Harriet finished up her morning bathroom routine feeling fresh and clean, and ready to start the day. Now she needed to get some food in her belly -- breakfast was the most important meal of the day, after all. She felt groggy from the poor sleep, and a morning cup of coffee sounded really good right now. She quickly wrapped her long wet blonde hair in a towel, and donned a bathrobe before exiting back into the bedroom. A quick glance to the bed confirmed her lover was still where she had left her. Harriet was pleased, and was becoming optimistic that this woman -- whose name she still didn’t even know -- could be “broken” and trained to serve her for a long time to come; some slaves -- women in particular -- proved difficult to train, and ended up dying as a result of the severe discipline. Harriet smiled and blew a kiss to the tiny woman, as she sauntered past, on her way to the kitchen.

On the floor lay the brand new mules Harriet had “purchased” the evening before, just exactly as she had left them by the door. They were formed of genuine leather, and were of an exquisite design with a pointed toe that would have cost Harriet a good amount of her teacher’s salary, but thankfully she managed to get these at a “discount”. One of these shoes even came equipped with its own tiny maidservant... Harriet scooped up this exquisite new mule, carried it off into the kitchen, and placed it on the table. Within the opening of this mules, Harriet had stuffed her stinky, soiled, waded up nylons to block the escape of her tiny handmaiden; although, in this case the hapless girl might be more accurately described as a “footmaiden”.

“Voila!” Harriet proclaimed, as she lifted the waded pantyhose from the Mule and peered within. Carefully, she tilted the shoe to let in enough light to help her see deep within the pointed toe section where a tiny redhead -- no more than an inch tall -- looked back up at her fearfully. “Wake up, sleepy head!” Harriet boomed. “Its time to get up and get ready for school!”

***

Without a doubt this had been the worst night in all of Miranda’s 20 year old life. Her bloodshot eyes did not receive any sleep at all, and her throat was sore from her endless screaming for help; her lungs burned from the horrible vinegary stench of foot sweat, and to top it all off, her stomach was painfully hungry and needed food, badly. There had been several times over the course of the night where the terrible smell made her want to throw up, but her empty stomach could only manage to dry heave. She had tried with all her might to push away the waded pantyhose that plugged up the shoe and prevented her escape, but being only about an inch tall, she might as well have tried to shoulder the burden of Atlas upon her shoulders.

With no way to escape, and nothing else to do, Miranda made her way back to the toe section of the mule to get as far away from the stinky nylons as possible; there she curled up into a fetal position and cried to herself in the darkness as the hours slowly ticked by. Finally, the shoe began to shake and her empty stomach lurched as she felt herself being lifted what seemed to be miles into the air and carried off, as her body bounced and rolled against the leathery walls of her prison. Miranda’s bloodshot eyes were blinded as light suddenly flooded into the shoe, and she was greeted by the gargantuan face of her old English teacher, Ms. Koester, leering down at her....

***

“I bet you are starving,” Harriet beckoned the tiny girl with her index finger reaching into the shoe. “Come, climb onto my finger, and I will get you some breakfast.” Harriet could have simply just dumped the young lady out onto her palm, but she wanted her to climb onto her finger willingly.

Sure enough, the starving redhead began to crawl out from the toe of the mule; nearly any fate would be preferable to lingering in this hell-hole, and the promise of food helped Miranda overcome her fear of her captor; in much the same way that a stray dog might be befriended by the lure of food. Harriet snickered as she watched her former student submissively climb onto her well manicured finger nail. But Harriet’s amusement came to an abrupt end as she noticed a tiny puddled stain on the leather within her mule. “What the fuck is this?!” her huge mouth contorting into an angry frown.

Miranda screamed as the finger rocketed out of the shoe, carrying her upwards at an alarming speed. Frantically, she hugged onto the finger and clawed into the skin to avoid being thrown off and falling to her death. The angry face of the middle-aged giantess dominated her vision as it blasted her with a hurricane of hot breath. “What the fuck is that puddle in my brand new shoe?!” Ms. Koester repeated through her clenched teeth.

Miranda began crying. “Puh-please juh-just let me go. I-I’m sssorry I insulted you...”

