For Richer, For Smaller (Chapter 5) (Patreon)

“Come on out, babe, wherever you are. Daddy needs his fix!” the half-foot-tall CEO facetiously announced to the foyer upon emerging from his spacious home office. Though despite his joking tone, he was indeed jonesing for some cathartic after-work underfoot time. In fact, his eyes had essentially glazed over while he clicked through digital contracts and futuristic proposals today, sensuously daydreaming only about the inevitable sight of his spouse’s immense putty-smooth sole descending toward him again, until he was stiffly enshrined once more in that compounded sliver of space between her mighty foot and unflinching Earth, where he belonged as often as possible.

Tony had only been six inches tall for four days now, but already he revered the new normal more than he ever thought he could. As much as making himself the ideal easily-squashed stature for trample sessions was his greatest priority in pursuing atomic size-alteration tech, he’d anticipated there being a few adjustment hiccups in all other aspects of his life. However, Lillian’s constant willingness to help him out however he needed (like any good wife ought), combined with the fact that most of his high-powered job could basically be performed through a laptop, meant that he was hardly inconvenienced by the change. Why hadn’t he done this years ago, Tony pondered? True, shrinking hadn’t been invented yet, but as it turned out, he could just answer a few emails, delegate some corporate tasks, then spend the rest of the day indulging beneath his wife’s feet and still make just as much cash by day’s end. Which, ultimately, satisfied about every need he could ever have in life.

“Oh. You… want to do it again?” Lillian asked from the living room where she was busily tidying. The woman put on a smile, but even with all her practice, it was difficult to force. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be best to give yourself a little more of a break, sweetie? We still don’t know how all this might affect your body in the long term, and… I want you to be happy and to feel good, when you work so hard for us, but we’ve already done that four times today alone. Couldn’t we at least go see a doctor, and get you a checkup to make sure it’s-”

“The doctor’s not going to know more about this thing than me. Believe me, hon,” Tony interjected. As usual when he had no choice but to cut in over his wife’s nervous babbling, his tone was deceptively congenial, but he wasn’t about to let her backslide into shyness when it came to mock-stomping him. “I may not have done all the research and engineering and sciencey-do-hickery myself, but I didn’t pour this much capital into a breakthrough like this without putting insurance in place. You’ve seen how much I can handle the last few days, even though you still don’t trust me that I can handle all of you at once, when you’re not just sitting down. So if you don’t want to believe me, Lil, that I can take it, because you seem to think that my love for your feet is impeding my judgment, you can put your faith in the facts, at least. I may be this small, but my tolerance was greatly increased throughout my body. I might as well be a superhero now. You haven’t hurt me at all. In fact, I don’t think you can, even if you were trying. So not only can I handle plenty of it… as much as you can dish out… but I think it’s time we took the training wheels off. Seriously, babe. You trusted me after I made this choice, and it’s worked out great for everyone so far. I’m only asking you to trust me one more time, just a little further, so you can see for yourself what I’m made of. I need you to stand on me. Only you.”

“All right,” Lillian capitulated with a weary yet unerringly-loving sigh that had become her trademark in their marriage. The timid blonde had clearly seen this final test coming over the last four days, and likely steeled for it psychologically already, even if she appeared every bit as personally disinclined. She nodded in agreement, then before Tony could object, fetched that same ultra-fluffy mat they’d been using whenever he requested yet another trampling. “I do believe you. You know that. And if you say you’ll be safe, then I’ll stand by you. Err, I’ll stand on you. Just… let me use the rug. Please, Tony. For my own peace of mind.”

“If you have to, you have to,” the six-incher shrugged, as if he was doing his wife a massive favor by giving such permission, but grinned in delight all the same. Finally, he’d broken through. “Let’s do it right here. Middle of the hall. You won’t need anything to hold onto for balance. I’ll hold you up by myself, just like I always have.”

Once more, Tony took his now-familiar spot in the center of the fuzzy-plush mat, only with the anticipatory rush renewed to a fresh echelon of heady gratification-starved glee, knowing that Lillian wouldn’t have the crutch of a seat this time to dilute his pleasure. He was going to get all of her this time, and assuredly for the first of many times in the future. That look of pale-cheeked lip-biting angst on his wife’s part had returned, but Tony knew she’d get over it soon enough. Sometimes when a person was taking too long to edge their way into cold water, dragging out the adjustment period, you simply had to push them in, for their own good.

