Summary: Chase is chosen to fulfill a wish that his sister in law makes on a genie.
Another installment of the delaney saga.
Categories: Violent,
Giantess,
Feet,
Entrapment,
Fantasy,
Humiliation,
Slave Characters: None
Growth: None
Shrink: Lilliputian (6 in. to 3 in.)
Size Roles: F/m
Warnings: Following story may contain inappropriate material for certain audiences
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 3
Completed: No
Word count: 8298
Read: 8371
Published: April 24 2024
Updated: April 26 2024
Story Notes:
Ive been facing writers block recently hoping to add on to this story soon
1. The wish by Micro Maverick
2. New Diet by Micro Maverick
3. Chapter 3 by Micro Maverick
The wish by Micro Maverick
Chase’s eyelids fluttered open, only to be met by an oppressive darkness. A
chill ran down his spine as he attempted to shift his position, the realization
hitting him like a punch to the gut—his wrists and ankles were securely bound
with cold, heavy chains. The soft clink of metal resonated against what felt
like a solid, unforgiving floor beneath him. Panic surged through his veins as
he pulled against his restraints, the harsh metal unforgiving as it dug into
his flesh.
“Where am I?” The words tumbled from his lips, his voice
reverberating through the unseen space, only to return to him as though it were
from another. His mind raced back to the last slice of normalcy he
remembered—the comforting warmth of his bed and the soft, rhythmic breathing of
Alexis, his wife, sleeping peacefully beside him. The stark contrast between
that serene memory and his current predicament deepened his fear.
As confusion clouded his mind, a soft glow began to creep
across the space, illuminating what appeared to be a vast expanse with no
visible walls—except for a singular tan surface directly in front of him, its
texture oddly uniform and colossal, stretching upward into the darkness.
In the center of this bizarre scene stood a figure, both
startling and enchanting. She was tall, her stature almost unnerving, dressed
in a gown that shimmered with each subtle movement, her blonde hair flowing
over her shoulders like molten gold.
"Who are you?" Chase asked, his voice steadier
than he felt, his eyes locked onto the figure before him.
The woman flashed a grin, her lips curving with a mix of
mischief and secrecy. "Like, I’m basically the one who makes wishes come
true," she chirped, her voice youthful, tinged with the cadence of a
carefree teenager. "You’ve been, like, totally chosen, Chase, to fulfill
my master’s first wish. Pretty wild, right?"
Chase's heart thudded against his ribs. "Wish? What
wish? I don’t understand—"
But before he could protest further, the woman raised a
hand, her fingers sparkling with golden glimmers. "OMG, don’t stress about
the details," she giggled, her tone light and airy. "All will, like,
totally make sense soon." With a flick of her wrist, she vanished, the
light fading as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving behind only the faint,
sweet scent of jasmine.
The room flickered again with a soft light, and a second
'poof' echoed through the vast space, reverberating off the unseen walls. Chase
flinched, his heart hammering in his chest as he looked up. Towering above him
was the genie, now a colossal figure, her presence overwhelming. It was then
that the horrifying truth struck him: he was no longer his normal size. He must
have been shrunk to a mere six inches tall.
Desperately, he scanned his surroundings, his gaze darting
to the tan expanse he had previously mistaken for a wall. Now, with his
perspective grotesquely altered, he saw it for what it truly was—an enormous
foot. The foot was connected to an equally massive leg, toned and sculpted as
if chiseled from marble. His eyes traveled upward, tracing the intimidating
line of the leg up to a fit body clad in a tight black tank top that hugged
every curve aggressively, showcasing a formidable physique.
His breath caught in his throat as his gaze finally met the
face looming high above him. It was Delaney. Her deep blue eyes bore down at
him, filled with a scowl that chilled him to the bone. Her brunette hair was
pulled back into a strict ponytail, accentuating the harsh lines of her face.
Delaney's lips twisted into a scowl as she towered over
Chase, her eyes narrowing with evident disdain. "Why the hell is he
here?" she barked, turning her fierce gaze towards the genie who shimmered
into view beside her.
The genie, her voice tinged with a mystical calm, responded
with a graceful gesture of her hand, "You wished for the perfect slave,
didn't you? And truly, who better than Chase? He is the one you despise most,
making him the ideal choice to be utterly powerless under your control."
A moment of realization flickered across Delaney’s face,
twisting into a malicious grin. She burst into derisive laughter, the sound
harsh and chilling. "Fuck, that's perfect!" she cackled, glaring down
at Chase with a look of vicious glee. "Look at you, so fucking tiny and
powerless," she sneered, her voice booming like a cruel echo that filled
the space.
Chase’s heart raced in terror as he looked up at the
towering figure. This nightmare had to be unreal; it was too grotesque, too
twisted. Yet the icy floor beneath him and the immense form of Delaney hovering
above were as real as his rising panic.
"How—Why—" he gasped, his voice a mere whisper,
trembling as he tugged futilely at the chains that bound him to the ground.
Delaney's laughter continued, ringing out with cruel delight
as she savored her newfound power. Wiping a tear from her eye, she turned back
to the genie, a wicked smirk playing across her lips. "And what exactly do
you mean by 'utterly under my control'?" she asked, her tone dripping with
anticipation.
The genie, still maintaining her nonchalant demeanor,
floated slightly above the ground, her arms crossed as if amused by Delaney's
inquiry. "Well," she began, her voice casual yet clear, "it's
like, you're basically the god of Chase now. Anything you can dream up,
anything your wild imagination can concoct, you can do to him. No limits."
