Anything (Patreon)

(Photo is a screencap from a Miss Jane Judge video)

People ask what it would be like if I could actually shrink people, if I had this incredible power and used it. I let that inspire this story.

He waited for me at the table, nearly twitching with nerves. I knew him from the pictures in our messages--one of the few who went from clumsy admiration to actually paying for some time in my presence. He seemed thoughtful and devoted, and now that I saw him he was pleasing to look at, too.

When he saw me, he hastily rose from the booth and waited for me. I didn’t mind his eyes lingering on my blood red stilettos. My feet demanded attention. I wanted everyone staring at my shoes.

I greeted him with a brief hug, and his head came up to just about the center of my chest. I was kind to my respectful submissives, even if I expected to take pleasure in grinding their bodies under my heel and watching their sweet tears of agony. He called me “Miss” and I directed him on how to order my drink and meal.

I let the excessive, superlative compliments roll from his tongue for a period of time. People are tremendously free with their verbal worship online, but it’s nice to hear someone stammer through how incredible and beautiful and imposing I am in person. By the time my first glass of wine arrived, I was ready for him to get to the point.

“So, I’ve met men in hotel rooms and trampled them to a bloody pulp for less than you paid to meet me for dinner. You’re not licking my shoes. I’m not stripping you naked and beating you. I appreciate the desire for conversation and intimacy, but you specifically came to me. Why?”

He coughed a little and took a nervous sip of his soda. “I mean, all of those things sound amazing. I dream about you destroying me--you’re an absolute goddess, Miss.”

Such a tired and overused term, but there was this intense reverence in him that made it acceptable--pleasant, even. I knew he liked such things. His profile was tremendously detailed. “Of course. Now go on.”

He swallowed and nodded. “I have every single one of your videos. I don’t mean just the the clips you sell on your site or the ones on the private crush sites. Everything, the old Youtube stuff before your account was closed, the gifs from Twitter, I mean, you’re not like anyone else. It’s incredible--you’re so real, so…”

I had to interrupt him. “Don’t get carried away, pet. I do appreciate a devoted fan. What do you love most about my videos?” That was my go-to question when I met people at conventions or meetings. It usually helped focus the conversation.

“No, you don’t understand. You’re real. I believe your videos. The tiny people you humiliate and hurt and crush…”

I laughed softly and took a sip of my wine, preparing a well-rehearsed response. “I’ve made some amazing friends over the years. Artists, actors, effects specialists…”

He leaned forward, his voice almost a whisper, his eyes wide and intense. “Do you shrink people?”

I wanted to laugh the question off, but he was so gravely serious, clutching the table’s edge, tense as could be. I gave myself a moment, another long swallow of reisling, and gave him a little tilt of my head.

“What makes you think that’s remotely possible?”

He was having a hard time replying, maybe breathing, too. I put some gentle authority into my voice to reassure him. “Sit back, take a drink and a long breath. Then we can talk.”

He did as I directed. Obeying my orders, even simple ones, definitely calmed him. Still, I could see his mind racing. “I’ve never seen anything close to the acting in your videos. There’s some incredible dommes on film, but subs are never that good, especially on green screen. And then there’s the fact that you never have the same actors twice. Once you…”

He shuddered a little and took a little breath while he paused. I smiled coyly, enjoying his dedication to the conspiracy theory. “Once you cover their little bodies with your toes and grind them to a smeary patch of incredibly realistic gore, we never see those tremendous actors again.”

“You know the size fetish scene. There’s a hundred eager tinies for every sadistic giantess. I like to keep things fresh.”

“But they’re so authentic! The one with the whole family in the cage--the way they screamed and wept, all that emotion…”

His voice was shaky again. I could hear his legs shifting and twitching under the table as he continued. “That was real. They were watching your boots snuff out their loved ones.”

“That was a very special video. You loved it, didn’t you? How I made them watch their sisters and mothers and husbands slowly crumpled and squished under my massive boot--I loved making the grandpa lick my sole and beg me to just step down to end his suffering…”

I shifted my legs and settled my shoe on top of his foot, pushing down, grinding back and forth just the slightest bit, smirking as I watched his eyes flutter.

“It’s real, isn’t it?” There was such hope on his face as he held onto the table and leaned towards me.

