Friday, November 27, 2020

Story: Renegotiating Their Marriage (Shrunken Man, Femdom, Sexual Content)

Author's Note: Over the years I've had a number of stories build up in my archives that have never seen the light of day. Some I wasn't happy with or was waiting to release as part of an anthology that never came to pass. 

This is one such project. Like many size writers of my generation I've long had an interest in doing my take on Matheson's Shrinking Man. I have a rather involved idea for a mashup between that novel and Leiber's Conjure Wife. So far every time I've had the time to start the project another has pushed it out of the way. 

This isn't that concept. I was toying around with the idea of Lou stepping up to the little bully Scott became and taking control of their marriage. I wasn't entirely happy with where it went, but I think there may be something here other people may enjoy.


Our Marriage

copyright 2019


It came to a head in November, 1955 after almost a year of steady slow attrition. Scott's body may have only melted away a fraction each day, shrank an inch each week, but his fear and pride grew twice that fast. By the time Lou put her foot down he was a half pint of flesh stuffed with eight gallons of darkness.

Every day was another reminder of what he'd lost. Some new setback he'd have to deal with; another dozen people looking down on him. The big defeats took weeks, months to build up to. After almost a year of his impossible fall he could no longer fit into adult clothing. Drive. Hold a job. Make love to his wife. None of the measuring sticks he'd used to define his manhood before the glowing cloud baptized him to this new lesser life.

They didn't even make a bike small enough he could pedal that didn't have three wheels.

He'd felt worst about Lou. Louise. They weren't newlyweds, but they were far from an old married couple. That cloud had taken away her husband. Widowed her. Left her haunted by a ghost that looked like Scott Carey, but only came to Louise Carey's knees. How long until he shrank so small she could forget him? At what height would he be exorcised?

He'd done so many stupid things. Cruel petty things that made Scott loathe himself so much the hate spread to Lou. The affair with that woman at the carnival. Was it worse cause he didn't even remember her name? Peeping on the neighbor girl. He knew her name. Her age. But he still spied on her and thought things that made him want to punch himself when he was himself.

Maybe this is what I am now. What I've always been. That old Scott Carey was an illusion; his tiny ghost the truest me.

It came to a head that November. Over a cookie jar.

Lou. Louise. Scott's wife moved the ceramic polka dot bear on top of the ice box that June after finding ants in her pecan sandies. Like all of Lou's solutions it was quick and practical; there was no way something as small as an ant could climb a refrigerator she had to stretch to reach.

Lou told Scott to get her if he wanted any. That it was too high for him now that he'd gotten smaller. Scott was level with her crotch then; he had to look up to her knees that November.

Scott never had much of a sweet tooth. Never looked inside the cookie jar or even wanted to until he was told he wasn't allowed. He waited the bare minimum before he made his first attempt on the jar. Waited until Lou'd left to get groceries before pushing the chair to the heavy metal door. Could still hear the revving of his, now Lou's car pulling out of the driveway when he stepped on the chair. 

Scott took one bite of the cookie and tossed the rest in the trash.

He'd averaged a cookie a month since then. Never asking Lou to get one for him. Always waiting until she was off on some errand; never when she was at work. That would have been too easy. Or maybe a part of him was scared he'd fail and fall and didn't want to wait eight hours to get taken to the emergency room.

It was a hollow victory. A shallow success. Scott felt more like a little boy defying mommy than the adult he was alleged to be. But knowing there was still this one thing he could do that Lou thought he couldn't gave him some pleasure no matter how small. He could watch the forbidden fruit grow further and further from his grasp each morning he walked into the kitchen and saw it staring down at him. Mocking him. Knowing that soon it would be bigger than him if the doctors didn't stop Scott's daily demotion soon. 

For a few months Scott knew he was better than it. All it took was a chair, the countertop, and a little climb and he was master of his domain for a few fleeting seconds. He'd lost so much even the success of a childish defiance could feel profound.

That November was the last time he attempted the act; the first he'd failed in his defiance.

The day started as normally as it could for an almost six-footer turned toddler. Scott slept in the spare room on a camp mattress spread out on the floor. The only furniture he'd permit were a few wooden boxes he'd store his clothes in. He didn't need a dresser or nightstand. They'd only remind him how much of him had evaporated away already.

Lou hired a man from town to take the doorknob off when Scott had trouble turning it. Scott didn't want to become trapped in there, stuck in his own room till Lou let him out like he was her pet, not her husband. 

She suggested just taking the door off. Offered to do it herself; the hinges wouldn't be hard for her to work. And it would save some money. Money was always an issue, but Scott needed his privacy as much as his freedom.

Scott hid in the basement till the handyman left, but kept close to the door to listen to the big folk talk. Listen for any sign the strange man expected anything else from the pretty young widow all alone in her tiny little home. Strain to hear anything in Lou's voice that'd indicate she'd enjoy a man's company. A real man. One who worked with his hands; not some little boy ghost who hid from grown ups.