A dark gleam lit up Delaney’s eyes as she processed the
genie's words. She turned her gaze downward, looking at Chase as if seeing him
for the first time—a plaything, an object subjected to her whims. Her laughter
pealed out again, louder and more unsettling than before. "No fucking
limits?" she echoed, a twisted joy seeping into her voice. "Oh, this
is going to be fun."
Chase shivered on the cold floor, his heart sinking further
with each of Delaney's joyous outbursts. The helplessness of his situation was
overwhelming, the reality of his predicament settling in like a heavy shroud.
He was at the mercy of someone who relished his suffering, and there seemed to
be no escape from the nightmare that had engulfed him.
Delaney peered back down at Chase, her eyes glinting with
malice as she soaked in the terror emanating from him. The sheer helplessness
reflected in his eyes seemed to fuel her enjoyment, her smile widening into a
sinister grin.
Chase looked up at her, desperation flooding his face.
"Please, Delaney, this is crazy! You can't actually want to do this to me.
You can't really be that evil," he pleaded, his voice cracking under the
strain of his fear.
With a casual flick of her wrist, Delaney snapped her
fingers. Instantly, Chase's voice cut off mid-sentence, his mouth moving but no
sound emerging. She laughed, a deep, malevolent chuckle that filled the space
around them. "Oh, but I can," she said, reveling in her control.
"And I just did. You can't talk anymore unless it's to compliment me or
tell me how ecstatic you are to be my slave."
Chase's eyes widened in horror as he tried to speak, tried
to protest, but found himself unable to utter anything except a strangled
whimper. Delaney's laughter echoed around him, a sound that chilled him to the
bone.
Delaney, still smirking at the silenced Chase beneath her, was momentarily
interrupted by the genie, who shimmered into visibility once more. "So, do
you want to use your other two wishes now?" the genie asked, her voice
lilting with curiosity.
Delaney glanced at the tiny figure of Chase, a symbol of her
newfound dominion, then back at the genie with a dismissive wave of her hand.
"I have everything I could ever want right here," she declared, her
gaze locking on Chase with a predatory delight. "I don't need anything
else."
"Very well," the genie responded, her tone
neutral. "I'll be in my lamp, just summon me when you need me again."
With that, a swirl of golden sparkles enveloped the genie, and she disappeared
without a trace, leaving no sign of her presence except for the lingering scent
of jasmine in the air.
Now truly alone with Delaney, Chase felt the full gravity of
his plight. The room seemed colder, the silence heavier. Delaney towered over
him, her figure casting a long shadow that enveloped him in darkness. The power
in her eyes was unmistakable, and it was clear she relished this control more
than he had feared.
Delaney reveled in the surge of power at her command, her
voice thick with glee as she loomed ominously over Chase. "This is just
amazing," she crowed, her eyes alight with wicked pleasure. "And for
you, it's going to be absolutely miserable."
Her smirk widened, morphing her face into a mask of cruel
delight. "There's something I've always dreamed of doing to you, and now,
I finally can," she said, her tone laced with dark anticipation. Slowly,
she lifted her foot, the movement deliberate and foreboding.
Chase's eyes widened in terror as Delaney's foot, a colossal
structure of tanned flesh, hovered ominously above him. The sole of her foot
was a vast landscape of its own right—deeply tanned and careworn, marked by
life's journeys. Each wrinkle was a canyon, each flake of dry skin a rough,
dusty terrain. The sheer size of it eclipsed the light, casting a shadow that
enveloped him in darkness. It was not just a foot; it was a monumental
declaration of her control over him, a ceiling of skin that threatened to
compress and suffocate, leaving no room for escape.
"Chase, catch!" Delaney's voice was mocking,
dripping with malevolence as she loomed ominously above. With a cruel smirk
etching her features, she lifted her foot high, casting a vast shadow over him.
Chase's eyes widened in terror, his body frozen, knowing resistance was futile.
Without a moment's hesitation, her foot descended with
brutal force. Chase had no time to react, no space to escape. The overwhelming
weight of Delaney’s bare sole crashed down upon him, the pressure excruciating
as it obliterated him beneath its mass. Pain exploded, intense and
all-consuming, as his body compressed against the unforgiving ground. Every
bone seemed to shatter, every fiber tore apart under the relentless crush.
The rough texture of her sole ground into him, embedding
fragments of dust and skin into what remained of him, mingling with the bloody
pulp that once was his form. The agony was absolute, a searing, annihilating
pain that consumed his senses completely.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the pain ceased, and
darkness engulfed him, a brief, silent void where he was mercifully free from
suffering. But this respite was fleeting; life surged back violently, dragging
him from the peace of oblivion.
Chase gasped for air, his body intact once more, next to
Delaney’s colossal foot. He lay there, panting, his heart pounding wildly as he
tried to process the horrifying cycle of death and rebirth he had just
experienced. He looked up in dazed shock, his mind reeling from the terror of
his ordeal and the chilling realization that it could be repeated at any
moment, at Delaney's whim.
Delaney's laughter rang out, cold and triumphant. "See?
I can kill you whenever I want and just bring you back," she said, her
voice filled with a chilling delight. "Imagine all the fun I'm going to
have knowing you can't escape, not even in death."
