George is the pet of Sarah, a college student. After being a little too disobedient he is given to Laura, Sarah's meaner friend, hopefully to straighten him out.
, Body Exploration
, Mouth Play Characters:
Minikin (3 in. to 1 in.)Size Roles:
June 12 2017 Updated:
June 24 2017
1. Got it? by NSFW_alt1234
2. This is the life by NSFW_alt1234
3. Gym day by NSFW_alt1234
4. Out on the town by NSFW_alt1234
5. The body by NSFW_alt1234
6. Stress by NSFW_alt1234
7. Love by NSFW_alt1234
8. Decisions by NSFW_alt1234
A little bit of action in this chapte. This is just the beginning though, there is much more to come.
"Are you being serious right now?" said Sarah, her voice incredulous. She was at her wits end with this "Please! Just rub my foot, its not that hard!" George stood his ground, his arms crossed as he faced away from his irritated owner, looking out at the gently waving ocean, his feet sinking into the fabric of the deck chair. "Aaaarrrgghhh, you are such a brat!" said Sarah, crossing her own arms in annoyance. George turned around to look at her, knowing this wouldn't be seen as a sign of obedience. From his position at her ankles, he began to trace his eyes up her body. Her long pale legs, smooth and hairless, as is expected of a young woman. Her crotch, the white bikini bottoms she donned shaded by her plain mini-sarong, a favourite beach going accessory of hers. Her exposed midsection, seeming so high up to the diminutive George, only the sizeable distance from her feet to her legs allowing him to see up so far comfortably. Her large breasts, protected from voyeurs by a white bikini top and her crossed arms, a pearl bracelet hanging limply off each wrist. Finally, George's eyes rested on her face, her blue eyes squinting and looking away from him in distaste, her straw-coloured hair flowing down to her shoulders, allowing her earrings to peak out from behind the strands. Sarah was a beautiful woman, no doubt about it, and had she and George met under more suitable terms, George likely would have liked to know her. But as he looked up at the blonde colossus towering before him, he felt nothing but a burning hate for her, and his general predicament.
George was a university student, a fairly normal one. Friends, parties, drama, learning; the authentic experience of a student, and he was going fairly well. Fate, however, decried that he would not follow in his father's foot steps and become a lawyer, instead he would be diagnosed with a degenerative condition that caused him to shrink, reducing him to mouse size at a random time. The news hit him hard, there wasn't much of a future left for those afflicted by the condition, if you were rich you may be able to live a semi-regular life, but for the working class afflicted, you would likely be abducted by some predatory company dealing in tiny lives. Which is exactly what happened to George. He was found in an alley way by some office lady and sold to a pet store almost immediately. George was sold as the cheapest pet around, no specialised training or treatment, an average schmo taken off the street and stuck in a glass case. For weeks he sat in a tiny cell, the other prisoners, and himself, depressed at their situation, not daring to make friends as the turnover rate was quite high. The only source of entertainment being to watch the full-sizers lumber in to gawk at them and, occasionally, purchase one. It so happened that Sarah was the one to buy George, a fellow university student. Being strapped for cash, Sarah saved up for weeks to buy one of the little things, becoming enamoured at them after seeing her friends' own obedient pets and falling for the flashy advertising. However, the purchase had not gone as well as she had hoped; George was as stubborn as a mule. The first day after the purchase the only thing he had said to her was "fuck off" and "never in a million years you bitch" after being asked to rub some lotion into her back. Sarah was not a violent person, she abhorred all kinds of cruelty and wouldn't hurt a fly, much to her detriment. She was reluctant to punish her slave for his transgressions, even if she wanted to she chickened out. She had searched online for remedies "how to train a tiny" "best punishments for tinies" "my tiny is disobedient" and she had followed as many suggestions possible. She had tried leaving him in a reeking sock over night, withholding food, threatening, coercing, begging. But George would flat-out refuse anything that she requested. George was filled with such a rage at the cosmic injustice that had befallen him, he would never compromise with this she-devil whore of a woman. Sarah became increasingly exhausted, many friends had told her to simply return him and get a new one, but she didn't want to go back to the store and admit defeat at the hands of a tiny rebel. It had been an entire week and no progress was made, and now, as she was trying to spend a relaxing day at the beach with her friend, George refused to follow even the most basic of orders.
"I don't know why you don't just crush the little twerp." commented Laura, reclining in her own deck chair as she soaked up the sun rays. Laura was a close friend of Sarah's, despite being quite different to Sarah in many ways. Laura being a little more... butch, while Sarah was as delicate as a flower. But still friends they remained.
"Oh, you know I'm not like that! Anyway, I won't be beaten by some little... jerk!" she barked as she turned to George, who still didn't betray any faltering in his stature.
"Well, you can't let him just walk all over you, ya know? He's being a little shit, so stamp him!"
"Listen, if you give that little prick to me I'll sort him out for you, free of charge, I promise."
"Come on... free of charge! A nice, obedient pet, all to yourself!"
Sarah took some time to think about this, weighing her options. She desperately wanted George to be the obedient toy all her friends showed off, but didn't actually want him to be hurt. Laura went over board sometimes, she wasn't the same kind of gentle spirit that she was. It took one look to her disobedient slave's smug face to finally make up her mind.
"Deal." she said as she picked up her anti-authoritarian antagonist between two fingers, depositing him into the waiting palm of her friend.
She giggled, "you won't regret a thing."
Sarah might not, but George might. He was beginning to panic, he could already tell Laura would be a lot stricter than Sarah by her calm, almost sadistic demeanour. Her "crush the twerp" comment making his knees wobble a bit. Laura picked him up by the arms, dangling his exposed body before her eyes, inspecting him. George did the same to her: she was quite petite (relatively), likely below 5'5", and quite lean. Her skin was slightly darker than Sarah's, not exactly tan, but pinkish and colourful. She wore a grey bikini that was quite modest, hiding her sensitive regions quite well. George wasn't as focused on her body though, he was focused on the giant house sized face in front of him. Her eyes were a warm hazel, a similar colour to her hair, which was worn in swooshy spikes around her head, forming peaks and thick strands that fell on her forehead, just above her eyes. Two silver ring-piercings clasped to the helix of her left ear, and a stud below on her ear lobe. Below her small nose her pale pink lips parted, revealing a the tip of a red tongue as it came worming out; licking her lips greedily as she stared hungrily down at her new toy. George gulped, he knew this was not going to end well for him... but no matter what, he would resist these giant bitches! Surely, he would, right?
"Already I can tell he's nervous, this shouldn't take more than a few days, a week tops. He'll be practically begging to crawl back to you." she spoke, ignoring the tiny as she dropped him lazily into her hand bag. The fall was quite short, landing on the studded leather of her purse as the two chatted. George, desperate to compose himself, attempted find a small nest in the corner of her cavernous satchel, lit only by the light trickling in through a constricted aperture. Eventually he nested himself in behind a packet of half-eaten gum and some crusty, leaking lip balm. The oozing of the latter filling up the tiny crevice with a sickly sweet and ancient odour. After the two behemoth beauties had finished their beach side relaxation they picked up their personals and bid each other adieu. George was first swung upward and then bobbed back and forth by the swaying of the bag and the thunder of her steps. Each bob accompanied by a muffled slap of a flip flop and a brief jump upward of all the detritus of the stuffy, mobile dungeon. Thrown uncaringly into the passenger seat of a car, the clutter scattering all about he was forced to find a new hidey-hole deep in the confines of the hand bag. He was privileged to enjoy the ride from inside his fabric cave, each turn and bump of the colossal automobile subtly shaking him and his environment, even forcing him to evacuate again when a pack of tampons the size of a brick wall almost fell on him. As the car pulled into the car park of her dormitory, Laura swung the bag, her trainee in tow, around her shoulder and strolled inside. After a few seconds rifling she snatched George out of her litter-filled pouch. Holding him between her index finger and thumb as she had before, crouching down as she plopped him onto the varnished wooden floor, and standing back to her monumental height.
"Okay, little guy, what's your name?" she said, condescension dripping from her every syllable.
"M-my name's Geo-"
"Booor-ing, I don't give a shit, I'll give you one later if I feel like it. All you need to know is that I'm in charge, got that?"
George was debating with himself, this girl clearly didn't play around, and he didn't really want to end up... dead. But, then again, she was still Sarah's friend, she wouldn't just kill him, right? George decided it was best to stand strong against her as well, so he keept his composure.
"I said, got that?" she leaned over, her face growing in his field of vision as she did, her eyes squinting in interrogation. George kept his equanimity, even crossing his arms in defiance.
"Oh, okay, I see how it is. I don't think it is like someone in your position to have big balls. You think I won't kill you right?" this got George's attention, looking up at her and uncrossing his arms "well" she lifted her flip flop covered foot up, kicking the foamy thing away with a quick flip of her tendons, the giant object flying off at great speed and landing with a thud. "let's just say I know how much you things cost, and would very willingly foot the bill..." she teased as she wiggled the toes of her still hovering foot, the muscles of her thighs keeping it up. setting her foot down again, she continued her one sided conversation "and, if you don't think I won't crush you just because she asked me not to, I've known her a long time, so what's a crushed tiny between friends?" she smirked down at George, who became increasingly anxious throughout her drawn out diatribe. Raising her other foot, she positioned it above George, the black foam eclipsing her entire body. She kicked it away, the motion quickly revealing her sole, the day of walking leaving all but the soft and pale instep reddened and slightly swollen. "So now that you know about my lack of reservations about grinding you into the dirt. I'm in charge; got..." she shifted her foot to the side, allowing her body to come into view, her squinting, interrogative eyes, dire frown and spiky hair come into view, but still adjacent to her swollen ped of death, not leaving his view. "...that?" George had never been so afraid in his life. Her movements, her subtle psychological torments, her demeanour, he was terrified. He could do nothing but nod. "Great! We're making progress already!"
Laura is based on a certain video game character. Lets see if you can guess who.
This is the life by NSFW_alt1234
"Alright, what to do with you now?" Laura softly tapped a finger to her chin, her eyes cocked at the ceiling as she considered how best to train George, the bug currently whimpering on the cold floor between her feet. "Let me just slip into something a little more comfortable first." she said out loud, really speaking to herself more than any bugs in earshot. She strolled over to one of the walls of the room, next to the TV cabinet, where a veritable mountain of haphazardly placed cloth lay, one of her clothes piles scattered around the living room. Digging into the messy fabric she pulled out two wrinkly rags and put them up to her nose, judging if they were adequately clean. "eh, good enough." she though out loud, unlacing her bikini top. Her back was to George, not showing off her firm breasts to the would be voyeur, who, admittedly found the petite brunette quite attractive. She slid on the slightly oversized T-shirt, the dye pattern on it in a yellow to red gradient from top to bottom. Slipping her bottoms off, she provided her captive a view of her plump, peachy rear; the bikini bottoms placing a slight imprint on the supple flesh. From his vantage point far below and far behind, he just caught a glimpse of her nether regions, clearly she felt no need to be modest around him, subconsciously disheartening him. Stepping into a pair of panties, she pulled them until they came to rest on her wide hips, the oversized T-shirt's bottom just covering them, but allowing George to them due to his vantage point. She was dressed as casually as you could get, clearly not doing anything she thought was important, just training a disobedient pet for a friend. Throwing the discarded swimwear into a different pile, (clearly an advanced organising system she had).
She strolled back over to her awaiting trainee, half not fleeing due to the fear, and half due to the fruitlessness of the deed. Her soles slapped against the wooden floor, their slight moistness causing her peds to grip the shiny surface for just a moment, a slight velcro like ripping sound as they were peeled off by her leg muscles. "Sarah wanted you to rub her feet right? Let's start there. You fine with that?" she smiled down, both knowing he had no choice. Hoisting him up roughly with two fingers, she dropped him onto the cold glass living room table, falling with the tiniest of inaudible thuds. The lights around the room projecting ghostly streaks onto the slightly reflective surface. George could see himself only as a distorted and dark figure, slightly transparent, looking past giving a view of the rug far below, developing a small twinge of vertigo. Loudly and lazily falling onto the plush surface of the beige sofa with the crushing squelch of cushioning, Laura kicked her feet up onto the glass table and stared down at George, her toes twitching in excitement, as if they had strings attached and she were a puppet master, which she was in a way.
