Andrea put her bag on the floor next to the door. Another day, she thought.

 

Andrea was a fairly young woman in her mid twenties with wavy black hair and tan skin of Mediterranean or Arab descent. She was just on her way to her job in the quality control sector of this new high tech firm.

 

She walked past her desk in her office and headed to the door on the room's other side.

 

The emerged into a room with steel walls and floors about the size of her office. That is to say, not big at all. There was a small hole built into the left wall about the size of a mousehole on. On the other side was a slit in the wall two feet above the floor designed like a male slot.

 

Andrea pulled off her black leather boots, then pulled off her thick woolen socks, and her bare feet permeated the closet-sized room with a potent odor.

 

She turned around and pressed a button next to the door. Then turned to face the mouse hole.

 

Andrea waited a bit. Then a tiny light skinned man who seemed teenaged tentatively walked out the hole. He was wearing nothing but white underwear and had a collar around his neck with a tag that had a serial number on it. He looked about sixteen years old, but was really about six hours old, and was about three inches tall. He looked around at the room and spotted Andrea standing near the door.

 

"Excuse me!" he yelled at Andrea who observed passively in ambivalence. "Where am I?"

 

"Sorry, but my methods require you to die," Andrea said nonchalantly.

 

Then she walked over to the small boy and raised her colossal foot above him. He fell to the ground and screamed, then was silenced by the gargantuan ped.

 

This was the best part. Her entire foot was slowly lowering on the screaming doll person, and he could do nothing to stop it. She imagined the doll’s feelings of betrayal and isolation as he was tossed to the side and compressed under the unfathomable weight of her foot. Andrea heard a crack and a wet slish, then dragged her foot on the floor for good measure until it was painted red.

 

Andrea smiled and walked over to the door to push the button again.

 

This time a girl walked out. A woman, more accurately, as she looked like she'd be about thirty if at full height.

 

This time Andrea spoke first: "You were born for no reason besides to serve others. You must obey any command given to you and if you don't, you will be subsequently disposed of. Your first task is to lick the remains of what was once another one of you off of my feet."

 

The woman looked appalled for a moment, but quickly decided it was best to do what the giantess wants. She scampered over and began to lick.

 

"Stop," Andrea said, then she couched down to pick up the woman. "You've passed," she said, then she shoved the doll lady into the slot in the wall haphazardly.

 

Then she waited until another doll person left the mouse hole.

She loved her job.

 

Andrea sat manneredly across from her boss, Juliet, a rather tall and attractive blond with glasses. She wore a white blouse and a black skirt with black stockings. Typical female boss attire. Andrea was nervous that maybe her methods of weeding out the weak dolls were inhumane or “wasteful to the company”. It was true that technically the dolls were engineered human mimicries that weren't worth enough for respect, but it was still possible out it was a needless waste of Arafa Corp.’s funds.

 

“Do you have an idea of why I've called you to my office?”

 

“To be honest, not really,” Andrea answered, tensing a little.

 

“Oh Andrea, don't be nervous. You're not here to punish you, you're here so I can reward you!” she said, crossing her legs.

 

“Reward me?”

 

“Well, you've had the highest percentage of compliant dolls consistently for the past month! That's cause for some promotion.”

 

Andrea was pleasantly surprised. “Oh, thank you! Am I getting a raise?”

 

“It's really more of a promotion than anything else.”

 

Then she paused and said, “It’s come to my attention the rather unorthodox methods you use to select the dolls we package for consumer consumption.”

 

“Well, yes,” Andrea replied, not knowing what to expect.

 

“Well, has anyone told you what we do with the rejects?”

 

Andrea never cared what happened to the rejects because she dealt with them her own way. “Well, no.”

 

At this, Juliet reached down beneath her desk. After a few seconds, she finally pulled it out and placed it on the desk.

 

Or rather, him, on the desk.

 

“This is yours. For your exemplary work, you are now being awarded the ability to select any amount from our pile of rejects!”

 

“You can't treat me like this, I'm a human being!” the doll said.

 

Juliet looked at Andrea and said, “Well, there's a reason they're rejects. You know why we can't sell these, right?”

 

Andrea nodded. The consumer dolls were deposed supposed to be toys at the whims of the owners, responding at their beck and call. Anybody rebellious or defiant was labeled a reject and stuffed in a back room or something.

 

“Well, go on. Take it!” Juliet urged.

 

Andrea looked at the small doll and hesitated. It's one thing to toy with them for work, but for pleasure? Andrea wondered about the moral implications, then remembered they weren't human.

 

Gladly, she grabbed the doll person and held him clenched in her fist.

 

“Very well,” Juliet said. “In that case, you're free to go. But you're always welcome to help yourself to a doll from the back storage.”

 

“Thanks,” Andrea said, standing up. She stuffed the protesting doll in her pocket, already thinking of things to do to it when she got home. She left the office, left the building, then got into her car, the doll still squeezed by the pants against her thigh. Andrea was finally in possession of the freedom of doing whatever she wanted to a doll without worrying about a quota.

