Slave Swap

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Tinyslavegirl
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Slave Swap

Post by Tinyslavegirl » Wed Jan 31, 2018 9:16 pm

So I've posted this story on a couple of sites now and people seem to like it. If you enjoyed the story lemme know! I also RP and I do RP with the same quality/detailed writing as this story!

If you're not really into tiny girls getting abused under a giant man's feet, turn back now! Only warning~
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I've been spending the last 10 hours at least being either balled up, mashed, stepped on, or somehow tasting my dad's thick, sweaty sole. It had been a little less than a week since I had caught the shrinking virus and already everything has changed, and not only my perspective. My father no longer saw me as his precious little girl, just some little slave thing he could squash down and toy with.

There were two 'breeds' of humants now. The kind that were made into mants just from the shrinking virus. We were slightly different in two ways.. we could remember a time when we were people.. and we were more durable. The second type, and the increasingly more populous type, were natural-born mants that were bred by victims of the virus. They weren't nearly as durable as us, and they were much more timid and fearful of people. They also seemed markedly less intelligent as a whole than viral mants.

“Ulp.. s- sorry daddy! I- I'm... trying.. nff..” I squeak up, wincing at the sound of my own tiny, squealy voice, before raaaking my tongue over the fat, beefy heel rested on the coffee table; the rest of that wide, manly sole loomed overhead. The fact that it was my dad's sole made me gag a little.. strangely, it wasn't the fact that I was licking feet at all. If I had been told it would be the least of my concerns a year ago I would have scoffed.

Dad was devastated when he ‘lost’ his daughter, he loved his little girl so much but now she was gone and all that was left of her was this... insect... tiny, meager and worthless apart from being a slave. At first he resented this worthless shrunken girl for what she had replaced but in the days since he’s grown apathetic to it, it was just an object, a defenseless bug at its greatest but nothing more than that. He feel no guilt or shame in having it… me... be his slave. To him I’m not his daughter, just a tiny replacement.

“Don’t talk.” He said, rolling his heel over me like a steam roller.
I let out a sharp squeal when the thick wall of fat, bulbous heel steamrolling over me silences my talking and smothers me down painfully flat against the glass surface of the coffee table. The beefy flesh was hot and sticky from sweat. I get a mouthful of salty skin and flesh as the man mashes me painfully tight in a seal against the table.. I start liiiicking, lapping and licking again in that tightly compacted space. Bones bent down painfully as my body compressed to it's fullest.

I had no idea my best friend Becky from two houses down was in the same situation. Her dad had grown just as apathetic to her as my dad had with me and my plight, and she was getting squash-squelched down into the spongy, soggy insole of his sneakers. He'd mowed the grass with her in there and he hadn't put on socks. His bare sole kneaded her soft body into an anguished little addition to the insole as he made his way to our house to visit my dad; they were fast friends after all. It was how Becky and I met a few years ago.

Suddenly a knock on the door as Becky and her father arrive. Dad gets up to let him in and after a quick greeting they’re both sitting on the couch again and watching tv together; their foot slaves both where they belong.

“How’ve you been since you lost Becky, Mike?” Dad asked, noticing the man’s own slave scampering to his feet frantically to keep him satisfied in order to keep attention from her.

“I’ve been alright, we still miss her but I’ve been getting some good mileage out of this little fleck of dirt...” The man, Mr. Spencer as I knew him, growled while moving his foot and pinching his terrified little daughter between his toes and mashing and squashing her between his meaty digits like she was just a peace of toejam and not his daughter; completely ambivalent to her cries and pleas for her father to stop.

It was the first time I'd seen Becky like this and I was mortified by what I found. she was a mirror image of me and my own plight; it made me feel so.. pathetic.. meek.. worthless. Hearing the two booming, male voices overhead speaking about us as if we weren't even there. As if we'd somehow died. It was that much more humiliating.

I wanted to scream out that I was still here, that we hadn't left, but I just got more thick heel squashing over my head and front. I could hear Becky below, her tiny voice squealing sharply when those fat, bulbous toes of Mr. Spencer clenched and crushed at her tightly. I saw her tan legs kick about from under his beefy digits. She gagged on a bit of sticky grime as she tried to breathe or struggle free. I could also faintly hear her tiny sobs from afar and somehow felt lucky for not being his slave, at least. Even if I wasn't in much better position mashed beneath my dad's fleshy heel.

