Downsized.pdf

"Oh f-fuck! Mom, help!" I squealed as I felt the immense pressure on my tiny body. When I had woken up this morning, I was normal sized. Must have been some weird dream or something. But now, somehow, I was only a few inches tall. I couldn't understand it.

My mother was standing in the kitchen, her back to me, humming as she cooked breakfast. Her movements were slow and casual, like she had no idea that her shrunken son was struggling for his life beneath her massive feet.

She shifted her weight, and I yelped as the sole of her wooden clog pressed into my leg. She was wearing clog sandals, the 3-inch thick wooden soles far too big for her small feet. But it was the heels that made them truly sexy - long, curvy, unreasonably high. The kind of slutty shoe that screamed "I'm a MILF in heat."

I could only imagine how they were crushing me. The pressure was like nothing I'd ever felt. My body flattened as her foot rolled over me. I couldn't breathe. It was like being buried under a mountain, the peak of the mountain grinding into my chest as it moved.

"Mom! Help!" I cried again, weaker now. My vision was going dark. But she didn't hear me. She was too busy debating what kind of pancakes to make as she wiggled her fat ass from side to side, her feet turning slightly. The motion pressed me into the tile, and I felt something give. Maybe a rib? Maybe more?

She took a step and my world went black...

When I came to, I was even smaller. Like tiny ant sized. And I was pinned under her clog, the sole pressed to the tile. She was just standing there, her foot still. Like she had no idea I was being crushed.

I looked up and saw her legs. They were huge, each thigh thicker than my entire body. Her skin was smooth and pale, the flesh jiggling with every movement. I saw her panties, a thin black lace that clung to her massive bod. I could see the shape of her pussy lips through the fabric. She was wearing a tiny black skirt that came up to her mid-thigh. It was so short I could see the bottom of her ass.

She shifted and her clog rocked. I was tossed around, unable to do anything but hold on. Her foot came up and I saw my body, crushed and broken, sticking out from under her sole. It was like something out of a horror movie.

She set her foot down and began to turn. As she did, her skirt hiked up, revealing more of her plump rear. I watched, morbidly fascinated, as her panties crept up her crack, exposing the bottom of her pussy. It was wet, I realized. Misting.

I felt a rush of confusion and surprise. Was she...aroused? The thought terrified me. Did she know I was here? Was she...

She turned again, and I saw a Playboy magazine on the counter. It was open to a page showing a hot blonde in a tiny bikini, legs spread. My mom was totally into it, I realized. But how could that...

Then I saw the title of the story - "Crush Queen". And the picture of the blonde, standing on a man's chest, pressing down...

A chill ran through me. Oh god, I realized. My mom...she liked this. She liked crushing things. People. And now she had a tiny shrunken son, unaware, to use as her plaything.

I was paralyzed with fear. I didn't know what she would do to me. But deep down, I knew it wouldn't be good. I was prey now. Prey to my own mother's depraved crush fetish.