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Old 2nd July 2011
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“And what about me, Kirk?” Karen chimed in, almost giddy with the game. “Do you respect me too?”

“Yes, Ma’am…”


Karen leaned back in the booth and took a long drag from her cigarette. Her heart was racing, and she felt warm under her arms and between her legs. She was sure that there was a damp spot showing in her own crotch. She glanced across the table at Claudette, but her friend simply smiled conceitedly and tapped ash into the glass tray on the table.

“Told you.” She smiled even wider, her gaze drifting momentarily to her daughter. Sandy was staring at Kirk, and Karen could see his wheels turning as he smiled, biting on his lower lip.

“Makes me wonder what you did to me when you had me under, Mom,” he said suppressing a giggle. Karen felt a quick tingle shoot down her spine to hear Sandy’s sweet chiming laugh.

Claudette laughed. “You, my darling son, I just gave direction. I wanted you to excel in school, and you did.” Sandy shrugged, but he returned his mother’s contagious smile, a twinkle in his eyes.

Karen puffed on her cigarette, taking a long hard look at her entranced brother again before turning back to Claudette. “So, I guess you better wake him up again.”

“Why?” Claudette asked, looking to the young man. “He’s not complaining.”

“Well, you proved your point. Not that he’ll remember when you wake him up.”

“He’ll remember whatever I want him to remember. All of it, or nothing, or anything in between.”

“Really?” Karen asked, her eyes growing wide. Claudette nodded.

“It’s true, if I just woke him now he’d remember nothing like he’d been asleep. It’d be like a dream that he couldn’t quite recall. If I tell him otherwise though, he’ll remember everything, or whatever I tell him. He’s like a sculptor’s lump of clay right now. I just have to mold him. Watch…

“Kirk?” Claudette asked, no longer even relying on the cigarette to get the attention she wanted. Karen realized that her brother was totally enthralled.

“Boy?” Claudette repeated softly, using his new ‘pet’ name. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. I’m going to wake you soon, but I want you to remember a few things first. Understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” Claudette turned to Karen; “You need to use positive reinforcement as you’re laying suggestions. Like a dog, praise helps them to remember.” Claudette turned back to Kirk.

“Kirk. You respect us, I know. You respect us because we smoke, and we are cooler than you are, better than you. But I want you to know that EVERYONE is better than you are! You will show everyone respect, because you are the least, the lowest person on the face of the Earth.”

Karen gasped and reached towards Claudette, but her friend pulled back and shook her head. Sandy reached out and gently grasped Karen’s hand, whispering-


Karen hesitated, watching, waiting to see what would happen next.

“You will show respect to everyone! You will respond ‘Ma’am’ or ‘Sir’ to everyone who says anything to you. Anyone! If a bum on the street asks you for change you will say ‘Yes, Sir’ and give him all your money. Because he is better than you are! If someone asks you directions you will stop what you are doing and lead them where they want to go. If someone asks for help you will do all that you can to make them happy, no matter what, whatever they want – “

“No!” Karen leaned forward again. This was going too far! It was too much! Claudette was turning her brother into… into…

A slave!

Karen licked her lips at the thought. She hesitated, imagining her brother doing whatever she asked without the back talk, without any hesitation. And not just her, by what Claudette was saying, he would now obey everyone; their parents, her friends and neighbors, even a stranger on the street. She felt her panties getting damp as she thought about it, and heard Sandy chuckling.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you?” Sandy whispered as he leaned in across the table. He was smiling, and Karen did her best not to smile as well.

“It’s not right… ” she said, but she could hear that her voice lacked conviction.

“No, it’s not.” Sandy shrugged, flipping his hair back over his shoulder. “But it’ll be fun.”

“Do you understand?” Claudette continued, ignoring the conversation going on across the table. Kirk was staring blankly at Claudette, his cock pressing into his jeans Karen saw. She had reinforced that helping others and serving others would excite him, and apparently just listening to her say that was getting him more and more erect.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. I’m going to wake you in a moment, but when you wake up I want you to remember that I was able to hypnotize you, and that will make you humble, knowing that I was right and you were wrong. You’ll remember every command I’ve given you, but not in your conscious mind. You will do all I’ve said, willingly and slavishly, but you will not balk. It might seem wrong, and it may be embarrassing, even humiliating, but not doing it will be even worse. No matter what you are told to do- no matter how degrading- you will do it, and though it might make you wonder, you will hurt if you try not to carry out your orders. You will feel pain, and be miserable until you comply.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. Now remember your triggers, and when I count to three you will wake up, knowing that I hypnotized you and extremely sorry that you doubted my abilities even though you do not remember anything that happened while you were out…




Karen watched with excitement as Kirk Gibbons blinked and looked around the table between his her and their two friends. They were all staring at him and smiling, Karen especially, wide-eyed and speechless at the look on his face. When he looked at Claudette she saw a blush of embarrassment color his cheeks. She knew that he felt the need to apologize for ever doubting her abilities as a hypnotist, but was finding it hard to do so.

“Claudette…“ he squeaked, the skin on his arms raising goosebumps as the shame washed through his body. Oddly too, Karen saw him getting hard as he tried to look at Claudette and hold eye contact. He couldn’t, and looked at the smoldering cigarette between her fingers instead.

“Claudette, Ma’am, I’m sorry. You were right, and easily hypnotized me. I feel so low and stupid for doubting you.” Claudette laughed lightly, waving away his apology with her cigarette.

“That’s okay, Kirk. I get that from better men than you.” Kirk felt small at what she said and hung his head in shame. Karen watched in awe, her eyes growing wider to see her brother behaving so meekly and subserviently. He was acting like a pussy, and it was all Claudette’s idea.

“No doubts now?” she asked, and Kirk stared at her for a moment.

“No, Ma’am.” Karen felt her brother shiver as he hung his head again. He could not seem to look any of them in the eyes. Had Claudette told him that as well, or was that something that naturally came to mind, something that was in his nature? Claudette smiled, directing her attention to Karen with a sly wink.

“Kirk?” she said, and Karen saw her brother focus on her friend, hanging on her every word. “I seem to have dropped a French fry under the table…” Karen glanced down, wondering. None of them had ordered any food, but there was a dirty French fry on the filthy tiled floor near Claudette’s feet. Karen looked back to her friend.

“Could you get it for me, please?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Karen watched, dumbfounded as her brother twisted about, trying to grope for the French fry that was out of his reach under the table. She looked at Claudette, wondering what was next, though she suspected upon seeing her friend’s wicked grin.

“Go ahead and crawl under the table, Kirk. Get the French fry, there’s a good boy.”

Kirk seemed to shudder at the word ‘boy’, but as Karen watched, without hesitation her brother slipped down beneath the table onto his hands and knees. Karen scrunched back into her seat, trying to watch and saw her brother reaching for the French fry beside the toe of Claudette’s foot. He almost had it, but at the last moment her friend shifted her foot and brought it down atop the old, stale fry, mashing it into the floor.

“Oops…” Claudette sniggered, “I’m sorry, Kirk. Thanks anyway, but I don’t want it now. You can have it.”

Karen watched as Claudette recrossed her legs and twisted her foot so that the sole of her black pump was facing Kirk squarely. She could see the dirty, mashed French fry smeared on the bottom of her friend’s shoe. Kirk stared at it for just a moment, as though considering what to do. His nose wrinkled, no doubt from the smell coming from Claudette’s foot dangling so close to his face, but too she saw a wince of pain wash across his features. Finally, though slowly, he leaned in and started to lick the mashed and filthy fry from the bottom of Claudette’s shoe. Claudette and Sandy laughed out loud, and Karen could not help but giggle herself, covering her mouth to suppress her own laughter. Her little brother just looked so pathetic.

“Can I get you folks somethin’ else?”

Karen squeaked, jumping slightly as she looked up to see their Denny’s waitress standing at their table, steaming coffeepot in hand. She was a cute woman, younger than Karen, and probably Sandy as well. She was dressed in the typical Denny’s uniform of brown and orange skirt and blouse with a darker brown apron and black loafers on her feet. She looked frazzled and tired though, her blonde hair out of place with loose strands escaping her ponytail and bags under her deep blue eyes. Claudette and Sandy looked up as well, but neither seemed surprised or worried at her sudden appearance. Karen glanced back beneath the table and saw her brother oblivious, still scraping mashed potato from the sole of Claudette’s shoe with his teeth and tongue.

“I don’t think so.” Claudette said, holding her hand over her coffee cup. “Just the check.” The waitress smiled, pulling her check pad from her apron pocket and adding up the total. She glanced at the empty space where Kirk had been just moments before.

“There were four of you right?” she asked, looking at the half empty cup in Kirk’s empty place at the table.

“Yeah,” Sandy said with a smirk. “He’s under the table licking dirt off the bottom of my mother’s shoe.”

Karen moaned, sure that the young woman would run off and call the police, but she did not seem disturbed. Karen imagined she had seen a lot, working the late shift at the restaurant. Still, the waitress gave Sandy a queer look and a twisted smile of doubt as she stepped back and peered under the table. Karen had to laugh to see the woman’s eyes grow wide.

“Oh my god!” she squealed backing up another step. “He- he really is… he’s licking your shoes!” Claudette laughed.

“Yeah. My shoes got a bit dirty and Kirk was nice enough to volunteer to clean them for me. Wasn’t that sweet?” Claudette grinned, and Karen saw her tap her brother in the cheek with the side of her shoe. “He’ll clean yours if you like… Jeanie.” Claudette read the name from the plastic tag pinned on the girl’s lapel. “Would you like that?”


The young woman blinked, and Karen was afraid that she might faint, but she didn’t. Surprisingly she held her ground as Kirk scrambled out from beneath the table and started to kiss and lick the woman’s loafers at Claudette’s command. The suggestions that Claudette had planted had taken hold, and he seemed to know his new, lower station in life. Still, the waitress gasped.

“Jesus…” she said, and Karen could see that she was torn between enjoying the attention and running away. She stared curiously as Kirk leaned in, lapping at the soft leather of her loafers, breathing deeply what had to be a pungent aroma. Karen could not imagine how bad the younger woman’s feet must smell. Her shoes looked old and worn, and Jeanie looked to be on the last legs of her shift. She musty have been walking around in god knows what in her loafers for hours. Still, Kirk licked frantically, trying desperately to please as the woman pulled her foot back, making him inadvertently crawl after her. Claudette and Sandy laughed, and soon enough Karen found herself joining in. Before long though, the woman kicked at him, thumping Kirk in the nose and cheek to make him back off.

“That’s enough! Stop it! Jesus! What is he, some sicko freak?” The waitress stared at Kirk as he stopped licking but stayed prostrate, bowing at her feet. “I- I have to get back to work.” The waitress blushed, ripping the check from her pad and tossing it to the table before hurrying off. Karen looked up to see the man across the room had been watching, but when their eyes locked he simply smirked and returned his attention to his newspaper. Karen looked down at her brother still snuffling about the floor like a pig in heat. It was disgusting… exciting!

“Make him stop!” Karen snapped, looking up at Claudette, and her friend simply shrugged.

“Okay, Karen. Calm down.” She turned, smiling at the young man down on the floor on his hands and knees.

“Kirk?” Karen saw her brother stiffen at her friend’s voice, though he stayed on all fours. “That’s enough, boy. Come back to us.”

Slowly Kirk stood and turned, sliding back into the booth. His face was filthy from the dirt of the floor and the shoes he had tongued clean, as well as beet red from embarrassment, apparently. If he remembered what he had just done, he said nothing and simply hung his head in shame. Karen could not help but feel excited by what she had just witnessed, but in turn she also felt a shock of pity for her brother. What had they done to him?

“Pay the bill, Kirk,” Sandy said as he stood and helped his mother into her light blazer. Karen watched as Kirk took out his wallet and dropped almost eighty dollars onto the tabletop. Quite a tip for almost three hours and a few cups of coffee, not to mention a shoe shine. Karen scooped up three twenties as she grabbed her purse and left the booth, following her friends, Kirk following a few steps behind. She planned to return the money to her brother later.

Really she did…

The drive home was quiet for the most part, most of the way. Karen glanced nervously at her brother from the driver’s seat, but he said nothing and simply kept his head bowed. He seemed tired and embarrassed, and she wondered just how much of what had happened at the restaurant he actually remembered.

Claudette had assured her that Kirk would be fine as they said their good byes in the Denny’s parking lot. It had been dark and deserted, a chilly breeze rustling the papers and dust about the blacktop while they all huddled together and talked. Well, Karen, Claudette and Sandy spoke; Kirk had simply stood to one side, almost at attention as though awaiting orders. It had bothered Karen to see him that way, but she still felt hot over it as well. The power and control was exciting her, but she had to put a stop to it.

“I want you to change him back,” she had said, and Claudette and Sandy simply chuckled. “It’s not right!”

“He’s fine, Karen. Really.” Claudette took a slow drag off of another cigarette and grinned to see Kirk lick his lips. “He’s just more helpful now. More respectful. How many times have you told me what a brat he was? Now he’ll do whatever you say, no questions asked.”

“But,” Karen hesitated, looking at Kirk. He seemed to be almost squirming as the cigarette smoke drifted past him. He was sweating. “He’s not like my brother now. He’s like some robot or something. I don’t like it!”

“Sure you do.” Sandy said, stepping up beside Kirk and putting an arm around his shoulders. “I was watching you, Karen. You were lovin’ it. You almost came when he was lickin’ my mom’s shoes, and the waitress’. You wanted him to do yours.”

“No…” Karen denied it, but she could hear her voice waver. Was Sandy right? Did she really want her brother to be a robot? Her robot?

“Look, Karen,” Claudette said, tossing her spent butt to the ground at Kirk’s feet and crushing it under the toe of her pump where he could see it. Karen heard the slightest whimper from her brother. “Let it go for awhile. A few days maybe, then see what you want. You’ll see that he’s still your brother, just minus the snotty bad habits. He'll show you respect, and do whatever you say. Let him do some chores or something. You’ll both love it. You’ll see.”

“I don’t know…” Karen hesitated, but found herself digging through her purse for her car keys. Apparently it was decided. She supposed a few days would not hurt.

“There won’t be any permanent damage will there? You’ll be able to change him back after even a few days?”

Claudette chuckled. “I could take him out after a few years, Karen. Just put him back under and remove the suggestions.” Claudette raised an expectant eyebrow, waiting for Karen’s response, knowing that there was no doubt.

“Okay.” Karen sighed in final agreement as she found her keys. “Just for a few days then.“

“’Til next weekend?” Sandy suggested. “We can get together again and you can decide. I bet I know what you’ll say though.”

Karen smirked, climbing into her car as Sandy held the door for her. “I doubt that. But one week then. Then we’ll get together.” Sandy closed the door and Karen rolled down the window as her brother had gotten into the passenger’s side.

“Go with it Karen,” Sandy said with a smile. “You might even enjoy it.” Karen started the car.

“I’ll try, but I doubt I’ll like it.”

They had said good bye and now Karen was regretting her decision. Kirk looked so pathetic sitting there quietly, his head bowed. He looked nothing like a real man now, even less than before. He looked as low as she knew that he had been told to feel. She had to do something. She had to try and get him back to normal before she got him home. God, what would their mother think?

Their father had died when Kirk was just five years old. Kirk barely remembered him, and ever since their mother had managed both parental roles. And done a fairly good job of it, Karen had to admit. Neither of the Gibbons kids had turned out badly, though Kirk had yet to get motivated at choosing a career or college now that he was out of school. He had taken a part-time job at a local Safeway for some summer spending money, but had been laid off just the week before due to slow times. She suspected that the eighty dollars he had tossed on the table was all the money he had left until he found something else. Their mother would let him slide of course, so long as he helped out around the house while she was at work. She was pretty easy going that way. She would definitely freak though if Kirk suddenly dropped to his knees and started to kiss her feet.

Karen chuckled at the image that popped into her head. Their mother Janice was almost fifty, but still good looking in a motherly kind of way. Her hair was grayish brown, and she was a little plump, but she stayed active and was healthy. She smoked however! Would that be a problem?

Karen slowed the car at a stoplight and turned to her brother. He was still staring at the floor at his feet. She cleared her throat –


Her brother turned his head and their eyes met for a split second before he quickly averted his gaze, staring down again.

“Yes, Ma’am?” he whispered, and Karen sagged. She liked the respectful tone of his voice, but it just was not right somehow. It felt weird.

