title: "Tsunoda's Step Up" aliases: [] tags: [FA] author: [Kyrm] id: [49594910] date: 星期四, 十一月 10日 2022, 1:37:15 凌晨 modified: 星期四, 十一月 10日 2022, 1:49:06 凌晨

[TOC]

Tsunoda's Step Up

Author: Kyrm Source: Tsunoda's Step Up [Commission]

Series: Prev

After an intense night learning the ropes of farming e-clout as kinky size streamers, Retsuko finds herself curious as to what it might be like to be on the receiving end of someone bigger. Tsunoda is happy to oblige.

Snores filled the tiny bachelorette apartment. Sprawled in her pink heart-print pajamas, Retsuko was enjoying the best sleep she’d had in years.

“Ack!”

Until she wasn’t.

Jolting upright in bed, she beat a fist against her chest while coughing. A cream-orange hairball whizzed past her parted lips and splatted atop her right thigh.

“Morning, mistress!”

Her stubby red panda ears perked at the squeaky cheer coming from that hairball. Which wasn’t a hairball at all.

“Tsunoda!”

It was her coworker.

She was quick to scoop the inches-tall doe into her palm for closer inspection. “Oh gosh, are you okay? Did I hurt you? I knew this was a mistake.”

“I’m fine!” Bare-naked and bedraggled Tsunoda arched her back like a cat in the sun.

“A-are you sure?” The display coaxed warmth from beneath Retsuko’s cheeks. All night long she had let the prettiest girl in the office frolic naked in her mouth.

Tsunoda hopped to her feet, so light they barely dimpled Retsuko’s skin. “As sugar, KaijuPan!”

“I almost swallowed you whole, Tsunoda.”

Tsunoda wagged a finger. “Don’t you mean ‘LittleDoe?’”

“We’re still streaming?” Retsuko looked around in sudden alarm, searching for hidden cameras. “T-turn it off, turn it off! I don’t want all those people seeing my morning face.”

“Calm down. You’re fine. You swallowed my phone.”

“Oh.” Retsuko ran a hand across her stomach. “Sorry.”

“Don’t mention it. I brought seven spares in my purse anyway.”

That got an exasperated chuckle out of her. “Of course you did.” She looked over to Tsunoda’s normal-sized things folded in a neat pile on the floor. “Guess I should zap you back to normal, huh?” Retsuko’s nose wrinkled at a faint whiff of Tsunoda. “You need a bath, too.”

“You could grow me back so I could use yours... ooor you could wash me off yourself.”

“Me?”

“Sure! Just scrub me off in the sink.”

“But you’re...” Retsuko looked away, still peeking at Tsunoda from the corner of her eye. “...naked,” she whispered.

“We’re past worrying about that.”

Retsuko whimpered. Last night had been strange. But the attention… the money… the feeling of a woman’s tiny warm body beneath her.

Somehow, the office doormat had enjoyed being large and in charge.

She got out of bed. The sylph of a doe gave her index finger a hug, nuzzled it with her cheek. “Thank you so so so so soooo much mistress.”

“The cameras are off, you don’t have to call me that.” But the edges of Retsuko’s lips trembled with a poorly masked smile. She carried Tsunoda to the bathroom then turned on the sink.

“Make it really hot!” Tsunoda piped as she hopped off Retsuko’s palm onto the porcelain countertop. With the drain stopped, steaming water soon brimmed in the sink. A dash of soap made it a pool-sized bubble bath to the shrunken doe. She eased her tiny form in, elbows propped over the ledge.

“Thaaat’s the ticket,” she moaned. After a few moments she tilted her head up to smile at Retsuko. “Wash me!”

“You’re sure? You look so fragile.”

“Just take a finger and scrub me down.”

“A… finger? Not a washcloth?”

“Mhm! Get it real soapy first!” Tsunoda encouraged as Retsuko dipped her index finger into the sink. Retsuko managed a nervous laugh. She was never assertive around others, but she couldn’t refuse an offer to caress Tsunoda’s shrunken body. So helpless, so precious—it fascinated her. There were her smaller-than-raisin breasts, her butt, her thighs; all the parts that had rested atop her tongue.

After an awkward stretch of almost-fondling, she dared to break the silence: “What’s it like?”

