Suzy had given this same speech so many times that she could do the whole thing, all the dramatic gestures and cruel torture, without even thinking about it. But that wasn't to say it was boring; she loved to see the looks on their faces, the desperation as they realized what they were, the helplessness as they waited for that second kick... She loved her Mistress, and she would have been happy to live a life where her only duty was to pleasure the woman. However, in her boundless kindness, Dominique had given her an even greater task, and there was no way for her to express her gratitude for that gift. No way, except to perform her duty faithfully.
Twenty-three women and twelve men. She had broken thirty-five people, and little Aaron here; she still thought of him as 'little' even though he had been sized up to be fully twice her size; was going to be number thirty-six. The thirteenth man, too. Lucky him.
Why women preferred to have other women as sentient sex toys was a mystery to her; her Mistress said that the curves of her body 'felt better going in,' but what did that matter when she had absolute control over her size? What she did know, however, was that men were far and away more fun for her to break. Sure, the pattern of pain, pleasure, and deprivation was more or less the same, but the process was so much more rewarding.
Sure, men resisted harder, or at least they tried to, but breaking them was easy; put just a little bit of pressure between their legs, or even just threaten to, and they'd fold like a lawn chair. She'd have this Aaron trembling like an abused puppy in just a few short days. Shit, he was almost there now, and it had hardly been five minutes. But the real challenge wasn't in breaking the men, it was in building them up again.
A broken toy was about as useful as a vibrator without batteries. The real key was in what you did after you broke them; when they felt like they had nothing to live for, you had to inspire them with a newfound sense of purpose. With women, it was downright easy. Any woman would suffer the demanding rigor and the degrading conditions of being a sex toy when they found solace in the deeply intimate relationship between their mistress and themselves. Once Suzy got them over their personal pride, and taught them as much as she could about how to please a woman, all she and Dominique had to do was seem unimpressed by their efforts. In a week's time, they'd be able to turn over a willing slave, eager to please just for the taste of acknowledgement.
Men were more difficult. Sex wasn't an expression of emotional attachment to them, it was a primal urge. And, for all the stereotypical talk about men wanting to have sex all the time, the fact was that a man's drive was less a part of his life than a woman's was of hers. They were capable of anything if they were horny enough, but they were useless otherwise, and no woman wanted to wait for their sex toy to be 'in the mood.' That presented Suzy with a unique challenge.
It may seem counterintuitive, but the near-constant stimulation of being a sex toy, spending every waking moment buried between a woman's legs, breathing nothing but the heat and the scent of her, actually seemed to suppress most men's sex drive. Suzy had tried everything to keep it stoked, thinking that she could force their bodies to adapt to a life of constant sexual excitement, and that it would make them yearn for the time when they were called to please their mistress. Her methods ranged from systematic deprivation to basically raping them six times a day. She tried to tease out their fetishes, reprogram them to think that there was nothing hotter than being slave to a giantess, but nothing seemed to work. Eventually, their bodies refused to continue feeding their hormone-fueled libido, and they defaulted back to rebelliousness, or, more often, useless passivity.
Eventually, the successful method was to make them believe that being a willing, capable sex toy was their purpose in life. Rather than fabricate an emotional attachment or try to sustain their sex drive, she appealed to their sense of duty; they didn't have to enjoy what they did, it only mattered that their mistress did.
It seemed cliche. It seemed like stereotypical psuedo-psychology ripped from the pages of 'Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus,' but it worked. It felt cheap, and Suzy thought it lacked the subtlety of how she brought women around to be willing servants, but she wouldn't deny its effectiveness. Maybe there was something else going on there, some more nuanced line of thought going on in men's brains for which her drill sergeant routine was just a convenient springboard. Whatever the case, it worked, and it worked a bit faster than her process did with women, even though it did require more of her and her Dominique's attention.
Since she first figured it out, they had only had to reset two men's memories. The first, her guinea pig, who had completly built up a resistance to her thanks to her failed efforts, and the seventh, who had been reduced to a crying, quivering mess by months of his mistress' torture beforehand. She was confident in her abilities now, but she was uncertain whether she would be successful with Aaron. Emma had kept him for a while now, and Dominique had described the things that the other giantess had done to him. Arbitrary, ill-timed blending of cruelty and reward that wouldn't really do anything but confuse her toy, or even make him outright hostile with enough time.
It was going to be hard to figure him out, especially since he probably had buried his sense of rebellion good and deep. If Suzy had the choice, she'd just wipe the little man and start fresh, but she would obey the orders of her mistress regardless of her opinions.