“Do you dream of seeing me crush your own family? How many times have you imagined them screaming in the shadow of my foot? Seen them vanish beneath  my toes, smeared to nothing with a slow, wicked twist?”

I punctuated the question by gradually stepping down harder on his foot, twisting like I might if I were snuffing out a cigarette or his shrunken mother. His long, soft groan was a reasonable enough answer, but I liked hearing the words, too. “More times than I can count, Miss.”

I let up a little so he could collect himself. “Drink and breathe,” I reminded him, and he again did as he was told.

“I’ll do anything to know the truth. Please, Miss, I’ve thought about this for so long. I have to know.”

I made a point to take a bite while he stared, chewing slowly. He hadn’t touched his food. He was desperate, and that could make a man dangerous, but I was completely in control.

“There are only two possible answers to your question, pet. The most obvious is that I tell you that no, there’s logical reasons for everything you’ve seen, that hypnosis and coaching and money let me create a believable way to live out my fantasies. We’d continue our dinner, enjoy some more conversation, and likely go our separate ways.”

I finished my glass of wine during a long pause. He was on the edge of his seat, and I’m pretty certain I could see him sweating.

“Alternatively, I tell you that it’s real. That somehow I can shrink people, and I’ve done it many times. Have you considered what that would mean? First of all, that means you’re sharing a table with a woman so merciless and cruel that she’s willing to abduct perhaps perfectly innocent people, torture them, and eventually crush them like insects, all for her own selfish pleasure. That means you’re in the presence of a gleeful, unrepentant killer responsible for snuffing out dozens, maybe more,”

“Forty-one, Miss. At least on film.” His voice was so soft, almost raspy.

I laughed at that. Absolutely lovely that he knew the number. “And certainly any number of others away from the camera’s eye. What do you think that means for you?”

“I’m in danger,” he whispered. “Terrible danger, I know, but this has been my dream forever. It’s the only thing I fantasize about. I never stop thinking about it, and I’ll do anything to know the truth.”

“I see.” I was starting to get that impression, but it needed to be tested. “Why don’t you start by coming over here and getting down on your knees?”

“Here, Miss?” Funny how this was what seemed to make him suddenly nervous. Men were so ashamed of their desires. It was like he was more scared of someone seeing him than he was of anything I might do.

“If you learn my secrets, obviously I won’t be letting you walk away from here. These could very well be your last moments, and I want you to spend them on your knees.”

I turned to dangle my legs from the edge of the booth, crossing them as he convinced himself to move, slipping from his seat and standing before me with his head bowed, afraid to look me in the eye. I didn’t need to speak; I just pointed to the ground, and that was all the urging it took. Down he went, in the middle of the restaurant, kneeling for me.

“Do you like my heels?” I knew he wanted to stare. I knew he wanted to touch. Now he had the excuse, and he lowered his hungry eyes to my feet.

“They’re amazing, Miss.” He let out a long breath while his head slowly sank, irresistibly drawn towards my shoes. “Are they new? They’re just so… so pointy, and shiny, and red… I’ve never seen them before.”

I sighed a little, enjoying his devotion. They were indeed less than a week old, and he knew because one of the first things I did when I got a new pair of shoes was film myself crushing things, and I hadn’t had the chance to yet with these.

“They are. That means you’re going to be the first one to kiss them.”

It wasn’t a subtle hint, but it took him a long moment to take it. He still looked up to me for reassurance once his face got within a couple inches of my gorgeous shoe, and I just raised my eyebrows and waited to see his lips touch the patent leather.

His kisses were slow and tender. He respected my shoes, revered them with his gentle mouth. I gave him his next instruction, and it was enough to make him stop and stare. “Take out your phone and hand it to me unlocked.”

“What are you going to do?” He already had his phone in his hand--it was natural to obey me, but there was also genuine fear in his voice. He should have been afraid long before this.

“Does it matter? You believe that I can shrink you. There’s nothing on here you’re going to need if you’re an inch tall, right? In your mind, that has to be how this ends, doesn’t it? I’d never risk letting you walk away from here knowing the truth. You came here hoping that I would shrink you, didn’t you?”

He shivered a little and took a long moment to turn his focus back to my shoe. I imagine it was easier than looking me in the eye. “I just had to know, Miss. You’re the woman I’ve dreamed of my whole life. You’re like every fantasy I’ve ever had going back thirty years coming true.”