Scott used to work with his hands.

Lou wasn't home when Scott woke that morning. Her shift at the plant started before dawn and finished close to sundown. When he first moved out of their bed she'd come into his new room and kiss him goodbye before she'd head out for work. She stopped after Scott growled at her to stop mothering him.

Scott hated being the breadwinner, but felt guilty when Lou had to take over when the plant could no longer keep him on. His brother felt terrible, but there was no way he could let someone that small operate those presses. Lou hadn't taken his place at his exact machine; just his roll. It was her leaving before dawn. Her coming back each night smelling of burnt rubber and metal fillings.

There was nothing to be done. The gas and electric bills weren't going to magically pay themselves. The bank wouldn't accept the inches he'd lost in lieu of mortgage payments. The only thing Scott could do was put his foot down when Lou tried to wear pants to work. She tried to argue they were safer around the presses, but symbolism meant more to Scott. His former co-workers might joke about who wore the pants in Scott's family; he'd be damned if he gave them ammunition.

Scott still wore the pants. Even if they were cut for a two year old.

Breakfast was waiting for him in the kitchen. The ceramic bear looked down from him from atop the icebox. Staring down on him. Smiling down on him like some polka dot bear Buddha. Ticking down the hours till the tantrum, and the meltdown, and the foot coming down.

Lou was late getting home that night. The sun had gone down hours ago leaving the house in darkness except Scott's room. Lou had rigged fishing line to the pull cord of the overhead light that fell almost all the way to the floor. She'd offered to fix up the rest of the house that way, but Scott told her no. He didn't have a good idea why he wouldn't let her. Just that it made him feel weak when she did those sorts of things for him.

Scott didn't like it when Lou was late. He wanted to yell at her. Or ignore her. He couldn't do either when she wasn't there.

He pulled the light off when he heard the car pull into the drive. He wanted her feeling guilty she'd left him alone so long. Alone and in the dark. It didn't matter he could make the darkness go away. Scott wasn't thinking that way. Scott wasn't thinking. He just didn't want her knowing he'd been waiting. Not till he told her. Till he could see the guilt wash down her pretty giant face. Maybe she'd cry. He felt bad he wanted to see tears, but that didn't make him want them any less.

“The second hand place was open late.” Lou called towards Scott's closed door. She could see he was pouting in the dark again. “I found some stuff I think'll fit. The stuff you're wearing is falling off again. Why don't you come out here and try them on while I get supper started.”

Lou couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten herself anything new. Besides the dungarees gathering dust in the back of Scott's old closet.

Lou put the bags down and counted down slowly in her head. When Scott hadn't come out by the time she reached 30 she gave up and went to the kitchen. Lou had too much crap to do to wait for Scott to materialize. She'd spent too much time that day in front of a hot press in front of a foreman who ran even hotter. After spending hours keeping her boss's hands getting up her skirt Lou didn't have time for Scott's prima donna act.

It wasn't going to be a gourmet meal. A few months ago she wouldn't even count it as cooking, but casserole was better than a TV dinner. She'd opened the second can of Campbell's when she heard Scott in the living room rustling through the bags.

How many things is he going to bitch about this time?

“Lou?” Scott called from the other room. Lou felt the tension build in her neck. “You got the wrong underwear. These are girls'.”

“What does the tag say?”

“There isn't any.”

“Then what makes you think they're girls'? They're white aren't they?”

“There's no fly.”

“That's just the way they make them.” 

“I don't like it.”
“Of course you don't.” Lou said under her breath. She tossed the macaroni she'd precooked into the pan.

“You should take them back. Are they still open?”

“That packs the smallest I could find, Scott. And I think they're still gonna be loose on you. It's them or diapers.” 

“What if I have to urinate?”

“Jesus Christ! Deal with it.” The macaroni spilled out of the tupperware in one huge clot sploshing soup and ground beef over the sides. “Just pull down your damn pants. Half the world does it.”

“But …”

“If my 90 year old grandmother can pull down her panties to pee then the great Scott Carey can figure it out.”

There was silence on the other side of the door. Lou wondered if it'd be better if Scott stomped off in a huff. Give him time to stew while she calmed down and collected herself.

“The clasp won't work.”

Scott pushed the kitchen door open. It was a little heavier each day. He tried not to think about the day he wouldn't be able to. When he'd be too small, too weak to even move around his own house.

Lou looked over at him from where she stood by the oven. By now the casserole was bubbling almost as hot as she was. The man she stared at looked like her husband, but sounded like a little boy too proud to admit he couldn't do something. The childish overalls he was fumbling with didn't help his adulthood.

“What's wrong?” Lou asked.