 

This was going to be fun.

 

When Andrea got home, she realized she didn't know what to do with her new pet. Usually she never had the intention of playing with them alive, so she decided to go with a basic routine to exert dominance over her new doll.

 

She walked inside without taking her shoes off, and sat on her knees on the carpet. Then, she pulled out the doll, a smile peeking at her mouth, and dropped him onto the carpet.

 

“Is it finally over?” the doll yelled, getting upright. Andrea took this time to really examine him.

 

It was a male, who seemed to look around twenty to twenty five. He probably would've looked attractive if he weren't three inches tall.

 

“What’s your name?” she asked, realizing her mistake just as the words slipped out. Then, she started to chuckle as it looked at her oddly.

 

“What’s so funny?!” he yelled up to the mountain-sized lady.

 

“Nothing, it’s just… for a second, I almost thought of you as a human!” Then she burst out laughing.

 

“I’m just as much human as anyone of you giants!” he yelled up to her.

 

“Oh really? In that case, what is your name?”

 

“Well that’s… hmm.”

 

The doll’s hesitation made Andrea laugh even harder.

 

“Only human beings are allowed to have names,” Andrea explained. “Anything less doesn't need a name because it's not human. We are allowed to do whatever we want with you. And that's why…”

 

Andrea pulled her legs forward, and pulled off her boots and socks, immediately filling the room with their musk. Then she waggled her toes in front of the reject, saying, “You're going to kiss my feet.”

 

The doll looked incredulous.

 

“What?! No way you bitch!” it yelled up to her.

 

This irked Andrea.

 

“Okay, I'm sorry, we need to have a little talk,” Andrea hissed, snatching the doll up from the ground.

 

“You belong to me,” she said to the terrified doll in front of her eyes. “The only reason you're currently alive is because I've chosen not to kill you right now. And believe me,  there are plenty of ways to.”

 

Then, an idea lit up her face and she said, “Like this!” Then she lowered him down to mouth level. The screams falling on deaf ears, she stuffed its lower body into her mouth. With her incisors, she gnawed on its legs softly, like she was molding a piece of gum in her mouth. But to it, they were enough to create gashes on its legs.

 

“AHHH! STOP STOP!”

 

The screaming was kind of annoying, so she pushed it in all the way.

 

The large doll was kind of a mouthful, but she managed to get its entire body in there.

 

“Mmmmm! You ‘ase good!” Andrea remarked, knowing her mom would berate her for chewing with her mouth open.

 

Then she raised her hand up and spat it out onto her palm.

 

She held him up with her thumb and forefinger by the nape of its neck, and said, “Do you see now? You're mine, and if I ask you to lick my feet, you'll lick them because your life depends on it. If I ever have to discipline you again… Well, you were pretty tasty. Maybe you won't be too bad with my daily salad. Or I dunno, maybe a limb or two will put you back in line.”

 

Then, she held it out in front of her outstretched legs and dropped it in front of her potent feet.

 

“Now lick.”

 

The doll looked up at her savage eyes and immediately went to licking the feet that were twice its size.

Andrea sighed in bliss. This was going to be amazing. But of course, she wouldn't stop with just this one. The doll needs a good play mate after all. 

 

“Okay, pick.”

 

“Huh?” Andrea’s doll asked, confused.

 

The two were standing in the back room where all the rejects went. It basically looked like any back storage room, except for a key difference.

 

It was filled with the tiny dolls to the brim.

 

There were shelves lining the walls of the back room, each itself lined with either capsules containing single doll rejects, or large plexiglass boxes containing dozens of them. The room went back far enough that it could've easily contained hundreds of thousands of the little things.

 

On the home front, Andrea had been training her new toy well, and had decided to name it Andre. At first, Andre thought it was getting recognized as a human being, but Andrea was quick to crush this mentality. She only did that because it was lackluster to always use general pronouns when referring to it.

 

Now, Andrea held Andre in her hand, as he scanned the rows of dolls, all sleeping until ready to be released.

 

“You want me to choose?” he clarified.

 

“You’ve gotten to be a very good pet in the past few weeks, so I've decided to let you choose who could be released. You may pick five.”

 

Andre couldn't believe it. After weeks of enduring Andrea’s harsh regiment, he finally had the chance to make a few friends! Not to mention rescue some of the dolls still cooped up in storage.

 

“I'll walk around to give you a chance to examine everything. I'll permit you, for once, to stop me when you've chosen.”

 

“Y-yes mistress!” he responded.

 

Then she began to slowly move forward, giving her pet a chance to look at all the possible candidates for rescue. Andrea smiled, knowing that anything he was rescuing these little nothings from could not possibly be any worse than what Andrea could do for them. But that's neither here nor there.

 

“Stop, mistress,” he added on the last part after a little hesitation. Andrea smiled, proud at herself for having been able to instill this much fear into her new toy. And a reject, of all things! If any of these dolls were handed to Andrea before being labeled as rejects, they probably wouldn't have even gotten here to this back room. Of course, they'd probably have mostly died, but again, neither here nor there.

