Cat Call written by AmyBrooke (August 23rd, 2020)
Can you keep a secret? I want to tell you a real story. I need to share it with you. I can’t tell others in real-life about it. You will know why if you read it. But I can tell you online. I can trust you. Right? Ok. My name is Catherine. My friends call me Cat. I have a parking spot for work. I have to walk to it alone to drive home. But there is this guy. He keeps Cat Calling me. Cat Calling is when a man whistles, shouts, or comments in a sexual nature to a woman passing by. But this man. He is large and scary looking! All the women know about him. His name is Callen. Everyone knows him as Call. Or asshole.
Anyway, he stands in a nearby dark alley by my car. He Cat Calls me when I come to get in my car. It started as annoying. It has become traumatic. He is getting more bold. He is getting closer to me each time. He knows my name. He harasses me. He taunts me. He insults me. He thinks it's funny that my name is Cat. He makes me feel uncomfortable. My heart races when I go to my car after work. I can’t avoid it. It's my parking spot. He knows that. I look down and walk faster to avoid him. He has done this for years. He knows it's wrong. He does not care. No woman can stop it.
I finally stood up to him. I was so scared! But I had too! Someone had to stop this! I walked into that dark alley to the back where we were alone. I was so mad that I didn’t think about how dangerous it was to be alone with this man until we were there. He leaned in closer to me. Towering over me. Looking down at me. I backed into a corner. I felt my back press against the cold wall. I realized it was just us. I wanted to scream for help. But I could not show fear now! I looked up into his eyes with confidence as I spoke: “You need to stop Cat Calling women. It is wrong and hurtful!” He laughed. He pushed me. I felt how strong he was. I could not defend myself.
Call spoke to me in a cold and uncaring way: “I don’t care. I hate women. I am a proud misogynist. I have been to jail for hurting and killing women. I love it. It gets me off. I have enough drug money to do what I want. You know me. You fear me. It makes me aroused. You can’t stop me. Hey, we are alone, let’s get intimate.” He leaned in to kiss me and I backed away. I tried to run but he grabbed me and turned me around. He slapped me across the face and pushed me against the wall. He grabbed my shirt. He tried to strip me naked. I could see it in his lustful eyes. He wanted to rape and kill me. I was crying. I screamed out but no one heard me.
I was told in therapy to think of my problems as tiny compared to myself. This always seemed to work when I was stressed out. I did that with this man just out of habit. I imagined him as the size of a bug at my feet. Suddenly, he started to shrink! His eye-level went down to my breasts. He was shocked. I overpowered him and pushed him away. He stumbled back and fell onto the ground. He looked up at me in disbelief. I watched him shrink away with his clothes on. He stopped shrinking at about 1-inch. Or was it 2-inches? I was never good with math. He was really tiny. Like a bug.
I was still scared. I was always told to escape a sexual harassment situation. I ran. I was near the exit of the alley. I stopped. I have always been a good person. Loving and caring. But what if he regained his size? I could not take that chance. I turned around and walked back into the corner. I confronted him. He looked so tiny compared to my giant black high heel shoes that were inches away from him. He looked up at me. I never felt so powerful. “Call, I told you stop! You did not listen to me. You are a bad person. You deserve to stay that tiny! What do you have to say for yourself NOW?” I asked defensively and put my foot down in front of him. He was scared. He looked up at me. He begged, cried, and pleaded. He said: “I will change! Please don’t step on me!”
I never thought of stepping on him. But that thought. The empowerment. The arousal. I started to feel sexually aroused. I did not understand it. But it felt great. I had time. He really believed that I was going to crush him like a bug. I am a gentle person. I don’t do things like that. But if I wanted too; I could do it. This man would be a stain on the bottom of my shoe. He believed I would do it. I had to explore this feeling.
I looked down at him. I told him with authority: “If you don’t want me to step on you right now; prove it to me. Obey me. You will strip naked. You will get on your hands and knees. You will kiss the tip of my shoe. You will beg me not to crush you! You will tell me how sorry you are. You will tell me all the bad things that you have done and how you regret it and will change!” He did it! It seemed to go on for over five minutes. This feeling overwhelmed me. I did not know what it was. I didn’t care. I needed to have more of it. I decided to scare him. I lifted my shoe over him and tilted the back heel pressing against the ground. He screamed and begged. He looked up at the bottom of my shoe. He realized that if I just tilted my foot forward; I would step on him and crush him like a bug.
I did not intend for any of this to happen. I just wanted the Cat Calling to stop. I just wanted to run away after he shrunk. Maybe he would regain his size and learn his lesson. Could I really murder someone? Even if they did deserve it and were harmful to society? He believes that I will. His fear became my arousal. I started to believe that he deserved to be crushed. I needed to feel his tiny weight under my shoe. I had to explore this feeling. I thought about what he did to me. All of his evil actions. I was getting angry. I felt justified in punishing him. I could do more than just punish him. I could crush him like a bug and end his parasitic existence! No one would know. No one would care. I would probably be commended for it if others knew. I was angry. I had to hold back the urge to crush him as I screamed down at him.
“I don’t believe you! You won’t change. You hurt women and enjoy it! You admitted that you have hurt and killed women for arousal, right? You are a criminal! You are a ‘proud misogynist.' You don’t deserve to exist! I can’t stand the sight of you. I have decided. I am CRUSHING YOU!” I said with anger. My body moved on its own! I lowered my foot on him. He screamed and begged. He fell onto his back with his tiny arms up to stop my weight from pressing down on him. I felt him struggle through the bottom of my black high heel shoe. His tiny movements, breathing, struggles, pain; I could feel all of it. I had never felt this empowered, justified, and sexually aroused! I started to press my weight onto him. I felt him flatten out and he could not move at all. I savored the feeling.
I am a gentle person. I should let him go. I should be merciful. It’s the right thing to do. “FUCK YOU!” I screamed out and growled like an angry predator as I pressed my foot down harder on him slowly. He cried out in pain. I enjoyed it. I felt his ribs crack. I was about to orgasm. I made him suffer. I dragged it out. I talked down to him the entire time. “Say that I am a slut! Say how much you hate women! I don’t hear you talking that shit now you fucking asshole!” I don’t know what came over me. A dominance that I had never felt before. I loved it. I have fully indulged my power now. You want to know more about me? You want to know how I have used my power since then? Let me know.