Excerpt from Marco's last blog entry
What a weird fucking day.
It was just an in-school swim event, not like it was some big deal. But this guy comes sauntering in like he's Michael Phelps or something, wearing a gown with his name printed on the back and with some posse in the crowd cheering for him. Apparently he's some sort of pretty big deal, nationally ranked and all that.
I'm happy to say I kicked his ass, and in the 100m freestyle of all things. Guy was crying afterwards so I felt kind of bad, but come on! It wasn't some super important competition. It all made sense after I met his mom though; she practically interrogated me like I'd committed a murder or something. Have to say she was a bit of a milf though, so she has that going for her ...
Cass was fuming. Her son had lost to some guy she'd never seen or heard of. How the hell had this happened? Maybe he'd jumped the gun and she hadn't noticed? She'd sort this right out. After complaining to everyone with ears, it looked like the result was going to stand. That just left the brat who beat her son,
"Hey you? What's your name?"
"Uhh, Marco"
"What grade are you in Marco?"
"Twelfth."
"Well, that's not fair! My son is two years below you, no wonder you won. This shouldn't be allowed."
That was met by a shrug, "I don't make the rules, Lady".
Unbelievable. This little punk! Did he know who her son was? Did he know who she was? Urgh!
A couple of days later Marco was in the shower at the local pool after having swum a few laps just before closing. There were a couple of knocks on the door,
"Yeah, yeah, I'm almost done and then I'll leave. Sorry for overrunning a bit."
A few more knocks.
"Just a minute, I said I'd be right out!"
More knocks.
"For fucks sake"
Marco grabbed the door and swung it open, "I said I'd -", it was that kid's mom from a couple of days ago. She sprayed him with something, it fucking stung. It made him dizzy. Suddenly, he was swimming again. Drowning. Being hammered by a waterfall. The noise stopped and he bumped up against an obstacle. It was rough and ridged, he held onto one of the thick ridges as the flow subsided. He had time to think and the confusion began to hit. What had just happened?
He rubbed his stinging eyes and his vision returned blurrily. It didn't make any sense at first, as he moved his hands along the flesh-coloured surface he was holding. It continued to not make sense has got a good look at his surroundings and found himself craning his neck up at the most unimaginably large form he had ever laid eyes on. It was human, it was her. He couldn't even absorb the view of all of her foot without his head spanning 180 degrees. Somehow, he had been shrunken. He knew he was fucked, but he didn't know how fucked he was.
Cass was feeling smug. She'd seen the boy at the pool late, and took opportune revenge. Her life hadn't quite taken the path she wanted, but there were perks to the life she had. She'd been a star swimmer herself in her youth, but not star enough. Later it turned to modelling and she married rich and powerful. That's how she got her hands on a piece of highly classified technology. This boy wasn't the first person she'd shrunk but she did find him particularly irritating and she was in an especially bad mood today.
She stood tall, staring down her nose at him, feeling powerful as she watched him slowly come to terms with his predicament, clinging to the foot she had placed between him and the drain to prevent him washing away. For some reason he had shrunk REALLY tiny, maybe it had something to do with his skin being wet at the time. But he was well under half a centimetre tall. She bent down to pick him up, lifting him slowly, hoping that it would increase his sense of dread by doing so.
"Well, well, well, looks like I've nabbed myself a hotshot", her voice boomed painfully. He tried to respond but something about his size meant things weren't working quite right. He couldn't even hear himself. She picked him up slowly. He couldn't properly appreciate her amazing body at his size, but the muscularity of her thighs didn't escape him, and her pronounced breasts protruding above her flat belly drew his vision as he was slowly given a tour up the length of her one-piece.
"I'd like to see you in action again, big boy. I think I'd lose sight of you in the pool though. Probably even in a kiddie pool or a bathtub, but I've got just the trick". Though she was holding him intentionally gently, his leg was twisted painfully and her immense strength made it difficult to breathe. She started walking. The thud of every step was giving him a headache, and he was getting motion sick too. She opened a door, and by the lights he recognised that he was inside a bathroom.
