For Richer, For Smaller (Chapter 7) (Patreon)

Tony stood on the balcony overlooking the personal kingdom of his property, sighed in the crisp morning air, and relished a greater more-satisfying brand of power than he’d ever tasted through corporate conquest or watching stocks rise on a screen. He supposed a foolish outsider might struggle with this mindset, considering he was destined to be six inches tall for the rest of his deservingly privileged life, but he’d learned firsthand over the past two weeks that he didn’t need physical stature to prove his efficacy and manhood. If anything, his authority was clearer now than ever. And when Tony desired something enough, the world around him simply bent to his will and transformed into whatever he needed it to be. There was no other explanation for it, he decided, having just yesterday finished overseeing the installation of suitably half-foot scaled furniture throughout the estate. His new hand-stitched wardrobe had also arrived and looked even more dashing than all his old ensembles. Every room in the house was officially equipped with not one but two padded foam mats, ordered in mass quantities in case they needed replacing, so Lillian couldn’t ever hide behind that “safety” excuse again whenever Tony called upon her to do what she did best. To her credit, though, the woman had mustered very few complaints since that first real trample, sometimes grimacing but otherwise stoically earning her keep by compacting both arches atop her husband in a timely fashion.

The shrunken CEO had also whittled down his professional necessities to just forty minutes each morning, leaving him the whole rest of the day to indulge in the kinds of activities that made him feel truly alive, or at least supernally horny. He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of all the poor suckers out there wasting away their lives behind a desk, when the key to happiness was theirs for the taking. Then again, Tony supposed a woman with feet like Lillian’s was tragically uncommon, especially since he’d sunk so many thousands of dollars into keeping her assets that perfect. So perhaps the rest of the world deserved his pity, the little fellow victoriously pondered once he stepped indoors again from the balcony and went off in search of his wife’s immaculate soles again.

Because of course the most important refinement in this newest chapter of Tony’s life, far more valuable even than streamlining control over his business, was training his body to better withstand his spouse’s double-footed weight, and then recover from it as quickly as humanly possible. Now with literally dozens of practice runs under his belt, he’d learned to instantaneously filter out the naturally overcoming elements of respiratory hardship and boundary-pushing pain, and simply revel in a dominant-yet-manageable dose of each, not to mention the all-around softer delights that came of heartily enveloping his face into the lushest tenderest spa-oiled sole texture around, then finally blowing a pressure-based load when he reached his limit. Tony had the process down to a science now. Though his toughened yet still-mortal body did require a brief respite following each wonderfully crushing undersole service, he was good as new within twenty-two minutes. If he kept improving like this, the shrinker reasoned, it would soon be sexual exhaustion, not the fleeting exertion earned from getting erotically deflated beneath Lillian’s stead, which would impede more-frequent indulgences. But there were pills for such problems, Tony reminded himself, if worst came to worst.

“Honey, I’m HOME!” the six-incher jokingly announced, using his recently-installed electric elevator to descend the front stairwell. This statement was funny, of course, since they’d seen each other just twenty-three minutes ago, then another twenty-six before that, and he had no intention of ever leaving their home again, so long as his favorite feet were here. He listened intently for signs of his wife’s whereabouts, already sporting a half-chub at the mere thought of their next round, and soon heard commotion in the laundry room that magnetized him toward her. Sure enough, Lillian was heaving garments out of the washing machine. With her back to the doorway when Tony moseyed in, the woman mopped the back of her hand across her forehead and slumped her shoulders mid-exhale. He sensed tension in her, which made him feel even better about the fact that he was about to kindly offer her a romantic distraction from these chores.

“I’m ready when you are, babe,” Tony coaxed to get her attention, already lying flat on the foam-spongy mat like a backyard hammock.

Lillian flinched, though not necessarily in surprise, as she turned slowly from the machine with a half-soaked silk negligee hugged below her chest. The golden-haired titaness bit her lip and closed her eyes, evidently forcing a neutral expression, as she regarded her expectantly-smirking half-foot-tall husband reclined down there in the same submissive posture he’d assumed, like clockwork, at least seventeen times a day since she first agreed to stand on him without the help of a chair. Mulling, but still not speaking, Lillian wrung the nighttime garment around her knuckles, causing several water droplets to plunk from the cloth, dribble down the tops of her feet, and nestle moistly between the toes.

“Well?” The shrunken man of the house cleared his throat, then patted the mat with both hands, as he might do to help guide a dog in training, just in case Lillian was too busy with her menial tasks to recall exactly what he wanted here. “Come on, babe. You know it won’t take me long.”