She eyed the little man beneath her, her foot pressing delicately against the soft flesh between his legs, savoring the fear in his face. He couldn't move, he couldn't even twitch an eye, but the terror was still there, clear as day. His chest heaved with his panicked breathing.
"You serve your mistress," she whispered, her face a mask of sadistic cheerfulness, "Or you serve me."
That was it, the crescendo. Aaron's breath, rapid and fearful, stopped fast. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in terror as death sped towards it, and Suzy's smile broadened.
She let him marinate on that statement for a minute, staring at him the entire time, then pushed just a little harder down on his groin. His quick, panicked breath resumed, waiting for her to put all of her weight down, and then she made a show of thinking twice about it. She drew her bare foot back, then planted it square on his belly.
When she put her weight down, it drove the air out of his lungs, and his eyes widened slightly, as much as was possible with his movement frozen. She brought her other leg forward and stood, feet together, hands on naked hips, on his stomach. The flesh underneath yielded far too much, but he couldn't tense his abdominal muscles to support her weight. She was half his height, and so, in normal terms, she barely weighed forty pounds to his two hundred, but it clearly still hurt.
She broke eye contact to flick her hair back carelessly. "It's your choice, I suppose," she said in an airy voice. "I hope you make the right one. I would just love a new toy to play with."
The dull thudding of full-sized feet hitting the ground rapidly approached the room, and Suzy whipped her head around in time to see Emma leaving the kitchen, fully clothed, followed by Dominique, stark naked. Emma passed by the table without so much as glancing down at them, and Suzy leaned down, whispering conspiratorily to the frozen little man. "Oh, look, she's leaving you with us! Isn't that exciting?"
"Thanks again, Dominique," Emma said, her hand on the doorknob.
"Not a problem, really."
"No, I mean it."
Dominique tilted her head down and gave Emma that sultry, half-sarcastic gaze that Suzy loved so much. "Love, you're embarassing yourself." She looked away and flicked her wrist, gesturing for Emma to leave. "Go."
Emma giggled, turning the doorknob and stepping outside. At the last second, she called, "Love you, Dom!" Then she shut the door.
The smile on Dominique's face was genuine, and Suzy was genuinely happy to see it. She fell to her knees on top of the shrunken man's chest, grabbed his face between her hands, and twisted it so that he could see. "Look," she whispered into his ear. "See how happy she is? Why isn't your mistress that happy?" She jerked his head forward again, staring directly into his eyes. "Because you failed," she said, her voice verging on anger.
With that, she straightened up and took a step back, planting her right foot square on top of the tiny man's junk. She put all her weight on it before he could even react, and she could practically feel the pain radiating from his body. She lingered there for a moment, balanced on one leg, the man's testicles holding her entire weight from beneath the arch of her foot, then stepped off of him, turning to face her mistress as her booming foosteps drew up to the table.
"Suzy," she snapped. "We need to talk."
Suzy let her eyes drop, folding her arms in front of her. "Yes, ma'am."
"To the edge."
Suzy hurried forward to the end of the table, her toes curling over the edge, "Yes, ma'am."
Suzy merely nodded at this, and she started to grow immediately. Rapidly. In seconds, she was at her full height, sitting on the table. She hopped down and returned to her submissive stance. "Grab the boy," Dominique said. "We need to speak privately."
"Yes ma'am," Suzy replied. She span around and scooped the tiny man up from the table. He recoiled a bit as her hand wrapped around him; so Becca had unfrozen him; but there was nothing he could do to resist her. Just a few seconds ago, he had been twice her height, but now he fit comfortably in her fist. She lifted her leg up onto the table, spread open her vulva with her free hand, and effortlessly slid the tiny man into her vagina, feet-first.
So much happened all at once. Suddenly, Suzy had grown into a godess, and, just as soon as he learned that he could move again, he was wrapped up in her hand, traveling towards her crotch at a terrifying speed. Her forefinger and middlefinger pressed against the flesh, parting the lips of her labia and revealing the bright pink underneath. The flesh was smooth, almost impossibly so, with not a hair in sight, and, before he knew what was happening, his feet were sunk up to his knees in the hot flesh.
He struggled fiercely, but he couldn't even free his arms from the woman's grip, and he only had a second before her hand pushed against his head and shoved his entire body inside her. He watched the bright pink, tight walls of her vagina part beneath him, seemingly infinite in their depth, before his feet hit something hard and he stopped.