“Hm?” Tsunoda craned her head up. “Being tiny? Oh, it’s amaaazing, Retsy! You should totally try it out yourself!” She hugged her nude, bubble-coated body against Retsuko’s finger.

“Me?” Retsuko wrenched her hand back as though the water had turned scalding. Tsunoda came up with it, clinging tight as a ring.

“Yeah!” Tsunoda threw her arms up in an enthusiastic wave, straddling the top of Retsuko’s index between plump thighs. “I thought about it for a long time in your mouth, and it’d make much more sense for our viewers if you were the tiny one. You’re a bit of a pushover.”

Retsuko’s brow twitched. “Thanks.”

“I just mean it’ll just be easier to coach you through our ‘freelance venture’ if I’m the giant. I am kind of an expert after all the videos I watched… for research.”

“So you want to be big?” Retsuko couldn’t keep from sounding disappointed. “I, ah… kind of enjoyed last night.”

“Y-you did?” For a moment Tsunoda’s ditzy facade broke. Her confidence melted, tiny body trembling. “Ah... well.” She cleared her throat. “Big or little, you would still be my mistress, mistress.”

Mistress.

The title made something tighten in Retsuko’s chest. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we don’t have to always have the cameras rolling—if you liked last night.”

Retsuko had always suffered an awkward love life. And that was dealing with the most vanilla flavor of boy-meets-girl. Not girl-makes-bug-girl-rub-her-feet. Stilted, rising laughter escaped her. “Let’sgetyoubacktonormal!” she blurted in a breath while fleeing her bathroom.

“Normally, shy and awkward are mega turn-offs. But you pull it off really well!”

“Gonna pretend I didn’t just hear that.” Retsuko glanced around the room—there, on the table by her bed. A sleek black gun that wasn’t a gun at all.

“Set me down on the floor!” Tsunoda called.

Retsuko obeyed before handling the gun with both hands. “It’s a good thing the interface is simple. I’m not very tech savvy.” She turned the dial from shrink to grow before aiming the barrel towards the floor. A 3D model of Tsunoda’s silhouette appeared on the rear panel, complete with her measurements of 2.5’’, her negligible weight—even her heartbeat.

And down at Retsuko’s feet, it was beating very, very rapidly.

“Alright,” she said. “Brace yourself, LittleDoe.” Pulling the trigger loosed an explosion of light from the barrel.

“You did it!”

Fluffy, still-wet arms wound tight around Retsuko. Bare breasts squished against her own. A beaming face resolved from the radiance within kissing distance.

“Hey, Tsunoda.” Any of Retsuko’s giantess confidence extinguished in the presence of a naked, normal-sized woman. “You... might wanna get your clothes on.”

Tsunoda cut their hug short, taking a step back to look down at her nude body. “My fur is still a mess,” she tisked. “Can’t have that.”

“You can use my bathroom for real this time.”

“Thank-yoouu!” Tsunoda sang as she sashayed around the room. Gathering her things without caring that Retsuko watched.

I had all that under my foot? she thought in disbelief.

And my mouth.

I… I could’ve done anything to her.

“By the way, mistress, I—”

“I wasn’t staring!” Retsuko blurted, interrupting Tsunoda while she lingered in the hall.

“Of course you were. Who wouldn’t?” Tsunoda’s little nub of a doe tail wagged above her shapely butt. “But when I come out, I want to see a whole lot less of you.”

“Oh.” Retsuko’s shoulders slumped. “Did I do something wrong?”

Tsunoda covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. “I didn’t mean figuratively. Gosh, we have got to teach you self-confidence one of these days.”

“Then what—”

“I meant literally. Use the gun to shrink yourself! We’re gonna go live again this morning.”

“What?” Retsuko almost dropped the gun in shock.

“You probably have, oh... let’s say five minutes.” Tsunoda started down the hall again.

“Tsunoda, hang on.”

“See you soon!” the doe chirped before closing the bathroom door behind herself, leaving Retsuko alone with the size ray.

“There’s no way I can do this,” she whimpered to herself.

Cheerful humming came from her bathroom. Tsunoda… could she trust someone like her with absolute power? Absolutely not, was what she might have said less than 24 hours ago. But that was before LittleDoe. Before Tsunoda showed off her submissive side.

Before she called Retsuko mistress.