 

“Which one?” Andrea questioned.

 

“That one in the capsule, third from the top.”

 

Andrea could see who he was talking about. It was a young girl who looked about in her twenties as well, but couldn't have been older than a month or two in reality. But Andrea could see why he picked her because she was very, very beautiful.

 

Not as beautiful as Andrea, of course, but beautiful all the same. She had light, glassy skin and amber-red hair.

 

“Excellent choice,” Andrea said, grabbing the four inch, pill shaped plastic capsule and putting it in her purse.

 

Then Andrea walked forward again, slowly still.

 

“Stop mistress.”

 

He pointed to a large plastic bin near the floor holding quite a few dolls. “The small one in the corner.”

 

Andrea almost wanted to cry out laughing. It was a kid!

 

Well, not quite a kid, but he couldn't have been more biologically or psychologically older than a twelve year old, which is what he looked like. He had light tan skin, making Andrea briefly wonder if his model was based off the people who have Andrea’s the own Middle Eastern roots.

 

How unfortunate, thought Andrea, crouching down, opening the bin, and removing him from the bin.

 

Then she kept going.

 

The next one he pointed to was another child, this time a girl, about fourteen with dark skin and hair.

Well, the man made his choice, she decided, and put the capsule in her handbag.

 

Then he chose another man and a woman, each about his age.

 

“This is quite the assortment you've got here,” Andrea said, closing her bag up.

 

“Yes, yes it is, mistress. Will you please look after them?”

 

Andrea looked at Andre on her hand sympathetically, and said, “I can assure you that they'll be able to live the rest of their lives with me.”

He smiled, before being haphazardly tossed in her purse amongst the other junk and containers as Andrea nonchalantly left the storage room, unable to wait to get home. 

 

Andrea was at home, on her bed wearing a light blouse and sweatpants. She had handled quite a few dolls at work the other day, so she felt she deserved to relax for a little bit. The dolls, with capsules and without, were all resting on her nightstand. The ones without capsules, now without the sleeping agents pumped in the boxes they came from, would wake up in thirty minutes or so. The ones within the plastic containers would wake up as soon as she twisted the plastic vials to open them.

 

Andrea has opted to wait until the first ones start waking up before she opens the ones in the ones in the capsules so she can demonstrate to them all her absolute power over the group. Unfortunately, this has left Andrea with a dilemma: she didn't know what she was going to do to demonstrate.

 

Should she crush one of them outright? No, then Andre would never do what she said willingly. She'd wait until the time comes.

 

Should she force them to lick her feet? Probably not; she'd already done that with Andre, she wasn't getting anything new out of it.

 

She could stuff one into her mouth. But she'd rather not. Again, she'd done that with Andre and besides, the ones she didn't put in her mouth would appreciate it a lot less than the one she did. There’d be a huge disparity.

 

Well, even after sitting on her ass for hours, she hadn't come up with any new ideas… Wait a minute.

 

Meanwhile, Andre was sitting in the darkness of Andrea's nightstand drawer. He was a little skeptical of the way she'd worded the comment about living the rest of their lives with her, but knew that questioning her could make his own end real quick. Besides, he was thinking more about the dolls he'd asked Andrea to take with her.

 

Andre didn't actually know any of them. The chances any one of them had even seen any other of them during the sorting process and distribution to the quality controllers was roughly 0.8 percent, much less that they'd talked to each other in the few minutes they had to do so. In fact, Andreas choices were really guided more by pure chance rather than any gut feeling. With the exception of the kids and the hot woman. He would like to rescue them from the possibility of getting tossed out like old garbage, but now he questioned if this was the better deal.

 

Then a light opened up in the sky, and he was plucked out of the nightstand.

 

“Wait, what’s going on?” he asked out loud as he was set lightly on the desk.

 

He turned to Andrea’s colossal and annoyed face, and she said, “You'll speak when spoken to. I'll let you pass today because you need to explain to your new friends how things work around here.”

 

He turned around again to see a few comatose bodies on the nightstand with him, then turned around once again to see Andrea leisurely walk to the bathroom.

 

Andre looked at the two dolls outside of their capsules as they began to stir and flicker their eyes. The young boy slowly sat up and groggily asked, “Ugh, what happened?” A dark-skinned woman was just starting to wake up as well.

 

Before Andre could answer, Andrea walked out of the bathroom.

 

Wearing nothing.

 

She had no clothes on, allowing the world to see her breasts, behind, and cleanly shaved nether regions. Sultrily, she strutted out of the bathroom.

 

Dolls come with undergarments so they don't have to be naked, but this didn't make Andre’s erection any less obvious.

 

Andrea came to the nightstand and one by one opened the remaining three capsules. A clear gas rushed out with a hissss, and the capsules each fell into two parts, allowing the now stirring dolls to escape with ease.

 

Soon, Andrea was confronted with a myriad of “who are you”s and “where are we”s. While Andre attempted to explain the situation to the murmuring crowd, Andrea interrupted with a soft, “Silence.”