My father suddenly lifts his heel with a moist, audible Shhllick! and I’m freed to look down and witness everything that Becky’s father was doing to torture her. The sounds of sharp pops and crunching was radiating from between his thick, manly toes intercut with cries for her father to stop as well as screaming. There were a few little squelching noises too as he carelessly toyed with her tiny, fragile body with no sign of letting up. He simple chewed her up between his toes like a wad of paper.

Becky likely wished she could simply pop like any other natural-born mant would’ve but she was cursed to endure excruciating amounts of torture while he barely enjoyed and likely wasn’t even aware he was doing it to begin with.

I was stuck to the glass, face mashed against its sticky surface. I could see through it to the ground beneath, to Becky. I could faintly hear the sound of her squealing cries. She sounded so.. small, and I knew I didn't sound much different, my own voice must sound so squeaky and pitiful; no wonder dad hated when I spoke now. I winced and cringed occasionally as the man's fat, musky, masculine toes began knead-chewing against one another tightly. ‘Cric-.. squelch-crick... crack-crick.. squick-pop... yiiiiii-cric-crickle... iiiiiiiidaddiiiiiy-cric-splick...’, her body tangled and popped, mingling with a mash of salty, sticky toejam. it was grizzly and horrible; How little she seemed to matter. “O- oh God... n.. no.. B.. Becky...” I squeal, unable to contain it.

Suddenly her father plucked a tangled, bruised wad from his toes and flicked it onto the glass table not far from me with a ‘spap!’. I hardly recognize her at first, head contorted and face twisted. It was in-fact Becky, wadded up and wheezing as her pitiful body slowly, very, very slowly returned to its natural shape like a balloon being re-inflated as tiny cricks and cracks are heard; bit by bit her bones slowly and painfully reform. They truly didn’t care about either of us anymore. The two men even laughed as she cried on the table. Then I suddenly hear my own father.

“Keep cleaning little bitch!” He commanded harshly. I had heard talk from dad over the phone earlier this morning of possibly being traded to Mr. Spencer. When I heard the boom of my daddy's voice my renewed wish to not get traded and take Becky's grizzly place willed me into the flesh of his fat heel and I started licking and even chew-nibbling the tough wall of flesh.

Neither men really felt any attachment to either of their shrunken daughters any longer, not even as objects to keep. The two of us were simply too small to be worth caring about. This meant the level of consideration and thought put into the idea of a trade was likely minimal at best. It was like two men discussing the swapping of headphones or some other superfluous item. Neither man seemed very concerned that Becky was in indescribable pain either. That was the point; they didn’t care. Not about us two, not anymore. What was worse, in my scramble to worship and please my father I had already thrown myself at Mr. Spencer’s feet. His soles were so thick and leathery that he likely couldn’t even feel you.

In my frantic scramble to get to work appeasing my father I hadn't even stopped to look at whose feet were settled before me. Each foot was so monolithic, so utterly immense in scale that I couldn't fit even one entirely in my field of vision unless I ran far enough away for them to fully be in my view. As I put my face to it the smell was a bit different but I think nothing of it until I liiiiick-liiick-lick.. then realized the taste was.. off. It still tastes like feet, the fact that I even knew that much almost made me sob, but I peered up and realized by the wide, rosy expanse of sole this wasn't my dad. I choke a moment at the realization and quickly pull myself away from Becky's dad's heel.
“O- oh God! I- I'm so sorry! I- I—,”

The man simply rolls his heel over me, first trapping me legs as it smashes me from my feet up; squeezing me like a tooth paste tube. I can hear my own legs crinkle and snap as the massive wall of sweaty flesh flattened me without a care. The squelch of my skin being flattened was sickening as it rolled up, splintering my pelvic bone and lower spine as well as reducing my lower half to paper. Then my ribs and organs splinter and pop, my lungs are deflated by the pressure and finally my head is smashed. All of this happened in the blink of an eye; he was able to mangle me in such frightening speed and he had no idea I was even there. We were literally nothing to these two formerly-paternal Gods. Becky squealed this time, it wasn't anything compared to the torment she'd been enduring, but it was different seeing her dad's fat heel flatten her friend out like an ant.