All that aside, she did want to see what the fuss was about. Not to mention the pay—couldn’t argue with a week’s work in one stream. Geeze. Maybe she and Tsunoda could be size streamers for a living? Would that be weird? That’d be weird, right? What if the gun worked in reverse? Could they grow to take their show on the road?

These stray thoughts went out of her in a breathy chuckle. “Easy, Retsuko,” she mumbled. “You’re an office worker, not a kink queen.” But that didn’t stop her from standing atop the small tea table next to her bed.

Small for now; that would change.

She aimed the gun’s barrel at her head. Same settings as when she had blasted Tsunoda’s size to nothing. Her lips trembled, eyes shut while she faced away as if about to eat a bullet.

“Here goes…”

A single click, then the world went white. Shivers shot up her spine before she could see again.

“Woah,” she breathed. That awed exhale was confirmation enough that Retsuko had officially shrunk, voice a meager squeak. Even in her warm cotton pajamas the air carried a draft. Probably because her cramped single apartment had become cavernous.

She made a mental note to do a better job with dust. It littered the surface of her table, which now stranded her in its center. The side-lain gun next to her served as the only landmark, barrel alone the length of a bus. Walking next to the gun, she arrived at the trigger—too heavy to budge.

“I’m stuck like this.”

At that moment, the bathroom door produced a magnified creak. Every sound from this new, giant-sized world came that much more intensely to Retsuko’s shrunken ears. The distant slab of a skyscraper-sized door droning open; the bludgeoning thud of a dainty doe foot on floor tiles; the bass hum of a colossal coworker skipping into the room.

“Retsukooo?” called titanic Tsunoda, a goddess in a work outfit lumbering into view. She wore the usual—a cute pink top and a dramatic black knee skirt flaring around her like rings of a planet.

The size, though. That was new.

Retsuko couldn’t have run if she wanted to. The table was too large. She watched helpless while Tsunoda thundered over. Black skirt frills poured over the low table’s ledge in seafoam waves of pleated fabric.

“There’s the gun,” she murmured. “But where… is…” Partway through reaching for the gun, she froze. Retsuko did too. They stared down and up, respectively; being looked at by someone so huge was enough to make Retsuko tremble. She had been a considerate giantess. Taking every precaution to ensure Tsunoda remained unterrified of her throughout their encounter.

Tsunoda was not Retsuko.

She doubled over with terrifying speed, casting a shadow with her massive body. The face overhead looked like a model’s—except blown up in scale to advertise something on a billboard.

“Oh. My. Goooosh.” Each ladylike squeal came with its own rumble, decibels powerful enough to make Retsuko wince. “Now you’re my ittybitty supercute two-inch bug-sized coworker slash mistress!” Tsunoda always seemed to have infinite air in her lungs; now it felt like her babbling breathed up a hurricane.

“Not so loud!” Retsuko squeaked at the top of her lungs.

“Whoops!” Tsunoda immediately stood upright, hands clapped over her mouth. “Sorry,” she hissed through them—only to break into giggles. “Oooh, I can’t help myself. You. Are. So. Cuuute.” Skirt pleats dusted a section of the table as she wiggled her hips in excitement. “Like some marketable Sanrio figurine! I was kinda kidding about having you shrink down, but you really did it. Wooow, you must trust me a ton to make yourself a helpless bitty bug!”

While motor-mouthing, Tsunoda multitasked by gathering the ray gun off the table then collecting Retsuko’s phone from her bed. In a flash of light she shrank the phone then presented it to Retsuko atop the pillowed tip of her tree-thick index finger.

“Ta-daaaa,” she said.

Retsuko inched towards the finger, collecting the phone in both hands before retreating. Tsunoda had undershot the shrinkage; it was around the size of a tablet instead of something she could fit in one hand. After that Tsunoda reached into her blouse and produced one of her many personal phones. She tapped the screen then set it down next to Retsuko.

A tinny jingle played from the much smaller phone. “H-hello?” she answered.

“H-hello?” boomed out of Tsunoda’s phone set to speaker.

“You’re super tiny, so it’s better than having you squeak up at me until your lungs give out,” Tsunoda explained. “We’ll make this chat brief, though. Some of us have work, lazybug.”

“You didn’t take off too? I scheduled a day and I wasn’t even the one who got shrunk!”

