Diary of a Shrunken Man: Entry 1

It was more surreal now-a-days when things LOOKED normal. Or normal-ish. I was used to seeing things on my scale, or close to it. That little bit off made it even more weird than “big people” stuff.

In fact, I was a bit bigger than toddler-sized compared to my doll house. Still, when I was in an unguarded moment, I could almost think of it as status quo, a not so incredible day in the life of an incredible shrinking man.

Other things were off. The stitching was huge in the furniture. The cushions weren’t all that cushiony. The books were all actually stickers on wood. That bummed me out. I miss reading things without having to get up and tug on the page like a picnic blanket. Luckily my giant friend with benefits was an avid reader, and loved similar subjects I did before I shrunk.

The windows are what really could throw you for a loop.

You’d just start to feel comfortable, normal, then you’d gazed out the window. And you would see hardwood floor, or her fuzzy rug. Her dresser or her bed would rise in the sky instead of neighboring houses or apartment buildings. Hills of laundry would often dot the landscape, instead of green, which she owned little of in the way of clothing, it would be black, or pink, or yellow...maybe some rainbow stuff. Hearts. Comic or anime characters. A logo of an athletic company.

That was when I was on the floor. Sometimes, I was on a desk, or a table, or a dresser or something. Very often her bed. I’d see a laptop, or a magazine, or her phone, or makeup. Often stuff was casually tossed against my little house. I was blocked in the door by a hair scrunchy for a while, one day. It was a big one. Luckily, I could go to the second floor and jump down on it if I wanted too. It would break my fall.

And seeing food up close was always surreal. It could make some of my favorites seem a bit less than appetizing, but it could also really make me hungry. There would be a chocolate bar the size of a kayak. It looked really appealing. When one of her bites took a chunk out of it, it was scary. I could very easily fit in the bite mark. She was dangerous. I could see the individual tooth marks, and the chocolate made soft by her mouth’s heat, and her own saliva and the gooey center turned soft. I had trouble breaking through the outer chocolate shell of most candy bars, but not only could she easily bite it, but even her body heat rendered it soft and malleable. And some food was just dangerous. I could get covered in whipped cream and she might not see me before she took a bite. And, I got trapped in honey one time. I thought that would be the end of it. I digress… The surreal quality of the giant items is a given, it’s when it almost starts seeming normal that gets you.

I almost felt like the good old days as I looked out at the new normal landscape in all its fantastical detail. My new shrunken reality was a dream come true, but a dream I could never wake from.

So now, my dream, my fantasy was my old life. And as my vision fuzzed looking at Mt. Bra Cup, or Worn Stocking Road, or The Heel That Nearly Impaled Me Building, or the Leather Stinky Sandal Park, the surreal stillness would invariably start to shake.

On the second floor, especially the ground shook when she approached. I had a little, well huge, thimble of water, and it jostled like in Jurassic Park one time as she was down the hallway. I’d stare out at the sink that didn’t have running water. The cabinet doors would open exposing the decals that illustrated dishes. And her door would open and close, somewhere out of sight. The calm landscape then was subjected to her casual, effortless powers as her bare foot crushed the Bra Mountain, or kicked the sandal playground a few football fields out of her way, or she would pick up her worn stocking with her toes. From the window, I could seldom see all of her unless I leaned out of it, unless she was very far in the corner of her room. I was treated to a show of her lithe legs from about knee down trouncing around her room. Sometimes clumsy stomps, sometimes gracefully on her tippy toes, her foot flexing and arching around the clutter. She could clear my house with a single stride, and often did when I wasn’t against the wall. Sometimes she did this, just going about her life. With no regard for me, but often she put on a show, for me and herself. She loved imagining being big in my tiny world as opposed to the other way around.

Sometimes she would get so close to the hose, all I could see is her ankle. And the waft of air at her step blew in the window, blowing the curtains attached to the windows. Along with the smell of her foot sweat, or leather from her shoes, or whatever sweet lotion she would wear. I was in my world, she in hers. Separate, different species, her a real person, me an insignificant toy man, or me a man, and her a super hero, a super villain, or a goddess.

Don’t get me wrong. I was by her side, or literally in her side pocket, or if she was in a frisky mood, in somewhere more intimate most of the time. She even carved out a space in her wooden heel of a sandal to put me in. She loved taking me with her, and having me sitting by her as she typed, or ate. I often slept next to her on the pillow, or just somewhere in bed. Yeah. I almost got rolled over on a few times. She kept me in her stocking one night. It was “punishment”.