She opened another door and they entered a cubicle, "What do you think of the pool?", she dangled him over the toilet water. She lifted him back up to her face as though she expected an answer, though she knew she would never be able to hear it, "You really should respect your elders. I'll tell you what, if you can earn MY respect, then I'll grow you back."
"All you have to do is swim fast."
Suddenly he was tumbling into the water, thank God it was clean. "If you can beat my son's personal best for the 100m freestyle then I'll let you go. I'd guess that's about one back and forth length of the toilet". Given his size, the guess was actually pretty accurate - he really was tiny.
He looked up at the tanned face, her long blonde hair hanging down, her bleached white smile mocking him. It was a bit difficult to take in, he'd really done nothing to deserve this, whatever this was. Shrinking? It seemed impossible, but here he was. It was especially cruel that he had no way to communicate with her, to beg for forgiveness or mercy. The only choice he had was to do exactly what she asked of him. He swam to one end of the 'pool' to begin his time trial. It was time to swim for his life, like he'd never done before. He had beaten her son after all, so surely he could rise to the challenge given that his life might very well depend on it.
It was harder than he thought. The water didn't behave how he expected at this scale, the physics of it felt wrong. He felt like he was swimming through honey. He wouldn't be able to beat an eight-year-old's record at this pace. But he had to try, maybe the effort would earn him mercy. His arms ached, as he pumped through the water. He even somersaulted into a flip turn at the end of the pool, and with his eyes open briefly caught a glimpse of the gigantic sadist above. He could only hope, he could only hope.
Everything went dark.
He was about a third of the way back across, had she closed the lid and left him? No, he was suddenly hammered by turbulence, as a powerful stream of water, possibly wider than he was long smashed into his side. He was plunged, tumbling, to relatively tremendous depths. He was tired, but thankfully had just taken a breath before he was submerged. He managed to escape to the side of the undertow and reorient himself. The darkness seemed to subside slightly and he swam towards the light.
She had enjoyed watching the little speck struggle to swim, but enjoyed pissing on her quarry even more. It was a bit of a spur of the moment decision - originally she had planned to just flush him once he was tired but her bladder had inspired her.
She stared into the toilet, noting that he was nowhere to be seen, presumably her stream had pushed him round the bend... but wait, what was that floating upwards? A fragment of toilet paper? No, it was him. She was surprised he had made it, slightly impressed even. Not that she was the sort to let that get in the way of her cruelty. From the little she could make out he seemed to be sputtering at the surface. It was quite a swim up from the depth he'd reached after all.
"You went way overtime little guy, and I just couldn't wait much longer," she coyly mocked. "I suppose it was a bit of a better attempt than I expected," she said, throwing him a bit of a crumb, "So I promise I won't flush you. You didn't beat the record though so I suppose I can't help you either."
He stared up as her face disappeared. He could just about see the back of her head and heard some shuffling. A comparatively pale ass sat down to occupy most of his field of view. She had a swimmer's tan. Despite the darkness, he could make out the details thanks to the light coming between her thighs and beneath the toilet seat.
A tinny fart echoed around the toilet bowl, "I do still need to use this toilet though, so I'll leave it up to you to deal with that. Something you need to know about me is that people make room for me, I don't make room for people and I don't like people who get in the way of what I want."
"Something else you need to know about me is that I've still got some swimmer's habits from my championship training days. For example, I eat huge breakfasts."
She wasn't lying. Aided by a mild stomach discomfort, the swiftly flowing contents of her bowels readily buried the speck of the swimmer beneath her. To him it was an incomprehensible torrent, larger than a literal landslide, except perhaps he stood even less of chance of survival. She turned around to look in the bowl with satisfaction. No specks floating to the top this time. The pile covered the entire surface of the water and rose in a small heap above it. The thought of the humiliation, of the ultimate display power and a deluded notion of comeuppance made her tingle. It must have been a literal once-in-a-lifetime sight for the kid. She wiped her ass and left the toilet paper on top. She kept her promise: the toilet wasn't flushed till the janitor came in the next day.