After a brief moment of silence, a small snicker escaped Laura's lips. "Awwwww, are you scared?" she said, noticing his vulnerable posture and slight shivering, even from so high a vantage point. "This is so going on my timeline." she chided as she produced a mobile phone from her adjacent handbag, snapping a quick photo and tapping on the screen with her thumbs, no doubt adding some humiliating caption for all friends to giggle at. After the digital dance of her fingers, she set the rectangular device down and lay her feet horizontally. "Okay, this is real easy, start at my heel and work your way up. Really put your back into so I have at least a chance of feeling it." George hesitantly approached the behemoth that was her foot, the pink surface flush with subtle movements, involuntarily and unnoticed by all. Even when horizontally set, the monster towered over him, easily twice his height at the heel. The thick skin of her heel wore an intricate pattern of swirls and vortices, all swollen the tiniest bit. Sand still held tightly in the deepest folds and corners of her sole, the tiny grains hugging just on the edge of her instep, toes and heel. As he took a few cautious steps forward he was hit by the smell. Not that her feet were particularly sweaty or bad smelling, but the sheer size of it amplified the smell to neigh unbearable proportions. He had spent an entire night in one of Sarah's socks as punishment, so he was somewhat acclimatised to bad smells, but the stale odour of a sock is different to that of the fresh appendage actively exuding the noxious gas. George froze in place; considering what he was about to do. What happened to "resisting these giant bitches"? he wondered, he wasn't going to debase himself to some chick who's dorm looked like a hurricane passed through it. The sheer casualness and light-heartenedness she treated this situation making him feel emasculated and pathetic, the sheer sadistic joy she produced with each subtle movement and torment breaking his brain.
He decided he would cross his arms and refuse, knowing full well how she would react. It took Laura a few seconds to realise that he was rebelling again, his body completely hidden behind her reclining foot, slightly darkened by the thin shadow it cast. Shifting her foot over, she shot daggers at the once again disobedient creature. "I thought we were over this? Ugh, rub my foot, now!" she said quite forcefully. George betrayed no wavering at this, even if he was almost losing control of his bladder. Laura rolled her eyes, if this is how he was going to act it was fine by her. Laura kicked her other foot upright, her toe pads contacting the cool glass. She slid her foot along the transparent surface toward George at an incredible speed, the friction between her sticky skin and the glass causing it to produce brief high-pitched squeaking sounds. The extremity bulldozed over toward him, too fast for him to react; the toes plowing into him with force, their height just enough to kick him on top of her foot rather than under it. George felt his body land onto the soft skin of the top of her foot, disoriented by the fast motion. Before he could upright himself his vision was blocked from above. The sole of her other foot pinned him between it and the top of her other foot, the force just enough to keep him stuck. The moisture and heat immediately shot up, his surroundings soft but firm, too dark for him to see anything but the reddened light that snuck through the apertures at between the top and sole of her foot. A feeling akin to being pressed between two firm mattresses. "I don't need your cooperation, ya know?" she spoken down to him, her voice loud and clear enough to worm into his flesh prison. She began to rub the sole compressing him back and forth, increasing the pressure as she did. He began to roll up and down the surface, stray grains of sand rubbing onto him and irritating his skin. "This is as good as any foot rub you could give me. I've got a feeling you aren't liking it though." she stopped the rolling, pinning him under the ball of her foot, the metatarsal bone just felt deep behind the layer of flesh and sinew. "So, rub..." she increased the pressure, gently kneading him back and forth under the ball of her foot, "my..." the pressure was becoming unbearable, he could feel himself compressed, his lungs too crushed to suck in any of the foul air from the cramped confine "foot!" she finished with one last monumental push with the titanic ball of her foot, the pressure badly bruising the captive before pulling it away. Tilting her foot and allowing her unwilling passenger's limp body to slide off and land with a pat.
George lay panting on the cold glass table surface, his body badly bruised and lungs burning with starvation. He struggled to his feet, a limp deciding to accompany him as he did. Laura sat back like nothing had occurred, her feet taking their previous locations in front of him. George struggled to the heel that had only a few seconds ago almost crushed him to death, slightly moister after being rubbed against its twin. With both arms he pushed into the thick skin, the firm surface refusing to budge much. "Harder." she said quite matter-of-factly. George used all his force, pushing his legs back for maximum leverage; he pushed as hard as he could, using both his forearms to knead the unyielding flesh. Finally he managed to push into the swirling patterned surface enough to make a real dent, Laura responding to his satisfactory display by wiggling her hips deeper into the cushion and flicking on the TV, looking forward to a relaxing evening of mindless reality TV and foot rubs. George continued in his Herculean task, a fruitless and back breaking endeavour in reality, the idle entertainment of a goddess, much as many classical heroes had done.
George was halfway along her instep when her phone chirped its electronic chirp, distracting him from kneading the flesh, softer and easier to work with than the thick hide of her heel. Picking up the device, she smiled as she opened up her notifications. "Wow, 50 likes in less than an hour, people are really enjoying your suffering." she tormented down to him, successfully disheartening him. "Do you know a Miranda?" she said as a smirk crept up one side of her face. This caught George's attention; Miranda was George's ex, breaking up with him after his diagnosis. It hit him hard that she would drop him during such a difficult situation, and he felt nothing but sadness when he thought about her and his lost life. "Well, check this out!" she turned the screen to him, the blue and white of Facebook's trademark design glowing through the glass of the screen. Miranda had left a comment on the post "OMG is that George? That little fucker was serious about the shrinking shit XD give him hell huney!" was what it said, the casual words striking him hard. "Wow, tough break, huh?" was all that Laura said, going back to scrolling down her timeline as George resumed his job, choking on his anger and sadness. George was almost in tears, this was so unfair, why him? Why did he have to shrink, why did everyone hate him? He would be forgotten by everyone before he even died, a tiny toy used up for entertainment. Why would Miranda be so mean to him? To relish in his suffering for no reason. Just because of some stupid condition? Why was the society, nay, the world, so cruel? The only thing that brought George any relief was that his job was almost done. "Don't forget I have two feet that need attention." she said, almost reading his mind as she wiggled her unpainted toes. George began to sob.
"Hey, bug, how does pizza sound for dinner?" George looked up at her hopefully, his stomach had been grumbling this whole time. He looked into her deep brown eyes with puppy dog eyes worn on his face. Laura burst out laughing, "as if you are gonna eat people food. Not today, love." George, dejected, began finishing up on the toes of her second foot, his job truly almost completed, much to the celebration of his aching back. Laura called up the pizza place and within half an hour was sat on her couch, shovelling steamy pepperoni covered slices into her mouth as George lay between her feet panting, totally out of energy. Laura closed her feet around him, her heels and toes touching, sealing George between her arches. "Mind giving them a bit of polish, huney?" she giggled to herself, not even looking at him. George was lost, what did she want? The heat, moisture and smell was beginning to climb as he was sealed so snuggly, barely enough room for his body laying down. The soles were becoming sticky, the pores opening up and releasing their vapour. He looked up at her, stomach grumbling jealously as she devoured the pizza, waiting for further orders. "What, you got a tongue don't ya? Just give them a few licks." George was disgusted, it was filthy and humiliating enough being sealed between them, but licking them? That was an entirely new level of disgusting. Feeling his still bruised and battered body ache, he decided that he really couldn't take anymore punishment lest he become crippled.
Gritting his teeth, he stood erect, his back bracing against the sole of her foot as he peaked his tongue out his lips. He leaned over to the opposite sole, arms holding him upright as he ran his tongue up a tiny section of the instep. Instantly his tongue recoiled at the bitter and salty taste, the slight lint, sand and general detritus that had piggy backed on her soles throughout the day grazing his tongue uncomfortably. Laura noticing his reaction giggled slightly, her entire body shaking as the sounds escaped her throat. "Try again sweety." she said in the most condescending tone she could muster. George took a deep breath and pinched his nose, a feeble attempt to mitigate the taste a little. He leaned in once more and gave a somewhat bigger lick, the same dregs and grit of her foot presenting themselves to his tongue once again. Disgust and humiliation shuddered through his body; why didn't he just stay with Sarah? Why, God, why didn't he? Laura reclined as far back as she could go, patting her pizza filled stomach satisfyingly. "This is the life: pizza, TV, and you, my little foot bitch, all coming together nicely. We're hitting the gym tomorrow, lots of fun we can have there." she said. The fun part obviously true to her, not so much for her possession. George couldn't wait.
George didn't sleep that well tonight, Laura dropped him hastily into a sock and forced her foot deep inside, pinning him underneath her toes as she crawled into bed. The sock was simultaneously cold and damp and humid and hot, like some kind of fever made physical. He struggled through the omnipresent stench that clung throughout the entire confined space, and was prodded by squirming midnight toes. Every time he would catch a few minutes of precious sleep the foot would be upturned by her night time movements and send him careening to the bottom with the force of gravity; like a nightmare that would end before you hit the ground, only you would land with a fabric muffled squelch. George lay, sobbing, in the deepest, darkest corners of the sock of a sleeping giant. Her slight snoring escaping her mouth and filling the room. He was alone, and it made her absolutely ecstatic. To make matters worse they were going to the gym tomorrow, surely to put him through sweaty, painful torment. George was just about to vomit.
"Rise and shine!" the overly chirpy voice of Laura roused George from his half-sleep, snapping out of the delirium of a feverish night as the sock that was his bedroom peeled from under him, allowing him to land on the mattress below with a plump bop. The slightly scented smell of the bed permeated George's nostrils, which were likely never to reach their original sensitivity after a life of servitude. Laura plucked George up, ferreting him away into the soft wrinkles of her palm, the very slight moisture practically a desert compared to her feet. With little fanfare or conversation Laura dropped him onto a freezing kitchen counter, illuminated by the warming yellow light of morning. George was not doing well, the sleep deprivation burning his eyes and yesterday’s tormenting aches still sticking deep into his flesh. He couldn't do anything but attempt to cool down on the counter as he watched the giant brunette rifle through her fridge, soon to retrieve a cardboard box containing yesterday's half eaten pizza, a nutritious breakfast for sure. Angling the slice, she began to gobble up the greasy cold feast. Surprising her delirious diminutive by dropping a half-eaten and cheese coated olive next to him. "T-thank you" George muttered out, cringing at his pathetic knee-bending.
"No trouble, I'm so kind, aren't I?" she gloated sarcastically over him as he began to take great bites from the greasy thing, not even particularly liking olives. Sarah fed him her scraps as well, and he was fine with that, after eating the bland pellets he was forced to eat in his glass cage, he would eat anything.
When their meals were done, Laura hoisted George, covered both inside and out with grease, up and took him back to her bedroom. After some thought, she slipped George into her mouth, just keeping him pursed between her lips as she required both hands to undress herself. George was shocked at this, the feeling of being between two giant lips was indescribable, their softness yet strength forming an uncomfortable balance that locked him in place, not to mention the torrent of warm air that flowed from her nostrils above. As dyed fabric began to raise around him, he began to realise what was happening, not knowing how to respond. After derobing, she spat him into her waiting palm, tiny specks of saliva following him. George couldn't help but gawk at her giant taut breasts, bobbing slightly with each step she took, the giantess either not knowing or not caring for the show that she was putting on for her little admirer. So distracted was George that he only snapped out of his lustful gaze when she walked into a small glass cubicle and placed him on the tiled floor, between her pink feet. George instantly recognised this as a shower, clearly not a place he would want to be. Surely she can't be serious? A shower this size? He would die. He looked skyward, the fear in his stomach too deep to appreciate the view of her entire body, totally exposed to him. Smiling down at the terrified creature, reading his mind, she offered a few words "Try and clean yourself up down there, you tasted like feet." before gripping and turning one of the knobs.
