For Richer, For Smaller (Chapter 23) (Patreon)

The yarn contraption, re-tightened just this morning with Lillian’s sewing kit to ensure Tony was lashed in tight enough for practically one-to-one marionette control under her foot, stretched slowly away from the dangled overhang of the giantess’s tepid milky-sleek naked sole. Her fingers were pinched idly at the crimson wooliness strapped around her husband’s back as she laid on the bed with one leg crossed up over the other, seemingly testing the tensile strength of the custom harness while she pulled. This activity – which of course would’ve been impossible for Tony to accomplish on his own, trapped as he was – had the bittersweet dual-effect of creating a merciful margin of temporary breathing space between his splayed frontside anatomy and the bottom of her humongous size-8, but also caused the triple-knotted cuffs around his limbs to automatically cinch tauter to the point of depriving circulation to his appendages.

Despite this dire four-pointed strain on his physique that felt like being roped in every compass direction at once by spooked horses, though, the shrinker’s self-preservation instincts still worked well enough for him to simply concentrate on gasping up oxygen while he had the chance. Especially because, after roughly ten seconds of nonchalantly pulling down on her miniature spouse’s foot-riding saddle for the hundredth time, Lillian suddenly released her grip again, allowing the fuzzy red latticework and its shrunken captive to slap back against her arch from two inches away like a lazily fired slingshot, and then the usual pressure recommenced its chest-caving reign over him. Though because the woman was reclined on the mattress right now, balancing her husband’s laptop on her stomach and operating the keyboard with the hand not currently tormenting his inverted squashed-in little body with bullying strap-plucks on the yarn, the tension Tony was experiencing here was several magnitudes more bearable than the frequent blackout-threatening shifts he involuntarily served as the giantess’s living insole ornament. And in the month since he’d surrendered all his money to Lillian, along with his self-respect, he had to take these little vacations from exponential anguish wherever he could get them.

“I have to be honest, little one. In the past, I was always under the impression that what you did every day for a living was, how should I put this… more challenging than this is,” Tony’s conqueror opined with a dreamy sigh, still clicking away at the computer while she spoke and played with the fluffy high-stress threads around him again. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not nothing, either. Or else I might’ve mastered it all weeks ago, after you made the correct and very wise decision to hand over the reins to someone better equipped to be in-charge than you’re going to be for the foreseeable future. But still, you weren’t exactly splitting the atom here, running this company day-to-day. And even if you were splitting atoms, you’d probably just be paying someone else to do it for you, so you could take the credit later. The life of a CEO, I suppose.”

Indeed Tony had begun handing over control of his professional kingdom shortly after spouting off all the passwords that had instantaneously rendered Lillian the wealthiest woman in town. At least the bitch had the common decency not to start demanding company-running lessons from him until a few days after she’d already nabbed all his money, or else her six-inch husband might’ve just imploded in on himself from sheer hopelessness rather than from vanquishing undersole heft. His “consent” to begin transitioning the go-getter giantess into his former no-longer-viable leadership role over a major tech corporation was earned with considerably less fussy protraction than that more excruciating day of near-unceasing in-slipper stompage required to make him lay out all the banking secrets. But even though he wasn’t physically tortured quite as grievously in order to grant his spouse’s unprecedented ascent from docile housewife up to titan of industry, Tony still felt the devastating awareness of his own wholesale failure weighing down on him with the force of a foot ten times huger and heavier than his wife’s, with no trampling necessary. He was the undisputed loser here, and she refused to let him forget it.

“I wonder, if someone had the same ambition, know-how, and cash infusions that you used to have at your disposal, minusyour… well, what a psychologist might call an unhealthy obsession with feet, what kinds of wonders could she have accomplished for the world?” Lillian pontificated aloud. “It’s almost tragic, to think so much talent and capital was wasted on your little sexual-complex science project, instead of on something that might benefit everyone. But then again, I know I should be grateful you chased this sad little dream of yours, and put so many resources into seeing it through, because if you hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t be where I am today: learning the ropes of what I’m going to turn into a much healthier business, with my adoring husband right at my heel, where he belongs. You know how they say behind every successful woman, there’s a man supporting her? Well, in our case, this successful woman’s little man is supporting her from below, and just so you know, darling, I’ve really learned to appreciate every second you’re down there under my soles. And this time, I’m not just saying that to help drive your adorable little Napoleon ego crazy. I actually mean it from the bottom of my heart, and more importantly for you, the bottom of my feet. You really are now where you were always meant to be.”

Lillian relinquished her teasingly fingered grip on the faux-elastic yarn harness again, letting Tony body-slam anew into the aforementioned place he was always meant to be with a smarting skin-to-skin clap and a compulsory “Mmmrrrgggfff!” from the foot-clasped victim that made his taskmistress giggle under her breath. As if it wasn’t enough having the umpteenth lungful of wind knocked out of him during this dangle-session alone, the six-incher felt her imposing thumbpad rubbing up and down the length of his spine from neck to tailbone next, fervently flattening him into the beefy ceiling of her reposed ped in lieu of any compounding impacts with a floor every other second mid-strut. Having essentially lost any semblance of biological control over the course of this last month – a fitting state, Tony bitterly realized, when he wasn’t in control of anything else in his so-called life, either – he soon spontaneously cummed to the suffocating mock-trample rhythm achieved by Lillian’s ardent thumb and rocking sole crescent. Before the barely-gratifying sensual afterglow had even fully faded, however, the giantess hooked her finger back into the cloth looping closest to her runty husband’s head and yanked it down with greater force, keeping his sensitive post-molestation loins in sore contact with her firmly pithy sole’s spongier midsection, but peeled his face far enough from the ball of her foot that he could see her looking back at him again.