[!danger] Extreme Content This story contains * Shrinking * Dubious Consent * Dirty Feet * Crushing to Death
[!info] Story Info You wished it was you. Someone heard that wish. Now you’re actually a micro, on the floor of your kitchen, looking up at a dirty foot and a creature ready to crush you to fulfill your fantasy.
In this story, “you” are a male of some unspecified species and live alone. The other details are intentionally vague.
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After one too many “God I wish that were me” type comments on furry smut, you stumbled into an ad promising that it could, in fact, be you. You weren’t sure how such a fantasy would ever come to life, but you clicked through and filled it out for a laugh. Ordering a femboy with shrinking powers that would crush you like a bug sounded utterly absurd, in hindsight, but you submitted the form anyway. If nothing else, you figured it’d give someone on a scam website something to cringe at.
Next Saturday, at 10 PM, you were startled by a loud knock on the door. You’d been enjoying a night of jerking off to furry porn on the Internet up and you really weren’t interested in putting on pants. You just grabbed the nearest pair of gym shorts, despite your erection blatantly poking at their front, and walked to the door. Though you didn’t see anything through the peephole, another loud knock made it clear that someone—or something— was still there. “The fuck…?” you muttered as you unlocked and opened the door.
You figured it’d be something weird out there. Nothing normal happens at this time of night. This was weirder than you expected.
“Hiya!” the creature outside your door said. He was shorter than the peephole on your door. He was bright green with dark bands on his arms and thighs. He was naked. He was hung like a goddamn horse; his meat cock and monster balls swayed as the critter rocked back and forth. “You wanted a femboy to shrink ya, right?”
The hell is this thing talking about? You’d completely forgotten about that weird order form but, after a couple moments of mental searching, the details started coming back to mind. Was that actually real? Nah. Couldn’t be. Maybe you’d passed out and this was a freaky dream. Maybe the ‘liquor store’ up the road had some real good shit this week. Whatever the case, you ran with it. “Yeah, come in,” you said. The four-foot-whatever creature grinned cheerfully, skipped inside, and pushed the door closed behind him with his tail.
“I’m Mala!” The creature introduced himself. “I’m a kishin!”
“Well, that explains the malachite-colored skin,” you thought.
“Yeah, isn’t it pretty?” Mala responded.
“Wait, you can read my mind?”
“Yup!” He giggled. “So I know allllllllll aboutcha. About why ya wanted me to visit, and whatcha want me to do!”
What did you want Mala to do, anyway? You tried to remember what brought you to that weird website in the first place. Your eyes closed in thought. You remembered looking at some art of a micro getting crushed underfoot. A bare foot. A filthy bare foot. Mashed into a tile on the kitchen floor. Squished in just a fraction of a second. Reduced to a bright red splotch on the floor, surrounded by a steamy footprint, while the executioner made some terribly degrading comment about stupid bugs.
When your eyes opened, Mala’s massive green cock and balls were in your face. You were still standing, as was Mala; he’d been shrinking you while you were distracted by your thoughts. Your shorts were on the floor around your ankles. “So… kitchen?” Mala asked. Was… was he actually expecting you to lead him there? You were confused as hell—and still shrinking—as you wandered to the kitchen. You were used to these kind of barely-lucid stumbles to the fridge, even if this was more fucked up than usual.
“Wanna taste first?” Mala’s question was mostly rhetorical. He raised his right foot to present it to you. The toes were laid out like fingers: Four of them plus a ‘thumb’ that could grip things. The sole was nearly blackened with dirt, just as you’d imagined, but incredibly soft and well cared for. Thick strings of sweat glistened between the toes like bridges above the toejam embedded between them. The smell wafted down towards you, every bit as offensive as it should be. Your cock throbbed as you gagged on his stench.
You’d probably have said yes but, now that you were less than a quarter of his size, Mala easily forced himself upon you. He stepped down and forward, which pushed you onto your back and pinned you to the floor. The soft sole didn’t just press down upon you; it conformed slightly to your body, like a weighted blanket, and sealed you between him and the floor. Your face was pressed between his second and third toes. The grime between his toes oozed over your face and into your mouth; you were forced to swallow that gritty filth just to get another gasp of stinking air. Each successive gulp became more difficult, partially due to the accumulating mess clogging your throat, but mostly due to your continually-decreasing size.
