Andrew found himself recalling the first time he'd stood in front of a skyscraper when he was a young boy. He remembered thinking very hard about the name itself, 'sky scraper.' Something that literally reached up and touched the blue above. He thought about the metal from the antennae and railings and air conditioning units screeching along the clouds and making hideous metallic scratching noises, nails on chalkboards. He imagined, with surprising vividness, tiny streaks following the path where the earth and sky met, leaving a line tracing the path of the earth as it rotated on its axial tilt. 

He remembered how breathtaking it was, how up and up and high and high it went. He wondered what it might've been like to be of the top floor. Or even the roof- could he hold out his hand, grab a piece of the clouds? Would it taste like cotton candy, like he always thought it might? Looking back, it was in Manhattan that this incident occurred, so the cotton candy probably tasted like smog. Smog and the Staten Island ferry. Gross.

Now over two decades later, standing in his apartment several hundreds of miles south and west of the bustling burg, Andrew got that same funny feeling he did all those years ago- compared to this tall, warm, cafe au lait beauty before him, towering over him like some goddess in black, he felt small, tiny, insignificant. But, he felt, not in a bad way.

Strange- it may have been the alcohol, that lovely bourbon burn, but he was okay with that feeling of smallness, of insignificance. 

In fact, for the first time since his diminishing, he felt great. Things were looking up, he found- he had to quit his job, be prodded by a doctor like some animal, and deal with some hard realities of being the size of a convenience store action figure. But now, being literally dwarfed by the toes of his... Well, now girlfriend... He was part surprised and part relieved that he was feeling alright. 

He suspected that Darcy was primarily the cause of his okayness- the palpable relief that she reciprocated his feelings (or at least, she had intentions to) was in of itself a wonderful feeling. His last big confession and potential regret was no more- all of his focus now was Darcy. 

Boy, did that feel good.

Speaking of, he heard Darcy above him sigh contentedly. He watched her wriggle her boulder-sized digits inside of her peep toe heels, then followed her legs up and up and up. He admired her face, surrounded by two firm breasts wrapped in her corset. He smiled up at her and she grinned back. 

"How's the weath-"

"That," she interrupted, pointing a finger down at him, "is way lame. Don't even, Andrew." 

He chuckled, backing away. "Hey now," he started, "just making conversation- one of us had to start, right?"

She popped an eyebrow at him, leaning slightly forward. "Mm-hmm. And the oldest joke in the book was the best you could come up with?"

Andrew shrugged, cocking his head to the right. 

"These are uncharted lands for me- I've never dated Darcyzilla before."

"Darcyzil- what?! Now that's just plain rude, Andrew." She smiled wide. 

Andrew chuckled, opening his arms wide. 

"Well, you're tall, furthermore in heels, and you look ready for some action. Plus," he continued, "you look a little taller than fifty feet to me, so there goes that useless reference."

"But I'm not gonna stomp through Tokyo! I'm not some big giant meanie!" She continue her mock-horrified tirade, pouting her lips adorably. "Andrew, you don't just tell a girl that she's... Y'know, a zilla." She shook we head playfully and let out a laugh. "What a terribly mean boyfriend I've chosen. Hmph." She lifted her foot above him, leaning back slightly. She had a mischievous grin plastered all over her face.

"I'll show you Darcyzilla," she teased in a singsong voice, "I'm gonna- ah! Ohnononono-" 

It was quite fortuitous that she had leaned back- her ankle on the ground buckled and she fell onto the couch, away from Andrew's form on the ground. She was able to torque her body so that she fell on her butt, and felt her back crash into the back of the plush couch. In all the twisting, she had flung her leg up, and it hung in the air after she had landed. She looked desperately to see Andrew, the sudden fear of hurting him gripping her heart in an icy fear. 

She exhaled loudly when she saw him laughing and rolling on the floor, pointing and giggling uncontrollably.

"Oh, thank God..." She muttered under her breath. 

"Worst monster ever!" He said between laughs. "You'd wreck Japan before you ever even tried to stomp anybody!"

Darcy rubbed the bridge of her nose, exasperated. She listened to Andrew continue his guffaw until he simmered down, then propped herself up and leaned forward. A tired smiled passed across her face, and she leaned farther down, reaching for her feet. 