Steam surrounded him, impairing his vision completely. He could only vaguely recognise the two monstrous peds that were located so far below the rest of her body, the legs attached to them shooting high into the thick warm fog towards the unknown. He knew that he needed to stay under her, the direct torrent of the shower likely to be painful to his fragile form. Under her was calmer, but thick streams of runoff, water dripping down her body, still fell all around him and carried the filth, grit and dirt that polluted her body, likely imperceptibly tiny to her. All the streams of water created the every transient sheen of water at the base, the tiny amount coming half way up his calves, impeding his movements. The current of the water always heading towards the drain, daring to pull him with it if he tripped. Despite sheltering between her legs, water still flew through the air as it bounced on the tiles, streams and whips of water hitting his body painfully, making him wince. The environment was like being stuck under a waterfall of steaming hot water during a tropic monsoon, with the sound to match, the only sound being the infinite crashing of water onto the tiles. She made a small step back, making George run to keep up, just to cower close to her leg in fear of a direct stream of water. Soon the dripping water carried white suds, dripping down her gargantuan form like a crawling goo monster from a 50s sci-fi flick. The soapy substance burned his eyes and made the already slick ground slipperier. As time went on the water became clearer and cleaner, the torrential storms at her feet no longer filthy. She went through other actions such as shampooing her hair and brushing her teeth. George was forced to evacuate when she lifted one of her feet up to scrub it, exposing him to the torrential stream of water for a brief moment. Eventually the sound stopped, replaced by the gargling of the water being sucked down deep into the pipes far below the pair. George lay panting in her shadow, rivulets of water still dripping down her body as she felt the after effects of a relaxing shower. "Ready for the gym?" George had almost forgotten...
"Okay, here's how I see it..." dictated Laura to the bug between her sports shoes. "It's my job to train you to be a good pet for Sarah, and you can't be a good pet if you're not fit. So today, both of us are gonna have a workout, so let’s begin with some stretches." George had just been pulled out of her musty gym bag after a lengthy car ride, and was a little nervous to what she had in store. She was wearing her gym gear: sports shoes, gym shorts, a tank top, sweat bands, everything. He could tell she was a bit of a fitness freak. "Come on, get limbered up! Like this." Laura grabbed onto her shoe and pulled it right up to her chest, setting it down and doing the same with the other. George began imitating her, but he really didn't know how much she was expecting of him. He wasn't exactly unfit, but weeks of no exercise in a cage left him a little atrophied, not to mention his sleep deprivation, still bruised body and exhausting shower experience. Laura continued her stretches, the booming motions so close to George unnerving him, even after growing somewhat used to interacting with the behemoth "regular people". "Alright, now drop down and give me twenty!" she yelled. Stunned, George looked up at her, to which she responded by raising the sole of her sneaker above him, rolling her foot in air for emphasis. George was quick to get down into push-up position. Struggling, his aching arms just managed to push him off the ground, straining as he did. He managed to get in one more before collapsing under his own wait. He rolled onto his back, Laura's giant, godlike head shaking disapprovingly far above. "Pathetic. Ya do it like this.", She jumped down to the floor, her arms supporting her as she was in the position. This sudden movement terrified George, her giant face now filling his entire view; she smiled as she lowered herself, the tip of her nose millimetres away from George. She pushed herself up and down rapidly, her face growing and shrinking in George's field of view, each time terrifying him a bit, her giant hazel eyes gleaming with joy as she knew the fear she was inspiring with such a simple movement. Jumping up to her feet, not even breaking a sweat from the push ups. She leaned down to pinch the already exhausted slave. "I think you need a closer view to get you motivated. This is how a real girl does it." with a smile, he was dropped into her cleavage. He slid down the soft slope until being right next to her heart, the giant muscle beating tremendously. The tautness of her breasts was enough to encase him between them, the only light coming from the thin crack far above.
George could tell by the rapid acceleration and the shifting a moment ago that she was now lying down, confused as to what was occurring, he held his breath. Currently the fleshy crevice smelled like body wash, but he imagined that was going to change. Rapidly he and the soft mounds were flung at a 45 degree angle, ending with an inertial tug, everything around him compressing together. The environment squeezing him tighter and tighter, to the point that all light was blocked out and he was completely sealed between the two walls. A moment later the constriction was released, the hard walls melting back to their plushness. After a brief drop, they were back to laying down. Again the same motion occurred, the constriction squeezing the air from his lungs. She was doing sit ups, the simple motion of pressing her breasts to her legs becoming a rapid crushing for the creature trapped so deep between them. As she increased her pace, the motions became more sickening for fragile George, the crushing so quick as to knock the air out of him, having to take precious quick breaths between the sickening squishes. Her heart began to beat more ferociously with the excretion, the sound omnipresent in the confined space. The tiny pores along her breasts began to open up and exude their moisture, the vapour soon to begin forming the noxious scent of sweat.
After some amount of time, and numerous crushings, he was prodded from his position by a finger tip, digging him out and exposing him the artificial light of the gym. "Motivated?" she cocked her head in teasing "Let’s try some weights." George was dropped onto a table adjacent to a rack of all kinds of weights, their scale far beyond what was usable for someone of his size. "Little too heavy for ya, eh? How about this, if you can lift up even my littlest finger, you don't have to work for the rest of the day, and I'll give you dinner. Deal?" George felt he had no real choice, so there was no use putting up a fight. Laura set her hand down as her other one clutched and pumped a bright red dumbbell, her powerful muscles easily lifting it up and down. Approaching her pinky finger, thicker than a tree trunk, George just managed to wrap his arms around it, his arms slightly sinking into the soft skin. Straining his knees and aching back to lift it up, he felt he was going to pop a blood vessel; the weight far too great to budge. He tried again, the not even watching Laura giggling at his efforts. With a tiny flip of her finger George was flung back, landing painfully onto the ground, old bruises refreshed. "Huh, need more... motivation?" Oh god no, he said. George was once again gripped in her talons and dropped into her cleavage, the sweat having dried to become sticky and have the noticeably sheer stench. He fell deep into the crevasse, taking his old position, the environment now stickier. He was bobbed up and down as she strolled around the gym, not even allowing him the privilege of knowing where she was taking him. Taking her position, she began to skip rope, the thin chord flying above her head and under her feet. Up and down, up and down, up and down. All around him the flesh shook and quivered to her whim, the bouncing making him nauseous. In no time the same pores opened up and released their moist air, accompanied by familiar heart beat accelerating. The moisture began to condense, the surfaces on either side becoming slick now, and the smell becoming so full of the thick scent that it was hard to breath. George began to slip deeper into her bosom, the unending, quaking motion and heart beat dislodging the stowaway. Aided by the lubricating sweat that was beginning to drip down, only some being absorbed into her sports bra. George couldn't see, but he was beginning to think that he was almost at the terminal point of this water slide from hell, after which he would fall from between her breasts. Indeed, a few drawn out moments later he landed on the moist fabric of her bra. He saw through the filtered light of the sports bra the colossal fleshy mammaries lifting off, their absences causing him to slide underneath where they would usually fall, a second later crushed under its immense weight. He struggled against the breast, the slick sweat not allowing him to push himself away. Each jump sending it upwards only to crush him moments later. Again and again he was beat by it, like a punching bag the weight of a truck crushing you. Sweat began to pool under her breast, the drippings turning to hot salty rivulets cascading in the darkness. George was so tired, his arms failed to listen to him. He begged for some, any reprieve.
The motions stopped, George left crushed between the enormous weight and the wet fabric of her bra. After a second he was fished out of the absolutely burning environment, the air making him realise his skin felt like it was on fire. He gasped in her palm as she inspected him. "Break time!" she chirped. George had never heard more merciful words in his life, almost getting on his knees and prostrating himself in thanks. He was dropped on the foam floor as he recuperated. "Not for you, idiot, you didn't earn it." George subconsciously rescinded his thanks to his merciful goddess. She squeezed the bottle of water she aimed at her face, the stream hitting her mouth with sharp tick. The sound making the dehydrated toy yearn for such a luxury. Taking notice, Laura unleashed an icy cold spray of water onto him as he lay there, instantly hydrating him, but burning his skin with the cold. He recoiled and squirmed, the rapid change of temperature stinging his skin. Laura looked at the pitiful thing, already bruised and exhausted. She decided that she should actually make him exercise. Plucked up and placed on a rough surface, George realised he was on the giant conveyor belt of a treadmill. He turned around, Laura leaning casually against the wall, an absolutely diabolical smirk on her face. Hitting a few buttons on the control panel high up, the belt began to move with a deep whirr. Although it was on the lowest setting possible, the speed was still incredible for George, forcing him to break out in a sprint instantly. The ground was incredibly rough and uneven below his feet, requiring him to exercise caution where ever he stepped lest he trip. At first he sprinted to his far right, attempting to get to the safety of the side track, only to be blocked by a monstrous red sports shoe "uh, uh, uh" she tutted high above, not doubt finding the show of a tiny creature struggling on the very lowest setting, lower than walking speed, entertaining. Stepping onto the track with a thud, Laura very slowly followed behind George, the booms of each gigantic foot fall motivating him further. Fuelled by pure adrenaline, George powered on, his legs aching, his lungs burning, his mind aflame with nothing but survival. Each breath he took just allowed more air to escape, each step losing ground, he tried, he tried so hard, he felt he was going as fast as Usain Bolt on steroids, but the booming sounds grew closer and closer, until he collapsed in agony. The machine died with a whirr, shutting off at the simple press of a button. George lay borderline unconscious at the foot of the machine, his brain and lungs starved for oxygen. His mind was so feeble all he could think about was: why him? He wanted freedom, freedom from pain, freedom from torture, he wanted his life back, he wanted Laura to leave him alone.
George was in hell. After he awoke Laura proudly proclaimed that they were "almost done", pulled back her waistband and dropped him down her pants. He lay pressed deep into her burning right butt cheek as she peddled an exercise bike, the fabric of her gym shorts tight against her peachy buttocks, just allowing him to breathe through the fibres. The motion of her powerful leg going up and down on the peddles rolled him with the thigh over and over again, making him nauseous. He thought that being crushed under her breast was bad, this was unbearable. He couldn't move even the slightest bit, the plumpness keeping him strapped too tight. Even if he wanted to move, his entire body still ached. He imagined his body a Jackson Pollock panting of marks and bruises by now, wondering how Sarah would react to his injuries. The buckets of hot sweat condensing around him only to be sucked into the fibres of her gym shorts made him sick and completely failed to cool him down from the oppressive heat. The movements became faster until he felt the hemisphere of her butt lift off, hovering above the seat, Laura exercising intensely. The movements began to shift him, edging closer and closer to centre, the dividing crack between her two cheeks. He tried to crawl away, practically swimming through the moist and soft flesh, just sending him there faster. Eventually he slipped in between them entirely, held tight by the firmness of the walls, the rotations in opposite directions around him grinding him between the doughy walls, the heat dominating all of his senses. The pain and humidity was too much to bare. He probably would have passed out had at that moment she not dismounted the bike and made her way to the locker room, each step grinding him more, albeit slower.
George lay in Laura's palm as she held it, and him, next to her face. The exhausted slave only dimly aware of the giant phone pointing towards them as she snapped a selfie. Posting it to Facebook with the caption "Gym day 💪 with this runt, put him through a proper work out 😜💦💦" much to the adoration of her friends. She made her way into a cubicle, dropping the barely conscious George into a rag by her feet, the old thing carrying a musty odour, not that George could smell, or feel anything right now. Undressed, she picked George and the rag up, shaking it to stir him to consciousness. He blinked his eyes open, the still steaming body of Laura filling his eyes, sweat glistening under the fluorescent lights. "Wakey wakey. I just wanted you to be awake for this. So, soak it in." she giggled at her small pun. She bundled him and the sweat rag up, dabbing at her sticky breasts. On top, between, underneath, around, soaking up the natural excretion. The wetness penetrated deep into the rag as he was tumbled about, losing all sense of direction. When her breasts were sufficiently dry she moved on to her armpits. George was now on the outside of the bundle, and collided directly into the shiny surface, littered with tiny pores. He was dragged up and down, the thin flesh sticking to him slightly as he was forced across. The smell of her body in general becoming absolutely ingrained deep in his nose. He couldn't even recognise it anymore, going so nose blind that he was forgetting what air smelled like. Moving to the next armpit, the process was repeated, the humiliating, yet apparently hilarious process. It made George's skin crawl when he thought about, opting to grit his teeth in patience and exhaustion. Eventually she would go through her entire body; wiping up her stomach, drying between her buttocks and around her womanhood, down her legs, and eventually to the suffocating and still steaming feet, still enjoying their freedom from the tight socks and shoes. By the time this humiliating process was finished, the rag was more sweat than fabric, and the less said about George the better.