“Kirk,” she continued, her own voice wavering. She was nervous, and unconsciously digging through her purse for a cigarette. Before she even realized what she was doing she had one between her lips and lit. She saw her brother inhaling deeply as the pale blue smoke drifted past him. Maybe that was the key. He would do anything for a smoker, Claudette had told him. Maybe he would act normally again if she told him while blowing smoke in his face.

The blare of a horn from behind jerked her from her train of thought. The traffic light had turned green, so Karen rolled the car slowly forward and towards the curb where she put it in park. After the car behind sped past, she turned to her brother again.

“Kirk, when I get you home I want you to act normally,” she said. She took a long drag off of her Newport and slowly blew the smoke into her brother’s face. His stupid smile grew, and she knew that he was becoming high, and hopefully more suggestive. “I want you to be like you were before tonight. I want you to be my normal little brother again.”

“Yes, Ma’am…” he whispered, his voice slurred.

This was going to be harder than she thought…

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Old 2nd July 2011
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It had taken Karen almost thirty minutes to talk her brother back, but even then she was not sure if he was totally reverted. For the longest time he had kept addressing her as Ma’am, even after she told him not to. It was only when she told him that that did not make her happy that it stopped, and it was then that she knew the key.

She was not Claudette, and had no idea what she was doing really, but she had to try. The best bet was simply to imitate what Claudette had done and said; speaking slowly down at him, reinforcing her words over and over and keeping him in his cigarette-smoke high. After awhile he seemed to stop looking at the floor, and before long he sat a little bit straighter.

Finally, when she thought she had it right, Karen lit a last cigarette and blew the smoke at her brother. She bit her lip as he seemed to stiffen for a moment, his eyes glazing over, but then he reached up and knuckled his eye. He turned to her, scowling.

“Don’t blow smoke in my face!” he snapped. “You know I hate that!”

He rubbed at his eyes and Karen had to smile. That was the Kirk she knew. That was her brother.

“Sorry…” she apologized and stubbed the cigarette out in the car’s ashtray. Kirk rolled down the window all the way as she put the car back into drive and rolled back into the street. He was breathing deeply, head high and ignoring her.

“Could you close the window, Kirk? It’s a little chilly.”

“In a minute.”

Karen stifled a giggle.

Her brother was back.

Kirk woke with a shudder at the strange sound. He sat bolt upright, instantly regretting it as his head started to spin. He felt tired and weak and wondered just what he had drank the night before. He felt as though he had a hangover, but he couldn’t remember having a single drop of alcohol.

In fact, he could not remember much of anything from the night before. He recalled he and his sister meeting up with her friend Claudette and her stuck up daughter, Sandy at the theater. He remembered the stupid movie they had seen, and how much he had hated it. It had seemed farfetched and unbelievable at the time. But later at Denny’s…

It seemed as though Claudette had changed his opinions of hypnosis while they had been at the restaurant, though he could not really recall what she had said to change his mind. The evening after the movie was a blur to him now, just little snatches of imagery springing forth in his mind. His head was fuzzy though, and the images were strange and in no real order. Cigarettes and smells, feet and a lot of smoke…

It was odd.


He heard his mother’s voice as she knocked on his bedroom door again. That was what had woke him up, too early apparently. His head was swimming and his mouth felt dirty for some reason. He couldn’t imagine how his breath must smell.

“Kirk… Time to get up. It’s after ten, son…”

Kirk Gibbons heard the knob of the door rattle as his mother pushed it open a crack and peered inside. She was still dressed in her long, pink fleece housecoat with her shoulder length hair pulled back into a loose tail. She had probably been up for an hour or two but had not taken the time to get dressed yet. Kirk could smell coffee though, and something else that had burned on the stove. He smelled smoke.

“Breakfast’s on the table, so get out of bed and come eat before it gets cold.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Kirk saw his mother blink, and then smile widely. She looked pretty, smiling like that.

“Ma’am? My goodness…” she chuckled, a slight blush rising in her cheek. “So respectful. What a good boy.”

Kirk stiffened and stared at his mother for a moment. She was not just pretty, she was beautiful. So much better than him. He was ugly compared to her. Ugly and small. He had to look away, down.

“Hurry up now!” she said, a happy order, and pulled the door closed again. Kirk could hear her padding away from his room and quickly climbed out of bed to comply. He felt stiff, and he swayed for just a moment as his head struggled to clear. He did not want to keep his mother waiting, but he did not want to look more the fool to her by staggering out into her presence.

He glanced in the mirror and saw his image reflected, frowning. He was ugly, a skinny little boy with barely any shape to his flat, girlish body. Even his hair, a dirty, dishwater brown was straggly and dull. He noted that he had a raging hard on however, poking up a tent in his skimpy bikini briefs that he normally wore to bed. It was bulging, but he knew how tiny it actually was; barely four inches at most. That was why he wore the tiny shorts, to make it seem bigger. Staring at it now, at his reflection he just seemed tiny and insignificant, and he almost seemed to be dwindling in the mirror. He felt like a bug. A worm…

His mother was waiting though, and he had to hurry. He reached for his clothes piled on his desk chair, but hesitated. His mother had not told him to dress, just to hurry. It seemed wrong to be going out to breakfast in his underwear, but his mother knew best. She was a woman after all, and his mother! She was better than him…

Janice Gibbons was sitting at the kitchen table reading the morning paper by the time she finally heard her son’s bedroom door open and close. She sighed, taking a sip of coffee as she wished that Kirk would not stay out so late at night. It was the weekend she knew, and he was an adult, but she wanted him at home if he was going to be living here indefinitely. Her house, thus, her rules.

Kirk was a good boy, a good son, but he just always seemed to have a chip on his shoulder. He could not hold a job, and she feared now that he was no longer even trying to find one. She supposed that he was resentful as his sister had done so much better for herself. Karen had a good job and a big apartment across town. Her own car too, and money to burn it seemed.

She supposed that Kirk was jealous to a point, and probably feeling inadequate as well. There had always been a sort of rivalry between the siblings, and it seemed- at least for the moment- Karen had finally won.

As a result however, Kirk was snappish and snotty at times and almost always in a foul mood. No job, living at home with Mommy, no car, no girlfriend, no self esteem…

Janice sighed. It would probably make her crazy as well. Maybe she should have Gerald talk to him again when he got home next weekend. It never seemed to help, but –

Janice put on a smile and looked up as her son’s shadow fell across the table. Her smile quickly fell away however, as she felt her mouth go slack and her eyes grow wide. She gasped, trying to speak but the words choked in her throat.

Kirk was standing beside the table dressed only in the tiny bikini briefs that she knew he wore to bed at night. They left little to the imagination, and though she had seen her son naked before, it had been many years.

She looked the young man up and down in astonishment. She could not imagine what had spurred him to come to the table almost naked. She tried not to look, but her eyes naturally drifted to her son’s crotch. She felt herself blush as she stared. She knew that her son was not well endowed, but what he had between his legs was standing at full attention and poking out against the soft fabric of his briefs. It was tiny actually, barely four inches, but in his current state of undress, hard to miss.

Janice looked away, trying her best not to stare. She looked at her son’s face, but found him staring at the floor, breathing heavily. His skin was splotchy red, and he could not seem to meet her gaze. He was just as embarrassed as she was apparently. Why had he done this then?

Janice was shaking as she tried to regain her composure. She reached for a cigarette and heard the slightest moan from her son as she lit it. He was staring intently at the cigarette in her mouth now as she waved her match out. She exhaled and saw Kirk quiver as he breathed in the smoke. He hated cigarette smoke…

“Kirk…” she finally managed to squeak out after a few long, calming drags. Kirk was swaying now she noted, looking almost high as he sniffed the air deeply. He had a stupid, sheepish grin on his face and his hard on was still raging.

“Kirk,” she began again, more firmly, “what’s going on? Why didn’t you get dressed?” He seemed to think for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am…” he whispered. His voice seemed sad, almost hurt. “You didn’t tell me to get dressed. You said to hurry.”

Janice blinked. That was true, she supposed. But still…

“But Kirk,” she scolded, “you don’t come to the table in your underwear. It’s not right. I’m your mother for God’s sake!”

Kirk hung his head with a frown. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He almost seemed ready to cry. She had not been that harsh, but he was trembling and his skin was blotching pink. He was ashamed.

“It’s okay, Kirk,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. There was obviously something wrong. She had to just go with it, and find out what. “What’s done is done. Just don’t do it again. You gave me quite a start.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m sorry.”

Janice stared at her son again for a moment. He still had not made a move to sit and eat. It was as though he was waiting for her to give him permission. She had never heard him sound so apologetic, even when he had done something really bad. He had broken one of her favorite vases when he was younger, and it had taken all of his will to say he was sorry then, after denying it for a day or two. She had spanked him and grounded him in the past, but could not remember him ever being so…


wimpish… submissive…

“Kirk,” she said again, looking squarely at his face. He could not meet her gaze but kept staring at the floor. “Are you feeling all right? Are you hungry? The oatmeal’s a little burnt, but it’s still good. You need to eat.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well then sit down and eat.” Janice smiled, trying to take it all in stride. Maybe it was some joke. A lost bet or something that Karen put him up to. She smirked, shaking her head. That had to be it. Well, she could play along then.

“Unless you’re planning on eating it off of the floor like a dog.” Janice laughed, “The way you’re acting this morning, I wouldn’t put it past – “

Janice gasped as her son picked up the bowl of oatmeal and dropped to his hands and knees at her feet. Her eyes grew wide as he bent low, putting his face into the bowl and started licking and snuffling like a famished pig.

Or a dog…

He was acting just like a dog just as she had suggested. It had been a joke of course. She had not imagined that he would actually want to eat his food on his hands and knees at her feet, yet there he was. It was ridiculous… horrible!

Yet for some reason Janice could not take her eyes from her son. He was licking hard, crawling about and following the bowl as he pushed it about on the floor trying to get at the food with his tongue. His bikini-clad butt was high in the air, wagging almost, wiggling about like he had a tail. It was almost obscene, but Janice stared transfixed, unable to tear her gaze away.

This was more than some joke. Kirk had to be humiliated beyond belief, and she could see reddish patches all over his skin that betrayed that truth. Still, he did not stop. Why was he doing this? What had come over him that would make him act so strangely, and before his very mother?

Still Janice watched, fascinated with how hard he was trying to clean the bowl. Almost as though he was trying to please her by eating every bite. He was nosing the bowl forward, closer and closer to her feet while she watched, trying to get at the last little bit. The bowl suddenly tipped as it bumped into the edge of her slipper and Kirk gasped as a sloppy glop of the oatmeal spilled out onto her toes and the fuzzy strap of her slipper. He glanced up apologetically, and Janice almost gasped. Was that fear in his eyes?

She started to reach for a napkin to wipe her foot clean when her son shocked her even further. She finally did gasp as, with a whimper of shame, Kirk leaned forward and started to lick her foot clean of the mess that he had made.

His tongue was hot and slick, almost slimy, and Janice’s first instinct was to giggle as it tickled to feel his licking. She held it in though, her mouth twitching from smile to tight-lipped frown as she watched her son lick her foot. It tickled, and Janice felt it all the way up her leg. She shivered and more. She felt a warmth suddenly between her legs.

“Oh god…”

Her eyes grew wide as she realized that her son’s ministrations were getting her excited. She felt an old, half-forgotten tingle in her loins that had been absent for years. She loved her sometimes, on again off again boyfriend, Gerald of course, but it had been a long time since he had last stimulated her, or even excited her in the slightest way. She thought that she was just getting too old, but now she was feeling warm and damp between her legs. Her skin was tingling, and it just got worse the more she stared at her groveling son.

“Oh… god…”

It was too much! It was wrong! Her son was getting her hot, and she was letting him!


Janice kicked out with her foot, smacking Kirk right in the nose with the toe of her slipper. He yelped and whimpered- just like a dog- but he did stop at her command, scrabbling back on all fours a few short steps. He stayed on his hands and knees however, and she noticed that he kept his head down to the floor. His body was shaking too, almost as though he was trying to keep from crying.

Janice collapsed back into her chair, breathing hard and totally dumbfounded. She had absolutely no idea what was going on or what to do about it. There was nothing in mothering to prepare her for this. Janice took deep breaths as she thought, watching her son as he bowed down before her. She didn’t know what to say.

In the end, she reached for a cigarette…

It was almost noon before Karen finally pulled her car into the driveway of her mother’s house. She rolled the car to a stop beside her mother’s Volvo and gunned the engine a bit before shutting down. It had been rattling again, and she feared that it was on its last legs. She glanced enviously to the side at her mother’s still fairly new car and sighed. It seemed she would never be so well off.

Still, she was glad to see the other car in the driveway. That meant that her mother was at home, and more importantly that Kirk was as well. Karen Gibbons thought that she had talked her brother down from the ‘fun’ of the previous night, but she still had some reservations. She had not been certain that she had been able to undo what Claudette had mischievously done to Kirk, and as a result she had hardly slept at all that night.

Karen dropped her keys into her purse and sidled out of the car. She immediately felt the heat of the day and was glad that she had opted for shorts and a tanktop, as there were already droplets of sweat forming between her breasts and under her arms. She hoped to be able to sit out in her mother’s backyard for awhile today and get a jumpstart on her tan. She had a few loads of laundry to do, and it would be the perfect opportunity.

Karen folded the driver’s seat forward and hefted the first of her three big bags out of the car’s back seat. It was the smallest, but even it was heavy, and she was just so tired. One was enough for now, she would come back for the other two later. Or she could ask Kirk to get them.

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Karen smiled, closing the car door and hefting her bag towards the front door. The night before, Kirk would have begged to fetch her bags for her, and probably would have done it on his hands and knees. She sighed. That was wrong of course, but the image of it still made her giggle.

“Mom! It’s just me!” Karen called out as she stepped into the entryway. She was always happy to come home. She liked being out on her own of course, but her mother’s house was always so clean and cheerful it would always be home to her.

Karen glanced about the living room, dropping her laundry bag to the floor as she closed the door behind her. As always, the room was spotless and smelled fresh. The carpet was a plush shag of green underfoot, and the furniture; the long couch and easy chairs were dark burnt orange and looked too inviting. There were end tables arranged just so and potted plants here and there making everything warm and alive. Too her right she could see the kitchen table and television, beyond that the door to her old bedroom, now Kirk’s. To her left was the hallway to her mom’s room and what was now the workroom since Karen had moved and her brother took her old room. That way led to the bathroom and the cellar door as well. There was a bar top cut away into the wall dividing the living room and the kitchen straight ahead, and beyond that Karen could see the backyard with a few trees blooming in the distance. Karen sighed remembering all the happy times that she had had growing up here. It had not all been fun and games, but the good times certainly outweighed the bad.

“Mom?” she called out again, surprised that her mother had not come to greet her yet. The television was on, so she was about somewhere. Maybe out back or…

She heard the toilet flush.

Janice Gibbons came walking down the hall from the bathroom, one hand patting at her hair. She was dressed in white shorts and a dark blue shell tee shirt with leather flat casuals to match. She looked clean and fresh, her hair combed and just a bit of make-up on. She looked up as she entered the living room, almost gasping in shock to see Karen standing there.

“Oh!” she squeaked, and Karen noticed her mother’s eyes quickly dart about the room, finally resting on the view to the kitchen. “Karen. I- I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Just got here, Mom.” Karen stepped up and gave her mother a short kiss on the cheek. Karen could feel the tenseness in her mother even from the short contact. She wondered briefly what was the matter, but there was a gnawing in her stomach that made her suspect that she already knew. “I thought I’d do some laundry, if that’s okay?”

Karen stepped away, looking about the house once more and felt her mother right on her heels.

“Of course…”

Karen turned to find her mother right behind her, but her gaze was fixed on the opening to the kitchen again. Karen followed her mother’s gaze but saw nothing.

“Mom… Where’s Kirk?”


Karen Gibbons heard the hesitation in her mother’s voice and saw the older woman lick her lips. She was nervous… worried.

“Oh, god…”

Karen turned on her heel and dashed across the carpet towards the kitchen. The sound of her Dr. Scholl’s slapping on the soles of her feet seemed to echo the hammering of her heartbeat and the rush of blood and adrenaline in her ears. She heard her mother right behind her.

“Karen! Wait!”

Karen rounded the corner and froze. She felt the blood drain from her face and her head started to spin. She was gasping for breath suddenly, and really thought that she might faint.