I forgot what I did. It was because she has a foot fetish, in truth, and that’s where she wanted me. I loved it too at first. But...eventually you want to drift off to sleep, and I was upright the whole night. She almost forgot I was there. Her heel actually hit the damn floor! But she remembered at the last second and lifted her foot. I think it was an accident. She may have been playing with me. She loved demonstrating her power over me casually.

That’s the whole reason I get to spend time in the house, I think. I mean, she really does care about me. And realizes it is kind of a good luxury for me. But, I think she just liked the idea of another thing to tower over. I can see the glee she has as she reaches in the window for me. She even talks a little deeper, or makes a cute growl like a monster. She can lift the roof off too. But she doesn’t do that too often. She’d rather reach in for me, or put her hand up at the balcony for me to hop into.

And she loves “sneaking” up on me...I can feel the ground quake no matter how light her steps. She’s not just a giant to me, but she’s a six foot woman in real life, with size 11 feet. Not a stealthy lass. But, I sort of ignore it, for her benefit, so she can peer in the window. I can hear her breath right outside the window.

The curtains blow then, too.

And sometimes, I can hear her moan and tremble a bit. She’s obviously exploring herself during her peep show. And, it is expected of me to put on a show for my giant, kinky voyeuristic owner. Sometimes it’s day to day life. Very mundane stuff. But it always culminates in me stripping slowly preparing for a shower that doesn’t work. Or to get into bed. Or masturbating on the couch. Sometimes my show is interrupted as she can’t take it anymore and grabs me with pussy juice soaked fingers and she licks me from head to toe, or plunges me inside her.

She is mischievous on occasion. I’ll be dozing off on the couch, or on my tiny bedroom. She will have been laying there silently, her giant eye filling a window. Then...one time she shoved a pair of very stinky, still damp stockings she had slowly peeled from her feet as she lay on her belly looking at me, right in the window. They filled the room. I was trapped under an oppressive, hot wad of silky cloth.

Her giggles filled the air. Her eyes in one window, she easily reached her hand around the other one to shove the stockings in. I was in no danger of injury, but was trapped. Then she shoved more in. The first pair of stockings had previously occupied all the space in my bedroom, but space got more cramped, compacted, hot, wet and smelly, as she shoved new pairs in.

She asked if I was comfy, then laughed and said she couldn’t hear my muffled shouts as a response. I was there forever. When she pulled the stockings out, I was stuck to the sweat of the black, silky ones. My arm caught in a small hole in the toe.

Another time, I was in bed when I heard a gurgling slosh. I awoke just in time to see peach jello up to the level of my bed and still rising. I jumped to the door, wading through the torrent of viscous gloop, only to find it blocked. The jello kept coming. She made a big bowl. I saw the unmistakable pattern of her palm, which I had ridden on hundreds of times before, blocking the other window. It was then I noticed the roof was off so she could stare in at me, laughing, but also biting her lip. I was now waist high in jello, then chest high. A huge surge rushed in as she dumped the rest of the bowl. It was cold and sticky. It knocked me down. I went under. It pressed down upon me. I could see her distorted face through amber prisms. I was pretty worried. Maybe this time she’d take it too far.

I saw her fingers reaching for me, but then she pulled them back. She lowered her face. It couldn’t fit in the ceiling’s opening of my bedroom. She stretched her lips down to the jello and started sucking and slurping. Luckily the jello was thick enough that I had air as I was trapped but it was heavy and cold. Then a rush of vertigo and heat as she sucked me right up out of it. She panted with me in her mouth. She kept this up for a while. I shivered as I warmed up on her tongue. Then light streamed in as I fell into the sweet goop again. I landed mostly on top but as I moved, started sinking in farther. Once again her face loomed over me and I was rescued by her puckered lips and greedy, hungry tongue.

This went on a while. Finally she leaned back against my house. She dropped me out of her mouth on her hand, and absentmindedly let me roll out in a wet tumble onto her tummy. I caught my butt in her belly button, with my head pointed toward her waistband of her shorts and my feet up toward her head, far in the distance. She patted her full belly. She was trim, almost skinny, but her belly had pooched out slightly, about five or six feet, thanks to being full to a room’s worth of jello. I heard a gurgle under me, and she burped a loud resounding belch. She sighed happily. As she looked over through the roof into my room. She commented that she didn’t think that prank through well. She picked up my bed between two fingers, trying to avoid getting the slime on herself, dainty all of the sudden. She had an Oh, brother, perturbed look. “Well, this is ruined.” She grasped the bed fully in her long, lanky fingers. “Might as we’ll finish the job.” She squeezed and grunted. I felt her abs tense under me. Her fist moved forward as she applied pressure till it was right over a spot in front of me.

