensation. That was likely part of what led her to this position, acting as goddess to a lowly, shrunken human.

Moaning as those tiny lips kissed her toes, Candy J did her slave a favour and pressed down the button on the remote that controlled the vibrations of the device shoved inside her slave's pussy, sending waves of powerful stimulation through that little body. Candy J felt the kissing stop for just a moment as a burst of pleasure dominated the mind of her slave, but then she remembered who her true master was and almost immediately went back to kissing. At first, it was hard to keep the slave focussed on tasks whilst her internal vibrator was running, but threats of a complete end to all orgasms managed to keep her mind on her duties.

Both women, master and slave, goddess and worshipper, pop star and once ordinary girl, were on the road to reaching orgasm. Slave thanks to Candy J's finger pressing a button, master thanks to her fingers sneaking up her pink skirt and passed the black thong to press a different kind of button. Candy J made sure to ease up on the remote controller, pausing the vibrations every now and again in order to keep their pleasure equal, to the slave's unspoken annoyance.

When she felt the climax brewing inside, eager to break free, Candy J jammed her finger on the button and smothered her slave with toes. The small, bound body under her foot started trembling. “Yes! Yes! Oh fuck yes!” Candy J practically shouted, her vaginal juices running onto her hand like a stream. The trembling being under Candy J's sole pressed her hips deeper into the sole and went suddenly still, paralysed in the moment of extreme pleasure that had been denied for so long.

Waiting a few minutes, soaked in fresh sweat sourced from an orgasmic session of mutual pleasure with her slave, Candy J moved her foot from atop the shrinkee. “So, how was that?” Candy J leaned in close, speaking softly.

The slave, still recovering from the mind-blowing sexual climax, nodded frantically, unable to speak at first. But then, a voice was found somewhere in that 6 inch form. “T-t-that was a-amazing goddess. I love you. Thank you for everything you give me.” The slave teared up as her owner spoke, realising how broken she had become. Licking the feet of a women she once hated, thanking her for months months of torment.

Candy J smiled, using the hand that had been playing with a hungry clitoris minutes ago to slather the naked slave with the sticky juices dampening the digits. “You weren't so bad yourself. It was as if those lips of yours were made to kiss my toes. Though there's always going to be room for improvement. Come on slave, practice makes perfect.” Candy J once more mounted her slave with a foot larger than the slave's body, smiling fondly once those lips starting pecking at her toes. Apparently the conditioning was working because without even a touch of the remote controller the slave was letting out tiny moans between kisses and thrusting against Candy J's foot. The pop star giggled happily, letting the slave know how much this submission amused her owner.

It was just over half an hour later when Vanessa returned to the dressing room, with six young girls in tow. They looked star-struck as they walked through the door, speechless as they gazed upon their idol. And on their feet, footwear that actually looked nasty.

“These are the girls with the stinkiest feet out of all those who came forward.” Vanessa stated bluntly, holding a Branning Stick (a device similar in appearance to a thermometer but used to measure foot odour instead) warily between two fingers, the dirtied business end as far away from her fingertips as possible. She placed it near the sink, washed her hands then came back over to introduce the fans to their favourite pop star.

Candy J nodded attentively as Vanessa read out the names that she had written on her hand. When meeting fans, Candy J couldn't possibly memorise every single name so she purged all names from her long term memory and put all brainpower towards the short term. She had become a bit of professional in the act, so much so that fans wrote articles of how well she remembered names. But names didn't matter much, not right now. These girls were here for one reason. The reason that motivated her to tell her fans to get their feet as smelly as possible before a concert, promising to meet the ones with the most odorous feet.

Back on the table, knowing what was coming, the slave was crying and wriggling around, trying to fall off of the surface and become lost. But once Candy J had done with introductions and chatting, she turned her attention to the slave trying to escape.

“So guys, I have a little game for you to play in exchange for the opportunity to meet me, alongside the autographed merch you'll receive before you leave, and that is to play with my very own shrinkee. You see, she's been a bad girl recently, and you young ladies look like just the people I need to torture her with your smelly feet. Just imagine that you're all SCOs, setting a criminal straight.” Candy J gestured to her slave on the table and the eyes of her fans lit up and they started giggling excitedly.

“Y-you wanna smell some feet, little one?” One of the fans spoke nervously, but the shared nervousness of the six girls disappeared when Candy J nodded approvingly.

“Nowhere to run from our cheesy toes!”

“I haven't washed my feet in a week leading up to this! Add that onto how sweaty my feet have been tonight with all the dancing I've done, I'm not sure you'll be able to handle this.”

“None of us wore socks with our already smelly shoes, I know so from when we were having our smell measured. Imagine how much sweatier that made our feet.”

“I wore socks, actually. But they are a pair that I've had for years and basically wear all the time. Best of all, these socks have NEVER been washed.”

“Oh man, I wouldn't like to be in your position right now!”

Candy J's fans taunted the slave excitedly; having never forced a living thing to sniff their stinky feet before, this was a new experience for them. After each girl spoke they started laughing.

Candy J picked up her slave and handed her to one girl and gave the remote controller to the other. “Go on, play with her on the floor. I'll be sat here with a glass of wine, enjoying the after show entertainment.”

“What does this do?” Asked the girl with the remote in her hands, studying it intently.

“Press the button, try it out.” Urged Candy J.

The girl did as she was told and the one holding the slave yelped as the tiny started moving with renewed energy.

“Give me that!” A wiser girl who understood what the control did snatched it from the clueless one.

Putting the slave on the ground and making a circle with their bodies, the girls removed their footwear. An offensive, cheesy odour spread through the air, so strong that Candy J had to pinch her nose in order not to gag. But she didn't mind. Soon enough those stinky bare feet were pummelling the tiny slave, subjecting her to the combined stench of their unwashed feet that was worse than even Vanessa's reeking peds. That one sadistic fangirl who knew what the controller did was using it liberally, sending the slave into seizures of sexual stimulation as her face was repeatedly forced into the gunk filled caves between dozens of toes. She was leading the torment, giving out instructions to the shrinkee to kiss and lick all of the disgusting foot flesh that was presented to her face, making a promise of pleasure if her instructions were followed.

Candy J sipped at her wine. I'll have to speak to that one afterwards. She's good at this.