Nexifem Inc. - Chapter 23 (Patreon)

Chapter 23

Entertainment is the supra-ideology of all discourse on television. No matter what is depicted or from what point of view, the overarching presumption is that it is there for our amusement and pleasure.

-“Amusing Ourselves to Death”, by Neil Postman

Chad woke up to the sound of breathing, like a soft tide washing up nearby. His eyes parted and after a brief moment the memories of his experience on the stage of Kathleen O’Connor’s “Bright Horizons” television show all came flooding back - the humiliation, the public display, the shrinking.

Someone had removed the silver dome that had both protected and trapped Chad for most of the afternoon. He was no longer sealed in darkness. He could see the edge of the engraved platter glinting in his peripheral vision. Chad turned on his side, his makeshift tea-towel kilt loose around his body, feeling more like a blanket now. It kept him warm and insulated from the cool metal beneath.

A soft exhale came from above and warm air washed over Chad’s form again. He turned his head to look up.

Chad let out a choked scream.

Ms. Belmont’s face crowded the sky. Her blue eyes scrutinized him. They were so big and close that Chad could even make out the faint edge of the contact lenses she was wearing, over her bright blue irises. She must have shed her glasses for her public appearance on TV. Each one of her eyeballs were now close to the same size as Chad’s entire head. Stacy Belmont’s pink lipstick was shiny and wet looking. As Chad screamed, he saw her expression of fixated fascination shift into a satisfied smile.

“Hello there. I finally found where they put you,” Ms. Belmont said. Her voice was lowered and quiet. Chad heard applause in the distance. The show was still going on. “Your so-called girlfriend sure loves the cameras. You think maybe she loves that attention more than you?”

Chad scrambled to get away from Ms. Belmont’s staring eyes, feeling the tea-towel slip from his frame.

Ms. Belmont laughed in a languid bitchy manner. “Oops, you lost your little outfit,” she said. “Strip for me, little man.”

Chad scrambled and stood up naked on the tray, moving away from Ms. Belmont. But her hand came down in front of him, palm facing toward Chad, forming a barrier at least as high as his mid-thigh. Chad stumbled to a stop, almost colliding with Ms. Belmont’s hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ms. Belmont taunted.

Her fingers curled, moving to wrap around Chad and he stepped back away from them, turning to run in the opposite direction. Ms. Belmont’s cleavage loomed at the edge the table, tightly contained in her stylish top. She laughed as he tried to run from her hand.

“You can’t get away from me! You’re a fucking doll now, a Nexifem toy,” Ms. Belmont said. Chad felt a sudden pressure on his calf and he was yanked into the air. Everything flipped upside down as Ms. Belmont held him by one foot, lifting him up to her face as he struggled and flailed ineffectively.

She laughed with genuine amusement and pleasure, her full pink lips wide as she watched.

“Gawd,” Ms. Belmont said. “You’re what, a foot tall?”

She shifted her hips in her seat, watching as Chad’s struggles began to fade, before bringing him closer to her face and staring at his penis. Ms. Belmont slowly ran her tongue over her pearly upper teeth. Chad felt a wave of fear wash over him. He could almost hear the gears turning inside his boss’s head as her eyes flicked around, taking in his diminutive doll-like body dangling from her manicured fingers.

The sound of applause rose again in the distance and Ms. Belmont’s gaze moved to the room’s single door, which was cracked slightly open.

Her hand lurched as she moved in her seat. Chad’s view spiralled and jerked around. He looked down at the table and Ms. Belmont’s lap and saw that she was pulling the waistband of her skirt outward along with her black satin panties. A chasm of shiny black material and pale creamy skin narrowed down into a V-shape below him, with a tangle of honey-brown coloured pubic hairs in the shadows at the very bottom.

“N…no!” Chad squeaked.

Ms. Belmont ignored him, lowering his struggling frame into her panties upside down, letting go of his foot once he was close enough. Chad slid down the inside angle of black satin head-first, his hands slipping on the slippery soft fabric, his head rushing into the mass of moist warm hairs and bouncing into Ms. Belmont’s pussy lips. She let go of her underwear waist band and it pulled up against her body, forcing Chad into a more vertical position, upside down. A second later, he heard her skirt do the same, its elastic giving an audible snap as it went back into place against her waist. Chad’s feet were sticking out over the edge of Ms. Belmont’s panty waist. At around a foot in height, he was too big to easily fit inside her panties.