Kirk was in the kitchen, just as she thought he would be. He was not, however, in any condition that she might have expected. He was almost naked save for a skimpy, satiny pair of bikini briefs that left little to the imagination. His skin was pale and smooth, almost hairless, and from the back with his long hair he could have been mistaken for a girl. He was on his hands and knees, his tight ass waving in the air as he scrubbed at the tiles on the kitchen floor. Karen saw that he was using a toothbrush.

“Oh… my… god… “

Karen stared in shock, watching as her brother toiled away, scrubbing hard at some imaginary dirt or grime on the floor. He looked pathetic, naked on his hands and knees, little more than a drudge! A slave!

Karen sensed her mother right behind her, her breathing heavy in the suddenly eerie silence. The only other sound was the low murmur of the television and the scrape of the toothbrush on the tiled floor. She rounded on her mother, and saw the older woman staring at Kirk, her face a sad mix of worry and astonishment.

“Mom!” Karen shouted, trying to control herself. “How could you?” Her mother’s face was ashen and she actually moved back a step at Karen’s outburst. She looked more shocked that her daughter had yelled at her than that she had her son on his knees scrubbing floors.

“Karen…” she said in a shaky but soothing tone, “Calm down. It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think? Well, what is it then?” Karen turned back to her brother and saw that he seemed to be scrubbing all the harder. She blinked, surprised that he had not even stopped to see what all the shouting was about.

“I- I don’t know, really,” her mother continued laying a hand on Karen’s arm to pull her away, “but he wanted to.”

He wanted too…

Karen felt the words sink in even as she felt her mother’s gentle tug on her arm leading her away. She backed up and eventually followed, feeling tears welling up. What had they done?

They sat together on the couch, side by side. Her mother had not let go of Karen, and was in fact now grasping her hands. Janice Gibbons still looked a bit shocked, but she was trying to smile and hold up a good front. Karen sniffed.

“What happened?” Karen did not want to spill everything immediately. She could not imagine how angry her mother might get if she told how Claudette had hypnotized her brother, and how Karen had actually encouraged it. She never imagined though that it would get so far out of control.

“I honestly don’t know,” her mother started, reaching for a cigarette. Karen gasped; remembering that the smoke was a trigger but said nothing as her mother lit up.

“I woke him up for breakfast, same as always, and like every other morning it took him awhile to get going. I was already at the table when he came into the kitchen, but when I looked up he was, well, dressed like that. I was shocked to say the least, and I asked him what he was doing and he just said that I hadn’t told him to get dressed. I scolded him then, but he just stood there and took it- no back talk or apologies at all. If anything he looked hurt that he’d made me upset. I thought he was going to cry.“

Janice snorted, half-smiling as she took a long drag from her cigarette. Karen stared at her mother, at first not believing that she was so calm about it all, until she recalled her own reaction from the night before. She chewed her lower lip, finally reaching for her mother’s pack of cigarettes herself.

“I finally decided what’s done is done. Hell, I’ve seen him naked before. I told him to sit and eat, but he just stood there. I joked then, said something about him eating his breakfast from a bowl on the floor like a dog.

“He dropped right down and did just that. I couldn’t believe it at first, and just sat there watching him. He was groveling, licking at the bowl and chasing it around at my feet when he tipped it over. He slopped oatmeal on my foot, and without missing a beat he started to lick it up.”

Karen’s heart was racing as she took a long drag from her cigarette. Her mother looked calm now, her eyes almost sparkling. Karen remembered Kirk licking the French fry off of Claudette’s shoe, and then the waitress...

“I had to get away. It was too much, so I shoved him back and ran for the bathroom. It was horrible, and I have to admit thrilling. God, it excited me to feel his tongue on my foot. I- “

“Mom!” Karen stared at her mother and saw her blush. She grinned however, and Karen felt the now familiar tingle between her legs. “Mom, he’s your son!”

“I know…” Janice Gibbons chained another cigarette, stumping out the first in the ashtray beside the couch. “I know, but Jesus, I’m still a woman. Certain things excite me, and that always has.” Karen nodded, smiling slightly in understanding. That was something she never knew about her mother.

“I didn’t know what else to do, so I got dressed. I needed the normalcy I suppose. I’d been in the bathroom almost twenty minutes by then and another ten after I ran into the bedroom. I didn’t know what to expect. I thought he’d gone crazy! Finally though I crept back out and made my way back to the kitchen.

“He was still there, just as I’d left him, on his knees under the kitchen table. I just stared at him for a few minutes, hoping he’d do something, but he barely moved. He just sort of whimpered. When I finally got the courage to ask him what was going on he just started apologizing. Apologizing for getting up late, for spilling his food, for getting my slipper dirty, for being bad in general, on and on… I didn’t know what else to do so I forgave him. He sort of whimpered again and crawled over to my feet, thanking me over and over while sniffing and kissing my shoes.

“I yelled at him then, told him to stop and we went right back to square one with him cringing on the floor at my feet.”

Karen sighed, taking another cigarette. It was worse than she had thought. He seemed caught in some submissive role now. Something that her mother had said had reduced her brother to a foot-licking slave. Claudette must have done it somehow, some code word, but Karen could not for the life of her remember what, or when she would have had the time to pull that off.

“I thought for a minute, then asked him what it was that he was trying to prove. I asked him what he wanted. He said that he was sorry again. Sorry for everything and that he wanted- no- needed to make amends for being so bad. He said that he was lower than me, beneath me. He kept saying that I was so much better than him. He wanted to make me happy, to please me. He was almost crying again, with his head on the floor and bowing down at me. It was weird, but a rush too. He was so respectful, calling me ‘Ma’am’ over and over. Still, no matter what I said he wouldn’t get up, or stop. Finally I thought that maybe if I went along with it that he’d get it out of his system. I told him to clean up the kitchen from breakfast as I hadn’t had the chance yet, and he scrambled right off to do it with a ‘Yes, Ma’am’. I watched him for awhile, wondering what I should do, but he seemed happy at his work. Hell, he had an erection!”

Karen licked her lips imagining the scene. She remembered that Claudette had added that into his hypnosis. It would excite him to do things, to serve…

“I finally went and sat down to watch TV. I was hoping that he would eventually get bored and stop, but as you can see…“ Janice shrugged, puffing on her cigarette. Karen followed suit, listening to the scrubbing noises coming from the kitchen. She bit down on her lip again, not knowing what to say. She supposed though that there was little she could do except fess up. She squeezed her mother’s hand, wondering how, where to start?

“Mom…“ she sighed, trying to get her courage up. “I need to tell you something…”

It took awhile for Karen to tell the story of the night before. She did not want to leave anything out or hide her part in it. She was as much to blame, even though it was actually Claudette that had done the deed. By the time she had finished the two women had smoked all of Janice’s cigarettes and had started in on Karen’s pack. They were both on edge, and though Karen knew that the smoke was a trigger and probably reinforcing her brother’s hypnotic thralldom, she needed the nicotine fix.

She was just winding down her story, trying to explain how she had tried to set things right herself by talking her brother back in the car when Kirk came crawling into the room. He crawled right up to where the two women were sitting and bowed down before them with his head touching the floor near their feet. Karen pulled her feet back, but she noticed that her mother simply crossed her legs, her foot twirling above her brother’s bowed head. And he was breathing deeply.

“What is it, son?”

“I’m finished, Ma’am,” Kirk whispered, almost whimpered, his voice muffled slightly as he spoke into the carpet. “I hope I’ve done a good job. I’m sorry it took so long. I’m sorry. Please…”

“Shhh…” Janice cooed. “I’m sure you did fine.” Karen stared wide-eyed as her mother slid one foot up under her brother’s face and started rubbing the back of his head with the other. Immediately Kirk started to lick and kiss their mother’s shoe.


Janice Gibbons waved her daughter quiet. “He wants this, remember? It’s the only thing that will calm him down. You said so yourself.”

She lit another cigarette, watching her son grovel at her feet and Karen too was mesmerized. She could feel her panties getting damp. If only it was not her brother.

“Well, obviously we need to call Claudette.” Janice Gibbons extended her leg and laid it across her son’s back and shoulders. She pulled the other foot away from him- to his whimpers- and crossed it over the other at the ankles. Karen gasped to see her mother using her brother as a footstool.

“She has to get him out of whatever spell she put on him. This is wrong!”

“Jeez, you think?”

Karen laughed despite herself. Her brother just looked so ridiculous. Still, she started digging through her bag for her cell phone. Once in hand she hit the speed dial to call her friend. After a few short rings, Claudette finally picked up.

“Hello… Claudette Martin speaking.”

“Claudette. It’s Karen.”

“Karen. What a nice surprise. What can I do for you?”

“You know very well what you can ‘do for me’! You need to get over here right now and change my brother back to normal!”

“Karen… Calm down. What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? He’s crawling around on the floor like a dog! My mother’s using him as a footstool!”

“Ha-hah! Sounds like he found his true calling.”

“It’s not funny!” Karen fumed. She could not believe how non-chalant Claudette was taking it. “You have to help him!”

“Is he violent?” Claudette asked.

“No! No, he’s… Jesus he’s docile.”

“I thought we were going to give it a few days?”

“Yeah, but… It’s too much!”

“Sounds like your mother doesn’t think so.”


“All right. Okay… I can’t come out today though. I’m at the hospital, and I have a meeting with the directors in a few minutes, and then I have rounds. I’m on call here until midnight, but I can stop by tomorrow.“

“That’s no good! This has to stop!”

“Well, I might have time before my rounds. Or maybe afterwards I can see him. You can bring him here…“

“To the hospital?” Karen was shocked. She didn’t want anyone else seeing her brother like he was, especially at a mental hospital.

“Yes. I can send an ambulance if you want.“

“No! God no! Can’t you come? This is your fault.“

“I didn’t hear you complaining too loudly last night, Karen. No, I can’t get away, but rather than an ambulance, I can send Sandy over to help. He knows the hospital policies.”

“Policies? What do you mean?”

“I’ll have to sign him in as a patient until I can see him. Just a twenty-four hour observation really, but if he’s going to be on the premises he has to be registered or I would get into a shitload of trouble. Obviously he won’t be here that long, but I have to follow the law if you don’t want to wait.”

Karen hesitated, thinking. She wanted Kirk back to normal as quickly as possible, but not agreeing to Claudette’s conditions meant him being here begging to serve. Her mother might handle that, but it was too much for her.

“No,” she sighed. If he was going to the hospital for twenty-four hours they may as well wait until Claudette could come by in the morning. She did not want her brother in the mental hospital at any rate. She had heard tales of Harding, jokingly referred to as ‘Hard-on’. “No, but can Sandy come around to help us out? She seemed to know more about this than me last night.”

“I suppose,” Claudette said, and Karen could hear what sounded like disappointment in her voice. Karen knew that her friend had a bit of an infatuation with her brother, but why did Claudette want Kirk at the hospital? It almost made Karen nervous thinking what Claudette could do unsupervised. “I’ll call Sandy and see, and have him call you one way or the other. Good enough?”

“Okay,” Karen agreed, only slightly relieved. She could only imagine the long day and night ahead of them until Claudette arrived the next day. “We’ll be waiting.”

“All right. And Karen, don’t let this get you upset. It’s nothing, really. Nothing I can’t easily fix. Besides, by the way it sounds, your brother subconsciously wanted this. He was damn eager to please last night.”

“It’s not right,” Karen argued. She did not like the way that Claudette was trying to weasel out of any of the blame, and trying to convince her that it was okay that Kirk was acting like a slave. “I just want it to end.”

“It will, Karen,” Claudette soothed. “I promise. Let me go and I’ll call Sandy. And I’ll call later to see how things are going, okay? Don’t worry.”

“All right.”

They said their good byes after Karen flipped the cell closed and dropped it into her purse again. She sighed, looking to her mother and forcing a hopeful smile. That faltered though as she told Janice Gibbons what Claudette had suggested. Her mother seemed to almost consider it as she recrossed her legs and wiggled her heels against Kirk’s back. Karen could see red marks and indentations in her brother’s skin from the heels of her mother’s shoes.

“I guess we wait then,” her mother said, taking a drag on her cigarette and blowing the smoke about Kirk. Her brother breathed in all the harder, trying to get satisfaction from the smoke, knowing that he was making his mother happy.

He had his forehead to the floor, right up against the base of the couch. He wavered a bit as the smoke drifted about him, no doubt getting high from the smell. Karen knew that every breath was probably dragging him deeper into his submission, and worse, so did their mother. God, was she actually trying to make him worse?

“Mom!” she said, leaning forward and grabbing her mother’s wrist as the cigarette was easing towards her lips again. By the quick look of irritation Karen figured that her mother knew exactly what she was doing.

“Let go, Karen,” her mother said, and after a moment Karen complied. They locked eyes for a long, silent heartbeat until finally her mother sighed and dabbed out the butt in the ashtray.

“Listen,” her mother began, finally taking her feet off of Kirk’s back. Karen noted however that as she crossed one leg over the other, the foot planted on the floor was right beside her brother’s face. “I know this is wrong, but there’s nothing that we can do about it. I tried, and you said you tried last night. We have to wait and hope that Sandy can help, or if not then Claudette tomorrow. Either way he’s going to act like this until he gets cured, otherwise he just whimpers and looks pitiful. We can at least keep him happy and content until then.”

“We could put him in his room,” Karen suggested, but her mother shook her head.

“Punish him? He’s not to blame.”

Karen looked away at her mother’s accusing stare. She was right of course. This was not Kirk’s fault, so why should he suffer? And Claudette had said that he would not do anything that he did not want to do. The thought had crossed her mind over and over. Did he really want this?

“All right, mom,” Karen finally conceded with a sigh.

“You win…”

Sandy had called after a few minutes, saying that he would come by but that he had things to do first.

“It might be a couple hours,” he had said, not sounding concerned in the least. Karen started to think that she was the only one that WAS concerned. Even her brother was content as her mother had thrown him a figurative bone.

While Karen spoke into the cell, she watched as her mother slipped her foot out of her leather casual and slipped her tiny foot under Kirk’s waiting face. Karen wrinkled her nose in disgust as the smell of her mother’s shoe and foot drifted up to her, the rank smell almost making her gag. She wondered how Kirk could stand it and was aghast as she watched her brother sniff and snuffle about the damp foot and empty shoe.


Sandy’s voice had broken the spell, and Karen simply told her friend to hurry before flipping the phone closed. She dropped the cell back into her purse again and stared at her brother.

She could hear him inhaling deeply, actually sucking in the harsh aroma of their mother’s smelly foot, then slathering his tongue over the skin as he exhaled only to repeat and repeat. It was too much.

Karen shot to her feet, breathing deeply the fresh air out of range as she had stepped away. She turned back to see her mother watching her curiously.

“Do what you want, mom,” she said trying to keep the anger out of her voice. She was angry at her mother for treating Kirk as she was, but more at herself for causing all of this and not being able to stop it. “I can’t take it though. I’ll wait for Sandy in Kirk’s room. Check my e-mails or something.”

“Suit yourself,” her mother said, shrugging. Then, even as Karen started to turn away she saw her mother easing her other foot from its shoe.

Karen stormed away, veering at the last moment for the kitchen. She paused, almost marveling at the way that it seemed to gleam. It was immaculate, everything neatly in place. The floor seemed to sparkle in the morning light filtering through the wispy yellow curtains that covered the windows. She almost regretted stepping on the tiles as she headed for the refrigerator, and she cringed to see the toothbrush sitting parallel next to the shining metal sink.

She ignored the scene, trying to suppress her feelings as she leaned into the refrigerator, luxuriating of the chill on her flushed skin. She reached in finally and took a beer from the lowest shelf, noting that six remained. As she stood straight and closed the door she wondered when her mother had started drinking so much. But no, the beer might be Gerald’s.

Karen knew that her mother’s boyfriend spent most of his free time there, or vice-versa, her mother at his place. They both left clothes at each other’s and she knew that Gerald had a razor and toothbrush in the bathroom. The beer was probably his, or theirs in the least. Mystery solved.

Karen walked from the kitchen, remembering that Gerald was away until the weekend. He was a salesman with Proctor and Gamble and as she recalled her mother had said that he was away upstate at a conference. Karen wished that he was there actually, thinking that maybe her mother would not be so bold if he were around.

Nothing for it though as she opened her brother’s door and went inside the dimly lit room. She flipped on the light, wrinkling her nose at the almost locker room smell that assaulted her. It wasn’t too bad, but definitely a ‘guy’ smell, like unwashed socks and sweat. She tried to ignore it, stepping deeper inside and opening a window for some fresh air to circulate. She would get used to it.