“It's broke.” Scott let the strap fall holding the pants up with his hands. They'd been made to be worn over diapers and wouldn't stay up without the straps or a good belt. “Get me some rope from the basement. I can use it to make a belt.”

“Come here.” Lou wiped her hands on her apron. When Scott didn't move she stepped over to him.

“Are you wearing your new underwear?” Lou picked up the right strap, worked it straight, and clasped it shut without any trouble.

“I said I wanted to make a belt, Lou.” Scott wanted to pull away, but was a bit cowed this close to his hulking wife.

“Are you wearing your new underwear?” Lou repeated.

“Yes.” Scott growled the word as he stared at his shoes. Indignant, but intimidated enough to say more.

“Show me.”

“I'm wearing the goddamned panties, Louise. What more do you want?”

Lou didn't have the patience to answer. She put one hand behind his shoulder blades and pushed him against her legs. The other hand went down the back of his pants till she was sure he was decent.

“Stop treating me like a child.” Scott tried to squirm away, but her powerful hand kept him pinned against her. He could smell the shop on her warm wet stockings.

“Start acting like a man and I'll think about it.” 

Lou pulled her hand from his pants, but held him against her legs until she decided she needed to check the oven. It was petty and small of her, but it made her feel good for the first time in a very long while.

“Supper'll be ready in ten minutes.” Lou let him go, patting his bum as he ran to the door and away from her.


“You're dinner's waiting for you in the kitchen.” 

Lou called to Scott's closed bedroom door. The light was still off. She debated about asking if the bulb had burned out, but that wasn't likely. If anything was wrong Scott would have told her. Blamed her.

It hadn't been the first time Lou had eaten alone since Scott got this way. The first time she'd put his dinner on a tray. She didn't bother bringing it to his room. The last time he'd tossed it into the wall in a fit of impotent pique.

Lou grabbed the paper and retired to her room. Scott could do what he wanted. Maybe she'd take a bath later. She could use it.

Scott had been a silent powder keg since the kitchen. How dare she treat him like that. Hold him against her while she checked to see if he'd followed her stupid orders. What was she doing ordering him around anyway?

He imagined all the things he'd do to her once the doctors figured it out. All the humiliations he'd heap on her once he was the bigger one again. How he'd bend her over his knee then over his bed.

Lou was still in the kitchen when he first felt the need to urinate. He wasn't sure when he'd stopped using the term “pee” and replaced it with more clinical language. Sometime after he'd gotten too small to fit into mens' things. Excusing himself to pee was fine when he wore a suit; he felt ridiculous saying it when he was one step away from diapers.

Scott didn't want to see Lou. Couldn't risk taking the chance she'd walk out of the kitchen as he was going to or coming out of the bathroom. So he waited in his room with the light out so she knew he didn't want to talk to her.

Lou took her time eating. Scott felt the pressure build in his bladder, but it was still manageable. Still inside his control. He was rocking back and forth holding it in by the time Lou called to him and he heard her clomp off to her room.

Scott waited a few seconds to make sure Lou wasn't coming back before he crept to his door. He'd taken the useless shoes off. The sneakers one step away from baby shoes. He'd be quieter that way. 

There was still a lock on the bathroom door, but it was left open for Scott whenever it wasn't occupied. Scott hated the lack of privacy, but the only alternative was putting his toilet in his bedroom and that wasn't acceptable. 

Not that a child's potty counted as a toilet. At best it was a compromise; at worst another defeat. Scott couldn't use the real toilet anymore. He'd managed for a while using a step stool, but he eventually became too small. There was too much risk he'd fall in. Scott wouldn't be able to deal with the humiliation of having Lou fish him out of the bowl.

The zipper didn't want to come down by the time Scott pee-danced his way to the potty. It was ornamental rather than practical. A little bit of metal to tell the world the wearer was a boy. Nothing that was ever meant to be pulled down by the tiny hands of the presumed child who'd be wearing it. If they were in a diaper it wouldn't matter; if they were potty trained they'd just drop their pants and make it to the pot.

“God damn it!” Scott cursed quietly. He didn't need Lou hearing him and finding him there struggling to pee like some damned preschooler.

Scott gave up on the zip and attacked the straps keeping his overalls up. Lou had done it effortlessly in less than a second. Scott's tiny fingers went white trying to pull the first button from its hook, the pressure building inside him desperate to flood out.

He was close to tears by the time he felt the button give, the clasp open, the strap fall away. He squeezed his face and crotch tight trying to keep everything in as numb fingers tried to repeat their magic on the other clasp.

“no no no no” The words fell out of his mouth fast and hot as the urine coming out of his trapped penis. 

Scott let his hand fall away from the clasp. Tears wanted to burn down his face, but he forced them back. Kept them down and made himself feel every drop of the hot piss pool in the flat seamless crotch of the panties Lou had forced him to wear, run down his legs, and puddle over his stockinged feet.