Chad felt a sense of desperation. She was trying to hide him. Did she intend to steal him away from the studio? Chad kicked, and tried to move, but he just sank further down into the tight wedge between Ms. Belmont’s crotch and the chair, his head pushing against her labia. Chad heard Ms. Belmont moan and her hips shifted, allowing Chad to sink down a bit further. His feet threatened to slip below the waist band.

Chad whimpered weakly, a small mousy sound. He didn’t know what to do. There was almost no light and the aroma of Ms. Belmont’s sex was thick around him. Her pubic hairs seemed to be all around his head and shoulders. He shoved out his hands and they met where her inner thighs and crotch connected, pushing into soft skin and large thigh muscles.

Her thighs came together suddenly and Chad felt the world around him lurch and shift as Ms. Belmont stood up. This caused him to slide down further, his head slipping down between Ms. Belmont’s legs toward her perineum, her labia pressing against his chest. Chad’s feet slipped down into Ms. Belmont’s panties. He was now completely inside his boss’s underwear, hidden from the world.

Chad screamed and kicked. His tiny feet bounced between Ms. Belmont’s pelvis and her tight panties, his knees rubbing her pubic mound just above her vulva. She let out another moan that was broken with bitchy laughter. “That’s it. Get down in there,” Ms. Belmont said, shifting her hips and adjusting her skirt. “We can’t have anyone seeing anything.”

Chad heard the sound of her heels on the floor and his head was pushed back and forth by the movement of Ms. Belmont’s ass cheeks and thighs as she began walking.

“NO!!” Chad screamed. She was leaving the room. She was taking him away from Kelly. She was stealing him like some object she coveted. “NOOOO!” Chad’s voice was lost between Ms. Belmont’s legs, under her skirt, as she walked confidently, ignoring him. She hummed a popular pop tune, which was all it took to drown out Chad’s small voice.

Chad felt the heat radiating from Ms. Belmont’s crotch against his chest and torso. Small amounts of sweat from her butt cheeks and thighs rubbed against his head and shoulders as she walked. Chad felt a deep feeling of humiliation. Her mind had assessed the possibilities of his new size far faster than he’d been able to conceive.

Chad kicked helplessly as Ms. Belmont walked. He felt her vulva pulse in response, the lips of her labia puffing out, opening slightly. Pussy juices smeared against Chad’s chest from a slit that easily ran the length of his abs and chest. Chad’s cock began to stiffen. His senses reeled in the heady aromas of Ms. Belmont’s sex and body. The rhythm of her walking caused him to bounce, his cock rubbing against the hood of Ms. Belmont’s clit. For a moment Chad wondered if his penis was still as big as Ms. Belmont’s clitoris. The mere fact that he wasn’t sure made him struggle even more desperately, trying to escape this humiliating abduction.

Ms. Belmont let out another moan. He felt a sudden pressure settle against his head. She was sitting down, the pressure of her change of posture pressed her butt cheeks against Chad’s head. Chad heard the familiar sounds of a car’s computer engaging, the familiar whirring of an electric motor.

“Mmm…” Ms. Belmont moaned. “Keep it up, dildo-boy. That feels so good.”

Her pussy lips flexed against Chad’s torso, flaring around his ribs. Chad felt a pressure on his back as Ms. Belmont used two fingers to push his body against her sex. Her juices oozed over his body, mingling with sweat.

Chad whimpered, barely able to breath, his head mashed between the car seat and Ms. Belmont’s perineum.

“I think I’ll just leave you there for now,” Ms. Belmont said. “It’s what men are really for anyway.”

She burst into laughter and Chad began to kick again, his feet slipping on expensive black satin, his knees rubbing against Ms. Belmont’s puffy vulva and the swell of her mound. His boss laughed louder, gasping in pleasure as a gush of juices flowed out of her vagina over Chad.