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She popped the top on the beer bottle as she looked around the room that had once been hers. The color scheme was still mostly the same, both she and Kirk favoring blue in the curtains, carpeting and bedspread, and too the paneling was still a grayish white that she had picked out years ago. There was a closet to her right, and a half-bath to her left, with the Queen size bed dominating most of the floor. There was a dresser of course, and Kirk had a small nightstand by the bed with a lamp and some collected junk. The bed was rumpled and unmade as she recalled that he had been in a hurry to serve and obey...

Karen shivered, trying to ignore the images flashing through her head. She stepped to the side of the bed and pulled the covers up before sitting down and turning towards the dresser. Like the nightstand, the dresser’s top was littered with Kirk’s junk; keys, spare change, pens and scraps of paper with scribbled notes. She ignored his stuff, turning her attention to the computer that dominated about a half of the space. She turned it on, sipping at her beer as it powered up.

After a long wait, the Windows banner finally vanished and was replaced with the desktop image. Karen was no science fiction buff, but even she recognized the starship Enterprise. Kirk loved the old show, and all of the sequels and movies and everything. She smiled remembering that he had liked being called ‘Captain’ Kirk when he was younger.

She heard a chime and glanced at the screen. A small blue box had appeared with a ‘Log on’ message, a pixel blinking, waiting in the upper space of the two provided. She had not expected the computer to be divided into two sections, one no doubt more private than the other. A dark thought washed through her as she wondered what Kirk might have to hide.

‘You won’t do anything that you don’t want to…’

Claudette’s words to Kirk the night before popped unbidden into her mind again. What if…

Karen blinked as the monitor flickered and the screen saver came on…

“Oh Gawd…”

Karen’s eyes widened as she felt her body going numb, watching as the images faded in and out of sight. She could not believe what she was seeing. It was unbelievable. Incredible…

There was a college girl dressed in shorts and a tee shirt, sitting in a chair and reading a magazine. Beneath the chair was an older woman, hog-tied and with a big red ball jammed into her mouth…


Two college girls sitting at a computer in a dorm room. On the floor a naked man knelt and licked at the dirty tennis shoe of one, while the other rested a foot on his back, laughing…


An older woman dressed all in black: dress, hose and riding boots, her foot pressing onto the face of a naked man under her feet…


A blonde woman in jeans and a peasant blouse holding out a glass of wine for the camera. She was using a naked man as a footstool…


A HUGE face of a grinning woman, holding up a tiny man that was barely an inch tall between her dark red nails. The tiny man was flailing about, totally helpless…


A beautiful Japanese woman wearing a strap-on that was plunged deeply into the rear of some poor man. She was smiling…


The face of a man licking the dirt from a woman’s cowboy boot…


And on and on…

Karen jiggled the mouse and the Enterprise reappeared, along with the Log on box. Her heart was racing as she sipped, then guzzled her beer. She could not believe what she had just seen.

“God…” she whispered to herself. “He does want this.”

Karen stared at the computer monitor, almost dumbfounded, wondering what to do. She wondered just how deeply her brother’s depravity ran, then shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

Not depraved. Just fantasies. Sexual definitely, and out of the ordinary, but to each his own, she supposed. Still, it made her think.

He DID want this.

Did Mom know that?

Did Claudette? It seemed that way. Claudette had had him on the floor and licking at the sole of her shoe. How had she found out though? Karen had never suspected.

She stared at the screen, watching the pixel flicker, waiting…

‘Password’, she thought. What would it be?

She stared at the Enterprise.

It couldn’t be that obvious, could it?

She typed in ‘CAPTAIN’, then hit ‘ENTER’.

The screen changed, and a box came up:


Karen sagged as the desktop changed, becoming an image of a young girl holding a tiny man in the palm of one hand while she probed his privates with the fingers of the other. The girl was grinning. The girl was underage.

“God, Kirk…” Karen whispered as the computer settled into Captain Kirk mode.

She left-clicked on START, then on MY PICTURES and saw almost two dozen folders pop up after a moment. She scrolled down, reading the titles of the folders: BONDAGE, BOOTS, CAUGHT, CFNM, FEMDOM, GIANTESS, and so on. She could not believe it.

Karen double-clicked on one at random – CFNM…

The Windows Image Viewer popped up displaying the first of several dozen images. It was a naked man tied to a pole, a woman squeezing his genitals and laughing as he squirmed. The rest were more or less the same as she clicked through. Naked men at the mercy of clothed women, degrading themselves and helpless; licking shoes and kissing feet, being ridden like a horse or simply tied up.

And the rest of the folders were little different. There were tied and dominated men, tiny men at the feet of Giantess women, drawings of boys being tortured, spanked and whipped, men being humped by dogs…

Karen upended her beer, clicking on a folder labeled KAREN…

There was a picture that she remembered, taken the previous summer at a picnic at one of the local lakes. She was dressed in a halter and denim cut-offs, laughing at some joke as she recalled with her legs crossed and wearing a pair of flip-flops. What she did not recall was her naked brother on his hands and knees before her, licking her feet. How had he done that?

Photo manipulation, obviously, splicing one image with another, and quite good at it actually. Karen felt her stomach churn, but too, she felt a tingle of excitement. It was horrible, but…

Karen jumped at the sound of the doorbell.

When she left her brother’s room she was relieved to see Sandy standing in the foyer of the living room beyond. Her mother was there too, and they seemed happy and calm. Then she saw her brother kneeling with his head down to the floor in the corner and a shiver ran through her again.

“Karen,” Sandy said, stepping forward to greet her, leaning in to air kiss. Karen complied half-heartedly, but saw her friend’s discomfort as she stepped back a bit.

“What’s wrong?” Sandy asked, and Karen just shrugged, shaking her head. She was bewildered, wondering what to do. She had never suspected her brother’s… desires. He apparently DID want what Claudette had done to him, but did that make it right? He was being controlled, and not in his right mind. If he truly did have perverse fantasies, well, that was fine, but he should have his own free will to see them through and not be manipulated by hypnosis. She was about to say so when Sandy cut her off.

“Wow, you are way too tense over this. You gotta lighten up, Karen.”

Sandy’s grin was huge as he looked at Karen, then turned to Kirk. He was unmoving with his head to the floor. Karen imagined that her mother had told him to take that position, and she knew that he would not move until told otherwise.

“Mom will be here tomorrow before work, and she’ll settle things. I know enough to get Kirk back to some kind of normal for the rest of the day, if that’s what you really want. Myself, I’d enjoy the attention while you can.”

Karen folded her arms over her chest, feeling a chill. She looked at Sandy and also felt an attraction. He was dressed in old tight-fitting blue jeans that hugged his ass nicely and flared over his feet, the ratty cuffs accentuating the filthy black rubber flip-flops. He wore a tight-fitting shirt that left his taut stomach showing. His kinky black hair fell about his shoulders as he leaned in and towered over Kirk.

“How you doing, boy?” he asked, and Karen saw her brother writhe and squirm. He scampered about, his head darting for Sandy’s feet as he started to lick and kiss his toes. Sandy giggled, enjoying the attention.

“I don’t see the problem,” he said, simply standing with his hands on his hips as Kirk licked and kissed his dirty, smelly feet. Karen watched, upset but feeling a surge of excitement as well.

“If it were me, I’d enjoy this to the max.”

“Me too,” Karen heard her mother say. Janice was sitting on the couch still, smoking a cigarette and smiling as her son degraded himself at Sandy’s feet. “He has no problem, obviously. It’s just her…”

Karen blushed as her mother jerked a thumb in her direction. Karen shook her head, still unbelieving over what she had seen on her brother’s computer. She sighed, finally…

“Okay,” she said, sagging as she collapsed onto the couch beside her mother. “I surrender. He wants this. I give up.”

“What’s that?” Sandy asked, wiggling his toes beneath Kirk’s face.

“He wants this,” Karen said, settling back and crossing her body; legs and arms. “I saw it on his computer. He’s sick. Done. Fucking pervert…”

“No he’s not,” Sandy said as he pulled his foot back. Kirk started to crawl after it but he ordered him to stay. Kirk bowed to the floor, holding position.

“Your brother just likes his sex different. That doesn’t make him a pervert,” Sandy explained. “Hell, you like a little lickey-lickey. Does that make you a pervert? Not me.”

“I suppose,” Karen said, staring at her brother. He just looked so pathetic there on the floor, bowed and waiting for instruction. Sandy was right though. There were plenty of people out there that would call her Bi-sexual tendencies just as perverse as her brother’s submissive fantasies. Who was she to judge?

“C’mon, Karen…”

Karen Gibbons closed her eyes and slipped her foot from the confines of her Doctor Scholl’s, sliding her foot forward. When she felt the warmth of her brother’s tongue on her foot, she came instantly…

Claudette rolled the BMW into the driveway and killed the engine. It took her just a moment to shoulder her bag before sidling out of the car, shutting the door and walking up to the house. She smiled as she pushed the bell, waiting…

The door opened and she grinned to see Kirk on his knees, one hand on the knob. His eyes looked lifeless as he glanced at her face, then quickly shifted his gaze to her shoes.

“Welcome, Ma’am,” he said, softly and humbly as he shuffled back on his knees to allow her access. Claudette opened the screen door and stepped into the house.

Kirk was sniffing and kissing her sandaled feet as Claudette glanced about the living room. She saw Janice Gibbons sitting on the couch, a coffee cup in hand as she turned from the morning news show that she had been watching.

“Claudette,” she said with a wide, warm smile. “Good morning.”

“Hi, Jan,” Claudette said as she stepped past the youth, ignoring his whimpers as he could not finish kissing her feet. The boy closed and locked the door, then simply curled up, awaiting orders. Just as he should.

“How are you?” Janice asked, setting her coffee mug aside. She snapped her fingers and Kirk scrambled to that area before the couch where she sat. He bowed down, head to the floor and Janice extended her legs and crossed her ankles, resting them on his back. He seemed to sag with contentment to feel the weight of his mother’s feet on his back. Claudette grinned.

“I’m good. But I see you’re better. Got things sorted out I see.”

“Yeah,” Janice nodded. “It was Karen really, but she’s come around.”

“I figured,” Claudette said as she stepped up and slid her sandaled foot under Kirk’s face. She heard his whimper of lust as he leaned in and started licking. She had not showered, expecting a tough time, but apparently it was not necessary. And Kirk had no problem cleaning her corn chip smelling feet. His tongue was hot as it washed over her foot, slipping under the wide leather strap of her sandal. He tickled between her toes, causing her to giggle.

“I take it then that you don’t want me to end this?” she said as she sat on the couch. She tossed her over-sized leather bag to the side and crossed her legs. Kirk shuffled about in order to better get at her feet, and she heard him sniffing, trying to absorb the entirety of the experience. Claudette settled back into the sofa and pulled a cigarette from her silver case, lighting it and another, which she offered to Janice.

“Oh, no,” Janice said, taking a long drag and blowing smoke down at her son. She smiled as he redoubled his efforts at Claudette’s feet. “I want this. It was Karen, but she’s come around. I’ve known for a long time that Kirk’s submissive. I was just waiting for him to admit it. I didn’t want to force anything.”

“I see,” Claudette said as she glanced down at the young man that was sniffing her feet and licking the dirt from her sandals. She had to grin. “And where are the Sandy and Karen now?” she asked, blowing smoke at the ‘boy’.

“In his room,” Janice said, recrossing her legs, settling in to watch her son doing what he did best. “Karen discovered his files on his computer. That’s what pushed her over the edge. She’s looking through them now, with Sandy.” Both women turned at the sound of laughter coming from the back bedroom. Claudette felt Kirk licking all the harder. She smiled, wiggling her toes.

“Reading his stories and looking at the images he’s downloaded. No doubt at all he wants this,” Janice said, digging a heel into Kirk’s back. The boy whimpered. “And I want it too.”

“Good,” Claudette said, shoving her foot forward and planting her toes in the boy’s mouth. She gasped as he started to suck.

“I’ll have Sandy write up the papers later, declaring him incompetent. I’ll sign as his doctor, and you’ll sign as his guardian, and then it’ll just be a short wait for the courts, no problem. I know a judge or two that’ll speed the paperwork through for a nice foot massage.” Kirk whimpered but both women ignored him.

“Lick!” Claudette demanded and felt the boy’s tongue immediately sliding between her toes. She sighed, settling back into the plush sofa.

She heard the laughter again, a soft sound far away, followed by hushed silence.

Life was good. Getting better all the time…


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In a flash Diane moved from my line of sight and I wondered briefly how something so big could move so fast. I realized that she was taking strides that were ten times my own, but her size was not impeded in the least. Size was apparently relative to speed somehow, but before long my mind was awhirl and I wished I had paid closer attention in my Physics class. Before long she returned, wearing her long overcoat and her purse looped over her shoulder.

“Pocket or purse?” she asked, and I looked at her in confusion. She scooped me up in the palm of her hand (I screamed again), and held me just below her face. I could feel her warm breath again as she spoke.

“I can’t very well carry you out of the school in my hand. Someone would see you. Do you want to ride in my pocket, or my purse?”

I stammered, lost in the warmth of her skin as I lay helpless in the palm of her hand. Something stirred between my legs at this new sensation, and my mind was mush. I looked up at this beautiful woman who held my body- my life- in her grip. I could not find my voice.

“Purse then.” She said it without a second thought, and before I knew it I was tumbling into the confines of her soft leather bag. I winced in pain as I bounced off her hairbrush, then settled to the bottom beside a tube of lipstick and a compact. I glanced about, surveying my domain, and found that I shared the space also with a packet of tissues, a nail file, a pen and address book, a sealed Kotex, a bag of sunflower seeds, and a ring of keys. I saw her face briefly as she peered down into the confines of her bag to check on me before folding the flap over and sealing me in. I heard her muffled voice as she told me to hang on, and suddenly we were moving.

Diane was a fast walker, and though I’m sure she was trying to take it easy on me, I was bumped and jostled like anything else in her bag. I thumped from side to side, getting friction burns on the coarse leather interior of her bag. I hurt intensely for a few seconds, but oddly, the pain passed quickly, replaced by another injury as she rounded a corner or repositioned her purse. I felt a blast of cold, which lasted several minutes as I realized that she was outside, heading for her car. Then I heard a new voice, calling her name. I felt the purse sway to a stop, and knew that Diane was talking to someone.

I took the opportunity of the calm and repositioned the tissues about me to add some protection to my buffeting about in her bag. I caught bits and pieces of her conversation, but was not sure what was happening until we started moving again, and her purse was dropped casually into her car.

I heard the engine start, and felt the new motion of the car as it backed out of its parking space. I crawled to the top of the bag and peered out, and quickly backed back into the bag. I saw two heads poking over the front seat.

I crouched in terror at the top edge of the bag, listening as Diane spoke to whoever was riding in the passenger seat.

“I really appreciate this, Diane. I’ll kill Steve when I get hold of him.”

“It’s okay, Kathy. No problem.”

I gazed up at the girl in the front passenger seat. It took me a moment to place the name with the oversized head of hair that I could see, but finally I realized that it was Kathy Byrnes, and my little heart melted. Kathy was a goddess in my eyes, the image of many of my fantasies. I wanted to run out and jump and shout to get her attention. I wanted to go to her home, not Diane’s. Then I remembered that I was small, and I realized that if she took me seriously, she would treat me like a toy, or a pet. I was crushed.

I sat there on the edge of Diane’s purse, listening to them gossip for the ten minute or so that it took to reach Kathy’s house. Apparently Steve, the school jock and her steady boyfriend, had ditched her after school and left her without a ride, the bastard. I wanted to kick his ass, but realized that at my size I could barely kick his pinky. We pulled into Kathy’s driveway, and she got out of the car, saying her ‘thankyous and good-byes’, and the car door slammed shut and she was gone. Diane peered back over the seat at me.

“Sorry about that. She was begging me for a ride home. I couldn’t say no.” She gave me a weak smile, and I waved it off.

“Just get me home.”

It was another fifteen minutes before we pulled into Diane’s drive and she told me to get back in the purse. I did as I was told, and was jostled about as she slung the bag over her shoulder and went into her house. I slammed up against the side of the bag, feeling her hip for a second before I fell away again. Her brush tumbled on top of me, and I was pushed up onto her lipstick. I heard her call out when we were inside the house, but heard no answer before she bounced me into her room and dumped me onto her bed.