 

The crowd shut up real quick from the booming voice of the giantess.

 

She sat on the bed and put one leg over the other, the foot put close to the nightstand for obvious reasons. “Let’s get this out of the way. You all are officially mine. I am your master, ruler, and goddess, and you will refer to me as such. If you are obedient and please me, I'll allow you to live as well as socialize with one another. However, if you don't, I will punish you to obedience, or kill you outright. Whichever is easiest.”

 

The little boy began to sob, and the newly awakened girl took a few steps back. The dark-skinned lady went forward and said, “This isn't right, you have no right to treat us this way!”

 

Andrea looked intrigued at her rebellion while Andre was pleading internally for her to comply.

 

“Since you’re new here, I'll give you exactly one chance to remedy that before I pass down my judgment,” Andrea purred, standing to her full height, dwarfing the dolls who were hundredths her size.

 

“I'm not going to take this from you! I demand to see some-”

 

She couldn't finish her tirade before she was snatched up by the hand with fingers as big as her.

 

Everybody watched in morbid curiosity as she waved the woman around, holding her up by the fabric of her her chest covering, the sorry excuse for a bra.

 

“Don't worry, I predicted this would happen, and know just where to put you.”

 

Then, she slowly bent her arm behind her as both the lady, and some dolls on the table screamed out loud.

 

Without fanfare, Andrea pushed the woman into the crack of her backside. She shoved the screaming lady in there with a little force, finally using a finger to pop in a straggling arm. Then she turned around, revealing her bare backside to the dolls watching with horror, reverence, and morbid fascination. They could still hear the screams.

 

“This is what will happen if any of you defy your goddess. As well, if you attempt to escape, you'll be… hang on,” Andrea interrupted. Then she put a hand to each cheek and pushed them together, slowly cracking whatever was inside and silencing any screams that would’ve interrupted. A little stream of blood dripped out from her backside.

 

“Okay then, I think I have made my point. Raise your hand if anybody else has any comments.”

 

Nobody did. 

 

Andrea was having the best time she'd had at work since she was first hired.

 

She had requested from her supervisor to have a shift on the paperwork this day, but only because it'd be easier to toy with her new objects if she were sitting down. Currently one of the kids, the boy, was at one of her feet. The left one. The beautiful woman was at the other, ironically servicing the lowest part of Andrea’s body to truly show her how much of an insect–well, a protozoa–she was compared to a goddess.

 

The other man was currently wedged in between Andrea’s butt cheeks, for the sole reason being that she could put him there.

 

Andre had the most perilous task of them all: inside her vagina. He was tasked with providing Andrea with appropriate stimulation, but not so much that he she contract her vaginal muscles and crush himself, or trigger an involuntary movement that could crush somebody else.

 

But right now, Andrea was doing a little something different.

 

Right now, she wasn't doing any work. On the desk in front of her was the girl, about 14 whom Andrea has elected to name “Miranda”.

 

Mir was petrified, standing straighter than an arrow while Andrea looked at her with intrigue and a faint expression of hunger.

 

“Miranda, do you know why you're here and everyone else is not?”

 

She shook her head faster than a jet turbine. “No, no ma'am.”

 

“That'd be ‘mistress’ or ‘goddess’ to you. Now, you are here because I've not decided to kill you yet. I want you to understand that the only reason you are not a corpse that has died to give me pleasure is because your purpose in life is to serve your goddess, and your goddess is merciful. However, I can crush any one of you at any time. Understand?

 

Miranda began to cry, saying, “Y-yes.”

 

“Good girl. Now, you’ve been very obedient since you’ve been borne to your mistress, and for that I will give you a prize. I am going to crush one of you, who I’ve not decided yet. However, because of your obedience, I’m going immunize you. In return, you must choose the luck one who gets to die to provide me with pleasure.

 

Miranda was quivering in fear, looking at the face of her goddess, smiling like this wasn’t a big deal.

 

“Well, go ahead! Say who you want to have crushed.”

 

Miranda didn’t want anybody to get crushed. She hadn’t had a conversation with another human being in… ever. In fact, she didn’t even really know how she knew anything she did. All she knew right now was her goddess, and the fact that if she disobeyed her, her goddess could claim Miranda’s life for her pleasure.

 

Miranda looked up at Andrea’s face, which was wreathed in impatience. Then she thought about who she’d miss the least.

Andrea had put all of her other new pets away, reaching into her skirt and pulling out the one she wanted. This one was within Andrea’s superior posterior, and she was having some trouble pulling him out.

 

Finally, her fingers locked onto the man wedged up there, and with a little effort, she managed to have him finally out of her ass and on her desk.

 

The man looked Andre’s age, and was a relatively tall doll with shortly-cut blonde hair. He was called “Cal”. He looked around the desk for another one of the dolls, then called out, “Hey, what’s going on?”

 

Andrea just held a sheepish grin.

 

“What? Come on, tell me.”