“I’m made of tougher stuff.” Hands to her hips, Tsunoda smirked down with something like pride. “You have to be if you want to make it in this business. Though I guess you’ll learn that pretty quick.”

“But if you’re going to work, why even bother shrinking me down?”

“Because, silly: you’re gonna come with me!”

“What?” Retsuko flinched for how loud her own shout rang from Tsunoda’s phone.

“Yeah. I have it all planned out.”

“Th-the office.” The strength left Retsuko’s legs. She plopped down on the side of Tsunoda’s phone like a bench. “But everyone… what if someone sees me? That’s too many giants, Tsunoda. You’re almost too many giants!”

“Aw, don’t be worried. Do you think I’d share you with anyone, KaijuPan? Or, hm…” Tsunoda stroked her chin. “LittlePan? No. I got it!” Her expression brightened. “PunyPan! How’s that?”

“A little demean—”

“And I’ll be BigDoe!” Tsunoda did a pirouette that waved her circus tent of a skirt around. “Sweet and simple and simply big.” After one full rotation she doubled over again. “Whaddya say?” Her face hung so imminent that Retsuko could only make out two huge eyes arm’s length above.

She didn’t feel like she had much choice.

“I can see you’re shaking with excitement already!” Tsunoda got up to strut across the room.

“Ah, Tsunoda, I—”

“BigDoe, my MiniBittyPunyPan! We need to get into character.”

“BigDoe. Right. Even supposing I went to work, which… is already pretty risqué. How would I get there? It’s not like I can take the train.”

“You’re not thinking like a bug, Retsuko.” Tsunoda returned from the entrance hallway, brown leather boots in her hands. Once again towering over the table, she let her right boot fall. Retsuko shrieked, leaping atop Tsunoda’s phone for shelter. A boot tread that could trample houses hammered onto the table only inches from her. “We’ll carpool.”

“You want me… to go… in… there?” The words came slow as Retsuko panned her view, eyes climbing a stories-tall boot shaft. To glimpse the collar she had to crane her neck to its limits. “I’ll be paste in seconds!”

Tsunoda scoffed. “Retsuko, I would never smoosh you.” Lightning-fast, she reached down and pinched Retsuko off the table by her prominent tail. Giving her vertigo during the ascent, which ended just above Tsunoda’s button nose—wide, dewy doe eyes crossing to stare at her. “More important, I couldn’t. You’re not just small, you’re dense. Like a little pebble in my shoe.”

Retsuko opened her mouth only to find herself muffled by the squishy skin of Tsunoda’s fingertips. Like being smothered between mattresses, uncomfortable but not dangerous. She crossed her arms around her phone to keep it close while Tsunoda rolled her around.

“See?” She finally let Retsuko slip from between her fingers to swing by her tail.

“Yes,” she groaned, a bit nauseous.

“Great!” chirped from Tsunoda like a thunderclap—then she let go of Retsuko. The red panda did somersaults on her way down. Dropped the building length of Tsunoda’s body until her surroundings clenched tighter and darker. The landing would’ve splatted her at normal size; here she hit spongy, leather-scented ground facedown with a muffled squeak. Peeling her face up from the terrain, she looked out at a dark, musty interior that looked like a squat cave.

“Hel-loooo down there!”

But it was no cave. She looked up and remembered the truth. The boot’s mouth framed Tsunoda’s smiling face.

“Tsunoda?” Retsuko scrambled to her knees, retrieving her heavy phone-tablet. “Tsunoda?” she repeated into the speaker. “You’re… sure this is safe? Will I even be able to breathe?”

“Let me worry about that.” Retsuko’s surroundings quaked as Tsunoda picked her boot off the table. The climb to her face steepened, more of her huge body visible as she placed the boot onto the floor then sat down on Retsuko’s bedside. “Your job is to look small and cute for our viewers.”

“B-but work!” Retsuko stammered out. “What if someone sees me?”

“Retsuko, I pride myself at being the best at everything I do: that’s why I’m the cutest, and the best at accounting.”

“Er, right…”

“So I also have high expectations as your dom.”

“Do you need to call yourself that?”

“I’m going to be commanding and imposing—but at the same time, your needs are very important to me. You can trust me to keep you snug and safe. Ever hear of losing a rock in your shoe?”

