Teresa simply slipped the suddenly tiny man into the back pocket of her tight jeans, put on her rust-colored leather jacket, and left the party.
The slave was trapped inside that back pocket for a long time, it seemed. When it was finally pulled out by the Goddess� fingers, the slave realized it was in a dimly lit bedroom. The Goddess enlarged him back to full-size and commanded him to wait on the bed.
She removed her leather jacket, but kept her jeans and boots on. From that point on, the slave was permitted to have sex with Teresa. He was incredibly nervous but managed to satisfy her somewhat. She always lay on top and told him how to move and when to move. The rest of the night seemed like a blur. The Goddess fell asleep on her side, and the slave curled up at the heels of her boots, casually licking the soles and heels throughout the night.
In the morning, the slave was definitely awake long before Teresa. He had been licking those boots on and off all night. He watched with fear as Teresa stirred and looked down at him with her half-closed eyes. She slid the shafts of her boots together, clicking the heels and prodding the slave with her rounded toes �You�re still alive?�, �she muttered.
Teresa turned over on her chest and closed her eyes again. She mindlessly stretched her legs and pressed both bootsoles against your waiting face. �Crawl up here, bug. I have something to tell you,� she ordered.
The slave scurried to the top of the bed and leaned close to hear the whispering Goddess. She opened her eyes and bent up both of her kneees, then ran one of her leather boots along the man�s back.
�Get ready to fucking die,� she said between clenched teeth. Teresa dug the heavy heel of her boot into the slave�s side and made the man curl up in pain. Then she sat up, cross-legged, and made sure the sole of one of the boots was right in front of the man�s face. �Look at that. That�s the sole of my boot. That�s where you get to go, slave. You get to join all the little dead people I made last night�.
Teresa moved her worn leather sole so it was pressing into the man�s face. �Smell that leather before I squish you into it,� she commanded.
The slave smelled the dark brown leather sole, then helplessly started to lick it. Teresa raised her other boot up and smashed its sole down on the side of the man�s face. She twisted the sole from side to side into the man, amused that this motion made the slave lick the other sole faster. The poor worm was caught between licking one bootsole and being ground beneath another.
�You got to fuck me last night, you little worm. Now you get to be smushed. Just like every other tiny little man. You get to be a stain on my leather sole�.
Teresa pressed the sole down even harder, until the man couldn�t even move his head. �See? You don�t mean anything to me. You�re just another little body. Something for me to squeeze and crush and make juicy pulp out of. I�m going to watch your guts squishing out of your little body, as soon as I shrink you and then press this sole down. Are you ready?�
The man moaned with pleasure and anticipation, worshipping the Goddess�s boots and the smell of leather. Teresa chuckled at the worm�s helpless passion. �You had your little dick inside of me, last night. I felt you trying to fuck me. The pockets of these jeans are full of slaves who I can fuck anytime I want. I like using their bodies. I really like crushing them and using their soft guts to polish my boots. But I�m not going to use you for polish. You�re just going to be a dead, smeared, flat, little person. Tell me how much you want to be a dead, flat little man�.
The slave mumbled those words as best as he could, but Teresa was pressing down so hard all he could do was squeak. Teresa slipped one hand into the small coin pocket of her Jordache jeans and fished out a few tiny slaves. She held them in front of the man�s begging face.
�See these? I�m going to fuck one of these now.� She picked one of the men out of the group and dropped him somewhere on the bed. �The rest of these bugs are going to be dead and flat,� she said as she spilled them on the covers, right in front of the trapped man�s face. Then Teresa took the sole that the slave was licking and lifted it away from the man�s tongue. She hovered the sole over the group of miniature slaves, and slowly lowered it on top of them all. �Now they�re all going to squish. You can listen to the sound they�re bodies make when they squish�, Teresa mentioned as she flatly pressed the bootsole down into the bed cover. There was a sickening wet sound, as the soft bodies compressed instantly and oozed jelly. Teresa eased to sole up slightly, letting her trapped sole-licker see the red splotch up close. The sticky mess was about an inch in diameter on the sheet, and there was a matching splotch on the sole itself. Teresa laughed at the crushed together clump of dead bodies clinging to the dark brown leather of the sole.
She touched the clump with her finger. �Didn�t you always wanna look like this?,� she teased her worshipper. �Well, now you can,� Teresa whispered as she shrunk the man finally. She rested her boot on its side, facing the sole towards the miniature slave, who wriggled like a bug as it stared up at the bottom of the boot, with the glistening clump of dead pulp still clinging to the center. Tetresa�s finger was still probing the jelly, making a tiny wet sound as she smushed the goo around a little.
Teresa stood her other boot upright, its heavy heel digging into the bed behind the tiny slave. But the slave was too absorbed in worshipping the giant sole in front of him, the giant heel behind him was unseen.
The Goddess slowly tilted the sole at a 45 degree angle on its side, as if preparing to smush the little man. The tiny thing was wriggling in fear or ecstacy, she couldn�t tell which. She kept touching the clump of dead pulp. �I think you�re going to like being stuck to the sole of my boot like these little slaves. Don�t you think they�re having fun, all squished and smeared?� Teresa slowly smeared some of the jelly into the leather. Then she tilted the sole down more, so the wet splotch was about two inches over the man. She couldn�t see the sole now or the man, so she felt around for him with her wet finger and lightly lifted him up and rested his miniscule body against the bottom of the sole, right against the wetness of the dead mush.
�Does that feel good, little man? Knowing I�m about to smush you? You�re going to be stuck to the bottom of my vintage boots. Ooh, I like squeezing you,� she moaned as she started pressing him slowly into the wet glob under the sole. �You�re getting all wet and gooey,� she said as she crushed the helpless twitching body into soft jelly, mixing it into the sticky clump already there. Teresa excitedly pulled her finger away and tilted her sole back so she could see the remains of the dead body. It was beautiful, a splotch of pink surrounded by red, a blossom of glistening soft paste. It looked so nice against the brown leather of the sole.