As Chase lay on the ground, his chest heaving rapidly, he
struggled to catch his breath, the shock of his violent death and sudden
resurrection overwhelming him. Delaney stood above, her laughter echoing around
the room, a sound as chilling as it was gleeful. She watched him with sheer
delight, reveling in the terror that gripped him.
"Oh, this is just too good," Delaney said, her
voice dripping with malice. "Tell me, Chase, how are you feeling right
now?" She snapped her fingers with a smirk, and almost instantly, tears
began to stream down Chase's face.
"It was horrifying," Chase choked out between
sobs, the memory of being crushed alive fresh in his mind. "It hurt so
much... being flattened beneath your foot... I can't describe it. It was like
every bone in my body breaking at once."
Delaney's laughter grew louder, more sadistic at his
confession. "Oh, that sounds absolutely terrifying," she mocked, her
tone thick with mockery. "I love hearing how much pain I can cause you.
It’s exhilarating to have this kind of power over you, to know I can inflict
such fear and agony and then just bring you back to do it all over again."
Chase's body trembled as he listened to her words, the
reality of his endless torment at her hands setting in. He was trapped in a
vicious cycle of death and rebirth, each moment at the mercy of Delaney's cruel
whims. His eyes widened with fear, his heart pounding against his ribcage as he
realized there was no escape from the sadistic game she reveled in playing.
Delaney looked down at Chase, her gaze cold and calculating,
as he lay trembling on the ground. A twisted smirk curled her lips as she began
to speak, her voice carrying the weight of her cruel intentions.
"Listen up, Chase, because I'm only going to say this
once. I'm not a complete monster. I know Alexis loves you, and as much as it
amuses me to fuck with you, I don't want to hurt her by stealing her husband
away permanently. So yeah, I'll let you go back to your pathetic little life,
play house, and pretend everything is normal," she paused, her smirk
widening as she savored the fear emanating from him.
"But here's the fucking kicker," Delaney
continued, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "For the rest of your
miserable fucking life, you need to remember one thing—I am your god. I can do
anything I want with you, anytime I choose. And there's nothing you can do
about it."
She laughed—a harsh, echoing sound that filled the room.
"Think of it as a little game. You'll go about your day, smile at your
wife, go to work, but in the back of your mind, you'll always know that I can
pull you back into this nightmare whenever I feel like it. I can bring you to
your knees with a snap of my fingers."
Delaney stepped closer, her face inches from his, her
expression twisted with delight. "And just to make sure you really
understand your place," she said, snapping her fingers with a sharp flick.
"I've just made it so you can't tell anyone about what happened here. Not
a fucking soul. If you try, you'll find that the words won't come out. No one
will believe you. No one can help you."
Her laughter rose again, cruel and triumphant. "So, go
ahead, Chase. Go back to your life, hold your wife, laugh with your friends.
But never forget that you are mine, and this—this power I have over you—is
forever."
With a final malicious grin, Delaney snapped her fingers.
The space around Chase began to blur, the sinister room and the looming figure
of Delaney fading into a whirl of shadows. A sensation of falling, like
slipping through layers of darkness, engulfed him until, quite suddenly, it
stopped.
Chase's eyes fluttered open, and he was met with the
familiar sight of his bedroom ceiling. His heart was still racing, sweat
beading on his forehead, but the room was peaceful, bathed in the soft light of
early morning. Beside him, Alexis lay sleeping, her breathing even and calm,
completely unaware of the nightmare he had just endured.
He turned his head to glance at the alarm clock on the
bedside table; it was moments away from going off, the seconds ticking down to
the start of another day. The normalcy of the scene was jarring compared to the
terror he had just experienced. His mind reeled, trying to process if what had
happened was real or some vivid, twisted dream.
The soft buzz of the alarm finally broke through the morning
stillness, jolting Alexis awake. She stretched and turned to him with a sleepy
smile. "Good morning," she murmured, her voice filled with warmth.
Chase forced a smile, his throat tight. The words of
warning, the weight of the threat Delaney had imposed on him, echoed in his
mind. He wanted to tell Alexis everything, to warn her, to seek comfort in her
embrace, but he remembered Delaney's final curse—he couldn't. The realization
that he was utterly alone in this, unable to share his burden, pressed down on
him with a suffocating force.
He responded with a muted "Good morning" to
Alexis, his voice barely hiding the tremor of fear that Delaney's promise had
instilled in him. As he sat up in bed, the fabric of his reality now seemed a
fragile veil, one that could be torn away at any moment by Delaney’s cruel
whims. Each second felt like a stolen piece of time, a momentary respite from
the chaos that now lurked perpetually at the edges of his life.
With every beat of his heart, Chase was acutely aware of the
delicate balance he had to maintain—pretending everything was normal, all while
knowing the terror that could be unleashed upon him with just a snap of
Delaney's fingers.
New Diet by Micro Maverick
Chase slipped out of bed, his movements automatic, as he
tried to hold onto the normalcy of his routine. The familiar, comforting tasks
of the morning seemed like the only things keeping him anchored to reality. In
the kitchen, he moved mechanically, cracking eggs into a pan, setting slices of
bread in the toaster, and laying out strips of bacon to sizzle quietly. The
familiar sounds and smells, the routine of it, briefly calmed his frayed
nerves.
He plated the breakfast carefully, arranging the eggs,
toast, and bacon with an almost obsessive precision, as if the order could
somehow restore order to his life. He set the table, each movement punctuated
by the ticking of the kitchen clock, a reminder that time was moving
relentlessly forward.