Andrew watched as she began to take off her heels, one at a time. Despite himself, he couldn't help but admire her wiggling toes. She kept her nails trim, but she didn't like to color them with lacquer. The resultants were healthy, clear toenails. Cute to boot, he thought. He wasn't a foot guy (though he had once dated a girl who demanded that he worship her feet), but he couldn't deny that they were indeed... He searched for the right word... Comely. 

"Never been great at heels," she intoned, giggling a bit, "remember that gala event we went to? Y'know, for your big anniversary or something at work?"

Andrew chuckled. That he did. It was a few months into their relationship as roommates, and Andrew's then girlfriend had just flew out of town for some business conference or other. He remembered asking her, practically pleading her, to come with him- he'd bought the two tickets, after all. It was a simple black tie, black dress affair, but God, he remembered her sparkling like a diamond that night. He also remembered, with a rueful smile, all his nearly broken toes, caused by that same sparkly klutz.

"Yesssss," Andrew drew out, "yes I do. If I recall correctly, you had heel malfunctions that night as well. Though now, I think more than my toes are in danger of being stepped on..."

The girl sighed, yanking off the last heel, and giving her feet a short rub. She cast a sidelong glance at her tiny friend, smirking as she massaged.

"Hence why these feetdemons are coming off... Gimme sandals or sneakers any day."

Darcy set the heels off to the side and stood back up to her full height, still bewilderingly tall. 
"Now," she began, setting her hands on shapely hips, "where were we?" 

Again, that feeling he got when he was a lad. Again, that insignificance. 

She smirked down at him again, grinning wildly and swaying her hips. Then, in a flashy grin, she lifted her foot up over him, the majestic toes still a-wiggling.

"Better start running, little maaaaan~," she began in a sweet singsong, "or else you might get stepped oooon~"

She playfully brought her foot down, allowing for just enough time for Andrew to back out of the way, the ground below her thrumming slightly. He looked back up at her, his eye brow cocked and questioning, shaking his head at her. 

"Is this how you treat all your new boyfriends?"

She stuck a tongue out and raised her other foot to hover over him. 

"Only the very squishy ones!"

Again she brought it down, giggling at her own little joke. She saw Andrew back away again, this time a little faster, then again lifted her foot, determined to place it on the little guy. 

"Gonna get ya, little bug!" She cried out, "better run for your life!"

Andrew turned and sprinted away- the hunt was on. 

She chased him with big and soft steps falling right behind him as he ran- at this size, Darcy found that she had to compensate her steps so as to not overtake him, and worse, possibly hurt or actually step on him. Still, he was a quick little bug, especially when he ducked and dodged potential obstacles and navigated the furniture legs. 

One memorable moment found her on her hands and knees, trying to reach under the couch with her hand. Andrew had taunted her, slapping her outstretched fingers. She had actually felt him knocked down by a sweep of her finger, and nearly had a hold of his leg. She was about to softly grip him by her thumb and fore, when he slipped out again. He disappeared…

In fact, more than a few times had she nearly lost track of him.

“Fe fi fo fum!” her voice tittered, bending down to look beneath the coffee table. Not there. "I smell the blood of a... lawyer, uh, guy. A lawyermun!"

For a terrifying moment, she wondered- had she actually lost him? Now that would be terrible. First date and already she misplaced him.

That would have to be some kind of record, she mused. She didn’t actually think that she would lose him- it’s not like he had anywhere to escape. She smiled at that prospect- it was silly of her to think in those terms- escaping, capturing- like he was an actual prisoner. Still, she felt it was appropriate.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bit of movement near her sneakers from earlier today. Andrew practically nose-dove into her red canvas footwear. She smirked. He was trying to find a good hiding spot- where better than a place she’d least expect it? She wasn’t planning on going anywhere that night, so he probably thought her shoes, a necessary item before travel, would suffice better than most.

She watched her step, then skipped across the floor to over to her shoes. As she approached, she slowed her pace, taking long and intentionally booming strides. 

"Well, gee, I guess he's gone!" She drew out in a long and deliberate manner. "That's too baaaaad. I'm kind of hungry, though..." She heard a snicker from inside her shoe. The left one, it seemed. "Guess I'll have to go back to Tino's and get a burger... But first!" She acted, "I should put on some shoes."

She couldn't help but giggle as she reached down and grabbed her red sneaker. She heard him laugh as she stuck her toes inside, wiggling them, then gasped, startled, when she felt his hands tickling. 