Harriet could see that the tiny girl was sobbing and her tiny mouth was moving as if she were saying something, but the girl was simply too tiny to be heard. Harriet shook Miranda off her finger like a bug onto the table. The terrified young woman simply curled up like a pill bug into a fetal position; offering no resistance, and making no attempt to escape whatsoever. Harriet unwrapped the towel around her head, allowing her still damp blonde hair to cascade freely down to her shoulders. From a nearby drawer she pulled out a small device.

Although Harriet’s hearing was normal, she had procured for herself a hearing aid which amplified the voices of her tiniest slaves so that she could have more than just a one way conversation with them. With the shoe store manager being around 3 inches tall, Harriet was able to make out her tiny squeaks and didn’t need the hearing aid; the other unfortunate girl that Harriet had shoved up her ass had been shrunken to a nearly microscopic level, so to understand her would have been impossible even with the hearing aid; but for Miranda -- whose level of shrinkage was somewhere in between -- the hearing aid was just right.

Harriet inserted the device into her ear and rested her head on her arm, with her ear positioned towards the fetalized female. “Speak!” she commanded, as she began tapping her long red fingernails on the table impatiently. Thanks to the hearing aid she could now make out the faint sound of sobbing, but there was no response. “Answer me, or I will give you something to cry about!” Harriet gave the coiled bug a flick from her finger which would seem gentle to a normal person, yet this “gentle” flick was sufficient to send the young lady hurtling several inches across the table. Despite her anger, Harriet couldn’t help but smirk as she watched the tiny redhead sail through the air from just the slightest exertion of one of her fingers; just like the paper “footballs” her students sometimes used to disrupt her class. The tiny woman landed with an inaudible thud, and then rolled a few inches further. There was no doubt Miranda was very bruised up; Harriet wondered if she might even be dead.

“Ooomph!” Miranda uttered as the wind was knocked out of her lungs. Her body flew through the air as if she had been struck by a car; a moment later she smacked against a hard surface and continued to tumble forward by the power of inertia. Having spent what seemed like an eternity sealed inside of a dark stinky shoe, she didn’t think things could be any worse, so when her old teacher offered her a way out she accepted without hesitation; since then, only a few seconds had passed, but already she had been proven wrong, and was afraid of what further cruelty this psychopathic giant might inflict upon her.

Miranda knew if the giant woman wanted to kill her, there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her best -- and only -- hope, therefore, was total compliance; this meant she must answer the question regarding the puddled stain within the shoe, even though the answer would be extremely embarrassing. With her body bruised, and bones possibly broken, Miranda struggled to make her way back to where she had been; but her progress was slow, and the giant grew impatient...

“Get your ass back over here!” Harriet didn’t have all day to wait for this little bug to crawl just a few inches; she had to get ready for work, and still had to eat breakfast yet. Taking matters quite literally into her own hands, Harriet gingerly plucked the ginger between her thumb and forefinger and dragged her back kicking and screaming. “Are you ready to explain yourself, missy?”

The tiny girl shook and trembled, but somehow managed to stammer out how during the course of the night she had desperately needed to pee, and though she tried to hold it as long as possible, she just couldn’t hold it in any longer, so she pulled down her pants and panties and squatted down somewhere within the dark cavern of the mule and relieved herself on the leather sole. “I-I’m s-so sorry, Ms. K-Koester. P-Please forgive me!” Miranda wept.

Harriet was furious. “So, you not only dared to insult my feet, but you defiled my BRAND NEW Mules?!” Harriet slammed her fist down on the table, creating a violent earthquake that jolted the terrified redhead. Miranda was on her knees begging the giant teacher for forgiveness and mercy. She knew her confession wouldn’t go over very well with the Amazon, but neither would not answering the question.

“I should spank you until your pale ass matches the color of your hair! You’ve been a BAD girl. Do you hear me?! BAD!” Harriet plucked up the tiny girl and set her back down in the Mule, right in front of the piss puddle. “Do you see what you did?” Harriet pressed down on the back of Miranda’s head, forcing her face against the piss stain. “You are going to lick that piss out of my shoe until its clean, or I will squish you into it; and then instead of a piss stain its going to be a blood stain, capiche?” Harriet released the girl from under her thumb, and Miranda nodded to indicate she understood.

Harriet leered imposingly over the mule with her hands folded against her ample chest. “In the meantime, I’m going to eat breakfast. If I think you’ve done a good job licking that piss stain I will still let you have some, even though you don’t deserve it after what you did.”