Laura slipped on some clean clothes and headed home, ready for a tasty lunch. She was well aware the state that George was in, he was barely alive, and definitely not useful for the rest of the day. She licked her lips; now that George knew what she was capable of he was wrapped around her little finger, he would practically thank her for any lesser punishment. She looked over to him in the passenger seat, sleeping so peacefully. Their time was not done yet.
This one was pretty long, phew.
Out on the town by NSFW_alt1234
George checked over his body; his once well-fed physique was beginning to diminish, replaced with a thinner, leaner him. His body was a deep red, still burning from his intense workout. Patches of dark blue and grey littered him, each one a painful reminder of the torture he was going through. He nestled further into the corner of his shoe-box, the large would-be room lay lidless on a table in her living room as she waltzed around picking up socks and other miscellaneous clothing items. Laura had decided to spare George anymore torment for the day, not so much from kindness but out of fear of literally killing him. After a tasty lunch of a salad wrap Laura cleaned up in anticipation of her arriving friend Ameile, not wanting to shock the girl with the horrible state of her dorm. Not a few minutes after the busy tidying was over a knock at the door rung through the dorm, unfathomably large to the still recuperating George.
"Amelie, so good to see you!" Laura said in a tone so warm and foreign to George, the high walls of the box blocking his vision of the cordial greeting.
"I know, it's so good to see you too!" the other girl replied as they leaned in for a hug.
The two giants began chatting, George listening in as a way to entertain himself, not useful to Laura at the moment so practically non-existent. They continued their conversation as they walked around the well lit dorm, laughing and sharing anecdotes, their young lives free and content. In a strange way this comforted George, their funny stories a source of amusement to him, silently laughing along with them. George never realised how funny Laura could be, the way she spoke so light-heartedly, the sound of voice, her care free attitude. George was shaken from this strange new opinion of his tormentress by a shadow eclipsing the light above him, a new giant face which he guessed was Amelie. He dark brown hair pulled back behind her head into a long pony tail, drooping against her neck as she angled her head down to peer into the rectangular port hole of the lidless box.
"Oh my, who is this cutey?" Amelie smiled down, showing her white teeth and ruffling her brow. George found it hard to read this expression, whether it was one of cruelty, ones that Laura adored so, or if it was a genuine smile that one may bar to any cute animal or pet.
"Oh, this is, uhhh... Jeremy or something." George reminded of how little he meant to her in the long run, not caring enough to learn his name. "He's not actually mine, he's a friends. I'm training him after he was being a little shit."
"Awwww, was someone a naughty widdle boy?" Amelie teased down, bringing an ivory plated finger down and messing his hair, George not moving from a combination of tiredness and obedience.
"We just got back from the gym, so he's having a little rest."
"Awwww, no playing? Damn, I'll have to come back when he's up to it. Won't I little guy?" she poked George's face, the translucent tip of her finger nail hitting him on his scalp.
The girls went on with their conversations, the eaves dropping enlightening George to the fact that they would be leaving soon; ready for a night out on the town, which evidently meant leaving George alone, which was fine by him.
"I really should have gotten a mani-pedi beforehand, damn." said Amelie as she inspected her unpainted nails.
"Oh, I have some nail polish, we could do them quick right now if you wanted." suggested Laura.
"Oh, really? Okay, just really quick."
With that the two girls began to paint their nails, a quick beauty treatment before a night of drunken revelry. Mid nail session their voices became hushed, followed by soft snickering, their muffled whispers unnerving him a bit. Seconds later Laura strolled up to his box and stolen him, relocating him to the same glass table he was humiliated on yesterday, now covered in various different coloured bottles, no doubt for their waiting nails. The feet of the two girls pressed on the table, white tissues separating their peach toes. George sat confused, he didn't much have the energy to stand up, and was a little worried at what the two were concocting.
"Curl up." ordered Laura, George responding by bringing his knees to his chest.
Laura plucked his entire body up, careful to not unravel the ball that he was in. Removing the white tissue between her left big and second toe, she replaced the wadded up fibres for her toy, serving the simple purpose of separating her toes. Amelie threw her head back in laughter.
"Oh god Laura, how do you come up with this stuff?" she cried in hysterics as she looked at the tiny ball of a man degraded to being a toe separator for her friend.
"Comes naturally to me." she shared in her friends laughter as she began to drag a brush tipped with blue goo along her giant pinkish plates.
George was so humiliated, no one liked when two pretty girls laughed at your expense, especially when one was basically your owner showing off her new toy. The sheer pointlessness of the task also made him sad, just sitting there, the slight pressure from either side perfectly reasonable compared to other such crushings she had delivered. Laura worked her way right to left, just finishing her right foot, she began to stroke at the big nail that pushed against George's back. The thick chemically sent began to permeate all around him, his head beginning to swim. He coughed a little, he had never smelled the fumes so strong before. He was struggling to stay awake, sounds becoming muffled and darkness creaking into the corners of his eyes. He wouldn't be conscious much longer.
"Oh god I think he's tripping out on the fumes!" Amelie gasped as she was thrown into another fit of hysterics. Laura following suit.
The next thing George remembered after hearing their echoing jubilation muffled by his own delirium was awakening on the same cold cardboard box ground of the shoe box, the lights off, the dorm silent. He noticed a blob of acrylic had stuck painfully to his side, attempting to claw the thing off becoming his entertainment for the evening. As George scraped the last part of with his finger nails, his mind began to wander. George remembered earlier today, her joking with Amelie, he smiled at the memory, the happiest he had been these past two days. Just then mind breaking though hit George: was he falling for Laura?. He tried to reason with himself, he hated her! Her despised her! Sure, she was... beautiful, and funny, and fun, but he hated her! Even if he was full size he would have hated her, or at least he hoped. He knocked this disturbing thought out of his head, crawling into a corner of the box and attempting to sleep. It is always terrifying, the living room at night, seeming so familiar yet lonely in the cool blue of crescent moon. It was especially terrifying after feeling vulnerable in so large a room and with the lid off. Quickly he fell asleep, the lack of sleep from last night making it easy on him.
George was awakened as a horribly intoxicated Laura stumbled into her dorm, her quaking steps uneven and clearly lacking any controlled pattern behind them. She giggled to herself after a revelrous night of debauchery. Some small bulb went off in her head, reminding her of the little thing she had tucked away on her table. Stumbling over, she peaked her voice over, just barely making out his outline in the moonlight.
"Hey there, hic little guy, how are... uh... ya doing?" George's small room were filled with the scent of twenty different alcoholic beverages, the fumes making him the tiniest bit tipsy. Obviously contented with the silence George gave, she laughed, adding more fumes into the cramped box and stumbled into her room. She was going to be hungover tomorrow, and George had a feeling this would be bad.
As expected, George awakened to the sound of a long, creaky, drawn out grown. The sound crawling out of her mouth and filling the dormitory. The heavy steps of the petite woman shook the table and box he was in slightly, announcing that she was coming, and not in a good mood. With her eyes still closed, she fumbled around trying to find the box of her stress reliever. She took the entire thing over to the couch as she landed with a plod, George becoming weightless for the smallest moment as she did. Knocking the box over, George crawled out onto the table, her feet red and sore after a night of dancing. George knew what he was expected to do, but considering her hung over state of mind he might be able to get away with not doing much. As he was considering this immoral deed, Laura announced her leaning forward with a groan, the exertion to much for her. She picked up the little creature and waved him in front of her face, the wisps of alcohol escaping her lips. "No back chat today, just licking." she deposited him back at her feet. The smell was dreadful, her feet still sticky after a night of dancing. Her toes and heels were bright glowing red after being stood on in high heels so much. He really did not want to look at the practically glowing monsters, let alone pamper them, a feeble attempt to comfort her in her dire situation. Laura was not in the mood for hesitation, picking up again and glowering at him. She opened her mouth wide and dropped him in, encasing him in the ethanol infused moist air. He was becoming drunk off the remnants of last night as she unkindly smashed him against the sides of his mouth, trying to maximise the punishment she could deliver with the minimum effort. George was almost drunk at this point, the smell and movements shaking his brain. He was spat into the palm, the air cooling him down, too much as the saliva took up a chill. He was thrown back down to her aching peds, desperate for relief. He approached a heel and began to rub it, his adding his tongue to help and appease her, her foot covered in tiny hairs and other blemishes, things he tried to wipe away with his hands before licking. God he was pathetic, he thought as he gave in, desperate for reprieve from punishment she would bring. At least his bruises were healing, and he was relatively well rested. As he completed this monotonous task, Laura not showing any signs he was actually helping her, he thought back to last night, and his thoughts about Laura. She was beautiful, of course, he peaked around the corner of her foot to confirm, her pierced ear and brown hair flung back, but he didn't love her right? How could he? He began to think of what would happen between them, the obvious one being that he would be given back to Sarah and be her servant, her demands so much simpler and easier than Laura's, but what if he... stayed her slave? He hated being her slave of course, he would much rather be Sarah's. George imagined Laura being as gentle with him as Sarah, he might find that tolerable. Why did he even like Laura? A chilling thought struck him, was he becoming broken in? He shook all these horrible thoughts away, too depressing for a Sunday morning foot rub.
Laura managed to force her way out of the sofa, the comfortable grip providing a trap to her. She lumbered over to her refrigerator, the slight moist spot left by George's tongue a speck of coolness on the floor. She retrieved a can of lemonade, remembering so Facebook post from long ago about the benefits it provided to the hungover. She grabbed George and threw him onto the cushion. "You're not doing anything on my feet, try this." she said as she began to lower onto him, careful that the crack in her yoga pants was in the right location. He was suffocated under her giant rear, the crack just providing enough room for him to breathe as the giant black orbs radiated heat onto him, making break out in a sweat. Laura gulped down the lemonade as wondered what she was going to do for the rest of the day, god it was already 2PM? She wondered if she should just sleep, totally forgetting about her little spelunker sealed in a barely survivable position under her. Her question was answered when she fell asleep a few moments later, backing George underneath her. Sealed in the pitch black he wondered what was going on with his mind, his thoughts always going back to Laura. He tried to hate her, he really did, but all he wanted was for her to wrap her arms around him and says she loved him. God he was so pathetic.
George wouldn't be free until Laura awoke an entire hour afterwards. She got up and began to walk around the house after feeling slightly better. She was making herself a late lunch when she felt something lodged between her plump cheeks. Reaching down, she peeled George out, inspecting him. "What were you doing down there?" she giggled, remembering sealing him there. She dropped him next to he salad she was putting on her sandwich, George quickly sneaking a bite to appease his grumbling stomach. Laura began to think as she nommed on her sandwich, what to do with George? She developed a devilish idea. She searched her tank top for a loose thread, easily spotting one by the bottom. She pulled the very thin string out, tugging on it to determine its strength. Deciding it was adequate, she plucked up George and tied it around his midsection. George was slightly constricted by the rope, nothing too severe, but enough to cut into his skin a little. Taking the opposite end of the string, she fastened it to one of the silver loops that clasped her ear's helix. Now that George was hung from her ear like a simple accessory, she went back to the sofa, sitting down and flicking on the TV. Laura giggled at the slight tug he provided, the strength of her cartilage enough to keep him upright with only the tiniest stretching to her. Taking her phone she snapped a selfie, careful to have George in frame. She posted this to Facebook, bu now sure that her friends loved to see the exploits of George as he was mentally worn down. George didn't fight it, he just tried to ignore the uncomfortable fibre on his skin, surely to leave a red mark on his stomach. George would sit there for hours as she went about her business, too lazy to come up with anymore cruel and unusual punishments for him. He wasn't freed from his bond until he was dropped back into the cardboard box that was now his room. "We've got work tomorrow, so get ready for a long day." she smiled and twiddled her fingers good bye. George was beginning to break down now that he was alone. He had been beaten, prodded, bruised and humiliated, and now he was developing a serious case of Stockholm syndrome. He wished he could just go back, go back, go back.