Just as he placed the final fork beside the plate, the sound
of footsteps echoed from the hallway. Chase’s heart lurched in his chest as
Delaney strode into the kitchen. She was dressed casually, but even in her
simplicity, she exuded an intimidating presence. Chase froze, a visceral fear
gripping him as he watched her approach. The memory of her cruel laughter and
the crushing power she wielded over him flashed vividly in his mind.
Delaney noticed his reaction and laughed, a sound that
seemed too light for the heaviness it carried. "Relax, Chase," she
said, her voice playful yet edged with something darker. Her smile was a
twisted echo of the kindness he had once thought she was capable of.
Chase tried to respond, to say something, anything that
might appease her or protect himself, but his mouth wouldn’t obey. He opened
his lips, yet no sound emerged. Panic fluttered in his chest as he remembered
her curse—he could not speak unless it was to compliment her or express his
supposed joy at being her slave. The realization left him mute, his mouth
opening and closing soundlessly like a fish out of water.
Delaney's laughter filled the kitchen as she watched Chase
struggle to speak, her amusement clear in the cruel twist of her lips.
"What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?" she taunted, reveling in
his discomfort. "Come on, don't be so scared. I'm not going to crush
you—not before breakfast, at least. Can't even tell me how thrilled you are to
serve me this delicious breakfast?"
Chase's face flushed with frustration and humiliation under
her mocking gaze. The enforced silence of the curse weighed heavily on him, a
tangible reminder of his powerless state. In a moment of desperation, he turned
away from Delaney and walked briskly to the counter where a pen and a stack of
paper lay. Snatching them up, he scribbled quickly, his handwriting shaky with
pent-up emotion. He wrote: "You made it so I can't speak unless it's a
compliment."
Delaney watched him, a smirk playing on her lips as she
enjoyed his predicament. As Chase held up the paper for her to see, her
laughter grew louder. She snapped her fingers with a dramatic flourish.
"Oh, right! I totally forgot about that little detail," she chuckled,
her voice echoing around the room. "Okay, there you go. You can speak
freely now."
Chase's resolve hardened as he regained his ability to speak
freely. Turning back to face Delaney with a defiant look, he said, "This
breakfast isn't for you. It's for me."
Delaney's face darkened, her eyes narrowing into a malicious
glare. "You should try to do a better job serving me, Chase, or I will
have to punish you," she threatened, her voice cold and menacing.
"Remember, the only reason you aren’t living in a tiny cage in my room is
because I love Alexis."
Chase’s jaw set firmly, his resolve unshaken by her threats.
"Make your own breakfast," he retorted, his voice steady despite the
danger her words implied.
Delaney laughed, the sound harsh and devoid of humor.
"Punishment it is then," she declared with a smirk, snapping her
fingers casually.
Chase felt no immediate change and, brushing off the
exchange with a scoff, turned to sit at the kitchen table. He picked up his
fork, scooping up a bite of his usual breakfast. But as soon as the food
touched his tongue, his face contorted in disgust. The flavors he normally
savored every morning were repulsive, twisted into something vile. He spat it
out, a look of confusion and revulsion washing over his face.
"What the hell did you do?" he exclaimed, staring
at the plate as if it were a foreign object.
Delaney's laughter pierced the air, rich with delight at Chase's discomfort.
She leaned back against the counter, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp
with cruelty. "Oh, Chase, you should see your face right now! Here’s how
it’s gonna work," she smirked, her voice dripping with disdain. "I've
tweaked your taste buds a bit. From now on, the only things you'll be able to
stomach are my toe jam and the sweat from my feet. Delicious, right?"
She sauntered closer, a wicked grin spreading across her
face. "And here’s the kicker—you're going to beg me for it. Beg me to
exercise, to work up a nice sweat just so you can have something to quench your
thirst. How pathetic you’ll look, groveling at my feet for every morsel, every
drop!"
Her laughter grew louder, echoing off the kitchen walls as
she reveled in the absolute power she held over him. "This is just
perfect. Whenever you’re hungry or thirsty, remember, you’ll need to come
crawling to me. Not just for the 'food' but for the privilege of getting it.
Each plea will remind you of your place right where you belong—below me,
dependent on whatever I choose to give you."
Chase felt a mix of nausea and rage, but Delaney’s face
showed only enjoyment, her pleasure in his torment unmistakable.
Delaney's amusement showed no signs of waning as she
continued to revel in the power she wielded over Chase. Her eyes sparkled with
malicious glee as she watched him grapple with the grotesque reality she had
thrust upon him.
"So, since you can’t eat it..." Delaney trailed
off, her voice tinged with mock sympathy. With a casual flick of her wrist, she
snapped her fingers. In an instant, the roles were reversed. Chase found
himself standing where Delaney had been, and she took his place at the kitchen
table, gleefully settling into the chair in front of the breakfast he had
prepared.
Chase watched, aghast, as Delaney enthusiastically dug into
his meal, savoring each bite with an exaggerated moan of pleasure. "Mmm,
you really outdid yourself, Chase. This is delicious," she taunted, her
eyes meeting his over a mouthful of eggs. "Too bad you won’t be enjoying
any of it ever again."
The sight of Delaney indulging in the food he could no
longer eat twisted the knife of her cruelty deeper. Chase felt a sinking
feeling in his stomach, not just from hunger but from the realization of how
complete Delaney's control over him was. He was left to stare, helpless and
revolted, not only by the loss of one of life's simple pleasures but by the
debasing diet she had condemned him to endure.