I crawled out of Diane’s purse to find her hanging her long coat on a hook behind her door. I looked around the room and found it little changed from when I was last there years before. It was still in pastels; pink and blue, and rather plain. She had a nice desk and bed set, obviously too big for me, as well as a vanity and a matching nightstand. She had replaced a ballerina lamp on her nightstand with one a bit more adult, and the clown posters I remembered on her walls were now posters of current boy bands. A typical girl I thought as she hung up her coat, then plopped onto the edge of the bed, giggling as I bounced.

“Sorry.” she said, but I did not believe she really was. I stood up.

“So what happens now?” I asked. She shrugged.

“I dunno. I guess we wait until tomorrow. We’ll go in early and talk to Mr. McCormick.”

I watched as she bent over and undid the buckles on her sandals, sliding her feet free and dropping the shoes onto the floor. She settled back onto the bed, her back against the headboard, stretching her legs out and crossing her ankles. She looked down at me, a little smile playing on her lips.

“Hungry?” she asked, and I nodded.

“A little, I guess.” She sniggered, but I missed the joke.

“Okay.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, towering over me. “I’ll go-“

“Pam! Diane! I’m home!”

We both paled as we heard the front door slam in another part of the house, and Diane’s mother calling out. I had no doubt that should Diane’s mother find me, she would find some cruel way to abuse me. She was a healthy woman, a little overweight and evil in my mind. I’ve seen her drag her dogs down the street, straining on their leashes, and I know she used to spank Diane for the slightest infraction. God knows what she might do to little, helpless me. I could see by the expression on Diane’s face that she knew it too.

“Well, so much for that idea. I better go out and keep her company so she doesn’t wander in here. I’ll bring you some food later, when I can.”

I plopped down on her bed, feeling dejected. “Great. What am I supposed to do ‘til you come back? You don’t even have a television.”

Diane glanced about the room, puzzled for a moment, then bent down by the foot of her bed.

“Here,” she said, tossing her sandals onto the bed beside where I sat. “You can play with my shoes until I come back. Clean ‘em up if you like. I’ll be back soon.”

And she was gone…

I sat there, staring at the blue leather of the sandals before me. I could see the imprints of her toes and heels on the insoles. I could smell her in the leather. Was she joking? Did she suspect? Did she know that I loved feet? I had thought of her that way before, when we were younger, but I could not remember ever sharing that with her. But here were her shoes, right in front of me. Bigger than me. Bigger than life.

“Clean ‘em up…” she had said.

Slowly, I crawled forward…

It was several hours before Diane came back to her room. I looked up as the door opened, smelling of shoe leather and feet, my tongue dry and gritty. She smiled and came bounding in, plopping on the bed beside me and bouncing me into the air again.

“Sorry it took so long, Billy. I had to keep mom busy, then Pam came home and we ate. I just couldn’t get away until now.”

I looked at the clock on her nightstand, and it was after ten. I sighed.

“Did you bring me anything to eat?”

Diane had her sandals in her hands, looking them over and glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. She set the shoes on the floor, then dug into the pocket of her skirt.

“Yeah.” She tossed a half-eaten bag of peanuts onto the bed beside me.

“Sorry no real food. Mom was tired and dinner was next to nothing. And you know how Pam eats."

That was true. I remembered from the times when Pam sat Diane and me that Pam ate everything in sight. She stayed thin though, which was odd. I stared at the peanuts, and finally took one in both hands. One or two would make a meal for me. I nibbled at it as Diane got ready for bed.

She started to pull her shirt over her head, then hesitated when she noticed me watching.

“Hey. Turn around, you.”

“You’re kidding, right? I’ve seen you naked before.” And I had. We had played doctor a few times growing up.

She smirked, pulling her shirt back down and putting her hands on her hips. “That was years ago, Billy. I’ve changed some.”

“I know.” I said, wishing I had some water to wash down the peanut. “But it’s not like I’m not naked too.” I stood up, displaying my naked body for her scrutiny.

“That’s different. You’re…Well, I’m sorry, but you’re hardly normal right now. You’re like a doll. Anatomically correct, I suppose. But you don’t even seem real.”


“You know what I mean…”

“No, I don’t.” I snapped. “Just what do you mean?”

Diane sighed, watching me watching her. I could see that she was mentally wrestling with some inner turmoil, but I never expected that she would do what she did when she reached a decision. In a flash she reached down and snatched me up, her thumb and forefinger pressing into my ribs. Futilely I beat my puny fists against her fingers as she held me before her face. She was biting on her lower lip, her brows arched in sorrow or pity. She squeezed…

“STOP IT!” she said in her normal voice which rattled my body I was so close to her face. The pain in my ribs forced me to stop. Diane was hurting me, but she did not ease up the pressure. She squeezed until I was seeing stars, and those little exploding flecks of gray I loved so much. She was not even trying hard.

“Now do you know what I mean?” Her voice was a whisper again, but seemed almost normal to me. I whimpered in her grip as she squeezed her finger and thumb together, threatening to break me in half.

“You’re like a bug to me Billy. Not a real boy. You’re my friend, and I don’t want to hurt you, but you have to understand that at the moment, you’re nothing without me. I could squeeze my fingers together and pop you like a zit.”

I begged her to stop, and through a haze of pain I saw her frown. She loosened her grip, but kept me between her fingers.

“You listen to me Billy. Please. You need me. Imagine what my mother or Pam would do with a little boy like you.” She was still frowning, and seemed sorry, but I saw a twinkle in her eye as she thought about that. I shuddered, suddenly terrified for my life. “Shall I toss you out in the hall and find out?”

“No…” I whined. “Please, Diane. I’ll do whatever you say.”

She smirked. “Good.”

She tossed me onto her pillows, watching as I bounced and rolled onto the bed itself. “Now turn around and eat your peanuts like a good little boy while I get undressed. And no peeking.”

There was nothing I could do, but do as I was told.

In moments, Diane was dressed in an over-sized tee shirt that she wore as a nightgown. She said she would be back in a minute, and I should finish eating, so I did as she left the room, closing the door behind her. She was gone for awhile, and eventually I heard the far off familiar sound of a flushing toilet. This made me realize that I had to relieve myself as well. I looked about, wondering what to do. I dared not make a mess that she might find. God knows what she might do, now that I knew she had no qualms about punishing me. I was still considering when she returned, her face scrubbed and hair brushed out for bed.

She scooped up my peanut bag and saw that I had barely eaten three of the half bag she had given me. It was too much for my tiny body. She smiled down at me, dangling the bag over my head.

“All done, Billy?”

“Yes, Diane.” She was still speaking softly, but she was saying my name in a little singsong voice that she knew had irritated me when we were younger. It still grated on my nerves, but I tried to ignore it. “Diane… I have to go to the bathroom.”

Diane smirked, barely stifling a giggle. “Hmmn… I hadn’t thought of that. But I guess if you have to eat, it’s only logical that you’ll have to go. What to do?”

She glanced about the room, looking for something for me to go in, I assumed. Finally she went to a pile of clothes on the floor in the corner and produced a white knee sock. She held it up for my approval.

“Here we go.” She said, twirling the sock as she came back to the bed.

“You want me to go in your sock?” I said, unbelieving.

“Not in the way you think. I’ll take you to the bathroom, but I can’t just carry you. What if Pam or mom saw you? I’ll hide you in my sock, and they’ll think I’m just washing them out for school tomorrow. Brilliant, hunh?”

There was something wrong with her plan, but before I could reason it out, she had scooped me up and dropped me into the mouth of her tube sock. I slid down to the toe as she raised it up, and quickly started gagging from the smell. It was obviously one of her Gym socks, or one she wore in soccer practice, and from the odor, it must have been several days on that pile. It smelled of her feet. It reeked of her feet, and I could barely breathe. Worse, as she strolled leisurely to the bathroom, Diane was casually swinging the sock in a wide arch, which was helping to turn my stomach into knots. I tried to hold back the chunks of peanut I had just eaten, not wanting to vomit in her crusty sock, though I doubted she would notice.

Suddenly I was tumbling head over heels out of the sock as it was upended. I spilled out onto the slick counter top in the bathroom and continued to tumble, right into the sink. Thankfully the stopper was in the drain as I crashed to a stop on top of it. I moaned, rubbing my back and stomach as I looked up at Diane’s pretty, smiling face. She seemed to be enjoying this more and more.

“Okay…Go ahead. Make it quick.” She said this, then settled in to watch. I stared up at her, still lying in the bottom of the sink.

“I can’t go with you hovering over me like that.” I felt my whole body turn crimson, and I foolishly directed my hands to cover my privates.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No.” I blushed deeper, struggling to my feet while still trying to hide my manhood. I don’t know why that suddenly mattered, as she had seen it already, but it did. “Not with you watching.” I said it firmly, staring into her huge brown eyes, hoping that she might show me some of the sympathy she had shown before. Finally, she shrugged and turned away.

“Okay. That better?”

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“Yes.” I answered, and turned my back to her. “Thank you.” I said pathetically, then concentrated on forcing myself to pee. It took an effort, and several minutes, and in the end barely a trickle emerged. My privates shriveled up like a prune when I was through, but I felt better. I turned around to tell her I was ready and found her looking at me with a grin.

“That was so cute. All better now?”

If I had not already been a mere six inches tall, I felt I would have shrunk away to nothing. I nodded, humiliated, and felt myself scooped up and swiftly wrapped in a terrycloth towel. It was hot, and I could barely breathe as she hugged the bundle of me to her body. I was moving again, and I figured she was returning to her bedroom, carrying me.

I was dumped onto the bed again when the towel was unrolled. I quickly tried to get my barings and saw Diane rummaging through her dresser drawers on the other side of the room. She glanced over and saw me watching, and gave me her dazzling smile again. She looked once more in the drawer, and apparently satisfied, came over and gently picked me up. She carried me to her dresser drawers in the palm of her hand.

“I’ve been thinking about where to put you for the night. It had to be someplace safe and warm. I thought about letting you sleep on the bed, but I might roll over and crush you. I thought that maybe I could make you a little bed in my nightstand, or in a shoebox, but then I figured a great place; nice and soft and warm…” She tilted her hand and I tumbled out. I did not fall far, and fell into a silky soft pile of fabric that could only be one thing.

“My panty drawer.”

Diane giggled as I tried to sit up in the soft, fluffy pile of her underwear. It was all clean, and for that I was glad, but it was still degrading, and I told her so.

“Diane…Please. This is humiliating.” She stared down at me, giving me a stern look.

“Oh, hush.” she said, her hand dipping into the drawer to hover over me. She extended a finger and gave me a poke, toppling me over with amazing ease. “You’ll be perfectly safe and have complete privacy once I close the drawer.”

“Close the drawer?”

“Of course. I can’t have you wandering off and getting hurt, or having mom or Pam find you. God, what if the cat got hold of you?”


“You remember Fluffy, don’t you?” I hadn’t, until she reminded me. I remembered a fat yellow nasty creature that always hissed at me whenever I came near. I shuddered. “Fluffy might think you were a mouse at your size and gobble you up.”

She giggled and I hung my head. It just got worse and worse. I felt the drawer start to slide closed and glanced up at Diane’s leering face, filling the dwindling sliver of light.

“Now you be good and sleep tight. I’ll wake you in the morning so we can go see Mr. McCormick. Nighty-night.”

The drawer slid shut and I was locked in a soft, suffocating darkness. With the drawer sealed, I started to smell the aroma of Diane’s personal things, still faintly scented with her body odors; sweat, perfume, her womanhood. Her underwear was not as clean as I had originally thought, or maybe at my size, it was just more overpowering. I tried to ignore the scent as I stumbled about in the dark, knee deep in her soft panties. I tried to somehow move the drawer, to slide it open again, but it was too big. Rather, I was too small. But not small enough as I tried to climb through the slight gap at the back of the drawer and found it too slim.

After some time I sank into my silky mattress, defeated. There was no way out of the drawer. I was just too small and helpless. I settled back, wrapping up in a pair of Diane’s cotton panties for warmth, and oddly, security. I prayed that night for the first time in probably a dozen years. Really prayed; that Mr. McCormick would be able to help me, and more importantly, that Diane would actually take me back to school to see him.

Sleep was a long time coming…

I woke to total darkness, breathing hard. A wave of panic washed over me as I tried to accustom my sight to the shadows and did not recognize my surroundings. I did not know where I was, and started to flail about, tangling myself in the blankets about me. I felt silk and cotton, and there was a strange, suffocating smell in the air. I called out for my father, my mother…

The earth moved and I tumbled back into the darkness. I thought it was an earthquake, and in my present state of disorienting panic, I screamed. I saw the roof of my room split, and a wide shaft of glaring light beamed down on me from the heavens. I started to remember where I was, and what had happened to me.

I had been shrunk. There had been an accident at school and a mixture of spilled chemicals had somehow combined to shrink me down to the size of a mouse. My friend, Diane, had been there, and took me home for the night in order to keep me safe until we could confront Mr. McCormick, the Science teacher with my condition. She had put me in her panty drawer for the night, for safekeeping.

I stared up into the blinding light, blinking away tears as my eyes adjusted. I wondered what time it was, and what was going on. It felt as though I had just fallen asleep. I was dead tired, but felt otherwise healed. I had been in a sorry state after the accident; sick and dizzy and weak, and my skin was burned and blistered. My body felt fine now though, and I wondered at the miraculous rate of healing as I ran a hand over my smooth, unmarred skin.

A shadow filled the bar of light, and I squinted to take in Diane’s gigantic, harried face as it filled my field of vision. She looked as out of it as I felt, as though she had just woke up. Her short hair was tousled and out of place. Sleep crusted in the corners of her huge brown eyes as she blinked at me. She had no makeup on, though I knew she wore little anyway, and I noticed that she had the cutest trail of faint freckles running from cheek to cheek, across her nose. She seemed out of sorts, but gave me a little smile as she saw that I was awake.

“WE”RE LATE.” Her voice boomed over me, and I winced in pain, covering my ears, though it was not as bad as it had been the day before. I assumed that I was getting used to my current state of being. I saw pity cross her features, and she spoke softly from then on.

“Sorry. I over slept. My alarm didn’t go off.”

Without warning or apology, Diane reached a massive hand into the drawer and scooped me out along with a pair of panties. She set us on the bed, then continued rummaging through her drawers, continuing to speak as she searched for clothes.

“We’ve gotta get going. As it is, I don’t think we’ll make the first bell.” She tossed a bra and a pair of socks on the bed beside me, then hurried for the door. “We’ll have to see Mr. McCormick at lunch.”

“Lunch!” I yelled after her, but it was too late. Diane rushed out of the room, the door swinging too behind her. I plopped onto the soft bed and hung my head, wondering just how long this nightmare was going to go on. Under other circumstances, it might have been fun…even erotic, I suppose. There were a lot of things I guy my size could do to and for a girl like Diane. But I didn’t think of her that way. Not really. She was really cute, but she was my friend, and had been for too long. Even when we had played ‘doctor’ a time or two when growing up together, it had never gone beyond ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’. Still, I had noticed how she had matured. She had a great set of legs, and nice breasts. And I loved her feet. But then I loved all women’s feet: my own sick little fetish.

I leaned back, taking in the vast expanse of the comforter and the things Diane had placed near me. I was well aquainted with her panties, having spent the night with them, and I had spent a brief, agonizing minute in one of her tube socks, so there was nothing new there for me either. Her bra however was another story all together.

It towered over me as I crawled over to it, its black cups like twin hills pointing to the sky. I reached out and touched it, feeling the stiff, lacy material. It felt cool. I stood and circled it, feeling the straps and buckles as I passed them, then walking between the mounds to return where I had started. I started laughing, thinking how the bra seemed like a statue to me; like a huge monument dedicated to the majesty of Diane’s breasts. I fell back to the bed, holding my stomach, laughing even harder.

Something caught my attention and I cut short my laughter. Listening intently, I heard the far off sound of water cascading in the shower in the bathroom, and knew that Diane was still occupied. I rolled over onto my stomach and lay flat, surveying the room. I noticed nothing new, or out of place, until I glanced at the door. It had swung open and was now slightly ajar. Diane had pulled it too, but it had not latched shut.

I waited, not moving and barely breathing. I rationalized that if someone had opened an outer door in the house that a breeze or air pressure might cause this one to shift. Even someone passing in the hall might have stirred the door to swing open, but I had heard no one pass. I trembled, realizing what I feared it might be.