“Ffffuck,” she hissed. “Yes…just like…that.”

Chad heard the car’s engine pitch rise as its velocity increased. He was being taken further and further from any hope of rescue. Chad screamed, his voice lost under Ms. Belmont’s voluptuous bottom.

———

Chad only knew that Ms. Belmont had arrived at her destination when the pressure from her voluptuous curves, which had been mashing into his head for some time, suddenly shifted and relented slightly. She’d stayed in her car before walking more, wedging Chad ever further against her swollen pussy lips and under her buttocks, between her thighs. His struggles inside her panties had grown weak, becoming just faint little kicks and movements that brought an aroused smile to Stacy Belmont’s face. However, Chad knew little other than stifling darkness and moist aromas.

After several moments of calm, something took hold of his ankles and Chad was pulled out and upward. The sudden flood of light and cool air was shocking, causing Chad to blink and shiver as his eyes struggled to readjust.

A string of viscous moisture ran between Chad’s elbow and his rib-cage as his arms fell downward, below his head. Ms. Belmont’s smiling face slowly spun into Chad’s view. She was gazing at him with a smirk on her lips. To the side, Chad saw a large glass of rosé in Ms. Belmont’s hand. The opening of the glass was almost as wide as one of those cheap plastic backyard wading pools so common in suburbia.

“Mmmm….thanks for all the little orgasms in the car,” Ms. Belmont cooed. “Just what I needed after a long day at the office.”

Chad flailed in the air as Ms. Belmont took a long sip of wine. Her amused eyes remained fixed on him. Below him, Chad saw that Ms. Belmont had kicked off her high heels. She had her stocking-clad feet kicked up on a glass coffee table. Her skirt was hiked up to reveal the lacy tops of her stockings. She clearly wasn’t even thinking about her appearance or decency.

Chad realized that Ms. Belmont had brought him back to her home.

“You have to take me back,” Chad said. His voice was hoarse from screaming inside Ms. Belmont’s panties.

Chad’s tiny voice was suddenly drowned out by the television. Ms. Belmont had set down her glass and picked up a remote to turn on a huge expensive screen, which Chad could see reflecting in his boss’ eyes. He struggled and flailed as a booming advertisement for breath-mints drowned him out. The female narrator’s words about “energizing minty freshness” completely overrode Chad’s plea to be returned to the studio, to Kelly.

Ms. Belmont took another sip of her wine and grinned. “Oh, here we are,” she said. Energetic theme music for an evening news broadcast played in the background.

“Shocking news today as viewers of the Bright Horizons talk show witnessed Nexifem’s latest vulni-chic inspired technological innovation,” a news anchor’s voice declared.

Chad squirmed, trying to twist so he could see the screen. But Ms. Belmont continued to dangle him in front of her face, gently swaying him back and forth as she took sips of rosé and watched TV. He heard a clip suddenly play from the Bright Horizons show. Chad heard Kathleen O’Connor’s familiar voice and the sound of the audience reacting to the sight of him being revealed on a platter to the whole world.

Ms. Belmont burst into laughter. “Oh fuck, this is so epic,” she said. “Look, you’re famous now!”

Chad’s hands almost moved to cover his ears. This close to Ms. Belmont’s face, her laughter was surprisingly loud and powerful on his tiny eardrums. The scent of wine on her breath washed over him, mingling with the lingering aroma of pussy on his body.

“Protests broke out in the capitol and multiple other major cities this afternoon in response to today’s media firestorm, which erupted after clips from Kathleen O’Connor’s popular program went viral around the world.”

Chad heard the sound of sirens and screams, protest chants, and helicopter blades. He turned his head, trying to see the television, but was only able to catch flashes and glimpses. The news broadcast was showing scenes of huge protests in various cities, thousands of men running through the streets or fighting with towering mostly-female police in riot gear. Most of the men seemed to be shorter than five-and-a-half feet. In fact, many seemed to be under five-feet in height.

“Look at those fucking losers,” Ms. Belmont sneered. “Stupid dumb-ass men think the way to solve this is through breaking things, like little boys. One upsetting talk show and they lose their shit.”