Delaney laughed between bites, thoroughly enjoying both the
meal and the spectacle of Chase's misery. "Remember, whenever you get
hungry, just come find me. I might even let you watch me eat sometimes, just
for kicks," she said, her voice dripping with sadistic pleasure.
Chase stood motionless, his feelings of disgust and anger
mingling with a pervasive sense of powerlessness. Delaney's laughter echoed in
his ears, a cruel soundtrack to his new, twisted reality.
As Delaney continued to relish Chase's breakfast, the sound
of sleepy footsteps approached. Alexis appeared in the doorway, rubbing her
eyes, her voice soft with morning drowsiness. "Good morning," she
mumbled, blinking as she noticed the scene at the kitchen table.
Delaney, quick to play the doting sister-in-law, flashed a
charming smile at Alexis. "Good morning! Chase made me this amazing
breakfast, and it's absolutely delicious," she proclaimed, emphasizing her
enjoyment as she took another satisfied bite.
Chase, still reeling from the recent cruel twist, managed
only a strained smile in response, unable to speak his frustration as Alexis
turned her attention toward him. "Did you make any for me? I thought you
might let me sleep in, but this looks good," she said, a hopeful note in
her voice.
He took a moment, his emotions knotted as he responded.
"I thought you were going to sleep in, but I can make you some now,"
Chase offered, his voice controlled but tight. Alexis, unaware of the tension,
nodded happily.
"That sounds great. Make enough for both of us, and we
can eat together," she suggested cheerfully, completely oblivious to the
undercurrents in the room.
Chase nodded, forcing the words through gritted teeth, a
facade of normalcy barely maintained. "Sure, I’ll get started on that. But
I’m not hungry," he added, his voice slightly edged as he turned away to
hide the mix of anger and helplessness that Delaney's actions had stirred in
him.
As he began preparing another breakfast, his hands moved
mechanically, each action a reminder of the bizarre and humiliating reality
Delaney had imposed upon him. Meanwhile, Delaney watched with a barely
concealed smirk, enjoying the discomfort she had orchestrated, while Alexis,
still sleepy and clueless, looked on, grateful for the morning's seeming
normalcy.
As the morning progressed into afternoon, the semblance of
normalcy that had briefly colored the start of the day faded. Alexis left for
work, her departure marking the return of a quiet house. Left alone, Chase
found himself with an unexpected day off, a break that usually would have been
welcome. To distract himself from the unsettling events of the morning, he
turned to video games, seeking solace in digital realms where he wielded
control and commanded power—stark contrasts to the helpless predicament imposed
upon him in reality.
Chase settled into the rhythm of the games, the familiar
clicks and sounds of the controller offering a temporary reprieve from his
thoughts. The virtual battles and victories provided a much-needed sense of
accomplishment and autonomy, momentarily pushing away the dark cloud of
Delaney's cruelty. However, as the day wore on, the distraction began to wane.
His initial hunger, which had started as a mild discomfort easily ignored in
the focus of gameplay, slowly intensified. The discomfort morphed into a persistent,
gnawing hunger, escalating with each passing hour until it became unbearable.
The more he tried to lose himself in the game, the harder it
became to ignore the painful pangs that reminded him of his grim reality. The
artificial light of the screen flickered in his increasingly unfocused eyes, a
stark reminder that no matter how far he delved into these virtual escapes,
they could not provide him with the sustenance he desperately needed. Chase was
finally forced to pause the game and confront the issue head-on, his body
demanding attention with an urgency that could no longer be sidelined.
Finally, unable to ignore the pangs any longer, Chase paused
his game and reluctantly made his way to the living room. Delaney was there,
lounging under a cozy blanket, her attention fixed on an episode of "The
Bachelor" playing on the TV. A mug of coffee was perched in her hand, and
she seemed perfectly content in her distraction.
Chase cleared his throat, his presence clearly unwelcome as
Delaney barely glanced his way, her annoyance evident. "This isn’t funny
anymore," he started, his voice tense with frustration. "You need to
make it so I can eat real food again."
As Chase interrupted her leisurely viewing, Delaney's focus
snapped sharply from the TV screen to him, her eyes narrowing with irritation.
She slammed her coffee mug down with a definitive clack, throwing off her
blanket aggressively as she sat up to confront him.
"Who the fuck do you think you are talking to? I’m your
god." she hissed, her voice laced with venom. "You really think you
can speak to me like that? You're nothing here, Chase."
Leaning forward, her cold gaze locked onto his, she
continued, her words biting, "You've forgotten your place, so let me
remind you. I set those fucking rules to keep you right under my foot—exactly
where you belong." Her smirk was cruel, filled with a sadistic pleasure.
"You don’t get to demand shit. You don’t beg for better food. You beg for
the privilege of licking my toe jam or drinking my foot sweat if you’re so
fucking thirsty."
Her tone was taunting, each word meant to degrade. "So
if you think you can handle that, maybe I’ll consider giving you a drop or a
crumb. But honestly, I’m having too much fun watching you struggle."
Delaney casually picked up her coffee again, sipping it as if she had merely
discussed something trivial, not the humiliating conditions she imposed on him.
As Delaney continued to sip her coffee, enjoying her
dominion, Chase's stomach let out a painful rumble. The sound was loud in the
quiet room, a stark reminder of his desperate situation. He clenched his fists,
his face contorted with the inner struggle between his pride and the gnawing
hunger that threatened to overwhelm him. Finally, unable to bear the physical
agony any longer, he dropped to his knees before Delaney, his every movement
laden with humiliation.