Miranda sat there looking at the puddle of piss in disbelief; it wasn’t as though she had the option of using a toilet, or even a diaper. “This isn’t fair; she can’t make me do this” she muttered to herself, but as she looked up over her shoulder she was horrified and a bit startled to see the blond giantess still watching, as if to make sure the disgusting order was carried out. Seeing no other option, Miranda lowered her face to the damp leather sole; a strong smell of urine mingled together with the leather and the residue of Ms. Koester’s foot sweat in a sickening combination which turned her stomach. She gagged and wretched as her tongue made contact with the salty surface, as she began to lap it up like an animal.

“Good girl,” Harriet said, as she watched the shrunken “footmaiden” carry out the task of cleaning the soiled sole with only her tongue. Miranda had chosen to work in a woman’s shoe store, so Harriet thought it was quite fitting that Miranda’s sole purpose in life was now to serve and worship her feet and footwear; just like how Harriet was a teacher, so it was her responsibility to teach Miranda how to be a good footmaiden. Today’s lesson for Miranda was to not piss inside Ms. Koester’s footwear.

As she watched her slave licking her shoes clean, Harriet scrunched up her toes, anticipating her silky nylon feet hugged tightly in the snug mules with her tiny footmaiden sealed within the toe section. Miranda would have no choice but to endure the heat and ever increasing scent as Harriet went about her day, completely ignoring and forgetting about her. But a footmaiden using her brand new shoes as a toilet was unacceptable, so Harriet decided she would have to get some diapers and shrink them down for Miranda to wear and use; a grown woman being forced to wear diapers might be humiliating, but this is just the way it would have to be.

Harriet also thought it was a pity that she only had one footmaiden, this meant her other mule was vacant, and did not receive the same worship as the other; this was something she would have to rectify at some point; but for now, none of her current slaves were well suited for the task. Only young women with some experience with shoes or feet could ever rightly become a proper “footmaiden” in Harriet’s mind. Miranda’s coworker would have been a perfect footmaiden for Harriet’s other mule, but unfortunately she had been shrunk far too small to be of any use, and sadly had to be disposed of; on the other hand, the store manager was too old, and besides, Harriet was taking quite a liking to her in her current role of pussy slave.

“I’ll just have to find someone else; maybe one of my female students...” Harriet thought, as she began scooping out coffee from a large coffee can. On the counter nearby sat yet another large coffee can, but this one did not contain any coffee; it did, however, contain another very important part of her morning breakfast ritual. Harriet slid this can closer and peeked through the myriad of holes punched into the plastic lid. “Time for breakfast!” she announced, as she peeled off the lid. A chorus of tiny squeaks and squeals erupted from the dozen or so tiny men and women scurrying about within, like bugs beneath a rock that had suddenly been lifted away.

***

Many years ago, Harriet came up with the idea that an empty coffee can would make an excellent home for her shrunken pets, and kept them there ever since. These tiny men and women varied in size from approximately half an inch, on up to about two inches tall; very rarely were any smaller or larger than this range. Since they lived inside of a Coffee Can, and since she greeted and fed them every morning, Harriet decided to name them “The Breakfast Club". Many of the members of the “Breakfast Club” were homeless men and women, as well as prostitutes and runaways that Harriet selected because their disappearances would largely go unnoticed by society; once in awhile, though, she would lose her temper, or someone would see something they weren’t supposed to, and then they too would find themselves inducted into the Breakfast Club against their will; but for the most part, Harriet tried to attract as little attention as possible while prowling for her victims.

No matter what their race, gender, age, or occupation, all of them proved useful whenever Harriet was bored and wanted someone to torture; or if she was feeling frisky, abduct to her bedroom for a night of passion. If she happened to have a hankering for a midnight snack, one or more of these tasty bite-sized morsels would be chomped up, or swallowed alive on a one way trip, kicking and screaming down her gullet. Members of the Breakfast Club seldom knew what their captor’s intentions were; they only knew that when the giant female hand reached inside of the coffee prison it meant that someone would be abducted, and more often than not, this person -- or persons -- would never be seen again.