 

Andrea’s grin grew, and then she said, “I’m sorry, but-” she had to pause a moment to chuckle, “-it would seem that, you were voted off the island!” Then she burst out laughing.

 

Cal’s face looked up at Andrea’s and suddenly morphed into despair as he came to understand. Then he got angry.

 

“What, what did I do? I’ve done everything you asked, why me?!”

 

Andrea put a finger to her chin and wondered, “Well, in all honesty, I'm not really doing this for a reason. I'm killing you for the hell of it. Also, you're boring.”

 

The doll's protests of denial continued but fell on unhearing ears as he was grabbed and lifted up. Then Cal began bargaining and shouting obscenities at Andrea, but he was mistaken if he believed somewhat misogynistic remarks would make his Goddess him go.

 

She held him in front of her face, her amber eyes like colossal gemstones of unimaginable value to the man.

 

Then she dropped him.

 

Cal was first terrified of him splatting on the floor, but his fears were unfounded for two reasons, the main one being that Andrea's voluptuous bust was there to break his fall. He fell between her melons within her slightly unbuttoned shirt. He squirmed around in the split between the two breasts, and Andrea chuckled a little. “That tickles!”

 

Cal tried to dig himself out but a single finger both cut off those hopes and his life as he was pushed inside the fatty mounds to the point of invisibility.

 

Andrea had to keep from laughing from Cal’s moving around (both from her being ticklish and him thinking that'll actually save him) as she brought her hands up and placed each one on the side of her breast.

 

Then she began to push them inward.

 

It kind of hurt Andrea, but not nearly as much as it hurt Cal. The previously painful pressure had now become unbearable and intolerable. He attempted to resist by pushing out with his arms, but the doll could not have possibly been able to escape when a single breast was four times his size.

 

The pressure after a number of seconds became too much for the small doll, and his very body began to give. His flattened  state started to flatten even further as his skin began to squeeze and be crushed, and his bones proceeded to crack and crumble. Cal was mostly conscious, throughout, but the pain was absolutely excruciating. If he weren't already dead from the damage to his body, he'd have died from the pain.

 

Through this Andrea was just grinning and chuckling, looking down at her hot breasts with the feeling of power you get when you know a body part of yours had ended one's life.

 

Once the cracking and the gushing stopped, Andrea reasoned he must've become paste by now. She let go of her breasts and they fell from her hands. As they became less rigid, little rivulets of blood streamed down from them onto her chest and soaking and staining her white blouse.

 

Andrea was satisfied, and once again went back to writing down something for the company.

 

Miranda, in Andrea's purse on the table, watched the horror scene in morbid fascination as she realized that that she had led to the death of one she regarded as a human being.

 

With despondency, she slid down into the inner pocket of the purse that had become her home when it wasn't in a shoe. There was no getting out, and she was in her for life.

The rest of it, at least. 

 

Andre was getting increasingly distressed by the number of dolls who have been disappearing or dying while he was living with Andrea. In fact, he begun to wonder if a life like this would even be worth living anymore.

“You mean what's left of our lives?” Oscar, or “Oz”, the kid asked from the side. The entire group of dolls was sitting in Andrea’s half-open drawer on top of her undergarments, which they slept within as well. It struck Andre as interesting that even now, when they slept, they'd still be beneath even her underwear- which may have been the point.

“I miss Cal,” the blonde woman said, laying on a bra. She was called Monique. “He was kinda sweet, you know?”

Andre felt a little shocked by this declaration of attraction and exclaimed, “Well he's dead now!” Then, realizing what he said, he repeated sympathetically, “He's dead now, I'm sorry.”

“We're not sure that he's dead,” Oz inputted. “Maybe he just escaped. He could be out there living the high life, living on scraps as big as meals to him, not worrying about being shoved into various orifices.”

Andre noticed something as Oz went on. Miranda was in the corner of the drawer, sitting on the ground with her head buried in her knees.

Andre thought nothing of it.

Then she shouted out, “I killed Cal!”

Everybody stopped and stared at her, her dark face still in her knees.

“It's true,” her voice continued muffled. “I'm sorry, I didn't want to. But she practically said I'd die if I didn't choose one of you guys.”

She raised her face out for a little, and in the dim light, the tears that streaked her face barely showed, but her sadness was louder than an earthquake.

“Oh my God,” Monique said to herself.

“Don't you mean ‘Oh My Goddess’?” Oz asked. Over the time in Andrea's captivity, he'd become rather complacent and realized that the only way to survive longer than normal was to do what Andrea said, but in every second of free time he made it clear to everybody how much he hated this.

Andre was just looking at Miranda’s crying face.

“I always knew that Andrea was cruel but… this is…”

Then the drawer opened up fully, and without warning Andre was plucked from his fabric prison cell.

Andrea closed the drawer with her free hand, leaving in total darkness the rest of his companions, and walked out of her room to the living room.

Andrea was totally nude, as she realized this made it so much easier to shove the people into various orifices. She gently placed Andre on the coffee table, and sprawled herself out on the couch, resting.