“I suppose not, but—”

“Good! Then as the one dominating you, I say shut your adorable little trap.” Tsunoda winked. “You’ll love it, ‘mistress,’ promise.”

“It almost sounds like you’re mocking me when you call me that at this size.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” But Tsunoda’s default smile pulled a little wider. “Now, you ready to rake in the big bucks with BigDoe on your day off?”

Retsuko gave a nervous chuckle. “I guess so, though it seems like I’ll be working harder under you than I do Ton.”

“That fits! Because I’d say with our size difference, I weigh a lot more tons to you.” Five visitors curled around the rim of the boot. “Now stay riiight there. I think I can get this the first time, but only if you’re still.”

Tipped with hoof-hard doe nails black as obsidian. Well-manicured. Ladylike. Toes.

More like padded brown boulders from Retsuko’s vantage. Yawning the boot mouth wider as they intruded. Not easing inside, as one might expect from someone like Tsunoda—whose job was more about maintaining her stereotypical feminine image than actually doing any real work. Her hugeness was at odds with that image. This wasn’t small, delicate, adorable Tsunoda. Now she was big.

Heavy.

Dangerous Tsunoda.

Her foot snuffed the light as it flooded the boot’s interior. Toes ran roughshod over a squealing Retsuko, who they bunted halfway inside before gliding over her. The supple ball of Tsunoda’s foot smeared her to the insole. She braced for a more thorough smothering as her coworker’s foot filled the space around her.

“You alive in there, PunyPan?”

But strangely enough, she found herself un-flattened.

Retsuko opened her eyes. “Your arch,” she murmured.

The boot muffled Tsunoda’s actual giggle, but the phone in Retsuko’s arms played a quieter, crackling rendition. “Bingo! My feet have suuuper curvy arches. Leaving just enough room for my bite-sized guest to ride first-class!”

“This is insane,” Retsuko whispered. She couldn’t see, but she could still feel oppressive heat. It radiated off a curved ceiling that hovered just shy of her face.

Another giggle. “Your breaths are tickling my foot. How are you feeling down there?”

“Like I just got run over by a bus.”

“Hey! I’m not that heavy.” A pause, then more giggling. “Okay, guilty. I weigh way more than a bus to you.”

Retsuko swallowed. “So…”

“So, I’m off to work. But with you playing hooky, it’s time for you to boot up the stream. Boot, get it?”

“In here?” Retsuko spoke quietly, as if one wrong move might trigger a cave-in. “What if someone hears me?”

“It’s dead quiet in your room and I can’t hear you down there. Without my phone, you’d be totally isolated from the world. Just you and my foot.”

“Well—”

“Speaking of, seeya PunyPan!”

“Wait!” Retsuko squeaked, but her phone gave a call-concluding beep as Tsunoda left her alone. Except, no; she had done the opposite of leaving her alone. Retsuko had never been this “not alone” in her life—surrounded by Tsunoda, practically drowning in her.

Boom. An explosion erupted below Retsuko: like a bomb going off underground.

Boom. There it was again. Footsteps. Nothing more than Tsunoda’s tiny feet tapping the ground.

Boom.

“Well…” Retsuko rolled onto her side. Despite the constant motion she had the sense of staying still—like riding the subway to work. She popped her phone’s stand out from the back then balanced it away from herself. “Guess it’s time to show off my new office space.”

Activating the flashlight stung her eyes after so much time in the dark. The kernel of light illuminated Retsuko and her wrinkled sole-skin ceiling. Squinting at the screen, she tapped it a couple times to open her streaming software then hovered a hesitant finger over the Go Live button.

Boom. Another quake jerked Retsuko’s hand forward, as though Tsunoda had made her press the button. Consigning her to the role of PunyPan with a tap. An alarming number of viewers poured in. “H-hey, everyone.” Retsuko gave the camera a half-hearted wave. “This is KaijuPan, though I guess that’s an outdated term today.”

Boom.

“Sorry about the sound. You must be wondering why I’m on my side like this. I know it might look like I’m stuck in a cave-in or something. But this is actually LittleDoe’s... boot. And this up here.” She dared to caress the arch. Soft brown skin twitched in reply. “This is BigDoe’s foot.”

Questions. Comments. Horny replies all poured in.