Chad flailed, but he couldn’t get away. Ms. Belmont casually gripped his ankles between her fingers and continued to talk, lecturing the dangling doll-sized man. The light projected by the TV flickered behind Chad.

“Waaaaah!” She mocked, imitating a plaintiff cry. “We’re not bigger than women anymore. Poor us! We’re not the centre of attention. We don’t get whatever we want with ease! We can’t handle losing in the shitty system we invented.”

Chad heard a boom from the television and shouts. “Oh damn!” Ms. Belmont said. “That’s a lot of tear gas.”

“Police contained large protests downtown, but are continuing to combat a growing number of people - almost all men - as we report live,” the news anchor explained. “Authorities say that it may be necessary to set a curfew and bring in additional emergency legal measures in order to allow police to fully restore order in our city.”

Ms. Belmont scoffed with disdain. “It’s just like all the losers I fired at Nexifem,” she said. “They all threw little fits. Sometimes it’s the only way. Just remove them from the office, from the society. I mean, if they want to break the law, send them to prison!”

Chad was in a nightmare, his twisting field of view spinning slowly toward Ms. Belmont’s pretty lipstick-coated lips as she talked. Her head was almost as tall from chin to crown as his entire body. Her lips were close to him as she talked and sipped from her wine glass. Every once in a while he would spin a bit toward the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that lined her living room. The city glittered far below in the dusk light and Chad could see at least three fires burning in the distance. When he twisted in the other direction, he was able to catch glimpses of the television screen, either in reflection in the windows or directly, before Ms. Belmont would give him a little shake by the ankles, causing him to flail and flop about helplessly.

He had no way to talk back to her, to argue with her. The television’s speakers were far more powerful than his small voice. Plus, Ms. Belmont talked over both Chad and her TV as she reacted to the news broadcast.

“Authorities say that the protests would have been far more dangerous and even deadly had they occurred several years ago, before so many men chose to voluntarily pursue the vulni-chic fashion and lifestyle,” the anchor said.

“Exactly,” Ms. Belmont nodded.

Her eyes snapped toward Chad, focusing back on him again. A disdainful look came over Ms. Belmont’s face. “They should all be shrunk down like you, for doing this. What’s the term? Civil disobedience? Well, disobedient boys need correction.”

Chad heard the news program continue. The anchor was speaking to some professor about the possibility of new legal measures to deal with the protests. But Chad was barely listening. He wanted to scream at Ms. Belmont, to tell her to be quiet, to shut up. But he knew that would be a bad idea. His fear of her kept his mouth in check. But Chad couldn’t help the feelings of humiliation, of helplessness, of horror at how the world was changing, so much thanks to his own weakness.

“By the way, do you know whose apartment this used to be?” Ms. Belmont asked.

She opened her hand and suddenly Chad was falling. He dropped onto Ms. Belmont’s lap, landing on her skirt. She spread her legs, stretching the fabric between her thighs so that it became taut. When Chad tried to stand up, Ms. Belmont flexed her legs together slightly and he fell to his hands and knees as the tension beneath his feet slackened. As she talked down at Chad in her lap, Ms. Belmont’t kept repeating this game, each time he tried to stand.

“It was John Fairview’s - our only male board member,” Ms. Belmont said. She looked down over her tight top at the doll-sized man in her lap as he struggled to stand up. “He was dumb enough to sell his company to Cassandra Payne and still think he could be a controlling shareholder at Nexifem.”

Chad finally managed to get to his feet, just standing up as Ms. Belmont brought her thighs together and then snapped them apart quickly, causing Chad to collapse on all fours before being bounced into the air slightly. He rolled across the material of Ms. Belmont’s skirt and dropped onto the sofa between her thighs.

“You see, Fairview found out about the Adtenuo Program and a number of other company secrets and even began talking to members of the press,” Ms. Belmont continued, watching Chad’s struggles with an amused smirk on her face.

The television had switched back to showing a protest on the other side of the country where a police woman was lifting a protester off the ground by the scruff of his collar, his feet kicking the air desperately.