As if on cue, prompted by my mental utterance of its name, the big, ugly beast pounced up onto the bed. It might have been actually fluffy once upon a time, but now its yellow hair was streaked with gray and pale and matted down in spots on its body. It was as fat as I remembered, though obviously much bigger from my current point of view. One eye was glazed white and milky, but the other was alert and peering about. I saw its nose wrinkle, its whiskers twitching as it sniffed, seeking me.

I stayed prone on the bed, partially hidden by Diane’s bra. Terror swept over me, crashing down like a wave, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. I watched the beast as it padded towards the pillows at the head of the bed, hoping that the lingering odors of Diane’s body would mask my own scent. It was huge, and my mind conjured images of the great prehistoric cats that probably plagued the lives of my far distant ancestors. I felt like a claymation figure in an old Harryhausen monster movie. I barely stifled a moan as I watched Fluffy circle twice then settle in on the pillows for a nap. I was trapped.


I heard a knock on the door and buried my head in the comforter in dismay as Diane’s sister, Pam, eased into the room. This just got better and better. I held my position, still hidden behind Diane’s brassier, hoping that like the cat, Pam would not see me. She stopped just inside the doorway, looking around the room, obviously annoyed that Diane was not available for her.

Pam was taller than Diane, and thus, towered far above me even from a distance. She was in decent shape too, though slimmer than her younger sister, and with a little more muscle tone as she was on the volleyball team through high school, and now in college I suspected. Her hair was longer and a little lighter than Diane’s, and she had it tied back in a tight ponytail. She wore no makeup as well, but had on a slender pair of round spectacles that I did not remember seeing her wear before, though I had not really seen her at more than passing in months. She wore a tight tee shirt of green that did not really do anything to flatter her small breasts, and a pair of faded blue denim pants that hugged her slender hips but made her long legs seem too straight.

She seemed about to leave, and I prematurely let out a sigh of relief when she noticed the cat curled up on the pillows. Her face broke into a wide grin as she stepped into the room and flopped onto the edge of the bed to scratch the beast behind its ears. It hissed slightly, having been roused from its nap, then started to purr in a gravelly voice as Pam scratched it pleasurably.

“HI KITTY.” Pam’s voice echoed around the room and pounded my eardrums, but there was nothing I could do but bear it. It was loud, but did not hurt as Diane’s had the day before. I watched as she stroked and poked at the cat, wishing that she would just pick the creature up and leave.

“GETTING HAIRS ALL OVER DIANE’S BED, KITTY.” She giggled, and I cringed. “PRINCESS ISN’T GOING TO LIKE THAT.” Pam sniggered and brushed the beast harder, depositing more hairs onto Diane’s pillows with every stroke. Fluffy, apparently tired of the unwanted affection, stood and quickly bounded off the bed and, thankfully, out the door, leaving Pam with a handful of fur. Pam brushed her hands together, letting the stray hairs fall to the bed, then shifted her weight, about to rise.

My heart skipped a beat as her huge face turned fully in my direction. Our eyes locked, and she cocked her head in curiosity. I saw her hand rise up and soar towards me like some great bird of prey. I tensed, ready to bolt…


Diane’s voice screeched, breaking the tense silence and jerked Pam up short just inches from grabbing me. Pam shot to her feet to confront her sister who was standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped about her body and her damp hair hanging loosely about her shoulders. She looked awesome.

“HIYA SIS,” Pam said casually standing before Diane with a conceited smirk on her face.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?” Diane asked as she moved past her sister and over to the bed to block me from Pam’s view. She had to speak normally, and I had to endure it.


“I’M LATE AS IT IS, PAM. CAN’T YOU TAKE THE BUS?” Diane sat on the bed, trying to act casual, and began brushing out her still dripping hair. Pam frowned, and I heard her sigh as though put upon.

“I’VE GIVEN YOU PLENTY OF RIDES BEFORE, BRAT. YOU KNOW MY CAR’S IN THE SHOP. TIME FOR YOU TO RETURN THE FAVOR.” I saw Pam cross her arms, waiting for a reply, and it was Diane’s turn to sigh. Diane was too nice for her own good. I would have made the bitch walk.


Pam grinned triumphantly, having won again, then turned on her heel to leave. “HURRY UP,” she added, before pulling the door closed behind her. Diane shifted on the bed, and turned to face me. A look of concern crossed her face, but when she saw that I was all right her expression softened. She smiled apologetically and my heart melted.

“Sorry about that. I guess we’re stuck with her for awhile. Luckily the college is on the way to school, so it shouldn’t make us any later than we already are.” She got up then, and went over to the vanity table to sit and finish her hair. I watched as she then applied a bit of lip-gloss, and a pale hint of shadow to her eyes.

I thought about telling her about the cat, but decided against it. I did not want her to worry, as she did seem concerned about my predicament, and my safety, despite the little bits of humiliation she had put me through the night before. Better to remind her to close the door next time, or maybe hide me if she was going to leave me alone. Hopefully there would not be a next time.

Finally she got up from the vanity and went to the closet. She pulled out a tee shirt and jeans, and dropped a pair of worn leather sneakers on the floor by the bed. She ordered me to turn around then, making a little twirling motion with her finger, and I complied. I made a big show of feeling dejected though, and this caused her to laugh happily, a sound like silver Christmas bells. Everything she did suddenly seemed pleasing to me, and I started to worry. What was happening to me now?

I felt the bed rock, and I tumbled over. I turned to see Diane tying her shoes, now fully dressed. She looked like any other girl from school, dressed rather plainly. Nothing glamorous or outstanding, but to me she seemed beautiful. I wondered if I was falling in love as I stared at her, or was it some motherly/protection thing. I had not taken Psychology yet, but I shuddered at the implications of the latter.

Diane glanced at me out of the corner of her eye and caught me staring. “What?” she asked, and I stuttered, saying it was nothing. She gave me an odd look, then scooped up her purse from the floor and set it on the bed, undoing the clasp and opening the flap. She ordered me in as she gathered her coat, then asked if I was ready before shouldering the bag and heading out the door and out of the house.

It was a chilly morning, but I had some protection in the purse, and I added to it, wrapping in a tissue to cover my naked body. I was prepared for the ride this time as well, and braced myself against the impending bumps and swinging. Before we got to the car I heard Pam’s muffled voice ringing with a snide tone.

“About time. I was getting cold.”

“Sorry Pam.” I heard Diane answer, trying to remain pleasant. “I did have to get dressed.”

“Whatever.” There was no love lost between these two.

Suddenly the flap on the purse opened and I briefly saw Diane’s face before her hand dove in. I wondered what was going on, then realized that she was fishing for her car keys. On a whim, I reached out and stroked her finger, and I heard her gasp in surprise. She casually flicked me away, then snatched the keys out of the bag, closing the flap again.

“What’s your problem?” I heard Pam ask, and Diane told her that she had just pricked her finger, which made me laugh. Within moments we were all in the car, and I was dumped onto the back seat again. I heard the engine start, and soon we were off.

The drive to school was about fifteen minutes, less for the college, and the sisters barely acknowledged one another during the entire trip. After a bit, I cautiously crawled to the top of the purse and poked my head out of the opening. Diane had dropped me directly behind the passenger seat, so there was little chance of Pam spotting me, so I settled back to enjoy the ride. I watched buildings pass by, and occasionally the reflection of another car in the window, though nothing came near enough to see me. Before long the car turned sharply, and the buildings were replaced by trees and I knew we had pulled onto the campus grounds. I edged back into the purse as I felt the car slow and Diane asked Pam where she wanted to be let out. Pam directed her, and eventually the car stopped. I heard Pam climb out, and without a ‘thank you’, heard the door slam shut.

“Bitch.” I heard that.

I felt the bag shift, and I tumbled down to the bottom as Diane moved it to the front seat.

“You can come out now, Billy.” I heard her say, and I cautiously poked my head out again as I felt the car start to move.

“Is it safe?” I asked, knowing that it was, and Diane smiled at my show of timidity.

“Yeah…It’s safe. The wicked witch is gone. Ding-Dong.” We both laughed and I settled down on her purse, which was softer than the vinyl seat cushions of the car. I watched Diane as she maneuvered the car, shifting gears and watching the road, her eyes always roving. I was totally enraptured by the way her feet moved, shifting from pedal to pedal as she changed gears, sped up or braked. It was like some bizarre ballet, and I could not help fantasizing what it would be like to be under her shoes, her feet pressing down on me.

“Are you okay?”

Diane’s voice snapped me from my daydreams and I jerked my head up to find her staring at me. We were not moving, apparently stopped for a red light as I heard cars buzzing by in the distance. I blushed under her gaze, and turned away, noticing that I had an erection. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer.

“You were really spacing out there, Billy. Is everything all right?” Her voice was soft and sweet, and I could see the concern in her face when I got the courage to look up at her again.

“I’m fine.” I mumbled sheepishly, but she did not seem convinced.

“What were you staring at down there…My feet?”

I swallowed my heart, which had suddenly swollen in my throat, and nodded.

Diane snorted in amusement, and shook her head. “What is with you? Are you one of those foot fetish freaks?”

I stared up at her. This was not going in a good direction. “I wouldn’t say freak, exactly.”

“I would have thought that you had other things to occupy your mind right now.” A horn blared behind us, and Diane started the car moving again. Like an idiot, I let my gaze drift to her feet, just for a second. She caught it.

“Jeez.” She giggled, then glanced at me, keeping one eye on the road. Her face was all seriousness now as she eyed me critically.

“Did you clean my sandals last night, when I left them on the bed?” she asked, and my voice locked up. I nodded.

“I thought so. I was just joking when I told you to, but I noticed they looked cleaner when I came back. What did you do? Polish them with the bed spread?”

“N-no…” I whispered. I was too far gone now. I had to tell her. “I- I used my tongue…”

“You licked them?” she gasped, and I felt the car swerve slightly. “You licked my dirty SHOES?” Her voice rose, but I don’t think she was aware of it. “WHAT ARE YOU…SICK?”

I covered my ears, begging her to calm down, and within a few blocks she did. I could see that her face was flushed with embarrassment, and her breasts were heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. She stared straight ahead as we waited at another red light, and I sat there stupidly, wondering what to say. When we started moving again, she spoke up first.

“I’m sorry, Billy. That was mean of me to say what I did. It was just a little…shocking.”

“As opposed to talking to a six-inch tall guy sitting on your purse.” I joked, and she smirked.

“You know what I mean. Don’t try to be cute.” She scolded me, but I could tell she did not really mean it. “It’s just…Well…We’ve known each other for years, and it’s strange to hear something like that coming from one of your best friends.” She glanced down at me and grinned, “Despite his current conditions.”

I watched as she eased the car around a long curve and knew that we were now about five minutes from the school. When she positioned the car for a long stretch, she glanced at me again.

“How long have you had this…fetish?”

“Since I was little…younger (I corrected).”

“You’ve had a thing for my feet since we were kids?”

“Well…Not just your feet. All women’s feet. But especially their shoes.”

“Oh.” She seemed a little hurt at that, but I couldn’t figure why. “Even your mother and sister?”

“Yes…I guess so. But it was nothing sexual.” I quickly added, lest she think me some kind of freak again. She considered for a moment, easing the car into another lane.

“I think it’s nothing but sexual, Billy. But I know what you mean, I think. What about my mother’s feet? And Pam’s?”

I nodded sheepishly, and she laughed. “Now that’s grotesque.” We drove on, and I saw that sparkle in her eye again.

“What do you want to do to my feet, Billy?” she asked.

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“There’s not much I can do at this size.” I kidded, and she sniffed, hiding her amusement.

“You’re being cute again, shorty.” She flashed her dazzling smile again, and I was hers.

“You answer me now, and tell me the truth. I’d hate to have to punish you for fibbing.” She chuckled, and I felt the car slowing down. “Do you want to kiss my feet? Lick my shoes? Is that what gets you hot?”

“Yes.” I whispered, and this seemed to delight her for some reason.

“Have you ever done it with a girl before? The feet thing, I mean.”


“Would you like to?”

I stared up at her in disbelief. She was staring squarely down at me, a smile of anticipation curling her lips. I only then noticed that the car had stopped. “God, yes.” I said, and fell forward onto my knees, which was really not all that much of a shift in my position, but Diane got the hint.

In a flash she had gently scooped me up in her hand and deposited me on the gritty floormat at her feet. She stared down at me through her legs, and I in turn stared up at her, wondering what I should do next. I guess I looked pretty stupid, as she burst out in a fit of giggles.

“Well, go ahead.” She urged me on, seeing that I was confused, then returned her attention back to the road as she eased the car back out into traffic. “No reason you shouldn’t have a little fun with this, and it certainly won’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you. Just be careful down there. Don’t get under foot.”

She ignored me then, so I turned about and stared at her feet. They seemed huge to me, though I’m sure in actuality they were quite small. I watched as they went through the motions of driving the car; brake, gas, shift. After a bit, the car was running smoothly and Diane slid her foot off of the clutch pedal and placed it flat on the floor. Cautiously, I approached, feeling the vibrations of the car through my own bare feet.

I could smell the well-worn leather of her shoe as I inched my way forward. She was wearing ankle socks, and I stared at the little pink fuzzy ball that dangled before my eyes. It was almost mesmerizing, the way it bounced with the movements of the car, and tentatively I reached out and touched it. It felt strange.

I reached past the ball and caressed the leather of her shoe. It was soft and smooth, and oddly warm, from the heat of Diane’s feet I supposed. I stroked the leather lovingly, trailing my hand along the side of her foot as I made my way to the toe cap. I could see her toes flexing under the leather, like a thing alive, some captive animal. A ‘toe beast’. I giggled at the thought. I glanced up, and caught her glancing away. Diane was watching me, and watching out for me, I suspected. I bent low, lying on the tip of her shoe so she could feel my weight, and kissed her foot.


I heard Diane scream and suddenly the car veered sharply, sending me sprawling off of her shoe and out of control. I slammed back against the brake pedal, dazed from the impact as Diane’s foot shifted to press down over me. I briefly saw the worn tread on the sole of her shoe before her foot covered me and pressed down on the pedal (and me) with all her weight. I screamed in agony as her foot mashed me flat, expecting to hear my own body pop as I exploded under her shoe.

Oddly, I did not die.

Her foot continued to press down on me, and I continued to scream as I felt the car skid to a stop with a squeal of rubber. After an eternity, Diane shifted her foot, and I was peeled away from the pedal to fall face first onto the floor mat. I felt the grit on the rubber mat under my body, and the stiff bristles of the frayed carpet as well. I sensed Diane’s feet on either side of me, but I could not focus my eyes. I heard Diane screaming again, from a long way away.


A shadow swooped in and fell over me and I was suddenly flying again. I moaned at the movement, as intense pain wracked my body. I wanted to die, but strangely, I felt secure in the tender warmth of her hand.

I saw her face as she held me up, but it looked elongated and distorted, as though reflected in a fun house mirror. Her eyes were wide with fright, and sparkling with a wetness. She was crying.


I wasn’t dead. I hurt too much to be dead. I tried to speak…to breathe, but my lungs were on fire. I tried to move, but my body was mush. I glanced down my frame, rolling my eyes (even that hurt), and I saw that my body was almost flat. There was no blood, but I could see a black bruise forming, rising up on my skin from my crushed legs to my flattened out chest. I could see the tread marks of Diane’s shoe all along my body. I looked up at Diane, one final time, then closed my eyes to wait for death to claim me.


I heard Diane gasp, her voice a whisper. I opened my eyes again, and oddly, her face was back in proportion. The pain was still there, but diminished I noted as I glanced down at my body. The black bruise that had coated my skin was a faded blue, now turning to a sickly yellow. As I stared in disbelief, I could see the impressions of Diane’s shoe popping out of my skin with every breath. My lungs were no longer on fire, so I tried to speak.

“D-D-Di- "

A bit of blood spurted from my lips onto my chest, but there was no pain. Diane’s eyes grew impossibly huge, and the tears poured forth as she hugged me to her breasts. I moaned as she squeezed me, and I heard my back popping, but the pain slowly drifted away to nothing. Miraculously, I was alive, and healed.

Diane held me out before her, letting me rest gently in the palms of her hands. She was sniffing back tears as she inspected my little body, tilting me from side to side. My eyes focused on the tiny spot of blood on her shirt, smeared there from my chest.

“God Billy…I thought I had cr-crushed you.” she said, her voice still choked with tears.

“You did…” I croaked, trying to find my voice. “What happened?”

“A stupid d-dog ran out in front of the c-car.” she sobbed, “I can’t believe you’re alive. You were smashed f-flat. Like silly putty. Then y-your body just seemed to f-fill out again…You healed right in my hands.” She sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of one hand while she held me gingerly with another.