Mala leaned more heavily upon you. “Think you’re small enough yet?” He teased. “Naaaaaaahhh,” Mala giggled. “You just wanna be a little red dot don’cha?” His foot covered your entire body and you were slowly disappearing beneath it. Bits of dirt ground and scratched against your body; even the filth on Mala’s feet was enough to harm you. The green critter wasn’t doing anything but resting his foot upon you, yet it still hurt to be beneath him.
“Could always soften ya up a bit more, too~” Mala mused. His weight started to rock back and forth. Sometimes his foot almost lifted free of your body; sometimes it squished you so heavily the air was forced from your lungs. Sometimes his heel was heaviest and risked shattering your legs; sometimes his toes compressed around your skull until you briefly blacked out. He never broke anything, though. Not yet. You were scratched and bruised in dozens of places but, so far, you hadn’t been seriously injured. Even as you shrank past the size of a cockroach to that of a barely-perceptible ant, you’d been kept (mostly) unharmed.
You were blinded by light when Mala stepped off of you and crouched to get a better look. The kishin’s body provided an eclipse that spared you from the full brightness of the fluorescent lamp on the ceiling. “So, do ya wanna run?” Mala asked. “Wanna try and get away from a big, dirty foot that’s not even gonna notice ya popping under it? Or do ya just wanna lie there and jerk off until I squish ya?” The question of your imminent death was asked as casually as could be. Snuffing you out was no more of an event than picking out dinner. It was just a fun little game, played for someone—you—who’d wished for something you never expected to get.
Mala’s foot tapped next to you. It was the gentlest tap he could manage, but you still felt the impact and rush of warm air his foot displaced. His foot rocked onto its heel and then slammed down with more significant force. You tumbled from the impact. Your ears rang. You saw his flesh flatten under his own weight; parts of his sole were pressed flush against the floor. You were about to be underneath one of those steps, and you’d actually asked for it after that fateful jerk-off session.
Whatever you decided, Mala didn’t acknowledge it. Maybe he couldn’t hear you any more. Maybe he just wasn’t listening. He walked out of the kitchen and waited outside for just a few moments. You were, briefly, alone. A mere ant on the floor of your kitchen. A bug doomed to be destroyed. A gnat that was cursed with knowing they were about to die. When that malachite giant walked back in, his feet and voice carried murderous intent. “You bugs thought I wouldn’t see ya, huh?” He said. His voice was still bubbling with energy, but it now carried a playful malevolence. “You’re so pathetic.” He kept walking closer. “So stupid!” Another step, close enough to feel. “So helpless!” He was nearly on top of you.
“All I have to do is this…” His next step caught you beneath the ball of his foot. The world gradually dimmed until that darkened flesh blocked out the light. The sole was incredibly warm compared to the cool air near the floor. Its scent filled your nose with the last breath you’d ever take. Though his skin was soft, that meant nothing when the full force of a footstep descended upon you. You recognized that your body was about to burst like a ketchup packet but you never felt the pain. Your body was crushed all at once, in the blink of an eye, as Mala walked effortlessly across your kitchen.
“And now you’re just a useless stain instead of a useless pest!” He laughed playfully as he fulfilled your final wish: To have something degrading uttered after you were snuffed out. He grabbed his ankle and turned his foot upward to look at your remains. As promised, you were just a little dot on his sole. There was nothing recognizable; everything you were had been reduced to a uniform, bright red paste upon his dirt-darkened skin. “Hope ya liked it~” Mala said, as though you could still hear him, before he walked outside and disappeared into the night.
The mystery of your disappearance was never solved. The mangled remains on Mala’s sole were swiftly ground away and became indistinguishable from the rest of grime; you were just filth, as perhaps you’d always been. The dot on the floor where you were crushed was never noticed as evidence, either; your blood splatter resembled any other drop of substance stained into a poorly-cleaned kitchen floor. Far as the world knew, you were simply gone never to return. Only that one dangerously playful critter—and whoever sent him—would ever knew the truth.
While Mala would soon forget what he did to you, the malefactor who gave him the green light did not. Instead, that anonymous entity would write a story inspired by your pitiable, insignificant death, with the sole intent of making another horny fool think “God I wish that were me.”