Chad got to his hands and knees on the soft sofa material. Ms. Belmont’s knees were on either side of him where her outstretched legs ran across the gap between the sofa and coffee table. In the other direction he could see into the gloom under her skirt to her tight black panties, which formed a V-shape between her thighs. Chad didn’t intend to go back there. He scrambled backward from Ms. Belmont’s skirt, horrified to hear how she’d taken possession John Fairview’s home. He had been Nexifem’s highest ranking male executive.

“He even knew about you, apparently,” Ms. Belmont said. “One day, Christine - Ms. Everhart, you know - she found him lurking around her labs and well…”

Chad stood staring up at Ms. Belmont in horror, standing at the edge of the sofa seat between her legs. “What do you mean?” He asked. “What did she do to him?”

Ms. Belmont’s lips slowly formed into a dark smile as she tilted her head, staring down at Chad. “Why do you want to know, Chadwick?” she asked. “He got what he deserved, believe me. Long story short, I came into possession of his penthouse. It was full of stupid bachelor stuff though, like a pool table, a big gaming computer, around 100 bottles of crazy expensive scotch, sports trophies from high school and college. I got rid of all that, just like I got rid of similar stuff in every over-puffed and entitled man’s office I’ve cleaned up through the years.”

Ms. Belmont’s thighs had parted slightly wider, forcing her skirt above her stocking-tops and making her panties more visible. They were wet and barely covered her vulva.

Chad shook his head and pointed up at his gloating boss. “No, but what actually happened to him?” He asked, repeating his question.

“It’s none of your business, you mouthy little marketing stunt,” Ms. Belmont said. She drained her wine glass and brought her free hand up. Before Chad could react, Ms. Belmont casually flicked him in the chest, her middle finger snapping out from her thumb and impacting Chad’s ribcage. It felt like some rugby player had slammed a meaty arm into Chad. He stumbled backward and fell against the sofa, slipping over the edge head first. Chad’s hands flailed about before he fell over the soft cliff face of the sofa seat. Ms. Belmont’s laughter filled the room as he fell around 18 inches bouncing off one of her high heels and landing on the rug.

Chad was dazed. He could hear Ms. Belmont’s self-satisfied laughs over the sound of flowing liquid as she poured herself a second glass of rosé. An advertisement for delivery pizza played from the building-sized TV that loomed beyond the glass coffee table. Chad stood up between Ms. Belmont’s black open-toe pumps and looked in horror at the size of them in relation to his body. One shoe was on its side. The sole was easily wide enough to be higher than his knee where it faced him. The other shoe was right-side up and the top of the back of the heel was close to the height of Chad’s head. The gentle scent of expensive shoe leather, foot-sweat, and nylon drifted in the air, impacting Chad’s sensitive small olfactory senses.

“Oh yes, that was satisfying,” Ms. Belmont sighed, her face hidden by the cliff of the sofa. “Stupid little man thinking I owe him a fucking explanation. Nope!”

Chad felt the sudden urge to run. He stepped around the toe of the upright pump and sprinted away from the sofa. On the TV, clips of protestors being shoved into police vans played. Rolling news headlines and a stock ticker crowded the bottom edge of the feed. The rug around front of the sofa gave way to hardwood floor and Chad ran out onto it, feeling the cool wood under his bare feet. He was completely naked. Ms. Belmont’s laughter stopped.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

Chad began to run again, ignoring Ms. Belmont’s mocking voice.

“There’s no where to run, Chadwick!” She jeered. Chad didn’t care. He needed to get away from her, from the TV, from the feeling that the world had permanently changed in deeply disturbing ways.

“I’ve got my own little protester right in here, I guess,” Ms. Belmont mused. Her voice carried through the apartment, even as Chad turned a corner and ran down a hallway.

An advertisement for panty-liners boomed from the TV, upbeat electronic music accompanying a chirpy young female voice.

“That’s it.” Chad heard the clink of a wine-glass being set down on the coffee table. “I’m gonna have to make you even smaller.”

Deep horror crept into Chad’s veins. He ran harder, passing one door before turning into an unlit room, seeking somewhere to hide. Anywhere.