“Use both of them,” Tony instructed. “Just press them together, and I’ll fit along the middle. That way, you’ll stay balanced. No need to worry about me at all.”

“Okay,” Lillian groaned again through a strained smile, regardless of whether she concurred with his logic or was simply ready to be done with this latest difficulty. “You remember what I say every time. If it starts to hurt or you can’t breathe, or… anything… you have to make noise and fight back as soon as possible. But… I know you know that already, so… you must be ready to get on with it. Right?”

“Good girl,” Tony chuckled. “Now let me have it.”’

First rocking on her heels and tapping her toes on the mat beside her Lilliputian husband’s body, Lillian expressed a final regret by way of fatigued respiration, then did exactly as the little man had so long negotiated and begged her for. She foot-mounted her six-inch target one sole at a time, which silently disappointed Tony, since a part of him had hoped she might just leap right in, both peds at once, if only to help herself across that last mental hurdle faster. Then again, he supposed it would only be good for their assured future of regularly performing this ultimate realization of his fantasies, if she started out by correctly recalibrating her trample-specific center of balance for his physically-lowlier form. She’d been hesitant during those first few times she’d agreed to walk on him at his old incorrect height, too, yet within a week of his encouragement and critiquing of her form, the woman became a pro. And he had no doubt she’d prove exponentially better at tromping his shrunken shape now than when there was much more of him to go around.

As requested, Lillian stood upon her puny husband sideways, first planting the beefy midsection of her right sole atop the bottom half of his body, then added its left twin to cover and compound him from the torso-up after she was certain of her sturdiness here, devoid of a seat this time or any support props to grab in the event of an emergency. Having meekly settled into her authoritarian position now, the uncertain giantess’s heels and toes were able sit flush upon the mat, while her deep arches utterly buried Tony between their combined divot-rippled heft. Below, the half-foot-high man was instantly filled with regret: regret, specifically, that he hadn’t more aggressively motivated Lillian to do this for him, no holds barred, starting from the very first moment when he emerged from that post-procedure box on the kitchen table and walked into his new improved life of fetish-fueled debauchery. Because holy hell, this was what he’d been after all along.

Having spent four days savoring the neutered version of such treatment already, the blinding darkness and near-deafening solitude of being soundly compressed beneath his spouse’s enchantingly weighty soles were very familiar to Tony, and largely unchanged from when Lillian was merely bestowing a controlled fraction of her body mass from a throne. What had changed so revolutionarily for the better, and threatened to push the shrinker directly into some kind of foot-based nirvana state well beyond the fruitful pleasures he’d already drawn from their sexually-lucrative marriage, was pretty much everything else. The heat radiating into him from this sweltering ceiling of feminine arch brawn, merely tropical and muggy as a high-humidity August afternoon these previous days, was now ramped up to a stifling peak of breathless sauna-like potency that, while by no means conventionally “comfortable,” was everything he’d ever wanted and more. The tyrannically palpable sensation of Lillian’s sumptuously-pithed sole flesh texture was no longer just taunting him with the prospect of molding over his shape, cookie-cutter style, but actively swallowed him into its clay-like thickness as though taking a skin-tight plaster mold of his supine little corpus. And though her velvety dimple-abundant underfoot flesh was soft enough for easy manipulation while pressing so perfectly snug across Tony’s limited square-inchage from head-to-toe, the grandest evolution of all – the raw, burly, unconditional force of the giantess’s body stacked with queenlike dynamism upon his wildly aroused body – proved as always that his wife’s feet were capable of such beautifully harsh power just as much as sponge-supple grace.

Only, up to now, even Tony’s most detailed wet dreams had failed to account for the true deluge of undersole pressure that awaited him down here, at this size, with no bothersome filter separating him from Lillian’s titanic potential for stamping clout. The feeling of having her atop him was absolutely staggering. Monumental. Enough to make a lesser man fold, psychologically and perhaps physically too, but not Tony. This was the moment of truth, the kind he’d previously experienced only when worldly coworkers had shared certain recreational substances with him, and once the high struck, his choices were either to descend into painful pants-soiling delirium, or just go with the electrifying riptide. He’d always chosen the latter, and become stronger for it. Still, the effect of any expensive drug paled in comparison to the cranium-pulsing euphoria of having Lillian stand upon his diminutive frame like this, full-brunt. There could be no need ever again of chasing such chemical distractions, when the ride he was embarking upon now could never be beaten.