Nora did not appear, at first glance, to be exceptional. She was on the pretty side of average, but she wore her makeup just a little heavy to cover the remnants of teenage acne. She was quite tall, and could be called 'thick' with wide hips and a nice butt accentuated by her choice to usually wear tight skirts or tunic tops with leggings. She did possess an unusual charm, and was good at using her considerably dominant personality to her advantage. Her charm, however, disguised her underlying narcissim - she did not like to be crossed.
Nora's real blessing was not a consequence of her natural qualities, but a circumstantial blessing borne of her choice of study - she was one of the very few girls on her engineering degree. Though she sometimes felt more swarmed than a supermodel at an after-party, she managed to turn a lot of the attention she got into a positive, even if it was rather annoying at other times. She managed to produce quite a posse of 'her boys', and used them wisely to her gain.
There really was only one guy on the course who she was (or had been) genuinely interested in. He seemed exactly her type, awkward but surprisingly astute and funny. Kind of skinny, and he wore glasses! She loved a cute guy with glasses. It had taken her a long time to sway him, he was rather risk-averse and her personality which filled the room could be intimidating to such types. But by paying him the right kind of attention, by inviting him out with her other friends and - a simple strategy, but effective for most - by giving him plenty of compliments, he soon became one of her boys.
It was then she discovered part of the reason for his risk aversion. Negative Affect Driven Shrinking. She'd once seen some snippet about this condition in a documentary on extremely rare diseases. Less than a dozen people in the world had this one, and the gist of it was, if one was feeling depressed, miserable or humiliated, then they would shrink, slowly returning to size over the next days or hours if well taken-care of. Thus cause and effect were joined in the colloquial name of belittlement syndrome.
His name was Paolo, and she had wanted him very badly. Unfortunately, the other part of his shyness stemmed from growing up in conservative surroundings. He'd never had a girlfriend or kissed a girl and she had great difficulty prying him from this shell. Not least because he was observant enough to know to be a little cautious about her. With great effort though, she succeeded, or she thought she had. They became best friends. Then they'd gotten drunk a few times, kissed a few times, and though they haven't had sex, they'd gotten pretty close with the fooling around. His barriers were slowly being broken down and he felt himself starting to fall for her.
His niggling doubt got the best of him though. He could tell that Nora, though gregarious, was not a kind girl. He'd seen her intensity with people to whom she'd taken a dislike and knew that a relationship with her would be dangerous in the long run. But he liked her a lot. Push, pull, push, pull. He started trying to make some distance, said he couldn't do it, he didn't think it was a good idea, was confused about how he felt. It didn't go down well; she swore, she cried, and he felt awful.
For the past four days, he had felt nothing but regret and it was taking its physical toll. What was he thinking? She had been good to him, he'd never been so intensely happy. Why did life have to be so confusing? He had been stuck at half-size in his misery, and had shed a few tears of his own. It couldn't go on like this.
Nora had less solitary coping strategies. She called some of her girl friends, they had gotten wasted together, and bitched about him all night. By the time four days had passed, she had managed to turn her feelings on him completely, it was a talent of hers. Sadness had been replaced by anger. Desire by disdain. That was when he showed up at her door.
They were both drunk. Him for courage, her as part of her recovery process (and partially out of habit). She glared down at him, surprised, but not willing to show him that,
"You look small."
"I feel it. I- I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. You were right, you were one of the best things I had going for me and I was just being dumb. Can you forgive me?"
Pathetic, she thought. Under other circumstances she might have shouted at him, told him to fuck off. But it still stung a little and she'd been fantasizing about revenge. Her drunkenness encouaraged this course.
"Come in," He sat on the couch, clambering clumsily, reinforcing her disgust. She sat on a kitchen stool, amplifying the height she had on him now, "How can I possibly trust you? You really hurt me you know? How do I know you just won't do the same again, out of the blue, after leading me on?"
He teared up, shaking his head and staring downards, "I'm sorry. I don't know how I can prove it, but I won't I promise. I won't. I understand my feelings better now."
She looked down at him while he continued to stare at the floor. "You know I have a temper sometimes. What's to tell me you won't chicken out again the first time we disagree about something?"