It took forever getting out of the wet clothes. Everything was soaked even the bottom of his t-shirt got splashed by the waves that erupted out of him into his pants. Scott wanted to scream for Lou. Make her come in here and fix things. It was her fault he'd made this mess; she should be the one to clean it up, not him. If she'd given him some real clothes none of this would ever have happened. But that would mean admitting he'd peed his pants. Scott couldn't do that. The shame would kill him.

Scott stood naked in the bathroom. The overalls and panties lay in a soggy heap. They'd soaked up most of the puddle. The t-shirt was only damp around the edges until Scott used it to wipe himself dry.

That got the worst of it off his skin. The rest he washed off with condensation from the exposed sink pipe. There was no way he could reach the sink or get water from the tub without trapping himself inside.

Scott's heart exploded when he heard Lou moving around her room. Had she got up to check on him? Get a snack? Use the bathroom? How long until she'd discover the evidence? Until she knew her husband was even less of a man than she'd thought?

Scott didn't have a plan, just pride and a bloodstream full of adrenaline. He pulled the pile of soggy kids' clothes off the floor keeping them at arms' length as they dripped his shame back onto the floor. 

His little legs carried him into the hall. The door to his room was past Lou's. The knob was already turning on her door. He had to run to make it to the living room before his wife could spot him. The door opened just as he turned the corner.

Scott pressed his back against the wall. He wasn't a religious man, but he prayed, just a little, that Lou wasn't coming to this part of the house. To not find him like that, naked carrying the evidence of his humiliation.

He could breathe again when he heard the bathroom door open then quickly close.

Scott gave himself a moment. He could hear the sound of Lou starting her bath. Relief washed over him like a fresh rain. Lou's baths lasted over an hour; he'd have plenty of time to get rid of the evidence and get back to his room unnoticed.

Washing away the evidence would have been perfect, but the washing machine was on the wrong side of a door he couldn't open. The kitchen was an option. Lou'd made him steps to reach the sink. But the soap was behind another door closed tighter than his little muscles could move.

The thought of hiding it crossed Scott's mind. If he could just put it somewhere Lou wouldn't find it he could clean it in the morning. The basement was out. She'd hear him go down the stairs and wonder what he was up to. She was already in the bathroom. Scott couldn't reach the pull string to get the attic stairs down. He probably didn't weigh enough to pull them down anyway. 

The bedrooms were out. He didn't want to spend the night smelling his failure and Lou would sniff it out if he tossed them there. The only place that made sense was the kitchen trash. The heavy can would hide the smell and it'd be three days before garbage pickup. Plenty of time to figure something out.

The cookie jar watched the small naked man tip toe his way into the kitchen from its perch on top of the ice box. The small kitchen trash can was taller than Scott, but he could reach the lid if he stretched; dump the clothes under it if he sacrificed his dignity. Putting the lid back wasn't as easy, but he finished with time to spare. He could wash up in the sink, eat his dinner, and still get back to his dark room before Lou got out of the tub.

Now that the danger of discovery had passed Scott almost felt giddy walking around the house in the all together. In most ways Lou wasn't a prude, but she had a dim view of nudity outside the bedroom or the bathtub. Even when Scott was normal and they were alone in the house Lou never let him so much as cross the hall from their bedroom to the shower without wearing at least a robe. He'd felt silly putting something on in the bedroom only to take it off two seconds later in the bath, but Lou was insistent.

Scott enjoyed the rush of taboo nudity combined with the thrill of throwing away the damned kids' clothes Lou forced him to wear. He knew it was only a symbolic gesture. He'd have to fish them out of the trash tomorrow, but tonight he was savage and defiant and victorious.

“I deserve a cookie.”


Louise felt like a savage crouched in the tub folded over until the weight of her breasts rested on her upper legs. The water pressure was turned on as high as it would go; the hot water as far as she could turn it. She could still feel the autumn chill in the porcelain under her feet, but the scalding water was driving it off quickly. Wet heat turned to steam to caress her.

No one else will. Lou was a bitter savage.

Lou liked being a savage. Hunkered down on her haunches until the last of the chill was gone and she could lay down in water hot enough to cook a Maine lobster. Crouching like a cavewoman in her own very private, very smooth cave. Lou's mother would have said it wasn't very ladylike, but sometimes being a lady was stupid. And exhausting. After the day she'd had Lou was more than happy to let civilization wash down the drain.

The water was up to her ankles by the time she reckoned it was warm enough to risk sitting. Lou let her butt down first, put her hands flat on the floor of the tub, then unfurled her legs until her feet stuck under the water.

She turned the tap off and leaned back into the hot water. It wasn't where she wanted it yet; she had to drain and refill the tub at least a couple times for the heat to fully penetrate the tub, but it would do for now.