The waitress was watching from around the corner and seemed equally nervous and concerned. I waved her over with a smile, and when my kneeling plaything tried turning to look, I used the side of my toes to guide his head back towards me and gently settled my sole across his mouth.

“Just keep kissing, dearest.” It wasn’t hard to convince him. I knew he desperately wanted to. Our waitress timidly approached and didn’t quite get to the table, seemingly uncertain that she wanted anything to do with the current scene.

Eventually she found her voice. “I’m sorry, guys, but I don’t think you should be doing this here?”

I gave her an easy smile and paused, letting the sound of kisses on the bottom of my shoe fill the space for a moment before I replied while looking back at his phone. “We won’t be much longer, dear. Tell me, do you have Venmo?”

She did. Her username was just her first and last name and what I assumed was her birth year. A simple girl. I sent her a hundred dollars from the man’s account and watched her eyes widen as she fished her phone from her apron pocket. “We’re going to need fifteen minutes, love. Can you make sure we have some privacy?”

She stared at me a little longer before giving a confused “Yeah, I guess.”

I snapped a few photos of my kneeling toy worshipping my gorgeous heels before I glanced at her worn out, dirty Converse. In a moment of inspiration I lifted my toes away from his face for a moment. “Would you like to see him lick your sneakers? He’ll do anything I want.”

He followed my gaze, letting his eyes linger on her feet before lifting them to look at her. I could see the fear in his eyes--he was getting in deeper and deeper, but he was hungry for it, too. I’d have loved to film him on the floor lapping at her filthy shoes, but her general discomfort quickly turned to disgust. She didn’t say it, but she found him revolting and I understood. I felt that way about most men, too.

“I should talk with the hostess,” she hastily spat the words and hurried back around the corner, leaving us alone again.

I rested my shoe on the man’s shoulder. He couldn’t quite turn his head to kiss it, and it was making him terribly uncertain. “What exactly was your hope for this meeting? In your deepest fantasies, when you stare at my pictures and dreamed of today, what was the outcome in your mind?”

He didn’t answer right away. That didn’t bother me. I was used to men with intense fetishes and obsessions being unable to talk about it, even in the most conducive settings. I pushed myself up from my seat, slowly enough that he could savor watching me rise. I would have towered over him if he was standing--as it was is head came just to my thighs, and I knew because I stood close enough that they were almost touching his face.

“Did you think we’d climb into my car together? That I’d take you home and you’d be my collaborator and servant? That your devotion would be so impressive that I’d keep you? Maybe let you wipe my shoes clean and herd my tiny victims?”

His eyes were huge as I straddled his knees. I grasped his chin and leaned closer.

“Or were you expecting not to walk out of here at all? Maybe you dream of being my pet and my slave, but I’m carrying you home in my purse and keeping you in a hamster cage. Does that sound right?”

His mouth was agape and he struggled to catch his breath. “Please,” he whispered, and that was the only word he could seem to form. “Please,” he started again, but I didn’t let him say any more. I stepped forward and he couldn’t keep his balance, trying to lean backwards on his knees while my skirt brushed his face. He landed flat on his back between my legs and I was happy to give him the view from his wildest fantasies.

“Does that sound like me, though? How many pets do you think I keep around my house?” I’d already lifted my shoe from the floor. He moaned softly while watching my crimson stiletto rise into view.

“Every time, you wished it was you. This is the absolute pinnacle of your existence, isn’t it? To be shrunken down to the size of an insect…”

I moved my foot slowly through the air, my own breath coming a little quickly as I let it hover above the desperate man’s head.

“To be pinned beneath my merciless shoe, squirming under the building pressure of my hard, unforgiving sole…”

He flinched as I stepped down, turning his head just enough to the side that his nose wasn’t smashed beneath my toes. He gasped to feel my shoe on his face, and I purred a little as I slowly shifted my weight, bearing down on his cheekbone with the ball of my foot.

“You’re desperate for me to crush you. You want me to pulverize your bones, for them to snap and crunch one by one as my cruel foot smashes through you. You want to be a thing I destroy for my pleasure. You want to be reduced to nothing more than grime that I scrape off the bottom of my shoe.”