"Please," he choked out, the words scraping
against his pride as they left his lips. "Please let me have some of your
toe jam. I'm so hungry." Each word was a shard of glass, cutting into his
self-respect, leaving him feeling exposed and debased.
Delaney watched him grovel, a smirk playing across her lips,
her eyes alight with a cruel satisfaction. She set her coffee down, leaning
forward to savor the moment more fully. "Look at you, so pathetic, begging
for scraps from my feet. I knew you’d break; they always do," she taunted,
her voice dripping with disdain. "It’s almost sad how easy it is to make
you squirm."
Delaney reveled in her control, watching Chase's defeated
expression with a gleam of sadistic pleasure in her eyes. With a mocking grace,
she sat up straighter and slowly slid one foot out from under the blanket,
presenting it to him. "Alright, let's see what we got here," she
cooed, as she leisurely spread her toes apart.
Peering between her toes, she feigned disappointment.
"Oh, look at that, just a tiny little speck of toe jam," she
exclaimed with a theatrical sigh. Her eyes flicked up to meet Chase's,
sparkling with cruel amusement. "Guess I might need to go for a run later,
huh? Make sure my feet really cook up some dinner for you," she laughed
heartily, thoroughly enjoying the power she wielded.
Chase's face contorted with humiliation and revulsion, but
the gnawing hunger forced his hand. He dropped to his knees, his voice barely a
whisper, thick with desperation and hate. "Please, Delaney, let me have
it," he begged, his eyes locked on the tiny speck of toe jam as if it were
a feast. Every word he spoke, every plea he made, deepened his loathing for
her, yet his survival instinct pushed him to degrade himself further.
Delaney's laughter filled the room, the sound rich with
mockery and amusement. As she watched Chase's desperate, humiliated form at her
feet, a wicked grin spread across her face. "I guess..." she mused,
dragging out her response with a theatrical flair.
"You know what? I'll help you out," Delaney said,
her voice dripping with faux generosity. She snapped her fingers, and in an
instant, Chase found his entire world shifting. The room around him blurred and
then refocused at a dizzying scale. Suddenly, he was minuscule, wedged between
Delaney's toes, the size of a mere speck. To him, the cluster of toe jam now
loomed like a substantial mound, seemingly enough for a full meal.
He could barely comprehend his new perspective as he looked
up. Delaney’s face was planetary in scale, her features vast and distorted by
the proximity. She peered down between her toes, her eyes locking onto his tiny
form with evident delight.
"Oh, look at that," Delaney cooed mockingly from
far above, her voice booming around him like thunder. "Now, doesn’t that
look like a feast fit for a king?" Her laughter resonated through the air,
her immense face breaking into a wide, malicious smile.
Chase felt an overwhelming mix of fear, disgust, and
disbelief as he realized the enormity of her power and control. Delaney was
getting off on this, reveling in the absolute dominion she held over him.
Chase's reality had become surreal, a nightmare of
proportions and tastes that overwhelmed his senses. Tentatively, he reached out
with shaking hands toward the grotesque glob of toe jam that towered before
him. The texture was clumpy and moist, an unpleasant mixture of skin cells,
sweat, and dirt, clinging together in a sticky mass.
With a deep breath to steel himself, Chase pinched a handful
of the offensive substance, its consistency a gritty paste that squished
between his fingers. The smell alone was nauseating, a pungent odor of aged
insoles and stale foot sweat that made his stomach churn. He hesitated, the
reality of his next action settling in with a weight that felt physically
oppressive.
Reluctantly, he brought it to his lips, the initial contact
with his tongue sending a shudder through his entire body. The taste was as
foul as the smell had promised: a sharp, acrid flavor mingled with the salty
tang of sweat and the earthiness of accumulated grime. It was akin to eating
the residue scraped off a well-worn shoe insole—a thought that made him gag,
but he fought through the urge to vomit.
Forced by his dire circumstances, Chase swallowed the toe
jam, each gulp a battle against his revulsion. His face contorted with each
bite, the ordeal an assault on his dignity and his palate.
Above him, Delaney seemed to lose interest in his plight as
quickly as it had amused her. With a nonchalant flick of her gigantic hand, she
turned her attention back to the television, the sounds of "The
Bachelor" filling the room once again. To her, Chase had become nothing
more than a momentary diversion, a flea-sized man battling a monstrous meal,
now unworthy of her attention.
Chase continued to eat, his actions desperate and automatic.
Each mouthful was a grim reminder of his helplessness and Delaney’s cruel
whims. He was alone in his disgust and misery, overshadowed by Delaney's
indifference as she lounged comfortably, absorbed in her show, her earlier
amusement at his suffering now replaced by detachment. The stark contrast
between their experiences—her leisure against his humiliation—was a bitter pill
to swallow, almost as bitter as the vile toe jam he forced down.
Chapter 3 by Micro Maverick
Having finally ingested enough of the vile substance to quell the pangs of hunger, Chase was awash with both relief and intense disgust. Abruptly, Delaney snapped her fingers, and in a flash, he was returned to his full size. He reeled momentarily from the sudden change, feeling disoriented and slightly nauseous. As he regained his bearings, he noticed the remnants of the toe jam smeared grotesquely across his lips.
Delaney's response was immediate and merciless. She erupted into boisterous laughter, her finger pointing directly at him as her voice filled with mocking glee. "Oh my god, look at you! That’s just so fucking disgusting—and absolutely hilarious!" she roared, finding immense amusement in his debased appearance.
