For Richer, For Smaller (Chapter 13) (Patreon)

The newest correctly-sized chapter of Tony’s life had lasted a whole month now, and for the first time, he wondered if maybe he hadn’t been slightly hasty in making such a permanent change right when he did. That said, he certainly didn’t regret actually shrinking himself: first and foremost because the man had decisively never regretted a single choice in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. But also because his fiery yearning for this fantasy-made-real hadn’t changed at all, even if the actual practice of it was turning out to have a few thorns among the roses, specifically when it came to Lillian’s vigorous spirit and matching forcefulness that far exceeded – to a hurtfully berserk degree – any of Tony’s wildest expectations for how his wife and her feet might fit into this paradigm shift.

Nevertheless, it was now becoming clear to the six-inch-tall self-made CEO that he’d gravely underestimated the work that would be required of him to shepherd his gorgeous gargantuan spouse into that fabled yet-unattained sweet spot of foot goddessdom somewhere between underwhelming apathy and extravagant ultraviolence. So perhaps he ought to have delayed the shrinking procedure until more of that work was completed on the front-end. Because, although he’d only ever admit this to himself, he might’ve had an easier time shaping and, if necessary, disciplining Lillian’s mindset toward trampling his dwindled body (not to mention the barbarity she put into the act) if he still possessed his old height and the natural dominance that came with it. And possibly even more importantly, he still would’ve had the ability to come out totally unscathed from a sensuous undersole stomp-a-thon, let alone the option to decline one if he wished.

But, Tony had taken a gamble, he’d made his lifelong choice, and in turn, his wife had chosen this opportunity to make some kind of power play. Whether her end goal was to defuse his lust for constantly serving as a human smush-rug for her bare feet, or simply to manifest her displeasure over all the extra responsibility his size reduction had foisted upon her, the shrinker didn’t know and frankly didn’t care now. Tony’s climb up the professional ladder to the staggering heights of corporate prestige he enjoyed today had involved many instances of struggles and standoffs with his so-called contemporaries. Some folks required more effort than others to crush, but all who’d ever dared go toe-to-toe with him in the business world now languished in obscurity, or later had to beg him for a far-subordinate position in his own company. And this was Lillian he stood against, no matter his physical disadvantage. Just her. The ultimate outcome would be no different in Tony’s mind from any other solvable challenge he’d ever faced, though he obviously had no desire to “crush” his wife in this case. He far preferred to let her handle all things crush-related, albeit in a heavily-altered style from her current overdone approach.

This was still his house, however. He was the captain, and soon enough, his paradisaically soft-soled wife would relearn that fact for herself, once he put an end to her combative too-much-of-a-good-thing game once and for all. He just needed a strong statement: a truly bold move to demonstrate that the giantess’s bullish efforts, whatever their exact purpose, had come to naught. The man would never be persuaded from his aims, and definitely would not be broken. Tony had a good feeling they’d find equilibrium soon after his chosen countermeasures were deployed, and having woken up today confident in just how to play this, there was no point in waiting any longer to retake his rightful control.

“Wake up, babe. Daddy’s fiending. I could barely sleep, waiting for the next fix from you,” Tony needfully declared while standing atop his sleeping-beauty spouse’s negligee-clad breasts: a bodily feature he generally had no use for on her, despite their relative buxomness, but the shrinker needed Lillian to take in the correct image of him from the instant she opened her eyes. Especially because he’d just personally requested a trampling for the first time since that fateful encounter in the laundry room when the tables turned and his master plan first threatened to sour, rather than letting her dictate the whole punishing schedule of sacrificial foot-burrowing castigation that made him feel like an old bed spring irreparably compressed within itself.

Sure enough, as the woman groggily opened her eyes and questioningly parted her lips, she was greeted by an optical illusion of her once-sizable husband looking down on her with his macho arms crossed, his square jaw raised, and his pajama-panted groin tented. Not that Tony thought she’d even for an instant suspect his stature had been reversed, but as in any cutthroat business tactic, image was everything, capable of tricking the brain long after reality had settled. Once she’d seen him this way as her first waking visage, with his undefeated half-foot-tall body adopting a noble stance atop her sleepily rising-and-falling tits like an adventurer’s mountaintop perch in some heroic landscape painting, she would automatically see him this way for the duration of their exchange. And since Tony was officially playing on offense again here, ready to get his hands back on the ship’s wheel and correct their course at long last, he was going to use everything at his disposal.

“Sorry. I… what did you say?” Lillian reservedly murmured, still halfway in dreamland. Her brow furrowed and her lower lip hung open, considering how off-guard her little husband had just caught her, both with his timing while she was coziest and most vulnerable, and also with his unexpected request itself. The shrinker could tell right away by the flare of surprise in her pupils, and her docile apology-addicted tone that made her sound more like the acceptably traditional woman he’d married again, that his plan had worked. “Tony-”

“You heard me right,” he interjected with a smug smile, pacing back and forth across the pert jiggliness of her rack as if it was just another piece of owned real estate. “How can you just give me everything I ever wanted like you have, and then not expect me to dream even bigger? You know I’m not built that way, babe. To just be happy with what I’ve got, and coast for there on out. I swear, I can barely make it through the nights now without thinking about that next time you’re going to give me all you’ve got. You really have become the woman I always knew you could be. Just like you said. And, sure, doing this for me… for us… means you have less time to clean up the house, or take care of your body, or anything else you used to do for yourself in those dreary hours before I came home from work, no matter how many ways you’ve found to multitask. Holy hell, though, Lil. I can tell that giving all that up was worth it to you. I can feel it, every time you press your foot into me again. Fuck, it’s like magic, I’m telling you. And this is only the beginning. I need more. I’m craving it. No matter the cost, no matter how much time it takes, we can do this together. Nothing ever has to be “good enough” for us, ever again. That is, unless… you happen to feel different?”

Tony fell silent, then, gazing expectantly into his comparative six-and-a-half-story wife’s eyes while he had her on the backfoot now. Already he could see the gears turning: the skepticism, the second thoughts, even a touch of astonishment in her face. Lillian probably thought she had him beaten these past few weeks. She must’ve been smiling to herself behind closed doors, assured that he’d crack sooner or later, and after so much panged overload below her heels, finally announce that he never wanted to so much as touch those feet again. Then she could all but forget that her toy-statured partner existed in his own home, just doing as she liked while continuing to mooch off his tech empire. And now, after this well-performed lie of his, helped along by the unusual meeting place and his blatant hard-on, Tony knew he’d ruined her sorry ploy. He’d just doubled down, making sure she knew that there would be no limit to his foot-hunger, even though in reality he was sorely past the point of satiation, and now if she wanted out of her brazen commitment to becoming his full-time dominator (which the woman surely did wish to escape), she would have to fold. There was no other way.

“I’m… really glad to hear that,” Lillian whispered, still apparently finding her way to full consciousness. She rubbed her eyes, yawned, then flirtatiously stroked her fingertips over her husband’s pajama bulge. Nervously nibbling the corner of her lip and avoiding Tony’s gaze, though, it was clear she had more to say. The other shoe was about to drop. “But…”

“Yes, babe?”

“…I’m only sad you didn’t tell me sooner, little one. I so agree. There’s no such thing as too much. Not in our vocabulary,” the giantess completed, her voice abruptly infallible and full of godlike conviction. Her vision seemed to sparkle like a starlit sky, and her heartrate palpably increased its gleeful pace as Tony continued standing on her bust in slack-jawed unbelief.