He looked up... or was it down? And all he saw was more of the same, the tight, muscular walls of the woman's vagina squeezing together just over the tiny pocket of space that surrounded his head. A watertight seal, apparently, beacase, as lubricant slowly eked from the walls around him, his tiny bubble of air started to fill with fluid. He squirmed, and was able to get some of it to drain away, but more came from above, and soon it covered his eyes and his nose.
He took his last few breaths of air; it was hot, and it reeked of the fishy, fleshy smell of the woman's vagina, but it was air; and then his next breath drew down a lungful of steaming-hot, sticky lubricant. Maybe it was a sign of how helpless his situation had become, but he didn't even cough as the thick fluid entered his lungs.
His balls still ached, and he was still acutely aware of the fact that he was trapped inside the body of his torturer. God only knew what she had planned for him, but he knew that he wouldn't like it.
Emma had given him to this woman, this fucking monster, for training, as if she was dropping off a disobedient pet at Doggy Daycare. Well, he would show her. He would pass this shit with flying colors, he would prove himself a loyal servant, and then, once he earned her trust, he would fucking ruin her.
Alone in Dominique's apartment, she and Suzy could dispense with the formalities of mistress and toy. No need for submissive gestures, reverent titles, or unquestioning obedience. No need for disparate size or for the pointed symbolism of who deserved clothes and who didn't. Suzy sat in a chair at the dinner table, her legs crossed and a cup of hot tea in her hands, and Dominique leaned up against the table, naked as the day she was born, sipping on a cup of the same tea. Suzy wore a pair of her own underwear, but that was only to provide an extra layer of protection between the world and the shrunken man inside her.
He couldn't hear them, at least not to the point that he could distinguish words, and nobody else could see them, so there was no reason to demonstrate who was in charge. They both knew their place, and they were both abundantly comfortable with it.
But, even so, there were some parts of their relationship that drove deeper than theatre, so Dominique had to lead the discussion. "So, Suzy, what do you think?"
"About what, ma'am?"
Dominique tilted her head down, leveling a stern look at Suzy. "Really?"
The other woman giggled, "I'm sorry, I just wanted to see that look."
Dominique let herself crack a smile, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "But honestly, Suzy, what do you think?"
Suzy turned the cup of tea between her hands thoughtfully. "I think... I think it's going to be hard."
Suzy nodded. "He's stubborn, and what Emma did to him didn't do us any favors, either."
"So do we need to break him harder, or spend more time building him up?"
"Break him, probably," Suzy replied uncertainly. "But, even then, I think he might internalize it. If we push too hard, he'll resent us even more."
"So what do you recommend?"
"Wipe him," answered Suzy. She spoke with absolute conviction. "This will only work with a fresh slate."
"Hm..." Dominique took a thoughtful sip of her tea. She trusted Suzy's judgement in this, but there was more at play here than even Suzy could know. Emma was her friend, but the revelation that she had acquired a shrunken toy was a shock, to say the least. Still, she had specifically requested that her toy not have his memory wiped, and there was an opportunity there that she dared not speak of. "Could you do it without wiping him?" she asked.
"Probably, but..." Suzy looked like she was about to continue, then fell short with a frustrated sigh.
"But what?" Dominique asked patiently.
"I'm worried that he'll just pretend to go along," Suzy said, avoiding eye contact for a reason that had nothing to do with their relationship. She was proud of her work, and she was afraid to admit that she might be falling short of success. "He'll fake it until we're done with him, and then he'll betray Emma."
"She has total control over his body," Dominique said pointedly.
Suzy nodded, setting the teacup down on the table. Then, moving so violently that the chair underneath her went flying back, she suddenly had Dominique by the throat, their lips pressed forcefully together. Dominique's teacup was squished between their bodies, a thin trickle of hot tea dribbling down her belly. Her eyes widened in shock, then rolled back in pleasure as Suzy placed her other hand on the back of her head and pulled her forward, probing the inside of her mouth with her tongue.
Then, as soon as it started, it was over. Suzy pulled back, eyeing Dominique's body lustily, then she patiently recovered her chair and sat down in it. She crossed her legs, grabbed her teacup, and said, "Now imagine if I had a knife."
Dominique's hands were shaking a bit. Who exactly was in charge here? She set down the cup and folded her hands in front of her. "Okay..." she said. "We're going to try it anyway. But you let me know if anything seems funny."
Suzy nodded. "Yes, ma'am."