The heat of deep humiliation washed over Chase, turning his face a bright shade of red as he frantically wiped his mouth, desperate to remove the grim residue. Anger simmered within him, a silent, seething fury at the degradation he had just endured. Yet, despite the rage coursing through him, he was painfully aware of the precariousness of his situation. Any word of defiance or disgust might only incite Delaney further, possibly leading her to concoct even more humiliating ordeals for him. This awareness forced him into a resentful silence, his jaws clenched tight as he suppressed the urge to lash out or vocalize the injustice of his torment.
Delaney's laughter escalated, each chuckle sharper and more piercing as she reveled in Chase's humiliation. "Oh, Chase, your face is just too much!" she sneered, her voice thick with scorn. "Look at you, all smeared with toe jam—absolutely pathetic and disgusting!"
She tapped her temple mockingly, her grin spreading wider in cruel satisfaction. "And guess what? I can totally read your thoughts," she spat, her tone vicious. "I know exactly how fucking furious you are. And you know what? You're powerless. What are you going to do about it? Absolutely fucking nothing." she crowed, delighting in the power she wielded over him.
Her gaze was sharp, her enjoyment palpable as she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "And you know the best part? I could easily make it so you'd actually like the taste of my toe jam. But why would I? Where's the fun in that?" Delaney chuckled darkly, her eyes alight with malevolent pleasure. "No, I much prefer watching you suffer, knowing you hate every second. You’re completely at my mercy, and I’m loving every moment of it."
Delaney's amusement showed no signs of waning as she watched Chase, still reeling from her mockery. With a wicked grin, she continued, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Now that I've done you a huge favor by feeding you," she said, emphasizing her disdain, "it's only fair you pay me back. Time to get to work on these feet. They're not going to rub themselves."
Before Chase could muster a response or even think of defying her, Delaney snapped her fingers. Instantly, his body obeyed her command against his will, moving with a mind of its own. He found himself dropping to one knee in front of her, his hands reaching out to grasp one of her feet. Despite his internal protests, his hands began to massage her foot, working the arches and toes as she commanded.
Delaney leaned back contentedly, a smug smile spreading across her face as she returned her attention to the television show. The control she exerted was complete, her satisfaction derived not only from the physical service he provided but also from the knowledge that she could manipulate his actions so completely.
Chase found himself kneeling, his hands automatically enveloping Delaney's foot, driven by the silent command she had imposed. With a reluctant resignation, his thumbs began to press deeply into the soft arch of her foot, moving in firm, circular motions that pushed against the tense muscles. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the slight moisture from her day's activities making his movements smoother.
As he worked up to the ball of her foot, his fingers kneaded the flesh there, working out the knots and tension accumulated from her active lifestyle. Delaney let out a soft moan of relief, her body visibly relaxing into the couch as she watched her show. The sounds of her contented sighs punctuated the air, a stark reminder to Chase of the pleasure his forced servitude brought her.
Next, he moved to her toes, each one receiving individual attention. He gently pulled and massaged them, eliciting more sighs of pleasure from Delaney. Her enjoyment was evident in every relaxed exhale, each one a small victory for her, a testament to the control she wielded with such ease.
As Chase continued the foot rub, the rhythmic motions became almost mechanical, each movement a testament to the grim reality of his servitude. Delaney's occasional murmurs of pleasure were interspersed with chuckles at her show, highlighting the casual nature of her dominance. Chase felt every sigh of her relief as a weight, each one underscoring his own helplessness and degradation under her rule.
As Chase diligently massaged Delaney's foot, she remained engrossed in her show, barely acknowledging his presence or the effort he was putting into soothing her aches. With an air of complete nonchalance, she casually lifted her other foot, not even glancing in his direction as she did so. The gesture was dismissive, a clear signal that she expected him to switch without any need for verbal instruction.
Reacting almost reflexively, Chase's hands left the first foot and moved to the newly raised one. His movements were automatic, honed by the unspoken demands of his new role. He began to work on her second foot with the same level of care and precision, pressing and kneading the soft arch and working his way through her toes. Delaney’s indifference to the transition was stark; she continued to focus on her entertainment, sipping her drink and laughing at the television, as if the person providing her comfort was merely another appliance in her luxurious living space.
As Chase continued the rhythmic motions of massaging Delaney's foot, he hesitated, feeling a mix of fear and desperation. With a cautious glance up at her, he finally gathered the nerve to speak, his voice quivering slightly. "Um, how long do I have to keep doing this?" he asked timidly, quickly adding, "I just thought maybe I could still have some time to myself today... my day off, you know?" His words trailed off, the uncertainty clear in his tone as he braced for her response.
Delaney let out a sharp, mocking laugh, her response tinged with amusement at his plight. "Day off? You really think you get days off anymore?" she scoffed, her voice carrying the vibrant energy of a young, power-drunk tyrant. "Chase, any moment you're not playing the devoted husband to Alexis, you'll be serving me. That's your life now."
Her laughter filled the room again, cruel and dismissive. "You should really start getting used to this," she continued, her tone playful yet piercing. "This is all there is for you now—serving me, whenever and however I want. It's hilarious you thought you could still have something like a 'day off.'"