The life expectancy for members of the Breakfast Club was generally very short, but it varied greatly. Sometimes a member would disappear the same day as they were inducted; other times a member might survive for months; or on very rare occasions, even years. None of the current living members knew when the Breakfast Club first began, but because of their captors age, some have guessed it could have existed for decades. The longest surviving members of the club could still recall long gone members, and have passed these stories on to the newer members of the group to keep their memory alive. The longest surviving member of the Club was given the honorary title of “Elder” and was acknowledged as the leader of the group. The term “Elder” had nothing to do with age, but simply meant that they had been able to survive the longest in the club; as a matter of fact, the current club Elder, a young man by the name of “Kyle”, was only 20 years old -- quite possibly younger than the very club itself.

Kyle had been a student of Ms. Koester a few years ago, and as he was a very handsome young man, he had managed to catch his teacher’s eye. Ms. Koester developed a crush on him, and began to look for a way to get him alone so that she might have her way with him. One day, Harriet caught him sniffing markers in the back of her class, and this was just the excuse she needed to ask him to see her after school. With the blinds closed, and classroom door locked, Harriet attempted to seduce her attractive young student by flaunting her curves to him. When Kyle resisted, Harriet became more aggressive and used her superior size and strength to pin the smaller teen down as she began to straddle herself over him. Kyle began screaming, and threatened to have her arrested as a sex offender; so Ms. Koester used her powers to shrink him down.

Kyle disappeared, and was never seen by his friends or family again. The police searched everywhere, but in the end they ran out of leads, and Kyle’s inexplicable disappearance ended up as a Cold Case -- one of many in the area in the years before, and since. The police suspected the various disappearances were the work of a sex offender, but none of them ever had any idea that this sex offender was a woman who lived and worked in plain sight the whole time; at one point, the police even interviewed Harriet as Kyle squirmed and screamed for help within the folds of her labia. It turned out Ms. Koester had managed to have her way with the teenage boy after all, as well as hundreds of other times in the years since then.

Kyle was a frequent abduction from the coffee can; but unlike most abductees, he was eventually returned, often with his body drenched in a sticky glaze of goo. No one needed to ask to know what this viscous substance was; all of them became well acquainted with the smell and taste, and wasted no time in scraping -- even licking -- it off of their naked leader’s body. Aside from their daily breakfast, and whatever scraps or crumbs their captor decided to toss in for them, food was a rare commodity, so even something as loathsome as a middle-aged woman’s cum came to be prized as a delicacy.

Harriet’s fresh cum was valued the most highly by members of the Breakfast Club, but this was only available for a limited time before it would dry out into a crust. This crust of dried cum was harvested from the soiled panties that Harriet would place at the bottom of the coffee can as a comfortable bedding for the Club, so that they didn’t have to sleep on the cold steel of the can. Every day or so, Harriet would remove the old soiled panties, and replace them with a “fresh” pair of soiled panties, so that her scent would never fade, and would constantly dominate the senses of her tiny victims, even if she herself happened to be miles away; in this way, her slaves would be perpetually marked with her scent, reminding them always that they were her property. For a few days each and every month, they were spared from being subjected to the scent of her panties; but instead, they were forced to endure the far worse odor of her used panty liners, soaked in the foul smelling blood of her menstruation. These days were a very unhappy time for the members of the Breakfast Club; it was also a time of fasting; because despite their hunger, few had the stomach to forage for “food” during these periods.

One of the main activities Club members engaged in was the mining of cum deposits in the gusset area of Harriet’s panties. Often, they would be lucky to find fresh cum that was still moist, and this they devoured immediately, but most of the cum was dried and hard, and this had to broken off and gathered up. Crusty Cum Crystals became a staple food ration, and also were used as a form of edible currency for members to barter amongst themselves for sexual favors, and the like. Everyone in the Breakfast Club received his or her own ration of CCCs to spend or consume as they seen fit. In addition to the CCCs, club members had their diets supplemented by various food scraps and other assorted materials that Harriet felt “kind” enough to rain down on them over the course of the day; these food scraps were generally the leftovers and unwanted portions of her own food which she felt were not fit for her own consumption, so instead she fed it to her slaves; this included things like apple cores, chicken bones, bread crusts, and so on. Normally these unwanted items would be tossed in the trash; but instead, Harriet used them to feed her victims without costing her a dime. Once in awhile, a tiny person might end up killed or badly injured by a giant piece of food Harriet unceremoniously dropped onto them. Whenever these rare but tragic accidents occurred, the crushed body would be disposed of the next day, along with whatever remained of the debris.