He grunted and whimpered when I started twisting my shoe back and forth, grinding his face into the floor. “Please, I don’t want to die,” he whined, but that only made me laugh.

“Of course you don’t, but you still want me to crush you. You want to be worthless, insignificant, helpless… so tiny and pathetic that it’s only natural that I’d step on you, that you’d deserve nothing more than being snuffed out beneath my heel.”

“Please Miss, please… tell me it’s real. Tell me you can do it, tell me…”

I rested my heel on his chest, and his hand slid up to gently grasp the back of my shoe. I’d brutalize some subs for touching without permission, but in this case it didn’t bother me. “I could also walk out of here, leave you gasping and helpless on the floor, empty your accounts and laugh while you wallow in your shame. I doubt you’d even tell anyone about this, and if you did, it’d be so easy to send these pictures to everyone you know. I bet nobody knows how much of a shoe slut you are, do they?”

There were tears in his eyes. Real tears, tears of anguish and fear. What if all of this had been for nothing? He had to consider if I was really cruel enough to do that to him, but of course I was. In his mind, I crushed innocent people like bugs.

“Who do you think is going to be most surprised? Your mom? Your therapist? I’d say girlfriend, but we both know that no woman does anything near what my feet seem to do for that dick of yours.”

He’d been hard as a rock for a while, it was obvious to anyone with eyes. “My boss,” he admitted, grimacing as he processed the thought. “My mother’s in a home, and I don’t even know if most of the other numbers are even still good… I don’t have friends, not like that, at least.”

I scrolled through the contacts and considered the list. The silence threatened to drive him mad. “Don’t leave me! Oh god, please, Miss, anything but that. I don’t care what happens, I can’t live if you leave.”

I tilted my head and looked him over, staring deep into his pleading eyes. I’d already made my decision, but I never got tired of hearing men beg. He held onto my heel while I worked my heel free, slowly sliding my foot out of the shoe. He sighed just to see it, the hot, reddish curves of my bare sole, glistening with sweat, getting closer and closer to his little face.

“Then you’ll be mine. My possession, mine to own in every imaginable way. For the rest of your life, whether that’s sixty years or sixty seconds, your every action, word and thought will belong to me. Say ‘Yes, Goddess.’”

His eyes were locked on my foot. His breathing was slow, even and deep, eagerly inhaling the hot, heavy fragrance of my toes. “Yes, Goddess.” His voice was soft and shaky. All of him was shaky.

“Say it again.” I wriggled my toes slightly and settled the ball of my foot on his forehead, filling his vision with my sole, letting him feel the warmth of my skin while he sniffed the leather and sweat.

“Yes, Goddess. You own me, Goddess.” He was calm and clear, and while I had a general distaste for improvisation, I appreciated him going the extra mile.

“Now kiss my foot, and your life belongs to me.”

He gave the moment the ceremony it deserved. His back arched and his neck craned to slowly bury his face in my sole. His breath was cool and pleasing, washing across my damp flesh while he whispered one last muffled “yes, Goddess” into my sole and pressed his lips to my arch in a long, tender, worshipful kiss.

*****

“Hey, what happened to your friend?”

I took the check from the waitress and dropped plenty of cash onto the little plastic tray. “My friend?”

She stood there with her head cocked to the side, brow furrowed as she looked me over. “Yeah. The shoelicker?”

I laughed to hear her characterize him so bluntly. “Sometimes they get scared. He took off in a hurry.”

“Too bad.” She was noncommittal but still trying to give her best customer service. “He was pretty cute, right?”

I sighed as I stood up and gathered my things. She really was a nice girl. I almost felt bad when I turned back to her and snapped my fingers, but at least my new toy got to enjoy her tiny screams. He hadn’t stopped licking my toes since I dropped him inside my shoe, and even though this poor girl really was as nice as she could be, she’d spent too much time seeing us both, and I just couldn’t bring myself to end her quickly.

I knocked her around a bit with the toe of my shoe. No matter how many times I did this, it never lost its thrill. When I finally covered her with my foot, I knew he could hear every squeal, every crunch and squelch while I ground her into the carpet. I could feel his body spasm as he doubtlessly spurted his cum between my toes while I crushed her, and then he gradually grew still. 

I was sure he’d be fine nestled up in the tip of my shoe until we got home. After all, this was nowhere near my first time.