Lou heard Scott in the living room. He probably thought he was being sneaky, but it didn't take much to make the floorboards creak in their old house; even Scott's 20 pounds could be heard through the closed door.

Is this what our marriage has devolved to? Scott tip toeing through the house? Me fingering myself in the tub? When did we stop being adults?

Lou rubbed hot water on her face and let her hand take its time as it traced the curve of her body back to her center. Her palm brushed the tip of her nipple as she dragged two fingers through the valley of her cleavage, but it was only a dull pleasure. She let her hand backtrack. This time the fingers pinched her sensitive peaks so hard her breath caught. Lou didn't even know she was biting her lower lip until she let go.

It seemed more natural getting aroused in the tub. There were no stains afterwards. No mess to scrub away or blush over. No evidence if Scott snooped in her bed or the laundry hamper. She could admit to being wet; it was expected, not obscene.

Lou's fingers worked their way between her thighs and the richer wetness that flowed over her eager lips. Her pearl was rigid or pulsing or both. Her walls ready to engulf her fingers or the handle of the brush she used when she wanted to feel more than fingers inside her.

Her body was ready; the rest of her was another story.

Lou had an active fantasy life. Even when their marriage was normal she'd sometimes pretend Scott was someone else when he made love to her. Montgomery Clift. A sheik who'd claimed her for his harem. Scott's brother. They'd all entered Lou, using Scott as a proxy.

When she was on her own she always fantasized. Lou needed that extra kick of unreality to push her over the edge past the place her mother told her good girls didn't go. To take her to the place men seemed to be born into.

Only it wasn't working that night.

Lou imagined an army of Hollywood's finest eager to get between her thighs. That didn't work. The leading man from the tawdry romance she'd been reading on her lunch break wasn't fairing much better. Even the taboo of giving head to her brother-in-law wasn't enough to get her there and that always worked.

Her mind kept coming back to Scott. Not the tall confident man she married nor the bratty child skulking through their home. A Scott who didn't exist outside the letters of some obsessed Canadian with a very different sort of fantasy life than Lou's. Scott tore up the first couple letters she'd sent. They'd arrived days after he'd gone public about his shrinking.He'd seemed so angry about them Lou had to know why. When he didn't tell her she started keeping them from him, reading them on the sly.

The letters were filthy. Impossible to believe as they were to put down. This strange woman wrote about what she'd do with a man the size of a child. A toddler. A toy. How she wanted to use Scott. Adopt him. Make him hers and hers alone. Carrying the toy sized version of him in her pocketbook or down the front of her panties. The woman had a diseased mind.

And Lou had caught her fever.

She'd talked about it with Alice. Everything important got discussed with Alice. But Alice was working her way through a psychology degree. Talking with her always muddied the waters.

Lou sat up and pulled the plug. Maybe things would be easier after she refilled the tub. Got it closer to the sauna levels she usually preferred. 

That's when she heard the crash.


The linoleum floor was freezing cold against Scott's back when he woke up. He knew exactly what had happened; he was just a little vague about some details – why he was naked in the kitchen, why he fell asleep on the floor, and why water was dripping down on him from above.

The overhead light was still on, but it was darker than it should have been. His eyesight bleared and mis-focused until everything slipped into perfect clarity and he could see Lou bending over him, as naked as he was, dripping water all over him and a floor covered in cookies and shattered bits of ceramic bear.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Lou flashed three fingers in his face, each taller than his head.

“Three.” Scott answered.

“What day is it?” 


“The date?”

“The thirteenth?” Scott had stopped paying attention to dates when he stopped going to work.

“I don't think you've got a concussion. You're not bleeding. I didn't feel any broken bones. How do you feel?”

“Like King Kong after his date on the Empire State Building.”

“Landing on your head didn't improve your sense of humor any.” Lou laughed a little when she said it, relieved Scott hadn't killed himself. “What am I going to do with you?”

Lou got to her feet. It had been over five months and twenty inches since Scott had seen Lou or any woman naked. Scott saw all of her now. She towered above him like somebody took a tenement building and chiseled away at it until it was one of those fertility statues from caveman times. 

Her legs were long and perfect flaring up to hips so wide so feminine he couldn't wrap his arms around them and touch his hands. Pink lips peeked out behind the thick wet pubic hair; winked at him as she twisted herself upright. Her bust had always seemed so small, so modest when he was looking down at her cleavage. Now he had to look up they were balconies jutting above him. Bouncing. Swaying. Jiggling. Glistening wet.

“Looks like you're doing alright.” Lou stared at Scott's crotch; he hadn't realized he was hard. “If this was a trick to get me running out of the tub so help me …”

“I'm sorry.”

The two words hit Lou harder than she'd expected.

“You get the dustpan, I'll get the broom. You're lucky it's Fall; we'd never get rid of the ants otherwise. Be careful where you step.”