God, this feeling! It wasn't just that new boyfriend feeling, where her stomach churned and she felt butterflies- it was something else. It was that gentle... Touch, that feeling of having someone close to her toes, someone to protect, have as your pet (she winced), someone to look after. She realized that it was that initial 'bigness' she felt when she had first picked Andrew up in her hands. She enjoyed being a giant, she realized. A smile crossed her lips, and she continued her charade- she gasped aloud, mocking and teasing in its tone.

"Oh my goodness! Someone's in my shoe- could it be..."

She up ended her sneaker and dumped the little guy into her hand, dropping the shoe and bringing her hand up to her mouth in mock horror and in authentic delight.

"Why, there you are!" She grinned mischievously. "You thought you could get away from me, didn't you?"

He turned in her hand on his side to face her, still orienting himself- but he sure did have a smile on him. He shrugged and held his arms out. 

"The jig is up, I guess. By the way," he said with a wild smirk, pressing himself upright, "we should invest in some odor eaters- your toe marks smell like-"

"Hey!" Darcy said poutingly. "That's so mean. I wash my feet everyday! You've got nooooo basis to say that. And like you’re one to talk, mister I-wear-the-same-socks-everyday!"

Andrew shrugged again at her.

"Hey, I’m just saying-"

"Hush, little man." She brought her finger up and placed it over his mouth, rolling her eyes. "I'm in charge now... And now that I finally caught you, ya little scamp,"

She licked her lips and looked at him with something like wolfish intent. 

"You're all mine, now..."

She felt Andrew breathing while he was wrapped up in her hand, and she saw the lump pass from his mouth to throat. For a slight second, she was concerned- had she gone too far? Was that actual fear in his eyes?

The little man in her hand, much to her relief, cracked a smile at her. His breath came in deep, ragged pauses and pulls. He had the look of a man who was indeed the rabbit, but, dare she say, he enjoyed it.

"Is that right?" He taunted. 

She nodded and swallowed.

"That's right." 

She began to knead his stomach with her thumb, softly, feeling the flesh give way. She felt also the hardness of his ribs, and, careful not to strain him, pressed up again and into them. He let out a soft but sharp exhale.

"Too much?" Darcy offered, retracting her thumb only slightly. She didn’t want to bruise a rib or worse. He gave a slow shake of his head, keeping his eyes affixed to Darcy. She felt a murmur in her heart as his eyes gazed on her face. For once, Darcy felt like she was the one being drilled by those cerulean orbs, as if instead, she was the one being held in his hands.

“No. You’re perfect.” He said. 

Darcy smiled, feeling like it was better to believe both meanings of that phrase. It made her feel warm, despite the spring night chill.

“That’s good. Because,” she made for the couch again, and sat herself down, “you’re going to do something like that for me.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Uh-huh. I caught you, remember? That means you’re my pe… slave.”

“Peslave? That’s a new one.” 

Darcy scrunched up her nose and cocked an eyebrow at him, leaning over and setting him on the couch arm. And then, slowly, she turned over and lay down flat on the couch, setting her feet, very, very, very carefully, flanking him.

Andrew, in all his years, had never seen anything like it. 

Darcy’s smooth soles gave way to long, toned legs and stretched, it seemed, for days. A black lacey panty brought the two together seamlessly, a tiny hole in the stitching showing a bit of crevice and promising something more. Beyond that, a patch of bare skin on bare back that connected to yet another lacey article of clothing, her brassiere and corset. Farther, down into the next week, were set of shouldered crowned by Darcy’s gorgeous mop of black fro hanging down.

It was like a painting- the forms in their own natural order (Andrew found himself thinking, rather suddenly, about Plato), the curve of femininity. Innate evolutionary imperatives that drove him to seek more curvaceous mates. It was enrapturing, captivating. He desired, very very badly. Without his knowing, he had walked over and touched a soft patch of skin on her sole of her foot, rubbing it with his single digit and tracing a small circle. 

He was broken from his thoughts of philosophy and arts by a giggle from ahead.

“That tickles, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew hastily apologized, then suddenly feeling foolish. He wasn’t sorry at all, to be honest. But he apologized anyway.

“It’s fine,” Darcy cooed. “Why don’t you make it up to me and come give me a shoulder massage? I’ve had an awful long day at work…”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just set me on your back?”

He saw the fro bob up and down ahead of him.

“Probably. But this way,” she began, wiggling her toes in front of him, “you get to have the grand tour!"