“What’s it like?” Retsuko read aloud, then paused to consider. “You know? I don’t mind it. It’s actually kind of cozy in here.” A comment she made more for herself than the stream. “Her skin is… warm. Really warm. Like a heated towel fresh from the dryer.” She sniffed an appreciative lungful of air. “The ground smells like leather, and the ceiling—sorry, her sole smells like soap. I’ll admit, I was hesitant at first. But there’s something pleasant about this.”

The more she thought about her predicament, the less afraid Retsuko became. Rolling onto her back in an almost trancelike state, she held both hands up to the same patch of skin. Smooth, yet bumpy with rows of wrinkles.

“I’ve never really gotten this close with someone before.” Her voice quieted to a murmur as she traced lines between wrinkles. “I know it’s just her foot, but this is a lot more intimate than I expected.”

Tsunoda hadn’t spoken since the stream began, yet she seemed to flirt with Retsuko using her foot alone. The way its warmth bled through her pajamas and furs, down to bare skin; the rich scent pervading her nostrils. She let out a quiet, flustered laugh. “It’s like my own private little space. I think I… like…”

But the blissful moment couldn’t last. With dawning horror, Retsuko turned her head to the side and stared back at herself in the phone screen—remembering who she narrated that confession for. “Ah… forget I said all that, chat! Being this small has an effect on your psyche.”

Chat didn’t make fun of her, though. They seemed ecstatic. Of course, they thought it was all a scripted show. Convincing special effects.

“I’m not ‘falling in love’ with someone’s foot,” she told someone in chat. “Wow. You guys really want me to…”

Kiss!

kiss her foot!

make out with BigDoe’s arch PLEASE

“Isn’t that kind of weird?” Retsuko grimaced. “No, I guess not. Considering who I’m talking to.” She hesitated. “But really? You want me to do that?” Her heart knocked against her chest as she stared up at the ceiling. It had no emotion, it was just skin for god’s sake. But that didn’t stop her from sensing a certain air of expectation.

This was ridiculous.

She hadn’t even kissed a guy before, and now… Tsunoda wouldn’t even feel it. It’d be like kissing a wall. Yet she pushed herself up by her elbows, easing her snout into the warm groove between two wrinkles—then tasted the flavorless sole.

She tore her snout out a second later, gasping as if she had kept it there for minutes rather than seconds. “There!” she squeaked to her viewers, wiping a small amount of drool off with her sleeve. “Happy?”

More!

mooooore!

100 bucks if you use your tongue

“My tongue?” Retsuko gasped.

200 bucks if u go for a minute without your lips leaving her foot!

“Guys, this is my first time and… wait, you’ll both pay how much? Seriously?” But the payment only served as an excuse. Retsuko wanted to do this, though she didn’t understand why. “Well, I guess I could maybe do a little—”

Overbearing tons of brown skin slid away. One moment she had been contemplating the first and most humiliating make-out session of her life. Next she laid alone in the boot, shivering without sole heat to sponge from. The ground pitched forward into a sudden decline. Retsuko managed to snatch her phone as she rode the insole like a slide towards the boot’s back heel. It caught her feet-first before tilting again—somersaulting her outside the boot beneath sterile office lights.

She hugged her phone while getting to her feet. “Sorry, chat, had some sudden…” The words shriveled as she recognized her surroundings. Immaculate laminate made up the landscape of the lunch table where she and Haida and Fenneko always ate together.

Except she wasn’t gathered around the table to eat. She was on it. More like a discarded crumb in the enormous breakroom.

A phone settled before her like a great wall. Side-propped, it ran in selfie mode while streaming—reflecting Retsuko’s puny self in a digital mirror. She didn’t register the foot slithering sole-down in the background until it had her pinched between the big toe and its slender neighbor. They clenched her sides as if this were a selfie between Retsuko and her five closest friends.

“Tsun—er, BigDoe?”

“Heeey, chat!” Part of Tsunoda’s face appeared in the background onscreen. Eyes obscured, visible from the nose-down with a playful smirk. “You caught us at work today.” She lifted the front of her foot a bit and waved it by the heel, swinging Retsuko side to side. Her phone went flying from her grasp and flew somewhere across the table. “Well, I’m on break. PunyPan here is going to be the one getting to work.”