Lou watched Scott clamber to his feet, scamper around the broken cookie jar and the oatmeal raisin minefield, and get to the closet. If she focused just on him. His handsome face. His lithe nude body. If she didn't look at the doorknob above his head or the little trash can big enough he could hide inside. He was her old husband again. Beautiful. Powerful. Sexual.

Most of Lou was drying in the cool air. Part of her was drenched.

“Get the lid off the trash while I get this swept up.” Lou ordered.

“Wouldn't it be better to put it in the outside trash? The big one.” Scott sounded nervous.

“I've already put on a show for you. I'm not letting the neighbors gawk at me too.”
“But the small one's almost full.”

“I'll empty it in the morning when I'm dressed.”

“But all those cookies will bring bugs.” 

“What did you do, Scott?” Lou didn't sound happy.


“Then why are you inching towards the trash?” Lou had her fists akimbo on her goosebump hips.

“I'm not.” 

“Landing on your head didn't make you a better liar either.” 

Lou stepped towards the can; Scott crept towards the door. He didn't push it open till he heard the lid come off; didn't start running he heard Lou mutter curse words under her breath then call out his name loud and angry.

Scott made it halfway across the living room by the time the kitchen door slammed open. The floor under him shook with the force of Lou's feet pounding the boards, shrinking the lead he'd made, bringing her angry face closer to his retreating back. 

They tell you not to look behind you if you're being chased. It just slows you down. Takes away the manic adrenaline focus needed to keep the legs pumping faster than the heart. Gets you caught. 

Scott knew that. He looked anyway.

The sight of Lou running naked through the house, her breasts flying everywhere, her thighs tense springs coiling and uncoiling with each leap forward should have been erotic. Comical. Maybe a little surreal. It was terrifying.

He'd felt like he'd been living a horror story the past nine months since the shrinking became too much to ignore. A couple months back Scott thought he'd met the monster of the story. A man, a car, a mistake about Scott's age. But the real monster was behind him. She had legs twice as long as his entire body and arms so strong he'd never escape if he stopped moving.

Whatever advantage Scott had starting first ended in less than half a dozen of Lou's gargantuan strides. Her palm reached over him, past his face, and stopped on his chest. It was only his wife's open hand, but it might as well have been a brick wall the way it stopped him cold. Instinct brought him to his knees. Made him tuck himself into a ball.

Lou piled on him. Drowned him in her flesh and held him tight on the living room floor. His brain screamed for him to fight back. Lash out. Anything to get away from this wife, this situation.

Water fell on his neck hot and ugly. Scott thought it was from Lou's bath until she started speaking and he could hear the tears in her voice.

“Are you trying to make me hurt you?” Lou's voice reverberated all around him, her body an echo chamber holding him tight. “Is this … is this your fetish? Do I have to get a whip to get you to straighten up and fly right?”

Scott didn't know what to say. 

“We can't go on like this, Scott. It's a miracle you didn't kill yourself climbing the fridge like that. If you wanted a cookie all you had to do was ask. And your clothes. I'm guessing you couldn't open the clasps before you peed your pants.”

Scott nodded, too ashamed to admit the truth out loud.

“I was I the next room; all you had to do was call and I'd come running.”

“It's embarrassing.”

“I don't care.”

“Well I do.” Scott's voice bled with his own tears.

“That's not going to matter any more.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Lou wrapped her arm under Scott. He didn't even bother struggling as she lifted him to her chest. What was the point? The only thing he'd get out of it was grief and another defeat. A scream seeded itself in his throat when she cradled him to her breast holding him securely with both arms while she pulled herself off the floor.

“I want to go to my room.” Scott sounded like a petulant brat, but it was better than yelling at her. He was still man enough to keep from doing that.

Lou walked to the corridor, past the bathroom. Instead of taking Scott to the guest bedroom turned his room Lou stopped at her door and pushed it open with her hip.

“I said my room, Lou.” Scott couldn't see her face she held him so close. Just the bottom of her chin and her neck.

“This is your room, Scott.” Lou's voice was cold emotionless. She lay him on the unmade bed close to the pillow and turned back to the door. 

Scott was baptized in the concentrated scents of the giant woman that had collected in the used sheets. Perfumes and powders. Her sweat and tears. Her other, more intimate smells. All of it belonged to Lou, cast off from her body. None of it Scott's. Was that all it took to erase him from the marriage bed? A few weeks and a couple laundry days?

Scott was too busy with those questions to pay Lou much attention.

“You are my husband. This is our bed. You will sleep in it from now on.” Lou closed the door. Scott heard it lock.

“I don't want to.” Scott kicked himself backwards until the pillow touched his shoulders.

“I've had enough of your wants.” 

Lou circled the bed slowly like a great white sniffing her first drop of blood in the water. She hadn't bothered getting dressed. Clothes would just get in the way of what was going to happen next. Just slow things down; clutter up her plan.