“I’m not worried about how long it’ll take,” she muttered, effecting a kindlier tone than her hunched body language read. “I’m… worried about you, Tony.”

“How many times do we have to go OVER this?” he wheeze-laughed in impatient exasperation. “You’ve seen for yourself how often I can handle it just fine! And frankly, I could be taking on much more than I am. All I need is to build up my tolerance some more, and pretty soon, we’ll barely have to hit pause in between. Think of all the quality time we could have together, once I fully master this, just like I’ve mastered everything else I’ve ever had half a mind to accomplish.”

“It’s not your body I’m worried about now,” Lillian replied through gritted teeth. More trickles were wrenched out of the negligee and splashed around her pedicured beauties. She swallowed hard, having difficulty articulating her next words: “And, well… you know… it’s not just you that this… all this… concerns.”

“Look, babe, I’m veeeeery sorry I didn’t factor in how bored you apparently must get from helping fulfill only your hardworking husband’s greatest wish in life, when all you have to do to make it come true is… stand there, for a few minutes, a few times a day,” Tony snapped at once, while laying on the sarcasm thick enough that there was no chance of misinterpreting this as an actual apology. “Is everything I’ve given you, everything I’ve done for us, still not enough that you can’t spare me a few precious minutes out of your day? Is that so unreasonable?”

Upon hearing this, Lillian didn’t budge except for a tweak at the corner of her lip, but her eyes flared with a certain indefinable lustered glassiness – though it definitely wasn’t tears – which Tony had witnessed in her a week and a half ago, after finally persuading her to put some damn faith in him. Again she appeared almost as a blank-faced stranger to him, though the shrinker wasn’t perturbed by this, so much as by her persistent intractability. Tony considered himself too much of a gentleman to start bringing out the big guns: namely pointing out how much she relied upon him, financially, while he could probably find plenty of comely candidates who’d happily fill her current position, with her every need met so long as she kept the house tidy and tended to her foot-specific spousal obligations. He kept his mouth shut. Yet the thought crossed his mind nevertheless.

“I’m… doing my best with all this, Tony. Really, I am. I… want… you to be happy,” Lillian said with reserved strain, repeating this last sentence in particular like some religious mantra she’d long ago forgotten to completely believe in, but still unfailingly spoke it out of habit. That flash of sterile bitterness on her countenance had faded back to docility, though the fatigue in her voice remained: “But, if you could just… try to see things from my side for just a minute. I’ve always been… grateful… that I’ve never had to worry about being taken care of, with you. And I’m happy to make sure this place looks nice for you, that I look nice for you, and that… the things most important to you, are kept how you want them. And I still feel that way. But I can only take so much, Tony. I used to have all day to take care of everything around here, but between the cleaning, cooking, visits from Roz every two days now, my workouts, my makeup, doing everything you can’t do for yourself anymore, and then STEPPING on you as often as you’ve been wanting, I can barely find the time to THINK!”

“Hey, fantastic! We’re being honest with each other now! That’s exactly what we need more of around here, babe,” Tony brusquely responded, chuckling and clapping his hands as he rose from the mat, since the woman obviously wasn’t about to succumb to her duties without some stronger encouragement first. He marched across the laundry room tile while pointing an accusing finger up at Lillian. Even though his eyeline didn’t rise much higher than her ankles now, no part of Tony felt as though he was being looked down upon. Not when he still held all the cards. The longer he spoke, the more venomous his tone became: “And I just want you to know, I’m glad you made me aware of how much my desires… you know, only this core piece of my identity… make your daily life so goddamn unbearable. It’s good to clear the air. Lucky for you, though, I might have a solution. Even though my money is the whole reason you even have food to cook, a house to clean, makeup to put on, or those relaxing spa treatments that seem to stress you out so much, when all I really ask in return is that you step on me if I ask you to, I’m still more than happy to offer a suggestion, babe: you can go ahead and skip the glamming-up above your knees from now on. To be honest, I haven’t really noticed your looks up there for a while, anyhow, since the only things that matter to me now are your best features, and that they’re taken care of. That’s all I need to see. So maybe keep that in mind the next time you-”

Tony’s toxic overly-honest outburst was interrupted with a bracing sputter when Lillian, first drowning out the last piece of her miniature husband’s cruelty via a deeply suppressed screech that erupted from her throat, raised her foot and shoved him hard in the chest. The man toppled onto his back, splayed upon the cold laundry room tile, as that sole followed him down with swift and brutal vengeance. Too surprised to react, especially with the wind knocked out of him, Tony only had time to let out a squeaked bray before the entirety of his spouse’s gigantic foot pinned him hard to the even-harder floor.