In addition to the bedding/liners and food debris, Harriet provided her shrunken prisoners with three plastic “half and half” cups. Within one of these tiny cups she filled with fresh water for the prisoners to drink and for their personal hygiene; in another cup she allowed them to store their personal items and belongings so that these would not be lost when she cleaned out the coffee can; finally, the third cup was to be used as the communal latrine/garbage bin. The use of these cups sometimes proved difficult; particularly for the tinier members, so makeshift ladders had to be constructed out of things like chicken bones. Since these ladders were too large to fit inside of the “keep” cup, Harriet tossed them out every day, which required new ladders to be constantly constructed. The ladders were critically important; especially when it came to the latrines, because one of the few rules Harriet imposed on the Breakfast Club was to forbid them from relieving themselves on her panties. The penalty for breaking this cardinal rule was agonizing torture, often resulting in death. Fortunately, the largest prisoners were able to reach the top of the cup even without a ladder, and would often assist the tinier members by either lifting them up, or by emptying out their makeshift chamber pots. For their services, these large “washroom attendants” were rewarded generously with CCC tips from the smaller shrinkees.

Among the many perks that came with his status of being the club “Elder”, Kyle received a larger than usual daily ration of CCCs; in addition, he had the right to mate with any woman in the club that he desired. Since his status as Elder excused him from any sort of manual labor, he was free to spend most of his time burrowed into the crumpled folds of Ms. Koester’s panties, making love to the woman of his choice. As there was little else to do inside of the coffee can for entertainment, sex became a very popular activity for club members, when not on duty. The inevitable result of all of this sex was that pregnancies would sometimes occur. Harriet did nothing to hinder these pregnancies; in fact, she actively encouraged them. Whenever a woman was found to be pregnant, her giant captor would reach in and abduct her, and she would disappear until the course of her pregnancy had been completed; at which point the tiny distraught woman was returned to the club, sans her newborn infant. The ultimate fate of these tiny newborns was something the club never knew, though it chilled their blood to speculate.

***

The most recent Breakfast Club members who had not yet become accustomed to the daily breakfast routine screamed in terror as the sky of their world was ripped away; replaced instead by a gargantuan woman’s face peering down at them. The movement of the can, sudden increase of light, and sounds of screaming, all served as wake up calls to those tinies who had been sleeping, fucking, or mining Cum Crystals from within the massive panties. As if all of this weren’t enough, the boom of Harriet’s powerful voice produced reverberations that would shake and wake even the deaf. “Time for Breakfast!” she announced.

Everyone within the can rushed to evacuate the panties. Within a few seconds, 12 tiny men and women, varying in size from half an inch to 2 inches, stood side by side on an exposed area of the cold steel floor, but one of them was missing. An elderly man who had been in poor health struggled to crawl out from under the folds of the panties, but his efforts proved too slow, and the others could do nothing to help as Harriet grabbed up the panties and carried them off, with the poor old man still trapped helplessly within them.

Harriet raised the panties up and inspected them to ensure her rules hadn’t been violated; instead, she noticed a tiny bug tumbling around inside of them. “Well, well. What do we have here?” Harriet licked her lips, as she dumped the tiny treat out into the palm of her hand.

Harriet’s excitement evaporated into disappointment when she saw that this straggler was the elderly man she had shrunk about a week ago, in a parking lot, after he carelessly bumped into her with his walker. As his shriveled body dwindled in size, he lost his grasp of the walker; without the aid of which, the old man had difficulty even standing, and soon collapsed onto the asphalt landscape. Harriet raised her heel, casting its shadow over the elderly man who had fallen, and could not get up. She contemplated squishing him out of existence right then and there, but did not want to tarnish her shoes -- which she valued more highly than the lives of others; so instead, she picked him up with a napkin as if he were a dog turd, then waded up the napkin with him inside it, and stuffed it into her purse. Later that evening, she inducted him into the Breakfast Club as its oldest member. Since then, the old man struggled to cope with his new life, but his failing body and senility made things difficult for both him and the club; he often seemed confused, and kept asking where he was and why he was here. Harriet acknowledged his utter uselessness, and had been meaning to dispose of him; right now seemed like a perfect opportunity to do so, while simultaneously making a point to one of her new toys.