Hey, could you tell me about what you think of the direction this story is going? I still have a clear goal in mind of some key things, but always, stuff changes.
George creaked his eyes open, the giant room he resided was mostly blocked from his view by the oppressive brown cardboard walls of the shoe box. The "room" devoid of any stimulation for him; Laura cared little for George when he wasn't needed. George could tell by the muffled thuds through the wall that his trainer was up and walking around, he could even tell that she was barefoot and on carpet, meaning she was likely dressing in her room; the things you could pick up with sensitive ears and training. Fast, echoing taps signalled Laura's arrival in heels down the hallway, the upper half of her body visible to George at the precipice of the box walls. George remembered that Laura had work today, and from the logo embroidered on the left breast of her plain white top she worked at "Linda's cafe". Laura pinched George between her thumb and forefinger, a technique that she had mastered over the few days she had been abusing George. Holding him up to her face, she knew that her pretty face was the right tool for intimidation at the moment. "I've got a full day at work today, and you're coming with me. You've come pretty far during these past days, so no more fooling around, you exist to please me, okay? Any less than 100% will be punished with a hard stamp." Laura said absolutely grinning as George recoiled at every word, her warm breath washing over him with each carefully delivered syllable. George looked deep into the beautiful brown eyes of her, a glint of pure joy in them. The captive looked down, towards her feet, her long toned legs tinted a few shades darker by the stockings she wore, matching her short skirt and black heels as some kind of uniform. George was circumnavigated around her back as she hiked up her skirt with her unused hand, he could already tell where this was going, his mind fresh with memories of his horrible day at the gym. Pulling back the waist band of the full length stockings and black panties, she released her fingers, George landing silently onto the stretched panties, ready to be slingshot deep into her peachy rear when she pulled her finger away. When he was in place, Laura gave her cheek a quick slap, sending ripples through the relaxed muscle and fat, disturbing George as he was sealed tight. "Wriggle around for me, will ya?" she added, knowing that George was in for a long day.
Each step Laura took as she strolled down the street ground George deep between her cheeks. The sounds of the city muffled under so many layers of muscle, fat and fabric. The well insulated space smelled, thankfully, of body wash, Laura obviously providing special attention to this area today. The flesh around him was incredibly soft, the plumpness squeezing him into an imprint roughly shaped like his body. When she raised her right leg for a simple step, her the entire right hemisphere of her buttocks would shift, sideways, dragging George with it as it moved. Seconds later her foot would contact the hard ground, sending waves and ripples through her behind, shifting George again. George was so deep inside of her buttocks that he could not see the exit, the meat completely encasing him in all directions. Only when she was at the apex of her step would it loosen enough for fresh air to reach him, forcing him to catch a quick breath. Laura walked along peacefully, feeling the unmoving George wedged deep within her sensitive area. Laura, remembering the order she gave to George, clenched her cheeks, her fit muscles tensing at her suggestion. Immediately George felt everything around him grow infinitely harder. The soft, encasing walls replaced by solid walls of crushing suffocation. His lungs were squeezed, causing him to splutter into the flesh and wince. After a few seconds the muscles softened and he gasped in an acrid breath, the sweet body lotion draining away to be filled with the very familiar scent of sweat, George almost entirely ambivalent to the bodily fluid's distinct twang after so long spent in its grasp.
Laura finally arrived at the corner side cafe, preparing for the morning rush as she wolfed down a piece of borrowed toast. Sure enough customers began to filter in for their morning coffees, where the diligent waitress tended to their orders and brought out plates of croissants and other morning treats. Little did the endless stream of customers know their server toyed with a tiny captive between her plump cheeks, each step sending him shuddering and writhing in an attempt to please her, squeezing him with a quick tense for motivation. Tiny movements such as leaning over and standing for a few seconds contorted the pitiful bug in different ways, each one equally uncomfortable and even painful. At one point Laura dropped a menu and bent over, throwing George back, forcing him even deeper between her cheeks as he was crushed harder and more snugly. Laura smiled at this tiny movements, both his involuntary movements and his minuscule attempts to make her happy the highlight of her monotonous morning. As the morning wore on her panties would encroach on his territory, occasionally brushing against him. He hoped to grab onto this and hold on before she subtly dug them out when no one was looking, hopeful to be dragged with them. Such a task was impossible, the grip was too strong, he would never claw himself out, even as the accumulating sweat lubricated the walls. Conversely, he found himself dragged the opposite direction, towards her rectum, to which he desperately tried to shift away from. He was disgusted by this entire ordeal, the uncomfortable heat and smell equally as bad as the physical pain. He wished he could enjoy this view from the outside, rather than in. It was times like these he wondered how he could still be falling for her, as if the horrible things she put him through dropped from his mind and was replaced with a burning lust for her when he was free from her punishment.
"Hey, Laura, anything new?" one of Laura's coworkers and friends, Christy, had brought up as both girls played with their phones on lunch break. Laura was about to brush off the comment before remembering a certain something currently enveloped in her thick folds.
"Actually, I got a new tiny from a friend, just for a few days as I train him."
"Oh, was that the guy you posted on Facebook? You're so clever with your punishments. Wearing one as an earring? I never would've thought of that!" Laura shrugged at the compliment. George could hear the whole thing muffled from inside, humiliation no longer fazing him. "So where is he now?" Christy asked.
Laura turned around and leaned over, slightly hiking up her skirt as she gave her cheek a firm slap and tense. Squeezing George before sending the waves to dislodge him.
"Seriously? Oh my God!" Christy laughed, "You're such a bitch!"
"I try. I should probably get him out before he pops like a grape." Laura's comment making her friend laugh again.
Walking into the staff bathroom, she fished the thoroughly sweat coated spelunker out of her crevasse. She had no plans on relieving George however, immediately pulling him around the wide hip and squeezing him into her soft inner thigh, the fabric bracing him staunchly against the soft and squishy meat. George was relieved at this development, from here he could breath almost clean air and at least see something, albeit only the ground as everything was covered by the ruffles of a giant skirt. Looking to his side he could see her private area through her panties, a pang of lust shooting through his body due to being so close to something so sensitive. He tried to put it out of his mind, instead focusing on the checker pattern tiles on the ground, Laura's heel clad feet casually standing upon them. As the humongous limb that pressed upon George began to take its first step, he felt the muscles deep within her thigh begin to tense and shift, the skin responding by stretching and contracting whenever told. As the wind whipped past George's face, he was thankful for Laura for moving him from between her oppressive cheeks, this new torment much preferable, allowing him to breath comfortably. It was true, what Laura had guessed after the gym, that he would thank her for any lesser punishment. Laura continued her day, serving food and doing whatever other odd jobs necessary, always encouraged through the day by George's wiggling deep into her tender thigh. She delighted in squeezing her quads together whenever possible, sandwiching George between them quite snugly, the stimulation to her flesh sending tingles to her toes. Laura's shift was drawing to a close, tending to her remaining jobs before she bid adieu to Christy, being sure to show off the newest place she had stored her pet before walking home. George could see a world so painfully familiar to him, one which he once lived, going on perfectly without him, his world was one of colossi that abused him for his enjoyment . The relative comfort with which he was in currently allowed him time to think, unfortunately reminding him of the hunger he felt deep in his stomach, deprived of sustenance for a whole 24 hours, and the pain his body was still in from injuries days prior. He didn't know what Laura had planned back at her dorm, but he was sure it would be brutal, otherwise she wouldn't be "sparing" him now.
After fishing George out of her slightly moist stockings, she deemed the sweated creature still retained enough energy for her plans. Walking up to the kitchen sink, she pushed George into a bar of slightly moist purple soap, covering him entire in a thin soapy layer. She then turned on the tap and ran it over his soapy form, the smell of lavender screaming in his nose as the unrelenting stream of coldness uncaringly beat into his bruises. George's owner graciously decided to allow him to eat while she changed from her uniform, leaving him a leftover piece of ham she found in her fridge. George happily wolfed down the salty meat as he was energised by the meal. He gobbled up the ham so fast that he was full by the time Laura walked through the living room door. Laura dressed in full yoga attire as she gripped a rolle up mat under her arm. She wore a purple tank top, slightly too short so that it exposed her midriff, just allowing her navel to peak out. She also wore tight yoga pants, the grey fabric hugging tightly to her wide hips and thighs. Far bellow a large brown anklet was secured above her bare feet, a decidedly hippyish fashion accessory. The fit giantess unrolled her yoga mat in the warm sunlight before retrieving George from the counter and returning, dangling him before her devilish hazel eyes. "Let me see here, I've broken you physically." she announced as she poked at a large bruise on his side, George responding, expectantly, with a wince. "I've definitely broken you mentally." She flashed her teeth at George, eliciting another wince, which in turn made her giggle, "So now I just need to break you spiritually!" George was confused by this statement. "You see, my body is a temple, so that makes you an acolyte of that temple. It is your job to care for it and serve it, and what good is an acolyte that doesn't know how to navigate it?" George's mind was running wild with possibilities, none of them good. "Here's a small game, if you can get from my mouth to the mat, you win, if you don't, you lose. Simple as that. So lets get started!"
Laura opened her mouth wide and threw George in, landing with a squelch on her red muscle. The temperature and moisture climbing instantly, as it did in the various nooks of her "temple". Laura left her mouth ajar slightly, George realising this as an invitation to begin his descent down her mountainous body. Making his way along the softly studded surface of her tongue, no doubt tickling the owner, George was coated in thick saliva, thankfully not smelling of alcohol as it had before. Forcing himself over her sharp teeth, he crawled out and mounted her plump bottom lip. He held tightly to it for a second as he saw the distance to the ground, the sheer size of her, and the task, running through his mind and her causing him to try and think of a plan of attack. Before he could concoct any serious ideas he was interrupted by his environment shifting as she tilted her head, causing him to begin to slip to one side down her pink lip. He grabbed onto the squishy flesh, the thick folds just allowing him to hold on. What was she doing? Looking off in the distance, across her extraordinary face he could see her hands clasped together way past her tilted head, almost perpendicular to the ground. George recognised this as a yoga pose, obvious to him in hindsight. Looking down, George realised that the most realistic way down was to get to her breasts, from there he didn't know, but it was a key step. Laura began to tilt her head in the opposite direction, ready to continue the symmetry of the action. Mid shift, as she was positioned almost upright, her stowaway dismounted her plump lip and fell onto the surface of her breast, the ground providing just enough give to only bounce him slightly. Laura was breathing rhythmically, her long breaths important for her enjoyment of the meditation. For George, the great expansion of her lungs sent him off balance slightly, not yet used to the giant shifting of her body. Laura's monumental body continued its exercise at it turned to her right, a move known as the half moon. Desperate to not slide off to his death, he made the risky decision to climb into her cleavage, the loose tank top not pushing them together as tight as previous encounters. George was nestled on the slope of her breast as she began to upright herself, returning her body to balance. Gravity began to pull on the climber wedged in her cleavage, beckoning him deeper between her bosom. George opted to grab onto the edge of the tank top, his hands gripping tightly to the thick fabric while his body dangled in the crevasse of her taut breasts, his weak arms threatening to give out. George was beginning to panic that he would loose his grip, fingers beginning to slip in tiredness, his heart beginning to beat faster, shoulders aching. Thankfully the living mountain that was Laura began to lean forward to touch her toes, the shifting placing George on his stomach on the fabric as he recuperated. The giant fleshy mounds hung over behind his back and exuded warmth and moisture. Laura stood upright again, George regretting he had not acted when the time was right. Again he was dangling over the precipice of her chest, not for long thankfully, as she began to shift the opposite direction. With a few quick descents, Laura was now laying on her back, George now dangling parallel to her breasts. Learning his lesson, he took advantage of this by climbing up and onto the fabric covered breasts. Laura's slow drawn out breaths raising him slightly. He clambered down the soft hills and made his way to her side, the mat so close, only to be blocked by a hand. "That's cheating." she chirped out, George realising she was making him navigate her legs.