I tried to take in all she had said, and it seemed to jive with what I experienced. I don’t know how delusional I was from the pain, but I would swear that she had smashed me flat like she had said. But here I was, whole and healthy, with only the slightest pain receding in my back. What had I become?

“Fuck school.” She said abruptly, giving me a final hug before setting me down on her purse once again. “I can’t deal with this. We’re going to see Mr. McCormick as soon as we get to school, and he’s going to change you back. And if he can’t help you, then we’ll find someone who can. I’m not gonna let you down, Billy. I’ll protect you, and take care of you until we find somebody to get rid of this curse.”

With a look of determination, Diane gunned the engine and roared back into traffic. I heard the blare of horns behind us, and wondered just how rubbery and indestructible I had become. Could I survive the fireball of an exploding car? I crawled back into the purse and hung on to the tissues for dear life, hoping that Diane would get us to school in one piece.

We found Mr. McCormick where we had last seen him the day before, in his lab, teaching his class. Diane, at that point, did not really care about protocol, and marched right into the room to confront him. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear the determination in her voice when she told the teacher that she needed to see him, and I guess he did as well. He told the class to busy themselves and followed Diane to his desk, which was situated in the supply room shared by the class next door.

“What seems to be the problem, Diane?” he asked, and I could picture him straightening his glasses as he looked her over. “You seem upset.”

I felt the bag thump down, on the desk I assumed, and light flooded in as Diane folded back the flap. I heard her voice- “LOOK.”, and a moment later I saw Mr. McCormick’s confused face as it filled the opening over head. I saw his eye brows arch up, causing his thick glasses to slide down his nose as he let out a startled gasp.


I winced in pain as his voice boomed directly down on top of me. Diane warned him to lower his voice, as she knew it hurt me, but it was too late.

“A little man?” I heard the other voice from far away. A new voice, definitely feminine, and I heard the clack of heels on the tiled floor as this new person approached. I heard Diane say ‘no’, and I felt her purse jiggle, but a second later a large dark face was peering down at me, having pushed Mr. McCormick aside. I recognized the face, despite the size. It was Doctor Ellington, ‘Doc’ Ellington as the students called her behind her back. She was an imposing woman standing well over six feet tall, and a stereotypical example of a female scientist; her dark hair always fixed in a severe bun, big, thick glasses, plain dresses hidden beneath a white lab coat. I had noticed that she always wore low heeled, black leather pumps or sometimes flat casuals. She was Afro-American, and sexy, in a 50’s sci-fi kind of way. She was also head of the school Science Department.

Her eyes grew wide as she spotted me amidst the junk in the bottom of Diane’s purse, but unlike Mr. McCormick, who just stared stupidly, she reached right in and snatched me up. She held me up for the three of them to see, between thumb and forefinger at my waist. I grabbed at her long red nails as she squeezed a bit too hard, turning me this way and that for a better view. I heard Diane ask her to be careful, but she was ignored.

“THIS IS INCREDIBLE,” The doctor said, dangling me by one leg. I heard Diane’s gasp, but could not see her. I flailed about, yelling at the woman to put me down, and she finally did, dumping me onto Mr. McCormick’s cluttered desk. The three giants leaned over me, staring at me, and I covered my privates, humiliated again.

“WHERE DID YOU FIND IT?” Doc Ellington asked, poking me with her long fingernail.

“He’s not an it.” I heard Diane jump to my defense, anxiety in her voice. “He’s my friend. His name is Billy.”


“Please…” Diane pleaded, “Keep your voices down. It hurts him.” Though oddly, it no longer did. Still, I was happy she was there, fighting for me.

“I can imagine,” Doc Ellington said with amusement, though she lowered her volume. “At his size, every noise must seem like an explosion. How did this happen?”

“He was straightening the work stations last night, when he dropped a bin of chemicals. I didn’t actually see it, but I heard the crash and ran over to see what had happened. I saw his clothes on the floor, soaked through, and there were noxious fumes in the air. I started spraying down the area, washing the chemicals down the floor drain when I saw him on the grating. I panicked, and put him in a sink to wash him off.”

“You touched him?” the doctor asked.

“Not at first. I used a pair of tongs until I thought he was clean. We discussed what had happened, and I decided to take him home until today, when we were going to see Mr. McCormick to see if he could change him back.”

“I see.” Both women turned to the old man then, waiting to see if he had anything to say. He adjusted his bow tie under their scrutiny and shrugged. “I wondered what that mess came from. You should have cleaned it up, Diane.”

“I had more important things on my mind at the time.” She snapped, turning back to the woman. “There’s more. In addition to his shrinking, he seems to be almost indestructible.”

The doctor looked at Diane quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Diane began, and I could tell she was thinking how best to explain what had happened in the car without bringing up my fetish. “I accidentally stepped on him this morning. I thought I had killed him, but when I examined his body, it just seemed to pop back into place, like it was made of rubber or something. He was flat, and in pain for awhile, but now he seems fine.”

“Fascinating.” The doctor poked me again, a bad habit that was quickly boring me. “His body does seem…spongy, or rubbery I guess.”

“Can you help him?” Diane asked.

“I don’t know. What chemicals was he bathed with?”

“I don’t know.”

The doctor turned again to Mr. McCormick, and he shrugged. “I have them in my lesson plans, but I have no idea how much of what got on him. I can provide a list.”

“That will help, for a start.” Doctor Ellington turned back to Diane. “I’m sorry Miss…”


“Diane. I’m sorry Diane, but the best we can do is run a few tests and try to figure out what exactly is present in his body that should not be there. It will probably take some time, so I suggest you go along to class, and stop in after school, and I’ll tell you what we’ve discovered.”

Diane looked frantic. “B-But…I don’t want to just leave him. I want to stay with him. He’s my friend. He needs me.”

“Oh hush, girl. He’ll be fine, and you’ll just be in the way. You can see him after classes this afternoon. Now run along.”

“But- "

“GO.” Doctor Ellington dismissed Diane with a wave of her hand, but Diane just stood there, staring at me. There were tears in her eyes again.

“I-I’m sorry, Billy. I…Will you be all right?” I could hear her voice cracking. I did not want her to leave, as Doctor Ellington scared me, but I did not want to worry Diane. The doctor was trying to help me, right? I sucked up my courage and told Diane that I would be fine, and probably back to normal when she came for me at the end of the day. She sniffed, and forced a smile as she picked up her purse. I think she wanted to touch me, but didn’t.

“I-I’ll be back this afternoon then. Please be careful with him.”

“Of course. Now run along and I’ll phone the office to explain your tardy. If these aren’t extenuating circumstances, I don’t know what qualifies.”

We watched as Diane backed away, giving me a final smile of support before disappearing around the corner and running from the class room. I heard the door slam shut, a knell of doom. Doc Ellington wasted no time in roughly picking me up in her hand. She started prodding me with her finger again as she spoke to Mr. McCormick.

“Robert, call the office and explain to them that that girl and this boy were here all morning at my request to explain their absences. Then tell them that I’m canceling my classes for the rest of the day, and they should assign Study Hall to my students. I have to examine our little friend here, and I don’t want to be disturbed. Understood?”

Mr. McCormick swallowed and nodded submissively. “Yes Ma’am.” he said in a slight voice, then scurried off to do as she said. The doctor returned her attention to me, scratching a line down my chest with her fingernail as I squirmed in her grip. She smiled as I whined at the pain she inflicted an evil gleam in her eye, then stuffed me into one of the over-sized pockets of her white lab coat and walked back to her room to dismiss her class.

When we were finally alone, Doc Ellington pulled me from her pocket and set me on the cold linoleum of a countertop at what I could only assume was her personal workstation. It was like all the others, with a sink and Bunsen burner, a stack of Petrie dishes off to one side and a small microscope. Unlike the others, she had a notebook opened to one side, along with a small scale and a tapemeasure. She also had a small leather case, like a small purse, sitting within reach. She was searching through a drawer that opened directly beneath the workstation when she finally spoke.

“What’s your name, boy?”

I told her, and she produced a pen, writing my name down in her notebook. After awhile, she had asked my height and weight before the accident, as well as where I lived, my relative’s names and phone numbers, my history of illness and diet, blah, blah, blah… Nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing that my family doctor or his nurses had not asked me before. It was afterward that it began.

Without warning she snatched me up and placed me on the small scale, recording my miniscule weight when the machine finally settled. She told me to stand, then began measuring me, then my appendages, including my penis with a smirk. She jotted it all down in her books, and asked me if Diane had measured me with a full erection. I told her no, and she said not to worry as it probably wasn’t worth measuring the difference, but would do so if the opportunity presented itself. I blushed at her frankness, and she snorted in amusement, explaining that she had seen bigger and better before.

“That couldn’t have been too hard.” I said, and she laughed out loud, writing something in her book. After some time, she was apparently satisfied with her notations concerning my overall size, and she leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and chewing on the cap of her pen as she considered what to do to me next. She saw my eyes drift to her long, shapely legs and scooted back, giving me a better view as she bobbed one foot. I swallowed as I saw her pump slip from her heel and dangle from her toes.

“Ahh…” she said. “There’s that final measurement.” She folded up her tape measure and held it next to my erection, giggling at the size as she jotted down the length. She set down her pen and leaned back in her chair again, folding her hands over her stomach then, eyeing me closely.

“A leg man are we? Oh, don’t be so shocked. Do you think I wear heels because I enjoy their ‘comfort’? Hardly.” She slid her chair forward, hiding my view of her legs and feet, and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the countertop. She steepled her fingers high above me. “I wear heels and skirts to keep little boys like you in line. You would be surprised to learn how many men share your…desires.

“I’m going to be blunt. I need to run some tests. I need to draw blood, and I’m going to need you to hold perfectly still through much of what I have planned. We can try it the easy way, with your cooperation, but frankly, I don’t think you have the tolerance to stand up to the pain. You’ll be squirming and crying, and I don’t have the patience for that. So I’m going to tape you down to a piece of plastic, like a large transparent slide, and I’m going to gag you with a bit of tape as well. Any problems with that?”

I turned and started to run, leaping from my perch on the scale, but the doctor was too fast for me. She snatched me out of mid air and closed her fist about me. She dumped me on the countertop, on the aforementioned piece of plastic, and held me down easily with one finger as she proceeded to rip strips of transparent tape from a dispenser and tape me spread eagle to the smooth, flat surface. When she had me secured; wrists and ankles, and a wide strip across my stomach and throat, she took a bit of rolled up gauze and snipped a tiny piece off, picking it up with a pair of tweezers. I saw what was coming and clamped my mouth shut. The doctor just chuckled and shook her head, then began pressing her thumb down on my groin until I was screaming in pain. Quickly she stuffed the bit of gauze into my mouth and held it there as she ripped off another piece of tape. She pressed this over my mouth, making sure that my nose was clear, then doubled it with another strip, pressing this down and around my face with her fingernails.

Satisfied, she watched me squirm and scream for a bit, then excused herself and strolled off to another part of the room, out of my sight. I was breathing hard, and winded, and the sweat of panic was dripping from me but try as I might, I could not get free or make the slightest noise. I lay back, listening, and I heard her heels as she walked about the classroom, though I had no idea what she was up to. Gathering instruments for my impending torture, I assumed. After a few minutes she came back and took her seat.

I watched her intently, terrorized by her threats, and my position. She undid the snap and tie on the small leather case, and I started screaming into my gag as she produced a slender scalpel. True to her prediction, there was no way I would have willingly submitted to what she was going to do, and still, even tied down as I was, I tried to squirm away as she lowered the scalpel to my skin. I felt a burning sensation, and screamed, but the pain quickly passed. She made a note, then cut me again, this time across the belly, and again I cried out silently in pain. So it went, over and over. She cut me again and again, on different parts of my body; chest, leg, arm. It was all the same. She cut, then wrote in her journal.

I watched her eyes and face as she cut me, and there was a thrill of delight in her countenance as each incision made me bleed. She was trying to stay clinical, and analytic, but she was like a kid in a candy store as each cut brought a new response or idea. At one point, she produced a stopwatch and started timing my rate of healing. Later, she stopped making random cuts and started aiming for my vitals. She jabbed me in the wrist, and in the heart. She sliced off my left nipple and was ecstatic to watch it grow back. She set up a video camera and tape recorder immediately after that, deciding to record her findings visually and vocally from then on. She logged in the date and time, then proceeded to explain what she was about to do. Now I had to wait in anticipation as she described each new torture before hand.

She wanted to take a sample of my blood to study, but found that even the slightest hypodermic needle was too large to accommodate. I watched her think for a bit, and I will admit that she was impressively smart and thorough. I also came to recognize when she had a new idea. Her eyes would light up and grow wide, and she would smirk, curling the left corner of her lips. In that instance she took the scalpel in hand and the needle in the other. She droned on in a monotone voice as she slit my throat, exposing my jugular vein, then quickly jammed the needle into my throat as my blood pulsed from my wound. I watched as my blood seeped into the hypo, and I could feel the wound trying to close about the needle before she pulled it free. I was in constant pain now, but apparently even a fatal wound would not kill me, and Doc Ellington noted that as well. She took the blood sample away, and actually left me alone for a time.

I healed, and the pain receded. I squirmed in my bonds, but still gained no freedom. I knew better than to cry out. Who would hear me at my size. I heard the school bell ring, and at my size, it was hell. I thought my ears were bleeding, but I knew that even if they were, they would heal. I lay there suffering for some time, through the late bell in fact, when a shadow fell over me. It was Mr. McCormick.

“ Hello, M’boy. How are you holding up?”

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He stared down at me, obviously aware of my helplessness, but he made no move to free me. I screamed into my gag, but he ignored my cries, producing a metal pick from his jacket pocket as he proceeded to inspect my bound body. He poked and prodded me with the sharp instrument, ignoring my moans, sticking me in the stomach and ribs and lifting my groin to inspect my privates. I thought he was about to work the pick into my anus, when Doctor Ellington came to my rescue. She stepped up beside him and peered over his shoulder to see what he was doing, then placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“ Now, now, Robert. Mustn’t jump ahead.”

Mr. McCormick withdrew the prod and smiled at his peer. She smiled back and took his arm, leading him away from the workstation as I writhed in my bonds. She flattered him and cooed in his ear, and I was sure that within seconds he had forgotten me. A few minutes later Doc Ellington returned and sat in her chair, watching me. After a bit, she lit a cigarette, then picked up the microphone on her tape recorder.

“Journal entry number 124…

“10:53 am.

“I have exhausted the expectations of the scalpel, and cutting the subject thoroughly. All parts of his body seem equally resilient, and his healing factor is undiminished throughout his system. I considered employing blades of various sizes, but deemed that it would have no true impact on the experiment. I have decided to use heat as the next implement…fire…to see if the subject’s healing factor can compensate. I will start at his feet…”

I screamed as she touched the burning tip of her cigarette to the soles of my feet. The pain was intense. I passed out, but Doc Ellington was nice enough to wait for me to come around before she burned me again…

The day dragged on, and the doctor tried every little thing she could think of to hurt me, short of vivisection, and I truly don’t know why she decided against that from the start. She burned my entire body before lunch, recording my screams of agony for her journal and marking off the time it took me to recover with each application of her cigarette. Sometime after noon she decided to eat, and sat back in her chair, watching me squirm as she ate her lunch. Occasionally some student would come to her room, either ignorant that she had cancelled classes, or just stupid. She chased them away before they saw anything however, and before long she was back to her experiments.

Over the next few hours the doctor exposed me to every torture she could think of, all inhibitions finally ignored. She dripped acid on me, watching as it burned a hole in my stomach before the wound healed. She pulled on my penis with a pair of tweezers until it ripped off, then watched as it regrew. She finally sliced off my arms and legs, and seemed surprised that they would not regrow, then seemed astonished as the limbs reattached when she reopened the wounds and held them together. I suspect that she wanted to cut off my head, but was not confident that I would survive. I faded in and out of consciousness throughout, and the least torture I experienced was when she smeared influenza into an open wound and watched, timing me to see how long it took for me to shake the sickness.

She was running out of tricks near the end of the day, when I heard a familiar voice off in a dream. I moaned, as the day’s events had taken their toll on me, and I saw the doctor rise as the voice called out again. It was Diane.