“What are you doing you dumb slut, I said worship my feet!” Becky didn’t have enough time to witness my pain and torture as my father suddenly shouted down at her. He must have mistaken her for me and pinched her between his massive fingers; wedging her into the greasy, slimy, grime coated flesh of his thick smelly toes. Luckily for Becky, however, my father was more interested in letting his slave bugs simply do what he wants and leave them be. Unfortunately for me, Becky’s father was far more... feet on... in his mistreatment of the tiny people that now inhabited the Earth in a startlingly high number. I was completely pinned and flattened yet even then I was still being dominated; being mostly a liquid now; every minor shift caused my body to squelch and shift around under his sole like I were made of clay.

Becky now found herself in a far more favorable situation. Well, maybe not too far more favorable. She squealed with a start when a beefy set of fingers came from the sky to pluck her by the head and hair. She flailed and writhed before being dumped into the stinky, greasy pit between my dad's fat toes. She anticipated being crushed, but it didn't come. Instead she was mercifully left to worship without being mangled or flattened and was quick to reward my dad for his 'mercy' by way of digging her face into the sweaty pit between his hot, reeky toes and started liicking, even nibbling against the tender skin between those colossal digits.

I however can't move, I can't scream, I can't do anything in my own defense. I can't even weep, but oh how I want to. My body is kept in a horribly grizzly state of agony.. ‘squic-cric-pop... squic-crac-crickle..’ each little shift of his beefy heel just twists and mangles me to a more horrible, visceral pancake that soaked up the sweat pooling into it; his meaty heel had imprinted my skin with the swirls of its surface.

Becky wasn’t sure but she had assumed that the two men couldn’t tell us apart from one another, to them we were simply just insects; and she was right. Neither man really bothered identifying either of us. To them we were indistinguishable. Tiny, ratty hair, little breasts and most importantly we were both too small to matter much to the likes of the two behemoths. Becky knew she had to ensure that she ended up with my dad, she knew it meant damning her best friend to a life of living hell on Earth, but she didn’t care. She could not, would not endure it anymore. She knew she needed to swap back with her father before he left, that way when the two of us were traded I’d get to go to a torturer while she was given to a more merciful God who caused her far less pain.

I hadn't the slightest idea that, behind all of this, Becky had already worked out a plan to ensure we were traded the way we'd been intended, but I wouldn't be able to blame her for wanting to throw me under the bus; or in this case, under her father's thick, cruel feet. Not when the only thing I know at this moment is anguish as my little body is pulverized to a pancake of flesh and hair beneath the settled mass of the man's meaty, moist heel over such a grueling span of time. Seconds pass like minutes and minutes like hours in such a wretched state. Becky was licking and trying to show my own father just how.. different.. how much better she was at worshiping than I had been; like it even mattered between the two Gods. She rubbed her young breasts into the sweaty wall of a titanic toe, breathed in that potent musk deeply and willfully, and began suckling and slurping in a sensual way I never would have.

Suddenly Becky’s father lifts his heel up and places his foot on the ground. Becky realizes this is her chance and she jumps off of my dad’s foot and down onto her father’s foot, between his toes. The jump would’ve killed her if she were normal but she wasn’t and this was a different life now. She feared being kept by her own father more than any pain she’ll feel by plummeting to the floor. I, meanwhile, had a chance to finally breath and catch my breath. After a short while I was whole again and had no idea what had happened to Becky.

“Where’d my tiny whore go?” My father said, no longer feeling Becky’s worshiping.

“It’s right there.” Becky’s father said, “Beside your foot.” He grumbled, looking at his own foot to see if his bug was still there.

“Bug, get back to what I keep you for.” My dad says, pinching me up and putting me back where Becky just was as Becky’s dad gets back to torturing his daughter.