George jogged across her flat stomach, her breathing threatening to throw him off balance at each expansion. Looking up wards he saw a giant grey thing begin to accelerate towards him, the tiny adventurer just managing to jump away from it before it crashed into him. Laura held a knee to her chest, uncaring at any insects that may have been caught in its path; it wasn't her job to ensure his safety. George felt the fabric turn to skin beneath his feet, signalling he was almost at the end of crossing of her body. He made it to her elastic waistband, ready to begin crossing the rolling hills of her thighs before a pink hand hovered in from above. Laura decided not to make this too easy for George, and with a thumb, lifted up her waistband, inviting him onto her crotch. Sighing, George entered the circus tent sized fabric cave, realising fully where he would arrive. With a snap, he was pressed tight against her panties, making it difficult for him to move. He clambered down the slope, towards the ground, almost swimming against the fabric. George dipped down, realising that he was kept tight against her colossal vulva, feeling shameful and humiliated, but also somewhat aroused. Feeling the slight pressing through her panties, she began to erect her self, standing to her full height with George still pressed firmly against her womanhood. George pulled on the fabric of her panties as leverage, a desperate struggle to get to her thigh. His stomach was pressed to the panties, so he felt like he was upside down and struggling upwards. When the fabric of her undergarments ran out, he knew he was at the inside of her tender thigh, all it would take now was to shimmy down it and out of her pants leg. As he began his descent he felt the ground tense, and he was forced upward as she brought her foot to rest on her other leg, this move known as the tree pose, no doubt an excuse for discomfort. Finally she set her foot down again, and he began his vertical swimming between the warm skin and tight fabric. After about halfway down her thigh he was pressed tight into the skin by an external force, the foot of her opposite leg reenacting the tree pose in mirror, again likely and excuse to discomfort George. Finally this subsided too, and she continued with her meditation while George could almost smell victory, and sweat beginning to precipitate on her skin. The fabric became increasingly looser as he descended past her knee, he now used to fabric itself to descend, continuing down. He could see the blue mat below, so close. He hung above her ankle and thanked his lucky stars that this was the leg she decided to fasten her anklet. He dropped quickly to her anklet, holding onto it before letting go and landing safely on the mat.
George panted, not realising how tiring and sweaty he was after the adrenaline fuelled climb. He looked up at the distance he had travelled, truly monumentally. Laura had not congratulated him as he had hoped, instead ignoring him as she continued, does she even know I made it? He wondered in silent before Laura answered the question with a look down. George smiled, his achievement being recognised, he stopped this when Laura also smiled, which was always very bad for him. Laura pinned him to the foam ground with her toes, his tiny body stuck between her bulbous pads and the ball of her foot. She clamped down, hard, on him, pressing him into the rest of her foot, gripping him between her clean toes. Laura lifted up her foot around behind her as she stretched her leg and leaned forward, continuing until her foot was level with her head, a particularly difficult move known as the lord of the dance. George was gripped tightly as he dangled from her toes, her hand supporting the giant foot from behind. He glimpsed from around head the view of a phone in reverse camera, she was deciding to display this moment to her friends. After snapping the photo, she lowered her foot to the ground, not allowing George reprieve from her wiggling toes as she kept him caged underneath them. She tapped on her phone, the picture of George dangling from her toes as she posed her favourite yet. She uploaded this to Facebook with the caption "Yoga day👣👣👣". After the post was whizzed off across the internet, she turned her attention to George, freeing him and taking his normal position of dangling from between her fingers. "Don't you just love yoga? So... relaxing." she breathed, allowing the disparities in their positions show. "I always do it before a big run or a..." she paused "test!". Laura ran into her room, George in hand as her memory was jogged of the test she had tomorrow morning.
Laura hastily stuffed George into a shoe, the old thing slightly musty to his nose. This would be his bedroom for the night. He fell asleep to the warm light of a desk lamp and the scribbling of pencil high above as Laura prepared for this neglected test. She was so fucked, she mused, dropping all though of her toy from her mind.
Thanks for your guys' support, it means a lot to me. This chapter has ideas you guys gave me, so I am thinking about you!
Thuds. Thuds were how to describe her steps. As George lay deep inside her musty flat, the simple beige shoes sitting next to her bed, he listened to the powerful thuds of her step as she busily prepared for her morning. George knew the subtleties of her steps: the muffled characteristics they took when she walked on the shag carpet in her room, the echoes that they produced when she left her cosy abode and ventured into the hallway. Learning the sounds of her steps was one of George's hobbies now, his life devoid of much purpose when he wasn't being played with. George dropped all pretences of what he thought of Laura now, before he had denied it, excused it, but now he realised that he developed a school boy crush on the giantess, her personality and appearance intoxicating to him. He enjoyed these times that he could be around her without having to participate in some game of hers, usually an excuse for his punishment. As for Laura, she had all but forgotten of her possession, much too focused on her current task of preparing for her day, and her test. After a restless night she was still hesitant about it, she was so stupid to let it drop from her mind as she enjoyed her weekend. Laura wouldn't be reminded of the existence of her trainee until she slipped on a pair of beige flats, feeling a foreign body under her toes. George also felt a foreign body, this being the monstrous foot of Laura slipping into his abode, greedily nesting him beneath her meaty toes, smelling of lavender soap. Laura rolled her eyes as she recognised what this was, and that she would have to babysit her slave for the day after originally not planning on bringing him with her. Never the less she rushed out the door and into her car, George shaken with each step she took, the speed and sudden directional changes sickening. He felt like he was lost in an ever shifting maze of toes and flesh, the darkness eclipsing everything as he shifted around, Laura only half attempting to not crush him. George made no intense movements, he knew that resistance was futile. He considered licking or otherwise trying to please his owner, hopefully for which he would be rewarded, or at least spared from a more advance punishment. The shoe stowaway feeling empty as he realised what he had just considered, he knew that he had a taboo desire for Laura, but still didn't particularly enjoy being her personal bitch. Relieved from the constant motion when she got in her car, George was slid down to rest on the ball of her foot, the slight gap between the sole of her foot and the sole of the shoe threatening to pull him down unless he clambered between her toes for purchase, which he did. Inside her shoe, Laura could feel George respond to the slight movements of her muscles whenever she pressed on the accelerator or the brakes, shaking him too and fro. She was ambivalent to this, she hadn't planned on bringing George with her, so she didn't care if he was here or not anyway. Of course Laura loved to play around with the shrinkies, something she viewed as harmless; it was their role in life, right? Laura had originally offered to train George for Sarah because she hated the way he was treating her so disrespectfully, it was her duty to make him obedient, so what was the harm if she had fun on the way? She had no clue that the very toy she tortured was beginning to fall for her, that she could be so loved and so hated by the same person, that her very existence made George's mind recoil in hate and anger and love. She simply drove along, feeling him shift in her shoe.
Laura's felt drops of fresh sweat condense on her brow as she stared at the characters on the piece of paper. She gripped the wooden pencil and fiddled with it as her brain worked over the first question, the gears deep within chugging on silently. With a trembling hand she filled in one of the bubbles adjacent to a line, deeming it the correct answer. She moved onto the next, her heart racing and the vapour that surrounded her growing thicker with stress. Of course, these things were well felt by the straggler deep with her beige flat, cowering in the small gap between the bulbous ends of her toes and her sole. The dark was silent other than the very faint sound of external ambience and a rushing heart beat tirelessly delivering blood to her toes. Laura was wracked with uncertainty with each question, fiddling with her pencil in her hands stressfully. Unconsciously she began to toy with George under her toes, clenching them to press him hard into the shoe sole. George's purpose was degraded to "stress relief" for the giant woman, the movements of her toes not entirely conscious, and only partially realising of the tiny thing. Her body, growing bored of using George as exercise for her toe tendons, began to shake her leg. George was shaken up and down at an incredible pace, painfully contacting the hard sole and her toes. Laura began to take notice of the pebble in her shoe, distracting her from the test. She was becoming frustrated now, she needed to focus, but George was distracting her. If hadn't brought him this would be so much easier she thought to herself, aware that she was scapegoating him. She slipped her foot out of her flat, the air tickling her moist sole. Light beginning to filter in, the monolith of her foot still blocking the majority to the sweaty slave, but still like a sign from the gods, or perhaps singular goddess. Sliding her slender fingers into the prison, she prodded until she felt the touch of her toy under her fingers, retrieving him. He was hot and slightly moist in her hands, but she really needed him out of there to focus. Holding him below the desk, out of sight of any moderators, she considered what to do with him. George looked up at her pink face bewilderdly, her brown hair and matching eyes as stunning as ever. God, he was absolutely smitten, this was insane, he thought. Making a decision, she opened her maw and quickly pushed George into it, ignoring the slight taste of sweat on his body.
In the dark George was swung around by her giant muscle, the studded surface slick with thick saliva. Eventually he came to rest lying next to her molars, the twitching of her tongue not dislodging him. He took in a stale breath, the only air he could get being second hand or the tiniest of wisps that filtered in from her nose. He was totally coated in toothpaste scented saliva, thanking her that it didn't smell any worse. Laura tried to put George out of her mind, pretending he was a piece of chewing gum or hard candy. The "piece of candy" lay as still as possible, occasionally disturbed when her tongue would hit into him mindlessly. It was so surreal, being inside the warm cave of her mouth, the sound of air being sucked into her lungs and back through he nose like a gale force wind. As she continue down her the question, she began to suck on George like he was a hard candy, positioning him and washing over him with buckets of saliva, being sure her tongue braced him tightly against the wall of her mouth as she did. Saliva flowed over him in uncountable amounts, coating him in a thick gooey layer. He was struggling to breath under the warm goo, mentally pleading with her to stop, but she wouldn't, not until she wanted to. Finally she stopped, stopping her sucking and allowing him rest, which he did by sucking down the thin air in her moist, cavernous maw. It was to much celebration that Laura filled in the last bubble of her test, her wrist relaxing as she took a deep sigh, the cold air passing over George as he lay in her mouth, desperately he sucked it down. Laura handed up the paper and left the test room, George shaken in her mouth with each step.
"If you weren't in my shoe distracting me I could have finished that so much faster, what the fuck were you thinking being in there?" she asked, ignoring the fact that she had put him there. "Furthermore, if I hadn't had to train you the whole weekend I would have had time to study! But nooo you had to be such a little prick to Sarah, didn't you?" Laura continued yell at George in her palm, each terrifying word she spouted making him recoil in fear. Eventually Laura stopped her diatribe, sighing, she knew that George wasn't to blame, it was completely her fault, she just needed to yell at someone, and George, being so meek, was the perfect candidate. To some degree George knew this too, it was likely why she wasn't currently crushing him, she knew it wasn't really his fault. "I need a fucking run." she said to herself as she shoved the terrified tiny into her pocket. She drove home to change into her running gear and have a quick lunch, and in no time she was at the track, already the memories of the morning's test fading away. She was filling with the same playful cruelty that she was going to direct towards her captive. "Okay, George, after distracting me all morning, we both need to clear our heads. What better way than to go for a few laps?" She kneeled down with him held tight in her hand, closing in on her reds sports shoes, the very same she had wore to the gym a few days earlier. These weren't what she was interested in however, instead she would be utilising the brown anklet she had fastened to this particular ankle as a torture device. With a few tough threads Laura's stress relief was fastened by his hands and feet to the brown fashion accessory, dangling just over the pale hemisphere of her lateral malleolus. Confidently smiling down, she took a few careful steps to a white marking on the deep red ground, each time her foot contacted the ground bouncing George against her skin. She took position, crouching down, hands on the ground. George's heart was beating, this wasn't going to be comfortable. With the sound of an imaginary starting pistol she was off, her trained muscles expertly propelling her forward with incredible speed. Everything was a blur to George, the surroundings rushing by to fast, he couldn't move after his legs and arms were so tightly bound, and each time her colossal shoe contacted the ground he was gifted a glimpse of the ground as he was stationary for less than a second. The endless thudding beat him into her smooth skin, each time more painful than the last, resurrecting old bruises on his skin, one which had only just disappeared. Wind whipped past him painfully, the roaring sound only drowned out by the contact on the ground. He couldn't think, his entire life was consumed by her movements, he tried to look up the infinite pink stretch of her leg but it only made him nauseous. She was speeding up, the time her foot contacted the ground too fast to see, all he was feeling was the contact against her hot skin. The wind was so fast he struggled to suck down the air, the blast of chilling air stinging his face. Finally she broke out into a sprint, the speed incredible. George felt like he was going to explode, the sudden changes of direction each time she would kick up her leg jolting all the organs in his body. Each time the monstrous red shoe landed with its Earth shattering crush and he was beat into her leg he squealed a tiny, inaudible squeal, the force so great as to knock the tiniest fragments of air he managed to store in his lungs out. Finally, as George felt he would pop he felt himself decelerating, finally snapped back into the real world, he realised he was unbelievably dizzy, and felt he was going to vomit at any second.