Scott could see everything as she strode around him. The holy trinity of teenage boys – tits, ass, and pussy, blown up to proportions even the horniest high school boy couldn't imagine. Scott's head was angry, but his eyes were glued to the sway of Lou's hips, the way her breasts bounced, her ass jiggled. He caught glimpses of pink winking at him through Lou's full bush.

“You took a vow, Louise.” Scott knew it was a weak argument, but it didn't keep him from saying it loud and angry. “Love, honor, and obey.”

“We need new vows.”

Lou stopped where she stood a couple feet from the bed, an arm's length away from where Scott was cowering by her pillow. She reached down to her left hand and removed the final two things she'd been wearing.

The wedding and engagement rings only made a small clatter when she tossed them on the night stand. Lou stood in front of her tiny husband naked, truly naked, for the first time in a very long while.

“Lou … I …” 

Lou stepped forward and snatched the last thing Scott was wearing from him. The piece of cord he'd hung his own wedding ring from when he'd shrunk too small to wear it any more.

“Now we're both naked.” Lou looped the cord around the lamp on the nightstand and let Scott's ring dangle just below the shade. “No clothes. No vows. No bullshit.”

Lou stared down at Scott. He looked so small and helpless. Angry and confused. It was obvious now she'd let things go too far too long. Something had to be done. 

“Did Ruth spank you when you were bad?” Lou asked.

“Leave mom out of this.”

“Did … she … spank … you?” 

“Yes!” Scott spat the word out. “When I was bad.”

“Did you like it?”

“Of course I didn't.” Scott looked up at her trying to read the expression in eyes he could barely spot over the swell of her breasts. “It was punishment.”

“Alice thinks you want me to spank you.” Lou knew she'd dropped a lit stick of dynamite into the conversation. “She says that's why you act like such a brat.”

“And what exactly does Alice know?” Scott pulled himself to his feet.


“That wasn't the plan, Lou. Everyone was supposed to think I was in Vienna getting clucked at by men in white coats. How else were we going to keep the reporters from hounding us?”

“I don't see any reporters.”

“That's not the point.” Scott could feel the anger rising at Lou's betrayal. “What does she know? And don't say 'everything.'”

“Alice knows you're still living with me.” Lou picked up her Camels from the nightstand and lit one. “That the cure failed and you've been steadily shrinking ever since. She knows you cheated on me with that dwarf from the carnival. That I let you. She knows you peeped on our high school neighbor girl after you got too small for your little slut. Peeped until she almost caught you with your dick in your hand.”

“That didn't happen.” Scott flushed in shame. How did they find out?

“Alice thinks you wanted to get caught.” Lou exhaled upwards sending smoke into the air like an active volcano.

“That's stupid.”

“She thinks you want to be punished. That there's some part of you that gets off being small and weak and pathetic. That you've got all this male pride getting in the way of you being true to yourself. It's that macho crap that makes you act out the way you have trying to force me to punish you for not being man enough.”

“I thought you said there wouldn't be any bullshit.”

Lou took another puff of her cigarette. Scott couldn't tell if she was angry or just thinking. She wore her tension like a dress made for another woman. Stiffly. Uncomfortably. There was a place she was taking this, but Lou wasn't sure if she was ready to take that step.

Scott was too focused on watching Lou put the cigarette in the ash tray to notice her repositioning herself. He didn't know she could dart in and pin him to the bed until her weight came crashing down on him pushing him deep into the mattress. If she'd done this outside she'd have broken him. On the kitchen floor she'd have killed him. On the bed he was only trapped and smothered under a wave of flesh he'd carried over his shoulder as recently as last year.

He let the scream that had been growing inside him out. Scott screamed until his throat couldn't make another sound. He punched and kicked and wailed at the soft pink avalanche he'd been buried under. Married to. Fought until he couldn't breathe then fought some more.

Lou could feel him wriggling under her. His blows meant less than nothing to her. Scott didn't think to use his teeth, but even a couple bites weren't that much. It was the anger Lou felt the most. As if all the hurt and pain inside her man had been compressed and condensed to the point it had to come out in one fast explosion.

Scott was a grenade; Lou had jumped on him to take his explosion. Not to save others; to save him.

Lou waited till Scott lay spent and motionless under her. Hot fat tears ran over her belly. Was Scott crying or blubbering? Was it her imagination?

Lou sat up and looked down at her defeated husband. Beyond the tears and the shock, under the sweat and the humiliation, Lou saw what she expected to see.

“If you don't like being put in your place, Scott explain the hard on.” Lou took another drag off her Camel.

Scott stared down his chest at his proudly erect manhood.

“It's not …”

“I'm not going to spank you, Scott.” Lou put the cigarette out. It had mostly gone to ash waiting for her to wrestle Scott.