"I'm here now. I love you."
"Oh really now?" She tried to keep her anger under control, "You used me! It's this you wanted, isn't it?" She squeezed her breasts and smacked the side of her ass. She leapt up from the stool and got in his face, "You... You, ugh!". She wanted to hit him.
"Please, just tell me what I can do to make it better," he winced, "I don't care if you get angry sometimes. I know I deserve it this time. Give me a chance, I'll commit, I'll be dedicated. I was afraid, I won't let it get the best of me again, now that I know what it feels like to have lost the chance."
"Eat my ass."
He sighed, with excessive forlornness which irritated her. He wasn't an assertive guy and knew when to take a cue to leave. He slid off the couch and made his way to the door. She beat him to it with thumping footsteps, blocking his exit, "Uh-uh, I think you misunderstand. I want you to eat my ass."
"W-what?" It wasn't really his thing, and she probably knew that.
"You said you wanted to know how to make it better. I need you to prove how sorry you really are. That you'd sacrifice something for me. After all the effort I put in our friendship, you never invited me out once, it was always me. You'll be dedicated? Show me. Do something which makes you uncomfortable, which takes some effort."
She walked back over to the stool, pulling off her tunic top and pulling down her leggings and panties. She sat down fully naked, looking away this time, leaning on the high kitchen table. She popped her ass up to spread her cheeks, and arched her back a little, "I'm waiting," She took a swig from a drink she had sitting on the table.
The alcohol was clouding his judgement, and he decided he would do it. If that's what it took. He probably deserved it after all, and even if she wasn't being serious, it would show that he certainly was. He gathered his courage and tried to get himself in the zone, walking over to where she sat looking the other way. Her ass was really quite large at the best of times, mostly smooth with one dimple betraying her small amount of excess fat. In his shrunken state, her asshole was now level with his face, and looking up he could see her back looking powerful above him.
He put his hands on her cheeks, noting how small they looked in comparison, covering just a small fraction of her large buttocks and leaned forward, closing his eyes as he stuck out his tongue. He wasn't quite sure what to do; he'd never eaten anyone out, nevermind their ass, so he started to lick, hoping that was the right thing. It was salty and there was a very unpleasant bitter flavour, he got some fluff on his tongue, presumably toilet paper. He withdrew.
"That's what I thought," she said. She knew her ass was probably pretty nasty since she hadn't showered since last night and had just come back from drinking at a sweaty bar. She just wanted to humiliate him, to punish him. That's all she was trying to do.
"Wait, I'm sorry!" He squeezed his eyes shut, and tried his best to shut out his other senses to, mustering his willpower to dive in with more passion. The taste didn't disappear, and his delicate constitution made him retch, but he continued. It was horrible, and indeed, humiliating. He soon found himself having to stretch his neck to reach her asshole, but her manipulation had worked. He'd prove himself. He was on his tip-toes, and then he couldn't reach.
"Why did you stop again?" She didn't turn around.
"I can't reach."
"So you're just going to give up again, at the slightest bit of trouble?" She had actually been beginning to enjoy the stimulation. She'd been feeling kind of horny all day. She looked down at him, he was indeed smaller. He looked up at her, she could crush him now. Her buttocks looked like they could cover his whole body. He reached up to a rim hanging on the underside of the stool, and took a step onto the supporting bar, halfway up. He was awkwardly poised, leaning back.
He started again, doing an even worse job than before, the tension in his weak core causing him to tremble. "Mmm," Nora moaned. He didn't have to do a good job; it was her relative power and the notion of revenge which was causing her to get off. She felt the vibrations caused by his instability, and she started to grind only half-voluntarily, "Keep going," she instructed, "and I'll forgive you." She had no intention of doing so.
She began to rub herself, she was getting close, but then with some sparsening pecks, the stimulation stopped, "What now?" She looked down. He was getting really small now, perhaps only 40cm tall. She no longer had the patience to wait. She got up and grabbed him around the chest with one hand indelicately, "I'm not done, so neither are you," she said as she walked to the bedroom and tossed him on her bed.