I screamed into my gag with all my energy, knowing that Diane could not possibly hear me, but I tried none the less. Doc Ellington rose from her chair, and without a second thought, plunged a long pin through my throat, pinning me to the plastic and choking off my cries. She watched me squirm for a moment, making sure that she had properly silenced me, then draped a towel over my writhing body to hide me, knowing that I would survive. I heard her heels clacking against the floor as she went to answer the door.

“Yes?…Oh hello, Diane.”

“Hello, Dr. Ellington. I’ve come to pick up Billy. If you haven’t cured him, that is.”

“Oh…But I did, Diane. Some time ago. It was a simple matter of injecting some steroids into his system to counter the chemicals that had permeated his blood stream. I sent him on his way just after lunch. I assumed he would have visited you straight away to tell you the good news.”

“No…he didn’t.”

“Hmmn…Well he’s probably about somewhere. I told him not to leave the grounds before classes were out, just in case there were any side affects. I haven’t heard from him though. Perhaps he’s with his girlfriend…”


“Some girl named Beth…I just assumed- "

“Thank you, doctor. If he happens by, tell him I’ve…Tell him I’ve gone home.”

“Of course…good night.”

I heard the door shut and lock, and I knew that I was doomed. Diane had given up on me, believing the simplest lie that the doctor could concoct, and I was suddenly gone. Her property and pet, Doc Ellington was going to take me home and keep experimenting on me until she discovered why I would not die. I knew that she did not care a whit as to why I had shrunk. She just wanted to live forever, and I was her key to longevity. She approached the table and jerked the pin from my throat after removing the towel she had draped over me. The wound healed in seconds.

“Your friend seems very devoted, little man. She didn’t reckon with me, however. I’m going to take you home with me, and I’m going to learn your secrets…eventually. You won’t enjoy it, I imagine. But I really don’t care.”

I squirmed and pulled at my bonds as she walked away. I did not want to go home with her, as I knew that would be the last anyone saw of me. But try as I might, the tape would not loosen, and I was held fast. Before long, Doc Ellington returned, wearing a long dark coat and carrying a briefcase. She set the case on the countertop and picked up the plastic slide, which held me. She looked me over, smiling from ear to ear.

“You’re going to make me rich, little man. And help me live forever.” She kissed me then, her tongue flicking my penis, before she stuffed me, plastic and all, into the tight confines of her briefcase. She did not seem concerned as she wiggled the plastic that held me down into one of the cases’ many pockets, and sealed the case with a snap of locks. I felt the case rise into the air and float along as she walked to the door of her classroom. I heard the door slam, then heard the sound of her heels on the outer walk.

Suddenly I was falling.

I felt the briefcase bounce, jarring me in my restraints, before tipping over, leaving me hanging from the tape. I wondered what was happening, and of course I tried to get away again, but I was trapped, blind, deaf, and dumb in my bonds until Doc Ellington took me out. I listened, and thought that I heard something beyond the confines of my prison, but could not make out the sound. Then silence…

The case shifted upright, and I heard a key fumbling in the lock. The clasp fell away, and I saw a dim light overhead as someone pulled the flap away. Suddenly I was moving, and I felt the piece of plastic that held me being lifted free. I closed my eyes, wondering what knew tortures the doctor had invented for me to endure, waiting…waiting…

I heard the voice of an angel then…


I was saved…

Diane hugged me to her breast, slab of plastic and all. She was crying again, and I have to admit that I was too. I had never been so happy to see anyone in all my life. She held me at arm’s length then, and just stared at me. I had to look like a butterfly, pinned to the wall, but she did not seem to care. I squirmed under her gaze, and she burst into tears again.

“Oh, God…Billy…I thought I had killed you again.”

I hung there, wishing she would free me, or at least remove my gag so I could talk. I glanced about, worried that someone might see us…me, and I saw the doctor lying unconscious on the ground. There was a fire extinguisher lying near by, and you did not have to be Columbo to figure that Diane had knocked her over the head. I could see that the doctor was still breathing. Diane had not killed her, and somehow, that worried me. But of course, I could say nothing about it.

Diane hugged me to her breast again and started running for the parking lot. She told me not to worry, that she would free me soon, but what else could I do. I was six inches tall, taped to a piece of plastic and gagged. I could do nothing but worry. We passed a few people on her mad dash for her car, and I heard someone call her name, but she ignored them. Before long we were there, and she set me on the roof of her car as she fumbled in her purse for her keys. My eyes grew wide, imagining that she would forget me, leaving me on the roof as she drove away. But I was wrong. I heard the door open and Diane set me on the passenger seat, then climbed into the car after me. She was still crying, and shaking, as she fumbled the car key towards the ignition. She was in no condition to drive, and I hoped to heaven that she would not. I screamed into my gag and thrashed about in my bondage, trying to get her attention.

Diane slumped forward, crossing her arms atop the steering wheel and rested her head on her arms. She cried as I hung there, helplessly taped to my plastic slide. There was nothing I could do but squirm against my bonds, hoping that she would notice me. Obviously, she had never had to do what she had done, hitting someone. And it seemed that she had never cared enough to want to do it either. I wondered what it had taken for her to fight to get me back.

Diane slumped back in her seat and sighed. Her eyes were red and puffy, and tears were still running down her cheeks. She turned her head to look at me, and her gaze was vacant.

“Jesus… I killed her, Billy. I killed her…”

I shook my head violently, trying to tell her ‘no’, wishing that she would free me. I screamed into my gag. Screamed her name at the top of my lungs. I saw her eyes focus, trying to locate the source of the noise. She gasped…

“OH GOD!” I winced. Then- “Oh Billy…I’m so sorry.” She started to cry again as she pulled me from the board, tape and all. It hurt, and half my body hair was ripped away as she peeled off the transparent tape, but I healed. When she ripped away the gag, I screamed, feeling the wad of soggy gauze jerked roughly from my mouth in a stream of spit. Diane tossed the plastic and the tape out the window and held me in her hands, watching as my skin corrected itself, fading from an ugly red to pink. In seconds I was back to normal, and Diane held me up to her face.

“Are you all right, Billy?” Diane eyed me, inspecting my naked body for any signs of lingering injury. I sat upright in the palm of her hand and nodded. I still ached a bit, like a dull toothache in my arms and legs, and groin, but in time it seemed that this too would pass. I told Diane so. She smiled, and hugged me cautiously to her breast again.

“Thank God. I was so worried.” She held me out again, glancing out the window as some kids passed her car. She seemed to be calming down as she gently placed me on the passenger seat.

“We better get out of here. I don’t think anyone saw me hit Doctor Ellington, but they’re bound to find the body soon. We gotta go before the cops show up.” Diane apparently still thought that she had killed the doctor with the fire extinguisher, and I could hear the edge of panic creeping back into her voice. I tried to calm her down.

“She’s not dead, Diane. At least she wasn’t when you snatched me. I saw her breathing.”

“What? You’re sure?” I nodded, and saw Diane sag with a wave of relief. I quickly pointed out that though that saved her butt, mine was still in danger. I figured that the ‘mad scientist’, Doc Ellington, would not call the police, but she would still be after me. Diane looked a little shocked at that, but it did not take long to get her to agree with me.

“I thought it was weird when she wouldn’t let me see you at lunch. She said you were in some vital phase of an experiment, and that you couldn’t be disturbed or it might have ‘detrimental effects’. I came back after fifth period again, and the door was locked, and she wouldn’t answer.” I vaguely remembered a pounding sound at about that time, but was in a delirium of pain waiting for my legs to reattach themselves, so had dismissed the noise.

“I knew she was lying when she said later that she had cured you and you had gone off with your ‘girlfriend’. I know you’ve got no girlfriend.” She smirked, calm again, and in control of her emotions. She slid the car key into the ignition and gunned the engine to life, and despite my self, my gaze once more drifted to the floor and her feet.

“Knock it off, Billy.” She commanded. “This is serious. I’ve got to get you home and safe, away from that evil bitch. Then we’ve got to figure out what to do next.” Diane eased the car out of its parking space and headed into traffic, towards the exit. I could see her mind working, trying to reason out a plan of action. I tried to think as well, but my mind just wasn’t up to the task right then.

I had been through hell for the better part of that day, and would later find that it was to be the first of many. Diane was a great friend, to help me out, but it was hard on us both, and what little pleasure that was to come my way would be over balanced by her authority and protectiveness. She would have to become my ‘keeper’ for the duration, and as we found out, it quickly became a full time job. I was almost totally helpless at my size, and completely dependent on her grace and favor. We could apparently trust no one, as we learned the hard way, but that left us back at the beginning…

What to do next…
I dreamed in shades of gray…

I was in my home, the place where I had grown up, the safest place I knew. It was wrong though, and as I moved sluggishly from room to room I felt uneasy and a little bit afraid. The warm and sunny colors that my mother had decorated the house in had been replaced by dull and drab degrees of black and white. The walls were dark and barren. The carpeting was black and gritty under foot and I kicked up clouds of dust with every step. Thick, stifling curtains shut out the world beyond, letting in only thin slices of a bright and garish light. The furniture was worn and threadbare, and oddly huge.

I felt like a child as I moved between rooms, marveling incredulously at my surroundings, wondering what had happened. I called for my parents, my sister, but got no reply save a strange echo that lingered in the misty air. Every room I found was void of life, and my home seemed to have been deserted for some time, like some old abandoned house out on the outskirts of town. Each room was a struggle to enter as well, as it seemed that the place had been built to a scale well beyond my stature. I had to stretch up for every door knob and light switch. I had to stand on tiptoe to see the tops of the desks or tables that were left in the various rooms.

My own room was the worst. Entering it, the size seemed to double with every step. I could not reach the light switch, but light was filtering through the curtains and gloom so that I might see. My bed was huge, and it was a strain to hoist my body up the bedspread, like climbing the thick rope in gym class, a chore I had never liked. From that vantage point, atop my dusty and unmade bed, I surveyed the rest of the room. The dark walls had been stripped of anything I might have remembered. The overhead lamp hung from a chain lined with cobwebs, disappearing into the darkness behind the bed’s headboard. By climbing to the summit of the heaped up pillows at the head of the bed I could see the top of my dresser, but found it empty as well, a large plateau on the far side of an insurmountable gap.

I could see my reflection in the dark glass of the mirror rising above the dresser. I looked strange, almost a stranger, though I knew it must be me looking back. I was small, smaller even than I had first imagined. Less than a child. And aside from the obvious difference in size, my body looked different as well. My skin was gray, stretched over a body that was not my own. It seemed older, and obviously better defined and muscular. My hair seemed almost white, as opposed to my usual brown, and I assumed in this oddly monotone world that it should appear darker. My face was there, on the strange diminutive body, but it did not seem quite right. It was me, but older, and altered, yet familiar just the same.

When I saw the wall suddenly ripple behind me in the reflection, I realized who I was in the image. The wall was white, and seemed to flow like liquid as it rose behind and above my mirror image. It was like theatre curtains, in the old movie houses, swaying and shifting as I turned. I craned my neck, staring ever upward, following the massive wall of clean white fabric towering above me. I could barely make out curves and mounds along the edges of the wall far in the distance. Something huge floated over head, a shadow lost in the darkness, and I heard the sound of a motor purring far up and away. “Louise?” I asked, tentatively, my naked sweating body suddenly shaking in fear as I slipped into the role I seemed to have been cast. I heard a low rumble that sounded like laughter, and a jangling of metal and suddenly the sun burned overhead, hanging by a dusty chain from the sky.

“No, silly…” The voice was soft and feminine, and rolled overhead like thunder. The wall of white fabric had become a dress, draping the gargantuan body that towered over me. It was cut in a style five decades old, as was the full blonde hair of the giantess, hanging loosely about her shoulders and framing a face that I had come to know and love. It was Diane.

She was smiling down at me; her huge white teeth set in a perfect smile. Her eyes were dark, sparkling mischievously in the blazing light. She hugged a filthy, balding cat to her bosom, stroking it and cooing in its ear as she eyed me playfully. It purred, its rasping voice sputtering like the outboard motor of a boat as it eyed me as well, one milky eye staring into space. I started to back away.

She dropped the cat to the bed, and panic washed over me as I watched the great beast stretch and claw at the comforter. It licked its lips; whiskers twitching as it caught the scent of my fear and padded toward me. I froze, death approaching, as Diane bent at the waist, leaning over my little body. She was laughing now, as the cat’s paw lashed out, ripping my body open in a quick flick of claw and fur. I sprawled in a bloody heap, a black stain spreading beneath me. Oddly, there was no pain.

Diane dipped her finger into the gaping hole where my chest had been. Something ripped as she probed about, and her finger was smeared and damp when she pulled it free, holding it out for the cat to lick clean. “What’s the matter?” she laughed. “Cat got your heart, Billy…”




I woke in a panic, that feeling of not knowing where I was or what was happening. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer, and my skin was pale and slick with sweat. I sat up, spinning about, wide-eyed and terrified. I was surrounded on all sides by faded walls of blue, huddled in a shadowy darkness. I felt warm, and oddly safe, despite the overpowering fear that was gripping me. I cast my gaze skyward, following a curvaceous wall of pale blue, the dream already receding into the dim corners of my memory.

Diane hovered over me, her sweet face marked with concern. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, still wearing the jeans and tee shirt that I had last seen her in, though she had tied her hair back into a pony tail, and a thin pair of wire rim spectacles sat on the tip of her nose. She hovered over me because I was resting in the safety of the cubby-hole created by her crossed legs. I remembered then that I was still six inches tall, and reality came crashing in on me again like a tidal wave…

While doing detention time, I had been assigned clean-up duty in the high school science class for a few days after school. It wasn’t so bad, as I was under the supervision of Diane, a girl I had grown up with and whom I considered one of my best friends despite the difference in our ages and social status at school. She was a year or so older than me, but in the safety and seclusion of the science lab we had gotten along well, remembering happier times when we were younger. As I was cleaning, however, fate stepped in and I had an accident of monumental proportions. I tripped, dropping a tray full of various, and of course, unknown chemicals, which had more than detrimental effects on my body. The long and short of it was…I had shrunk.

Luckily Diane was there. She helped me as best she could, keeping me safe and taking me home with her as we tried to figure out some way to get me back to normal. In the end, after a few brushes with disaster, we mutually decided to take me back to the school science teacher, to see if he might have a clue as to how to restore me. Back at school the next day, however, we learned that Mr. McCormick was little more than an aging ‘Mr. Science’ waiting on retirement. His boss on the other hand, had a sharp mind, but she was not quite so interested in science as she was in getting rich and making a name for herself.

Diane reluctantly handed me over to ‘Doc’ Ellington, McCormick’s supervisor and head of the science department, and I spent the worst day of my life in her ‘tender’ care. The truly evil woman subjected me to a series of tests that were in reality the cruelest tortures that she could imagine. I was taped down to a plastic slide and gagged as she poked and prodded me, took my blood, burned me and finally diced me up like a piece of fruit. The only thing that was finally resolved by the end of the day was that, in addition to being the smallest man alive, I was also the most resilient. My body had become something akin to living rubber; virtually indestructible, and would eventually mold back into its original six inch shape, no matter what the mad scientist did to me, and she did things that would have had the Marquis de Sade spinning in his grave with lust.

Doctor Ellington of course saw this as her chance to not only get rich, but to live forever. If…she could unlock the secrets surrounding my accident. She covered her tracks well, telling lies to Diane, and making plans that would eliminate me from my life as a real person. She had planned to take me home with her, to discover just what made me tick, and she made no attempt to soften the blow, telling me in some detail what hell my life was about to become. Luckily Diane cared enough not to be fooled however. She did not believe the doctor’s lies and came back at the end of the day. She fought for me, and was willing to even kill for me I found, as she slammed the doctor over the head with a fire extinguisher, rescuing me. Doc Ellington survived, unfortunately, but I was free, none the less, and safe again, with Diane…

“You okay, Billy? You were twitching in your sleep.” Diane stared down at me, concern wrinkling her brow. Her huge brown eyes took me in with warmth that chased the last demons of my nightmares away. My heart was still thumping madly, but slowing to a more normal rate, and I almost had my breathing back under control. I looked up at her, her huge, beautiful face taking up the entire field of my vision. When I had first woken from my accident the day before, I had compared Diane to God, and it still seemed appropriate.

“I-“ I choked, trying to find my voice. “I’m okay. Just a bad dream… I’m fine.”

Diane’s huge lips twisted in disbelief, but she took me at my word, apparently, and accepted. She had been resting her arms on her thighs, reading a magazine above me as I slept, and now laid it aside. She then took off her glasses and laid them beyond my line of sight on the far side of her legs.

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