I crawled almost instinctively when I heard the familiar thunder of my father's voice as opposed to Becky's and before I can get to work I feel the harsh, sharp pinch at my head and hair. My cheeks pressed inward as I squeaked and writhed before dumping out in the pit of my dad's strangely inviting toes. I was so grateful to be back that I started to lick and kiss like he wants me to, but not nearly as deeply as Becky just had. Poor Becky, I could hear it again. The crickle of bone, the squelch of body compressing and sweaty, juicy toes chewing her to a wad amidst horrible squeaks and squeals that chill me to the core. If the trade goes through that'll be me shortly, and possibly forever. it made my stomach twist sharply in knots the way neither masculine foot musk nor salty sweat could until now.

“It’s time I got home.” Becky’s father said. “...It’s been good seeing you again.” Mr. Spencer chuckled as the two big men got up; Becky’s horrific screams being drowned out by the massive thumping of those fat, masculine feet.

“We need to hangout more,” My father says, “…oh and we’ll need to trade bugs too, don’t forget.” I hear my dad say as my heart sinks. I realize it’s too late for me. I kick and squeak and scream for help this time as two familiar fingers roughly and cruelty pluck me out of your father’s sanctuary-like toes and trade me over to an even crueler God who plucks me from my father’s hand and instantly begins rolling me around in his damp, thick fingers like a fleck of paper while trading a relieved and thankful Becky to my dad who merely stuffs her back in his toes.

I look over to Becky with wet, tear-filled eyes. She was my friend and there she goes for possibly the last time I'll ever see her, getting stuffed and wedged under a fat, pudgy finger into my dad's equally fat, pudgy, meaty toes. I realized in a flash just how horrid my own future looked if Becky was going with my dad. After seeing the horrible state she was in, I can only sob softly before the man's thick, rough thumb and finger pinch and kneead-squeeeze-rub[/i] at my little form, twisting and mangling and balling my tiny body up.. cric-snap-cric-crick-squick-crickle-popping apart with the casual roooollling of his fingers like I were some living ball of paper; coughing and squealing in horror.

The Cold indifference with which these two men not only traded us, their own daughters, but carelessly damned us to lives of anguish at the hands of another was frightening. I couldn’t quite appreciate the dread, however, as I was being abused and tortured in ways that should’ve killed me. In ways I wished would kill me as every bone was shattering and trying to reform all at once. The fat, middle-aged man so easily liquefied my worthless body with a mere twist of a finger; I can’t imagine what he was capable of if he actually cared to. After a few steps my new, cruel God bent down and wedged me painfully back into where I belonged now: the filthy, greasy, thick pit of his toes, as he walk home barefoot on the humid summer day.
Last edited by Elana on Thu Feb 01, 2018 3:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: added some tags

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Elana
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Re: Slave Swap

Post by Elana » Thu Feb 01, 2018 3:25 pm

Just to help out with people not accidentally reading something they don't want I took the liberty to add a few tags to your story.
If you don't agree feel free to change those
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Tinyslavegirl
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Re: Slave Swap

Post by Tinyslavegirl » Thu Feb 01, 2018 8:59 pm

nope! that was perfect, thanks! I was originally gonna put tags but when the 30 character limit made it hard for me to choose until I simply decided to scrap them altogether~

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Captain Ash
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Re: Slave Swap

Post by Captain Ash » Fri Feb 02, 2018 1:15 pm

Poor girls. :(
So much about how much those fathers love their children.

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Elana
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Re: Slave Swap

Post by Elana » Fri Feb 02, 2018 2:56 pm

Tinyslavegirl wrote:
Thu Feb 01, 2018 8:59 pm
nope! that was perfect, thanks! I was originally gonna put tags but when the 30 character limit made it hard for me to choose until I simply decided to scrap them altogether~
I'm pretty sure the 30 characters limit is per tag. You have to press enter or tab after each tag.
They will then transform into those tag bubbles. if you just separate them with space as so many other sites do, it just counts as the same tag
Protect freedom of Expression!
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Dreary Doll Rose
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Re: Slave Swap

Post by Dreary Doll Rose » Sat May 08, 2021 11:39 am

This is such a good story. Stories like this are suuuuch a guilty pleasure for me and you write so well! I'm wondering where else you posted this :o
But yeah, feet stories, especially ones that involve the body manipulation and casual cruelty this one has are my favorite

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