Chase, his frustration building alongside the relentless physical toil, attempted to argue, his voice tinged with indignation. "This is cruel, even for you—"
But Delaney, clearly uninterested in his complaints, rolled her eyes dramatically and with a flick of her wrist, she snapped her fingers. Before Chase could finish his sentence, his body betrayed him. To his horror, he found himself not just continuing the foot rub, but also starting to plant repeated kisses on the sole of her foot. Each kiss was involuntary, forcing him to silence, his lips pressing against her skin over and over, effectively cutting off any further attempt to argue or protest.
Delaney's laughter pealed through the room, sharp and exultant as she reveled in Chase's humiliation. "Oh, look at you, so obedient!" she taunted, her tone brimming with sadistic pleasure. "Honestly, Chase, it’s like you forget who I am. I'm not just 'like' a god—I am your god," she declared, emphasizing her self-appointed divinity with a cruel smirk.
She leaned back, enjoying the view of him helplessly obeying her commands. "You should have realized by now that arguing with me is just stupid. You're here to serve me, that's your only purpose," she continued, her voice laced with a youthful, biting cruelty. "And you know what? I absolutely love how much you hate this. It makes it so much more fun for me."
Her words cut deep, each one designed to remind him of his powerlessness and her absolute control, enjoying each moment of his suffering like a twisted game. Delaney's demeanor was that of a capricious, narcissistic ruler, taking perverse satisfaction in the authority she wielded over him.
As Delaney watched Chase obediently rub her feet, a look of mocking glee played across her face. However, her amusement soon gave way to a visible boredom, her features contorting into an expression of disdain as she stared down at him. "You know, I'm really starting to get bored of your face," she said with a cruel smirk, her voice dripping with scorn as her eyes narrowed in mock thoughtfulness.
With a languid motion that belied the impending dramatic shift, Delaney flicked her wrist casually. At the snap of her fingers, reality twisted for Chase. The room around him seemed to explode in size, growing exponentially in a disorienting rush. He felt himself shrinking rapidly, each detail of the room becoming larger and more overwhelming by the second. In moments, he was reduced to a mere millimeter, his body now minuscule on the vast landscape of the floor.
Looking up, the sight was terrifying. Delaney's foot loomed over him like a monumental structure, each toe rising like an enormous tower, the creases in her skin resembling deep, unscalable canyons. The sheer scale of her compared to his tiny form underscored his helplessness and the absurdity of his situation.
From what seemed like a million miles above, Chase heard Delaney’s voice booming down at him. "You can spend the rest of your 'day off,'" she said, her words dripping with sarcasm, "right where you belong."
As Chase grappled with the shock of his sudden, severe diminution, Delaney's foot began its colossal ascent above him. He stared upward in stark terror, her visage looming like a deity in the vast expanse above—a giant observing an inconsequential ant. Despite the immense scale of her form, her movements were alarmingly swift, a stark contrast to the slow, cumbersome motions one might expect of such a titanic being.
Delaney’s expression morphed into a sinister grin, the corners of her mouth twisting upwards as she prepared to assert her dominance in a devastating display. She hoisted her foot high above Chase, transforming it in his eyes from a mere appendage into a monumental edifice, a looming colossus casting a vast shadow over him. The motion was startlingly swift, the sheer scale of her movement belying the expected slowness of such a massive object.
As her foot descended, the world above Chase—once a distant ceiling and the towering figure of Delaney—was rapidly obscured by the advancing sole of her foot. It came into focus as a titanic landscape, replacing the sky with a terrain of skin that stretched out like the surface of some vast, uncharted planet. The ridges and creases of her foot formed an intricate network of canyons and peaks, each line a deep furrow etched into the landscape, each whorl a mountainous dome. The details of her skin were exaggerated to an epic scale, making the familiar strangely alien and overwhelmingly imposing.
This colossal expanse of skin, textured and complex, bore down on him with the inevitability of a natural disaster, transforming the space around him into a world where he was less than a speck, an ant about to be crushed under the unstoppable force of nature that was Delaney’s foot.
Before Chase could even process a thought of escape or defense, Delaney's foot descended with terrifying swiftness and precision. The sheer magnitude and suddenness of its movement overwhelmed him, pinning him helplessly against the warm, slightly moist surface of her foot's ball. His body was instantly adhered to her skin, which, at this proximity, seemed to stretch on like an endless landscape of warm, living terrain marked by deep, geological contours.
The pressure was colossal, nearly unimaginable. It was as if the entire weight of a skyscraper had been compacted into a single, oppressive force directly above him. This force pressed him mercilessly into the ground, a dark, stifling weight that smothered any notion of movement. The skin against which he was pressed exuded a slight sweat, sticky and humid, which acted almost like an adhesive, binding him even more firmly to the sole of Delaney's foot. Each attempt to lift himself, even slightly, was thwarted by the tackiness of her sweat mixed with the relentless force pressing down upon him.
As Delaney's sole sealed him against the floor, a physical and almost total darkness enveloped him. He could feel every subtle shift of her foot, each movement a tectonic shift that threatened to completely obliterate his minuscule form. The inescapable force rendered him utterly immobile and insignificant, flattening him against the vast, sweat-slicked landscape of her skin.
From this minuscule vantage point, Delaney truly seemed a god—a colossal, omnipotent force whose every slight movement resonated like the rumblings of fate itself. Chase, now nothing more than a speck of dust under the shadow of such a mighty entity, was crushed not just physically by the immense pressure and sticky hold of her sweat but was also spiritually overwhelmed by the sheer disparity between his insignificant existence and her towering omnipotence.
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.