“I don't …”

“You've talked enough.” There wasn't even token resistance when Lou picked Scott up and pulled him to her breast. “You don't deserve this, but maybe it'll keep you quiet for five minutes.”

Scott opened his mouth to protest only to have a nipple shoved in it.

“Like I said, I'm not going to spank you.” Lou pulled her legs up on the bed and scooted backwards till her back was resting on the headboard. “I'm going to need to be harsh with you, but that's not the sort of harsh I care for.

“That doesn't mean I'm not going to punish you. Despite anything you might think I still love you. I still want you in my life. If you keep doing stupid crap I'm going to lose you. If I have to be cruel to keep you alive I can be the biggest bitch you've ever met. If I have to have to humiliate you to bleed off the testosterone poisoning I'll do that too.

“Here's how things are going to be from now on.

“I've been the head of the household for a while now; we're going to stop pretending I'm not. If you were making clearer decisions I'd consider keeping you on as an equal partner, but anyone stubborn enough to piss his pants instead of ask for help hasn't earned that level of respect. Maybe you'll earn it back, but for now you're so low you have to salute the low man on the totem pole.

“Alice thinks I should start calling you my wife and have you refer to me as husband or man of the house. I'm not going to do that. Yet. Not unless you keep acting like a damned fool. I'm a woman, you're a man. I don't know about you, but I'm proud of my sex. Calling you a girl is just a put down to girls.

“That doesn't mean I'm not above some of the trappings.” Lou grabbed Scott's wedding ring off the lamp and slid it on her finger. “I wear the husband ring from now on. After I get it resized it'll fit perfect. You can wear my rings on your cord till you're small enough to wear them as bracelets. Or collars. I wear your ring I take over your vows; you carry mine you follow wife rules.

“Do you understand?”

Lou pulled her nipple from Scott's mouth. He hadn't realized he'd been suckling on it until it was gone. 

“It doesn't have to be that way.” Scott said.

“No, but it's the way I've decided it's going to be.” Lou reached across, picked up her rings, and looped them around Scott's empty cord. “You can make this hard or easy. It's your choice. I'm not giving you many of those; don't screw it up.”


A weight lifted from Scott as he said the one simple word. He hadn't felt it till it was gone, but now that it had Scott felt freer than he had even before the shrinking. 

“Do you love me, Scott?”

“Of course.”

“I love you too.” Lou pushed Scott off her chest enough to put the cord around his neck. Her rings, Scott's rings dangled lightly on his chest. “I promise to cherish and protect you all the days of your life. Do you promise to honor and obey me?”

“I do.”

Lou kissed him.

“It's been a long time since we shared a bed.” Lou laid back, let her arms fall away from her tiny husband. “You haven't been keeping up your husbandly duties. Your wife misses the attention.”


“You've got a civil tongue in your head. You do the math.”

Scott tried to put his feet on either side of Lou's torso, but his legs wouldn't spread that far. He compromised by kneeling on her belly on all fours. Lou didn't seem to mind the weight. There wasn't much of him.

Scott kissed the still wet nipple. It was so much larger than he'd remembered. The rigid tip more like the udder of a cow than any part of human anatomy. It wasn't until he'd wrapped his mouth around it again that he came up with another analogy to a different body part. One Lou didn't have.

A penis. Erect and pulsing in his mouth. The thought of giving a blowjob would have disgusted Scott earlier, but things were different now, and Lou was still his wife.

Scott kissed his way down Lou's breast. She could feel the trail of his spit cooling in the autumn air as his warm face crawled closer to her center. Lou's legs were already open by the time Scott reached her navel; she spread them wide when he gave Lou a preview of what was to come.

“You haven't gone down on me since we dated. And only then the one time.” Lou's voice was heavy with need and nostalgia. “Remember how you promised to eat me out if I gave you head? How you stuck your face between my legs for a couple minutes before making me pay up? I must have blown you a hundred times since then and you're only up to seconds.”

Lou guided his face where she'd feel it most. Best. Closed her legs over his miniature shoulders trapping him there until she was done with him.

“Remember where I put you, husband. Pay attention to all my moving parts. From now on this is going to be part of your job. Your duty. You may be too small to work or clean the house or cook me supper, but you can give me this. You can keep me happy.”

Scott could smell Lou's heat before he tasted it. Her pearl was throbbing hard, slick with her juices, and absolutely fascinating. He kissed along the hood feeling it push back against his cheek. His own cock began to throb to Lou's beat like his entire body was an extension of her pussy. He wanted nothing more than to crawl inside her pink walls and kiss her from the inside.

Lou rode his small face to ecstasy and back then rolled over and hugged him little spoon to her much larger body. Scott asked to cum too, but she didn't let him.

He hadn't earned it yet.

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the small print 3: The Search For Speck

Submissions are now open for the third “small print” anthology, a not-for-profit showcase of some of the finest writing in the overall Size ...