Dropping the panties down on the table, Harriet returned to the shoe to see how her tiny footmaiden was coming along with the stain. Unsurprisingly, Miranda’s task was slowed by how utterly disgusting it was; like a kid eating broccoli, she had to force down every swallow, and gagged while doing so, but knew she had to, or else she would be punished. Unfortunately, there was nothing for her to wash away the salty, uriney taste from her mouth.

“Okay, little miss piss,” mocked Harriet. “You can take a break from cleaning that piss stain for a moment; I have someone I would like you to meet.”

Miranda looked up to see a tiny elderly man being lowered down into the shoe, right onto the very piss stain she had been lapping up. The man appeared frightened and confused by what was going on, as he was set down in this gigantic shoe, in front of a young red haired lady he never knew. Like Miranda, he was roughly the same approximate height of one inch, but this was about to change...

“Take a good look, because I want you to see the same sort of terror that I seen on your face last night,” Harriet laughed as she pointed down at the elderly man.

Miranda watched as the helpless man struggled to crawl his way out of her urine as the giant woman began to chant in a strange tongue. Sure enough, the old man began to dwindle in size; his old cataract ridden eyes pleaded with Miranda to help as she began to dwarf him like a giantess in her own right. As he continued to shrink, the minuscule piss stain expanded and swallowed up his crumb sized body in a swamp of female urine.

Harriet’s idea was originally to shrink the old man until he disappeared entirely within Miranda’s piss and drown in it, but as his withered body dwindled to a point where he was barely visible, she decided to halt the shrinking so she could still enjoy the spectacle of his death. Even at this minute size, the old man was still larger in proportion to Miranda than Miranda was to her, but he was still adequately small enough for the fate Harriet now envisioned for him. Harriet leaned her enormous face in close, squinting her big blue eyes at the tiny crumb. “Well, footmaiden, it appears there is a tiny piece of crud in my brand new shoes.” Harriet’s lips contorted into an exaggerated frown.

“Who is he?” Miranda shouted. “Why are you doing this to him?”

“I have no idea who you are talking about,” Harriet lied. “All I see is a tiny speck of crud, and a smart mouthed young lady who is on very thin ice. I need a footmaiden who will keep my shoes clean: if there is a piece of lint or crud, you eat it, understand? My shoe is a temple, and it is your job to keep it clean. If you can’t do this simple task then perhaps you are unworthy of being my footmaiden. Perhaps I should demote you to a piece of crud and squish you into the very stain you created?”

Miranda gulped nervously. “No! P-please, I-I can be a good f-f-footmaiden...”

“Okay then, prove it; show me you have what it takes.” Harriet smirked.

Miranda turned back towards the tiny man laying on the piss soaked leather sole.  “Please, help me! I don’t belong here!” he screamed as his hands splashed down against the pissy stain.

“I-I can’t help you,” Miranda began sobbing as her comparatively enormous face bore down on him. The elderly man tried to back away from the gigantic young redhead, but his frightened body wouldn‘t budge. Tears streamed down Miranda’s face at the thought of what she was about to do. “Please forgive me,” she sobbed, as her massive pink tongue rolled out and lapped up the crumb-sized man into her mouth. Miranda’s cheeks ballooned like those of a chipmunk as she struggled to squeeze the struggling old man inside.

“Good girl!” cheered Harriet, who had by now produced a magnifying glass in order to enjoy the scene in greater detail. “Finish him!”

The old man was indeed extremely small, but he was still far too large for Miranda to swallow down whole in the manner she would have preferred; since this was not possible, she had no other choice but to chew. Her face contorted into an expression of disgust as her teeth chomped down on the man’s legs, severing them, and producing a fountain of blood that stained her tongue and teeth a bright crimson color that matched her hair. With every chomp and grind of her teeth, the old man emit an agonizing scream that echoed through her skull, until at last she chomped through his ribcage; crushing the life out of his still beating heart -- though his screams would linger forever in her memory.

Though the screams had ceased, there was still the sickening sound of teeth crunching through tiny bones until the whole body had been reduced to a swallowable pulp. Blood dribbled down the back of Miranda’s throat, nearly causing her to throw up. Finally, with a forced gulp, this bloody mass, which had once been a human being, slid down into her stomach.