Andre could've said something, he could've asked a question.

Well, he had the ability to. He couldn't really do something like that if he wanted to survive in a state that wasn't constant agony for the next thirty six hours.

So he waited, knowing she would say something eventually. She always did.

She did: “Are you enjoying your new friends?”

Andre allowed himself a brief moment moment of defiance and replied in a tiny voice, “Why would you care?”

At this, Andrea, sprawled across the couch, grabbed him with her hand and held Andre above her face. Her breath wasn't fresh, as she'd recently had food fit for a Goddess: onion rings. Not divine nectar, but the dolls didn't need to know that.

“When I ask a question, germ, you're not allowed to answer with another question. You'll never have that right. You answer my question so I don't eat or dispose you or your friends.”

“Did that stop you from murdering Cal? Or that woman who's name you never gave?” Andre asked, even dangling above Andrea's face between her fingertips?

At this, Andrea's face broke into a chuckle, and the disturbance made Andre fall down from the height to Andrea's soft chest, slightly above her breasts but below her neck.

Andrea turned her chin down and looked at the weak, pathetic bug, and said, “Murder is when a human kills another human being. I didn’t murder you, I disposed of you.”

As Andre righted himself on the uneven ground, he noticed something in the slit between her breasts: a red, rough substance. Dried blood.

He couldn't gag in disgust and fear before being pulled off and placed onto the coffee table.

“Anyway, you should consider it a blessing I've kept you alive thus far. Believe it or not, there are plenty of girls - or boys - who'd do a lot of worse things to you. I don't ask for much, just worship me with everything I deserve, and you probably don't even deserve that. In fact…”

Then she slowly got up, attempting to accentuate every curve of her body. Andre could say what he wants about Andrea, but she's a very hot woman.

She turned around so her behind was in full view of the doll. “You're going to beg me to sit on you.”

Andre couldn't believe it. Well, he could believe it, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to ask- no, beg- to be sat on by the woman who had destroyed the lives they are ever got to have.

“Also, you should really consider what might happen to you or anyone you're acquainted with if you choose to not do this, so make your decision the right one.”

Andre didn't want to do it. It was something he never wanted to do.

But he didn't have a choice.

So he fell to his knees and yelled forward to the overhanging Andrea, “Sit on me.”

“What? I can't seem to hear!”

“Sit on me!!” he screamed.

“Oh really? Okaaay,” Andrea said, and painfully slowly lowered her rear down onto the wooden coffee table.

Her butt winced a little at the cold hard wood of the table, but the relaxing feeling of the tiny lump she was sitting on made it better. She sighed, like her worries had all melted away into ecstasy.

Andre, on the other hand, was not relaxed. He was being compressed into the admittedly soft and warm flesh, which wasn't new, but this brought a new level of humiliation as he realized once again that Andrea did hold him within every ounce of her power.

“Ahhhh. You really don't deserve this, you know. I mean, even my ass is big enough and beautiful enough to end you. It alone can kill any one of you if I wanted, and you had the balls to ask me to sit on you?”

He was also being shoved closer and closer with every move of Andrea's above frame to one of the most undesirable parts of Andrea: her ass crack. Miranda had literally suffocating in there and Andrea had to tap her chest with her fingernail to revive her.

But before this happened, Andrea stood up, allowing light to enter Andre's eyes once again.

“That was fun!” Then Andrea's hands scooped up Andre's scuffed form and she walked back to her room to deposit him into her drawer.

Andre fell on top or some socks and the remaining dolls hounded him, asking him what she wanted, what she said. Andre didn't say anything to anyone until everyone quieted down, and he said, “We're going to escape.”

Everyone thought he was crazy.

Everyone was on board.

The plan wasn't an overly complicated one; the dolls would simply wait until Andrea was asleep, and escape through the slight crack in the underwear drawer Andrea kept open to allow light through. In fact, the only reasons the dolls hasn't attempted to escape before was because they were scared of what Andrea would do if they were caught, or if the outside would be worse. But after Cal’s death, they were in unanimous agreement on the next course of action.

 

Andre was the unofficial leader. He woke up and no light leaked through the cracks of the drawer. It was nighttime.

 

He trotted over to the drawer and jumped up a few times, barely getting high enough to see Andrea outside, sleeping. Her blanket was tossed aside and she was wearing black lingerie.

 

“Guys, the coast is clear!” he shouted to the others. They'd all claimed a piece of clothing to live on, and were now waking up on bras and underwear.

 

“She's asleep. We gotta go.”

 

The rest of the dolls stirred and awakened, none ever really sleeping peacefully with constant fear of execution hanging over their heads. Oz, Miranda and Monique quickly arose as Andre still jumped looking out.

 

The clock said 2:12 AM. Andre stopped jumping and grabbed onto the jutting inner edge of the drawer. He fell off onto the ground and turned to the group behind him. “The drawer’s closed, we're gonna have to push it out.”

 

The others nodded, and they all got into a line of sorts in front of the wall-like drawer.

“Three, two, one, now!”