George had continued to be strapped to the brown rope of her anklet until they were home, Laura dripping with sweat the entire car ride home. Already she was feeling better, the test a bad memory. She unbuckled her toy from her ankle, he fell the short distance onto the table with a painful thud. He stretched his aching wrists as she kicked off her shoes, exposing the white socks that gripped tightly into the ridges of her feet with sweat, pulling them off and unleashing their stench upon the glass table. George crawled over to her feet and began to rub her heels, even with his weak wrists. Laura watched on approvingly, she had trained him well, she could probably return him right now if she wanted to, but that could wait, right now she was being pampered. George was broken, the traumatic run sticking in his mind, even worse, his crush on Laura burned his heart. He looked up at her, his owner, trainer, tormentor, and felt a bubble in his stomach, the same thing he had felt for his girlfriend before. He rubbed deep into her aching soles, desperate for relief from their run, at the expense of his relaxation afterwords. The agony built up in George, his lust for Laura, his burning desire for her, he needed her love, he craved it so bad. The run had scattered his brain, it was a loose mess, without any coherent thoughts, it was know that George was the bravest he had ever been, he reasoned that he was already the lowest he could possibly be, that he had nothing to lose, that even the faintest sliver of hope was worth it. He stepped out from rubbing her heel, dripping with sweat, and stood between her feet as she played on her phone. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth, the words struggling to escape his mouth, both from nervousness and his atrophied vocal chords. Eventually, he coughed out the words. "Laura!"
The brunette looked up, shocked to see him talking, this was most unexpected. "What?" she cocked her eye brow, usually she would have crushed him or beat him or something cruel, a punishment for talking out of turn, but she had already deemed him fit for her friend, and was honestly curious to how this was going.
"Laura..." he send again, the curiosity of the giantess only increasing. "I... I... I love you."
Thanks for your continued support.
Laura was silent for a few seconds as stared down at her foot licking slave, his body badly bruised and covered in a sheen of sweat thanks to her. "Y-you love me?" she was honestly bewildered, and all George could do was nod. "As in, love love me?" to which George nodded again. Laura took time to process what he had just said, his admittance of love probably the least likely thing she could see coming from his mouth. A small smile teased at the corners of her lips, filling George with a faint glimmer of hope, hope that she loved him as well, hope that they would spend their life together. This hope was snuffed out as the teasing grin grew and grew, until she released it in a raucous howl of laughter. George stepped back as the colour drained from his face, the thunderous laughter filling the room. How was he so stupid? He was dragged back into reality, one where Laura saw him as a distraction, a toy. A world where he was tiny and at her whim. "You love me?" she spluttered out between her laughter, to which she was practically rolling on the sofa "You lick my fucking toes and you love me?" George sank further back, this was horrible, he was going to cry. The humiliation made worse by the complete sincerity of his owner, she really see him as nothing more than a toy. Why did he have to ask? He asked himself; he was delusional if he thought any other response was normal. "Oh my god I don't even know your name!" she shrieked. Each syllable that dripped from her venomous tongue ground him further into the dirt, he had never been so heartbroken in his entire life. "The moment you squirmed in my hands when I held you at the beach I knew you would be easy to break, but I've broken you so much you fell in love with me. Me." this words hit George even harder, the truth ringing painfully in his ears. She was right: he was pathetic, he was manipulated by her, psychologically destroyed by her. His mind stretched by the isolation that he latched onto the only person he could, falling in love with her. "Listen, buddy, I'm not exactly head over heels for someone that licks feet as a career." she teased again, gloating over her successful training. "This is so going on Facebook." she grinned as she snapped a photo of the dejected thing. Soon she would post it, showing off to her friends how talented of a trainer she was, putting a slave through psychological torment to the point his mind was so warped that he fell in love with her. George just lay down, he was done, officially he was over, he wanted to just die. Or at least fall down the crack of a sofa and never return. "Awwww, are you sad? Get rejected by the big meanie? Well, wait here." Laura left down the hallway, her sweaty feet peeling off the varnished wood floor. She returned only a few seconds later with something in her hand. George recognised what it was, a piece of pink plastic, about 9 inches long, and shaped with a subtle curve that made it instantly recognisable as a female sex toy. "You want love? I'll show you real love." she grinned.
George wanted to scream, or yell, but the sounds wouldn't come out. He was strapped tight to the tip of the neon pink plastic by sturdy threads, the wrapping around him constricting his body, pushing on his lungs so he couldn't shout in rebellion. He looked up, her perfect face, with her shiny earrings, pink lips and warm eyes was so far away. He could see her taut breasts, her flat stomach, her entire body. She was beautiful, she was the object of his desire, even after the horrible torment and humiliation she had put him through; but still he was terrified. With slow, calculated movements she brought the tip of the dildo close to her private region. She teased at her labia with slow movements, a warm up for the torture she would inflict on George, who was unable to move any part of his body. The warmth of her slightly sweaty body radiated from every square inch of her skin, including the lips of her vulva, which were beginning to moisten with a different body excretion. George grew slightly dizzy of the circular motions as they increasingly became faster. When the giantess deemed she was adequate wet, she used the tip of the plastic rod to push past her labia and travelling deep into her vagina. For George, everything was dark, warm and moist. He was braced tightly against her vaginal wall as he was pushed further in, the fluid coating his body entire body, closing his eyes and mouth to avoid the sticky fluid getting into these sensitive areas. It was so tight in the cavern, the wall he was pushed against him incredibly hard with each subtle movement of the rod. As the pink obelisk was pushed back and forth he was rubbed hard against the wall, luckily lubricated as to not burn him from friction, but still to bruise him from the rough motion. Each time she would change the thrusting direction he was jolted with an inertial tug, sickening him and disorienting him in the warm, moist darkness that smelled so... feminine. His held breath was beginning to diminish, the reserves of oxygen desperately sucked down into his lungs. His heart began to beat, he could feel himself becoming light-headed, dizzy. Just as he felt the cold grasp of oxygen deprivation shudder from his mind he was pulled out, just enough to be exterior to her moist cavern. He took a gasp of air into his lungs as the light burned through his closed eye lids. Laura, fighting through her ecstasy, looked down to judge if he had enough air to survive; she wanted him to be conscious for the entire show. When she deemed he was oxygenated she plunged him back deep inside of her, counting the seconds until he would be taken out for a quick gasp of air again.
George had not pictured this when he professed his love to Laura, he never though she could be so cruel. He felt violated, disgusted as she plunged him deeper and deeper into her sensitive area, the cocktail of smells assaulting his senses. He couldn't help but be partially aroused at this, this was probably the closest thing to sex that he could experience, and perhaps if she wasn't so rough he might enjoy it. But as he was ground against the fleshy lubricated walls, he found it difficult to derive any gratification from this lewd action. Laura's heart began to work faster, the distant muffled thud filling the tight arena, her breathing becoming more haggard as she worked the pink rod. She began to moan, the sounds of ecstasy echoing into the cavern impossibly deep to George's ears. Her movements became faster, pushing George more ferociously into her walls, moaning harder. She didn't dared to take him out for the quick breaths he required, the pleasure dominated her mind. George begged to be freed, the intense pressing agrivating his bruises, the smell of... her screaming in his nose, the humiliation, the lack of air, the disorientation, all the nightmarish sensations building to a horrible... climax. Laura moaned a deep, rapturous moan, the sensation coursing through her veins. She slid her toy completely out of her. The plastic one, and the living one, both thoroughly coated in her juices. She simply smiled down as she recovered her breath, her body slick with even more sweat, her spiky hair, damp, fell around her head. She brought the soaked thing up to her mouth, running her tongue along its length, being sure to clean all the sex off it, and coat George in a sheen of saliva. She untied the impossibly tough fibres, freeing George from his bonds, to which he fell into her waiting, sweaty palm. He was limp, the experience too much for him, he had passed out, overwhelmed entirely by her. She dropped his unconscious, bruised, wet body into his cardboard box as she left to get changed.
Coming down from her orgasm, the brunette reflected on what she had done, how completely and utterly broken in he would be when he awoke. He would assuredly be a fine slave to Sarah, following all orders without question, all the tinies she broke in were obedient. But did she actually make George fall in love with her? She had never seen that before. Usually they would have a burning resentment for their masters, even while serving them, but now he had developed a crush on her. It was cute, she admitted, and he was brave to admit it. But she also considered how much fun she could have teasing him about it. She checked her phone, scrolling through her Facebook timeline: a digital record of their days together. She scrolled through her latest photos: The first day she owned him, seeming so long ago. How sad he looked, so humiliated and depressed. Their day at the gym, how much fun it was to stick him in her cleavage, or down her pants, covering him in infinite sweat as she exercised. Wearing him as an earring, how helpless and pathetic he looked, how easily he resigned himself to his fate as a piece of jewellery. Dangling from her toes as she meditated, looking so small compared to her monumental foot, how resilient he was to scale her entire body. And finally today, when he confessed his love to her. She smiled at these memories, George was the favourite toy to break in to date, the way that he did what he did despite how much he hated it, no pointless screaming or resisting, just breaking him in mentally. If only she could keep him, she thought. How unfair that Sarah would have him instead of her. What a waste, Sarah wouldn't know how to treat him. A slave with such a warped mind to be used to rub moisturiser into her skin. If Laura owned him, she could get real use out of him, the new ideas she could come up with in playing with him, teasing him, the endless joy she could derive from having her own personal lover. Perhaps they could enjoy more... intimate games. She strolled out of her room in comfortable clothes, allowing her bare feet to collect detritus from the floor, perhaps using it later in some punishment for George. She peaked into his box, sleeping so peacefully, so adorably. She looked at the bruises that littered his body, his fragility apparent to her now. She would take it easier on George, she needed him to be in perfect condition for Sarah.
When George was finally freed from the clutches of unconsciousness he realised he was in his box, the oppressive brown walls uncomfortably familiar to him. The sound of a giant TV told him that she was currently watching some mindless TV show as she relaxed, no doubt a stupid grin warn on her face after such an experience. He sat up against a wall as he nursed his sick stomach. He felt violated... sick... mostly but still he knew that he loved her. He began to blubber, making sure to suppress his tears so that she wouldn't hear him. Why did he love someone so cruel? So evil? Somewhat that saw him as a toy? Soon he would be returned to Sarah, his rightful owner and he didn't know if he was looking forward to or dreading it. With Sarah he would be safe, his life would be so much easier, forced to massage her feet and rub lotion into her as his only purpose in life. But after he was done he would be thrown back into his box to waste away the days until he was needed for an equally boring task. If he stayed with Laura... he would be teased, beaten, bruised, punished... but he would be with her, and perhaps have more than to give massages all day. George lay back down on the ground, his body bruised, his mind broken, his will crushed. She really was a better trainer...