Miranda’s body trembled over the horror of what she had just done, but it was something she was forced into doing against her will; if she had refused, the old man still would have been killed anyway, and she along with him. It took every bit of her willpower to not vomit up her stomach’s gorey contents. The thing which shamed her most of all was that after having gone so long without any food, it actually felt good to finally have something in her stomach; even if that something had once been a fellow human being. In lieu of a napkin, Miranda used her shirt sleeve to wipe away her tears, as well as a small amount of blood that had dribbled down her chin.

“Well done, young lady!” Harriet applauded, setting down the magnifying glass in order to clap her hands in approval. “I must admit, I am genuinely impressed; most of my pets don’t have the balls to do what you’ve done, let alone keep it down. Maybe you have what it takes to be a footmaiden after all. Since you’ve done such a great job disposing of that old piece of crud, I have decided I will take care of that little pissy problem for you.” Harriet spat onto a paper towel and used it to rubbed out the piss stain. “There, I suppose that will do. Just don’t do it again.”

Miranda solemnly nodded her head.

Harriet rose up from her chair and peered back down in the at the tiny men and women, still standing nervously at attention like Marine recruits at the mercy of a hardass drill instructor; but at least most drill instructors didn’t murder their recruits on a whim, the way Harriet often did. “Sorry for keeping you all waiting,” she explained, as she reached in and extracted the three tiny plastic cups, setting them aside. “I’m sure you’re all very hungry, but I’ve been busy training a new inductee into your little club; she’s a former student of mine, and I’m very excited to introduce her to you all; one of you might even recognize her.” Harriet gave a wink, as she lifted up their prison and carried it to the table.

The tiny men and women of the Breakfast Club were jolted violently as their entire world was lifted up and hauled away like the mere coffee can that it was. Some screamed, as Harriet tilted the can, sending their tiny bodies rolling and rumbling towards the exit. Their descent was cushioned by a pair of stinky nylons and the very same panties they had already become intimately familiar with these last 24 hours; Harriet had strategically arranged these articles of clothing on the table for this very purpose.

Though they were all accustomed to the smell of Harriet’s panties, the vinegary aroma of the nylons was unfamiliar to many of the members. They struggled to stand upright on this uneven terrain, as an enormous shoe appeared in the sky and floated overhead like an airship. As they watched, the hovering shoe was overturned, and from the mouth of it tumbled a tiny redhead, who screamed as her body fell through the air, before crashing within their midst, into the soft canopy of Ms. Koester’s nylons.
The dozen men and women made their way across the nylon jungle to investigate this strange new female that had fallen down amongst them like a gift from the heavens. Unlike them, her one inch body still retained the clothing she had worn the moment she was shrunken; their clothing, on the other hand, had been forcibly removed from them, or otherwise lost over the course of time; as hers, too, would ultimately be. The “Elder” Kyle, being the youngest, and perhaps the most physically fit, was among the first to make his way to the newcomer.

Miranda’s fall, though cushioned by the nylons, brought fresh pain to her ribs still sore from the casual flick Ms. Koester dealt earlier. Her aching body lay sprawled out upon the stinky material, as a tribe of naked savages gathered around her; though they kept their distance. There was an awkward moment of silence as the inquisitive savages looked her over, and Miranda anxiously awaited whatever twisted game Ms. Koester had in store for her. Even though she was clearly outnumbered and outmatched, she was determined to go out fighting, if it came down to it.

Finally, one of the naked savages approached her, but instead of the vicious pummeling or rape she expected, the young man extended his hand to her, and helped her to her feet. As they stood with their faces parallel, they gazed into one another’s eyes and realized they had known each other before. “Kyle...?” Miranda inquired through her blood stained teeth.

“Miranda!” exclaimed Kyle, recognizing her as one of his classmates from years ago. “I-I never thought I would see you again; I never thought I would see anyone again...” A tear rolled down his cheek as the faded memories of the friends and family from his former life were revived in his head.

Miranda wrapped her arms around him. “We all thought you were dead,” she whispered.

Kyle sniffed. “Maybe it would have been better if I was. You have no idea the sort of hell she’s put me through... put all of us through...” Kyle motioned with his hand towards the motley crew of men and women gathered nearby; each of them having their own stories to tell of the many cruelties they’ve suffered at Ms. Koester’s hands. “Miranda, I am so very sorry that you have been forced to join our little Club...”

“Club?” Miranda asked incredulously. “What do you mean by ‘Club’?”

Kyle began to weep. “Miranda, I regret to inform you that you’re now a member of the Breakfast Club.”