I heard a loud snap; destroyed bed, wet fabric, and clumps of jello the size of watermelons rained down on her tummy and me. She smiled satisfied at her feat of strength as she said, “Eeewww,” and brushed the debris and slop off her.

If there is one disappointment to her, it is that the doll house is made of material from her world, and not a shrunken world. So, it’s still durable. She can’t break it as easily as she could if she were a giantess. Think about what a foot the size of hers would do to your house. But, stepping on actual wood, and plastic, and even cardboard, from her scale is pretty tough on even a large foot like hers. Her skin is very soft, after all. She constantly pampers her feet, with plenty of help from me.

I think she wants to make me a little house out of paper, or very flimsy balsa wood or something and chase me around as I run. When it gets warm she plans on making some elaborate sand castles and invading my village while I run.

Yeah, she is happy with me. But she wants more. Way more. Her thirst for power has become more grand.

She wants a whole tiny city. She said I’d be her favorite, and she’d protect me...even if she played rough, but she would be merciless in her treatment of the other tiny people and buildings. She glazes over speaking of it. She gets very animated at times. She starts sweating as she talks about stomping on tiny buildings, whether there were people in the north or not, and finding a concert of tiny people, like 10,000 of them for her to stomp like grapes. She doesn’t usually get much past that before she grabs me to use me as a toy. It makes her so fucking horny.

And she is happy with my scale of a few inches, but...she gets fixated on tinier people. Much tinier. She was eating a cupcake, and she plopped me on it. “Oh, no! I guess I have to lick you off!” Every time. She was getting into it, but she stopped, pink frosting on her lips, smacking as she talked with her mouth full of boulder sized bites of cupcake.

“I wish there was a whole city on this cupcake. A big one too. Like New York, or Chicago. With skyscrapers the size of sprinkles,” she said, in an almost embarrassed, breathy tone.

I thought I was going to get eaten alive. She attacked the cupcake with a new ferocity, with her tongue at first, then she took a huge bite I barely avoided being in. She slowly lowered her lips over the remaining cupcake, and I was actually as much afraid as I was excited at the time.

She bit the cherry on the cupcake. The huge, beach-ball sized fruit stuck in her teeth and hovered over me. then she bit down! I was covered in juice and her spit. She swallowed greedily.

One time, I was in a bowl of grapes she was eating. She faked like she was going to grab me, then she actually grabbed me a few times and tossed her in her mouth. “Oops!” Her tongue played with my body, and she licked me all over. The smacking noises echoed all around me. And giggles, and coos, and general noises of delight.

Then she spit me out. It was a frequent game. Other than the vertigo, I liked it.

Then she lay down on her bed, and put some grapes on the pillow. She laid down so her face was right to the side of the pillow. She wanted me to feed her like a goddess, she said.

I picked up a grape, like Atlas, and sauntered over to her mouth. I climbed on her cheek.

“Tickles,” she said with a giggle. I dropped a grape in her mouth. And almost fell in. I braced myself on her slick, glossy, lips. She slammed her maw shut. She ate while making “Nghah! Gnah! Gnah!” Noises. Opening her mouth fully each exaggerated bite. It was a real white river rapid style ride. She swallowed.

“Ugh. You’re too slow.” She picked me up off her lips, peeling me off her lip gloss. She sat me on her belly. I could hear the chaos below, within. Everything about her was powerful.

She picked up more grapes and went to town chatting. Not caring if her mouth was open. In fact, I think she made a point to do it. Just another way to demonstrate power over me. Then she paused. She considered the grape a moment.

“I wish this was a planet.”

I looked up at her from around her belly button. I could barely see her face from between the valley of her breasts.

“Yeah. A whole planet. 7 or 8  billion people. I want all these to be planets. A whole solar system to eat, to crush between my toes...” She trailed off. Her free hand snapped her fingers above me, to get my attention, and then she pointed down toward her yoga shorts. She lifted the waistband, and I knew what to do. I could hear her eating planets above as the smell of her arousal washed over me. I crawled under her waistband.