 

The group drove their bodies into the drawer, pushing it out slightly. They did it again, with Oz exclaiming out, “My arm!”

 

This second time gave just enough room for the dolls to squeeze out of the drawer and jump down.

 

The fall seems high for the small group, but due to their size a drop of that height wouldn't hurt them at all, doubly so since there was a pile of laundry Andrea needed to get to to break the fall.

 

Andre landed first as the impromptu leader. Oz fell second, Monique--the blonde lady-- third, and Miranda fourth.

 

The group looked up at the bed in front of them. A pair of massive, life-ending feet hung off at different angles. They knew that connected to these peds were two equally luxurious legs, followed by a torso and well-endowed chest, and finally, an ethnically-ambiguous face that other women would kill for.

 

“You know, if she weren't a psycho bitch, Andrea would almost be kinda hot,” Oz remarked. Miranda chucked at this comment. Andre almost corrected him to say “Goddess”. It was strange to say anything else to him.

 

“So, captain, where are we gonna go?” Monique asked, smiling.

 

“Well, first the kitchen. We've gotta find some supplies before we set out to who knows where. The outisde world is dangerous for a doll... the kitchen is a good place to start."

 

“No way!” Oz said. “A group of tiny people in a kitchen? There are a thousand different ways something like that could go wrong.”

 

“Okay, then what do you expect us to do, smart guy?” Andre asked.

 

“How about we split up? You and Monique forage for supplies while Miranda and I look for an exit nearby.”

 

Andre reasoned; Andrea must've made the house tiny proof, they'd a way out. “Alright, fine. But at three, we're back in the hallway in front of the bathroom.”

 

“Got it,” Oz said, and he pulled Miranda's arm and dragged her the opposite way into Andrea's personal bathroom. Monique and Andre proceeded to the kitchen.

Miranda and Oz reached the bathroom with ease. There was a small cracked window above the toilet. A little creativity and you could get up there easily.

 

“Okay, we found an exit, now we can-”

 

“Whoa, we're not leaving yet,” Oz said, turning around to the bed. From there they could see her bountiful posterior, eating the strap of the thong in its cheeks. She did look hot indeed.

 

“I kinda wanted to… I wanted to…” he gestured to Miranda, who's mouth opened agape. “Oz! That's obscene!”

 

“But she's so hot!” he protested. The little bulge in the tiny kid's pants backed up his assertions. “Besides, she'd never wake up from something like this.”

 

Then Oz jogged from the bathroom to the bed, and began to climb the sheets as Miranda watched in disdain. But even she had to admit, Andrea was pretty hot.

But neither of them knew that Andrea would soon stir, and this would lead to everything falling apart.

 

Miranda could only stand on the windowsill, tapping her foot silently as the horny child she had been placed in charge of clambered down the wall, trotting through the crack in the bathroom door.

 

“Oz. I’m only going to say this once. Do not go over there.”

 

Oz, meanwhile, was being driven more by his instincts than any sort of logic. He couldn’t really hear Miranda, even as she hissed out, “OZ! Get the hell back here!”

 

“It’ll only take a second, I promise!”

 

Miranda looked to the cracked windowsill, then back down to Oz. She knew, in her heart, that in the kitchen the rest of the group’s friends were scrounging around for food, rope, string, needles, supplies... preparing for the journey ahead, risking everything with each passing moment they were gone. And Miranda also knew precisely how much danger they’d be in if Oz’s little stunt led to Andrea waking up and the group getting caught.

 

She thought for a minute. She was alone, after all. She could feasibly leave on her own. No food, but it wouldn’t be particularly difficult to slip into another nearby home, maybe… slink around, find a crumb. Hell, living off the land would be a fair option. Acorns were edible, right? Wait, how would a couple of dolls be strong enough to break open an acorn.

 

Miranda sighed at her decision calculus and angled her little feet to climb down the rigid wall herself when she saw a sight that made her blood run cold.

 

Andrea was moving.

 

The bulbous butt of hers was twitching, and shifting, sending the half-on blanket cascading down her front and revealing it to the rest of them in all its glory. The single-minded Oz was nearly a foot away from the foot of the bed, and thus couldn’t see the sight from over the angle. But surely he could hear her, right?

 

Well, it wasn’t quite clear. Miranda made a split second decision, looking to the window, and then back to Oz, and decided to cup her hands about her mouth, sending a piercing whispered hiss in Oz’s direction. Miranda’s luscious, long legs were now angling themselves, preparing to anchor themselves to the ground. For what reason she was awakening, Miranda did not know. All she knew was that if Oz walked even an inch closer…

 

They were all going to die.

 

“OZ.”

 

Oz turned, confused at the sound coming from Miranda’s direction.

 

With a tremor that knocked him off-balance, Andrea’s colossal feet landed on either side of Oz, sending him to the ground. Andrea yawned, and Oz could only stare as the spires that were her legs unfurled to a rich, bouncy, impossibly soft butt, clad in even more impossibly softer silk.

 

Andrea scratched her head, and she began to walk to the bathroom.