I would like to leave what happens up to you guys: who should keep George? Laura or Sarah? Leave a review with who you want.
Decisions by NSFW_alt1234
The messy cave of Laura's handbag was oppressively stuffy today, the warm light of the sun only squeezing in through the fine slit of the ceiling. Each step Laura took swung the satchel back and forth, the litter inside scrambling to nestle into new nooks. George lay on top of her phone, the metallic case somewhat cool, even in the thick, dusty air. George felt like he should be nervous for his inevitable showing off to Sarah, but he really didn't know how to feel, almost like he didn't have a right to an opinion. The repetitive sounds of Laura's rubber flip-flops crunching on the warm sand stopped, coming to a stand still when she was adjacent to a deck chair. She let the strap of her handbag slide off her shoulder and land on the yellow ground, George landing with a violent crash, one that he quickly recovered from.
"How are you doing, honey?" said the cordial voice of Laura high above, a tone she reserved for her friends, not her possessions.
"I'm doing great, sweety!" replied Sarah, her voice higher and breathier than her friend's, in some ways matching their personality.
A great object moved and blocked out the light that streamed through the slit in the ceiling, casting George in darkness. Laura likely leaning over to give her close friend a hug. With an elastic crash Laura took her seat in her own chair, kicking her feet up and relaxing in the inviting sun, chatting with her friend after an eventful week. George eaves dropped in on their conversations, nothing but small talk. This disheartened him a bit, he knew that he was going to be shown off to Sarah, the progress he had made during the week, and the fact that he came further down on the list than what ever new shoes Sarah had bought put into perspective how he was seen. Inevitably the conversation switched to the passenger locked deep amid the rubble of Laura's handbag.
"So, Laura... any progress with George?" asked Sarah innocently. She was nervous, she didn't know what to expect at all.
"George... the tiny?"
"Oh, yeah... just forgot his name." she giggled. The eavesdropper listening in on this remark. Every time George was reminded that she didn't even know his name crushed him a little bit further into the ground. "Let me get him." she said as she slid her fingers into the crevice of her handbag, wiggling them around until she felt the fragile little thing, pulling him out.
The light of the bright sun blinded the slightly sleepy slave, lying down in Laura's palm. She angled her hand until George slid off, falling for less than a second into Sarah's own plush hand. Her great blue orbs looked down on him, inspecting him. She took a few seconds to process what she was looking at. This wasn't the George she knew: he was so thin and wiry; when she had owned him she kept him well fed, clearly not what Laura did. His skin was also covered in a horrible canvas of red, blue and black, each mark a sign of punishment inflicted. Despite his trimming down, she could also spot tiny muscles through his skin. He wasn't too built, but toned and fit, in spite of his meagre diet. Sarah was filled with a tiny pang of sympathy for the pitiful thing, she could only imagine the punishment he had gone through.
"Wow, Laura... you really did a number on him." she said, not wanting to betray the slight shock she felt at seeing his twisted form.
"I know, great isn't it?" she replied smugly, nestling deeper into her chair. "Go ahead, tell him to do anything."
Sarah was at a loss for what to do... she most certainly didn't want him to do anything too strenuous, but she did want to see how he behaved. "George... roll over." she commanded.
George heard these words loud and clear, the way she actually said his name brought a small smile to his face. He lay down, and rolled over, the order too simple to disobey.
"No, give him a real order."
"Okay... ummm... slave, rub my foot." she ordered in an unsure tone, moving him far down to her waiting peds and dropped him down. She lay back as she felt the tickle on her foot, the feeling on her right heel quite comfortable. This was nice, she admitted, George had clearly come along way in a single week.
Sarah's soles were slightly squishier than Laura's, the girl softer in many regards than her counterpart. He worked hard on her heel, wanting to make a good first impression. Laura had stressed this last night, if he did a bad job it reflected poorly on her, and neither of them wanted that.
"Great isn't he?" said Laura, the pride in her work practically beaming from her mouth.
"Yeah, he's really well trained..." she tried to enjoy the massage, but was still curious as to what exactly had happened during the previous week. "Say... Laura, how did you train him so well?"
"You didn't see my posts on Facebook?"
"Go and check 'em, a bit like a highlight reel."
Sarah complied and went onto her friend's Facebook page, seeing the uploaded photos. George between her feet, George unconscious at the gym, George attached to her ear, George hanging from her toes. Each one had a story behind them, one that Sarah didn't know if she wanted to find out the exact details of. Finally, she arrived at one last photo, a selfie her friend had taken, with George slouched over on a glass table in frame. The caption read: This guy just admitted he loved me💕 What a cutey 😘.
"Laura, what do you mean he admitted his love for you?"
"What it says, he said that he loved me. Like some kind of crush."
Sarah was startled a little bit by this, was she telling the truth? "George." she addressed, the tiny slave stopping his rubbing and stepping out into the view of his blonde owner. "Is this true?"
George nodded his head in shame, indeed he had fallen head over heels for Laura, a fact that he was reminded of each day.
"Wow..." said Sarah, the news unexpected to say the least. "How... how do you feel about that Laura?"
"I think its cute." she giggled as she blew a kiss to George "obviously I broke him in too hard, but he should be fine for you. Its funny really, I mean, loving a tiny? What a joke!" she gestured to George, forcing him to take the abuse. He was totally conflicted about what was happening, on one hand Sarah seemed to care about him a whole lot more than Laura ever would, but Laura was the one he loved... "Although, I do admit that I had fun with him..." she said as she brushed her arm slightly "he's definitely a fun guy to play with with."
Sarah was a little lost, George's admittance that he loved Laura not making any sense to her. How could he love someone so cruel to him? George asked the same question to himself.
"I'm gonna go for a swim, you coming?" asked the bikini clad brunette as she rose on to the warm sand.
"No, I think I'll stay here and see how well George is trained." she lied, she wanted to talk to him, to see what he really felt.
Laura shrugged as she marched to the deep blue water, her plump rear bouncing with each step. When Laura was out of ear shot Sarah leaned over and hoisted George from his position of rubbing her feet. She held the diminutive man in her hand as she brought him up to her face.
"George... how could you possibly love Laura? I can still see the bruises on your body."
He cleared his throat, raspy after days of unuse. "I... I... don't know..." was all that he could cough out.
"But you do love her? Like, love love?"
"Y-yeah, I do." he said, almost choking on his developing tears.
"D-do you want to... stay with her instead of me?"
George took sometime to think. He really didn't know. He knew a life with Laura would be one of unceasing torment at the hands of a cruel goddess, but he had a sort of voyeuristic desire to simply be with her. Anyway, a life with Sarah could be soul crushingly boring. "I don't know." was all that he could say, and he meant it. "I... I'm really sorry I was so disobedient to you... you were so understanding. I should have just done what you said, and this would have never of happened." George couldn't contain himself and curled up and sobbed.
Sarah looked down at the shuddering, shivering, sobbing pile of a tiny man in her hand. George was her's, and whatever Laura had done had broken him. She ran a giant finger along his back in an attempt to soothe him. The sight of him slapped Sarah in the face. When she bought George she though she wanted an obedient servant, the flashy advertising and friends' endorsements intoxicating her. She had completely neglected the dark side of this, the side the resulted in tiny, injured, broken men curled up in her palm and sobbing. She didn't know what to do, she just wanted this to be over. She wished she could have never bought him, she wished she had never given him to Laura, she wished she could just never see him again, but that ship had sailed. What she did was her burden, and she would have to try and find a solution. "George, I feel bad about what I did to you... I don't know how to feel anymore, about having a tiny slave, having you. I can definitely live without you... I know that might not be what you want to hear, but it's true." she stopped stroking him, nudging him with her finger's pad to be sitting upright, the tears draining from his eyes. "If you want to go with Laura, you can. I can understand if you want to leave me."
George stopped his blubbering to listen. He really didn't know what he wanted, he really just couldn't see where his life was going. Ever since he shrunk he knew that he wouldn't ever be normal again, and that he would be resigned to being a pet, but there was something more. At this moment he really felt pathetic, more pathetic than he had felt before. Sure, he had been stepped on, crushed, squished, teased and humiliated... but the hardest decision of his life was whose toes he would be licking. It was something so familiar, yet so new: a decision. All agency had been stripped from his life, and it is likely that this was the last choice that he would ever have to make. "I really don't know, Sarah." he said between croaks of his voice, he simply couldn't choose, he didn't know how. "But what ever happens... thank you... for knowing my name."
Sarah felt a sense of forlorn... maybe it was wrong to do what they did to tinies. They still had human minds, human feelings. She knew not everyone felt the same way, but she couldn't help to see the raw emotion that George was displaying. She could see Laura approaching from the ocean, finishing her swim. She placed the tiny thing on her thigh, just now drying his tears. "Look like your massaging me..." she ordered "and calm down, I'll figure something out."
George did as she commanded, kneading the soft flesh of her thigh between his shaking hands. His tears were dry now, but the knot in his stomach was still there.
"Good swim?" Sarah asked in the most casual tone she could muster.
"Yeah, nothing like it to cool off." replied her friends as her glistening body collapsed into her deck chair.
"Hey, Laura, I really do appreciate you training George..." she said, a slight quiver in her voice.
"No problem" she said
"But... I really don't think I need him that much."
"Oh?" said Laura, and also thought George, not that he would dare speak out of turn.
"So... as thanks for training him, how would you feel about... sharing him?"
Both Laura and George were slightly shocked at this. George decided that he didn't need to think right now, if he did he would get a headache, he just continued to rub the sensitive skin.
"So... like... I have him one week and you have him the next?" questioned the perplexed brunette.
"Yeah, exactly! I think it would be a waste for me to keep him to myself... and I can tell you had so much fun breaking him in. I mean, that yoga picture is hysterical!" Sarah tried desperately to get her friend to come around, knowing that if she failed, George would be crushed... but if she succeeded he may also be crushed... literally.
"Hmmm... well he was a lot of fun to break in. You would really be willing to share?"
"Of course! We'll meet up here in a week and we'll swap him over. Deal?"
"Deal! This is why you're my friend, Sarah." said Laura
"And this is why you're mine!" both girls laughed with each other.
Sarah shut the door to her dorm, pulling George out of her own handbag, a lot tidier than Laura's. She held him in her hand, his body still weak, fragile, injured. He looked around from his high up vantage point, the new dorm, where he would live for at least half his life. It was neat, tidy, with some warm decorations. He looked up at the blue hair and blonde eyes of his owner... the closest person he would have to a friend. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.
"George... welcome home... I guess." she tried to sound upbeat, but she really wasn't in the mood. "I don't know what to say, but I wont be mean. I promise. I'll let you do whatever you want. I know that Laura will be... rough with you. So this will be your time to relax, to heal." each word she said washed George in warm, minty breath, comforting in a way. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I really didn't, but I'm sure that in time we can grow use to it. I won't make you work if you don't want to." she tried to smile at the creature in her palm, but she could tell that no matter what she said he wouldn't be fixed instantly. She walked down the hallway and into her room, depositing him on her bedside table, under the shade of a dormant lamp. "I'll try and make you a comfy place to sleep, it'll be nice! I promise." and she went to work, searching for fabric around her room.
George needed to think very hard about what his life would be. Spending half with Laura and half with Sarah sounded... tolerable. Like he could do it. But he really didn't know, he didn't know anything anymore, he didn't need to. He was a toy, a pet, a slave, an insect, a distraction, a possession, a nothing, he was disposable, tiny, pathetic and unloved. All these things he thought about himself, and at least some of them were true. Maybe what he was doing was wrong, that being a leech off Sarah was wrong, and that torturing himself by being around the person he loved was wrong. Only time will tell, he reasoned, that getting worked up would be no use. He lay back, watching the giant busily work on creating a tiny room for him, a place that maybe he could call his own. This was a comforting thought, that at least someplace was for him.
This is officially the end of the story. I am definitely open to doing a sequel though, so be patient. I wanted to end this in a way that would make everyone happy, so thank you for your support.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.