 

Miranda gulped. In the darkness, she could see the groggy goddess taking leisurely steps to her bathroom. In a moment of desperate abandon, Miranda forgot everything. All her pontificating about loyalty, and the friends she’d been forced to make in this hellish situation. Any sense of camaraderie went out the window as the door swung open and the lights flickered on, blinding Miranda and giving Andrea a brief window of opportunity as she exited her fear-induced stupor. She made a dive for the crack in the window.

 

Miranda reached the toilet, reaching a hand to pull it up before, quite by chance, her eyes happened upon a little flicker of life, squirming to get underneath the cracked window pane.

 

“What… the fuck?” Andrea whispered, before her own mind sprung into action. Like seeing an actual cockroach, any semblance of fatigue left her own body as she darted her hand to grab hold of the tiny woman’s tiny legs, her screaming all the way, tears streaming down her face as pricks of blood from the rough wood scraped through her belly side. 

 

Andrea hung Miranda upside down from her fingertips. Miranda could barely focus as the nauseating angle did a number on her, the only recognizable image being the cruel brown face of Andrea’s, lips curling into a devastatingly sinister smile.

 

“So, you managed to escape? I have to admit, I am, actually, honestly, positively impressed. Really, it’s true.”

 

Nonchalantly, Andrea squeezed a bit down on her captive’s ankles, and in a moment, every bone inside of Miranda’s feet had been reduced to dust. She screamed a piercing scream, shattering Oz’s concentration as she watched the scene from the foot of the bed. And she kept screaming. And screaming. The pain was that encompassing.

 

“Perhaps it was laziness on my part. I didn’t even think to doll-proof the place; I never would’ve expected you to escape my perfectly-confining compartment of affects. How’d you do it? Teamwork, I presume?”

 

Andrea’s fingertips inched down Miranda’s body, now encompassing her lower-legs. And once again, she squeezed, utterly obliterating the bones and muscles that made up the once-beautiful woman’s tibias. Miranda’s ever present screams acquired a new hoarseness to them, but they showed no signs of slowing down.

 

“I guess I oughta quit pussyfooting around… shit, I guess I should’ve done this before you were all mangled… sorry, sorry, it’s just I was just, so, so… so damn ANGRY.” Miranda’s entire fist curled around the hanging woman’s femur, and clenched. In only a moment, the only objects working on the doll’s body were the pelvis and above.

 

“Sorry, sorry!” Andrea continued, though the predator’s look in her eyes implied she was anything but.

 

Andrea deposited the little woman into her palm, where she lay sprawled in a pile. Her legs had been transformed into lumpy strips of fleshy rope, blood and bone shards poking from the shattered remnants of her skin.

 

“So, go ahead and tell me. Did the others leave before you.”

 

A dejected Miranda, the majority of her screams already taken from her, didn’t move, except very slightly. While able to speak, she could not bring her mouth to make words. Instead, she crawled around within Andrea’s palm, positioning herself as well as she could on the busted remnants of her knees. Without preamble, she knelt her head down into them. An outside observer might think Miranda was… praying.

 

“Okay, fine. So don’t tell me,” Andrea said, not seeing the clear signs of supplication. “I’ll find them myself…” she purred, her fingers now curling up and over her captive, who did not inch at all from her newfound position beneath this goddess of a woman. As they compressed, their infinite softness contrasting with the roughness of Miranda’s scars and broken bones, they felt almost… comfortable. Soft. Blanketing the tiny woman in their coziness, squeezing her gently, tightly, Miranda began to whisper. Mutter to herself. Mutter for safe passage wherever she was going. And hoping she had performed her tasks in this life well. To her newly apotheosized one true deity.

 

Andrea crushed Miranda.

 

The squelch speckled Andrea with tiny droplets of blood. The fluid leaked out from her fists. Slowly, she opened her fingers, seeing the meaty remains of the doll’s viscera, and smiled as she dragged her tongue along the carnage, scooping up the little remaining that could, in any capacity, be recognized as Miranda. She gulped down the doll, and then continued licking the blood off her hand until it was nice and tan, without a trace of the red stuff anywhere. Andrea’s lips, however, were another story. 

 

Andrea turned on the sink to get rid of the sticky feeling as Oz, eyes wide, heart pounding, sweat making a pool beneath his near-nude form, watched. He had witnessed the entire event. Even though Miranda’s body was mostly obscured by Andrea, the screams and the eventual blood splatter that followed were enough to fill in the blanks.

 

The blanks. Those horrific, indescribable, disgusting, grotesque blanks.

 

For no reason in particular, Oz looked down at the underwear he wore, the only garment he owned.

 

They were soiled. And it wasn’t with piss.

 

For better or worse, Oz had succeeded at his last minute prep. Why witnessing the execution of his companion was the trigger, he did not know. He stood up shakily, trying to walk while chafing at the crowded situation in his undergarments, just as Andrea shut the sink off, closed the bathroom window, and prepared to search for the rest of her shrunken pests.