Parted toes let Retsuko drop back onto the table. It was impressive how fast their dynamic shifted. Perhaps, deep down, Tsunoda was a submissive doe-bug. But it was against her religion not to be the center of attention.

“She’ll have to go real fast, though.” A shadow fell over Retsuko. Just as soon as she got to her feet, she was trampled prone by one. Smacked invisible beneath the doughy ball. Skin stuck to the table for a moment before peeling off. Retsuko came up like a sticker before falling off again. “No telling when someone might walk in.”

The constant steamrolling from Tsunoda’s soles jumbled the coming scenes. Later, looking back, Retsuko couldn’t recall the order in which they occurred.

“Come on, PunyPan!” Tsunoda sang: the camera poised above Retsuko. Ball to ball, heel to heel, doe feet flanked the tiny red panda in a fence of arches. “We’re on a deadline. I need you to do better than that!”

A casual nudge from Tsunoda’s finger commandeered Retsuko. Shoving her from one arch to the other. Indenting her into a personal divot of sole flesh until her desperately flailing tongue came out.

Retsuko had been polite about dominating Tsunoda. She gave her a chance to ease into things. Tsunoda knew what her viewers wanted: intense worship right out the gate.

“I don’t think you’re giving due diligence.” Tsunoda pushed the ball of her right foot in to fill the left foot’s arch, mashing Retsuko between. “That’s alright. They seem to like you plenty.”

Retsuko couldn’t get a word in. Only a squeak here. A “Tsunoda!” there. Otherwise she preoccupied her tongue with servicing her coworker. She had more than a first kiss, she had a first hundred kisses. Tsunoda’s foot was on the verge of taking her virginity.

In some mad way, she liked that as much as the viewers.

“Ohgod,” was the last thing Retsuko heard Tsunoda blurt before ripping her foot from the table. She crammed it back inside the bowels of the boot. Black and stuffy and tight described Retsuko’s imprisonment. Buried between meaty toes, face smeared in their webbing.

“Moooorning, Fenneko!” Tsunoda’s muffled voice filled the boot. It was good Retsuko was so tiny—otherwise she might’ve been detected after yelping in surprise. Her tiny eyes bulged at the thought of her friend seeing her like this.

“Hey, Tsunoda.” Fenneko had the distrustful tone of a sleuth about to sniff out a killer. “Noticed you weren’t posting on any of your social media pages last night. None of the usual ones, at least.”

“It’s, like, soo endearing that you admire me enough to stalk me, but I do have a life outside social media.”

“We both know that’s BS.”

“It is not!” Clenching toes closed around Retsuko. Her whimper escaped into Tsunoda’s toe crotch—even without a camera there to capture the moment, she couldn’t help but lick. It took a lot to make Retsuko dominant. She liked smothering Tsunoda beneath her body. But this… this was Retsuko in her natural element. Subservient at work, subservient with her friendships, and subservient in a friend’s boot.

“Come on, you know I know. Why not just admit it?”

If Tsunoda popped her boot off, Fenneko only would’ve seen Retsuko’s tiny bump of a snout. Pink pink tongue flickering out. Even if her friend had stared, she wouldn’t have been able to stop.

“If I know you know, then tell me what you know!” Tsunoda huffed back.

“I… I’ll find out, okay? You know I will!”

“Yeah, right.”

“Hmph.”

“Hmph!”

Silence followed. Fenneko must have left, but Tsunoda didn’t free Retsuko. Instead she wiggled her toes in what little space her boots offered, rubbing them up against Retsuko’s sides. When Tsunoda withdrew her foot, Retsuko came along. Dangled by her pea-sized head poking from between toes.

“That was close,” Tsunoda said, camera aimed at Retsuko so she could see herself mid-lick. “Say hi to PunyPan, everyone. She was busy keeping my feet polished while I hid her from sight.”

Retsuko’s tongue snapped back inside her mouth. “J-just making sure I get the job done.”

“Uh-huh,” Tsunoda said in typical condescending baby-talk. “Though I think with how close a call that was, I’m going to make an executive decision and call it there.”

“Already?”

“No need to sound let down.” Tsunoda plucked Retsuko by the tail, drawing her up into the air to dangle overhead. Tilting her neck, she smiled up at her precarious plaything. “I just mean we should move on to the next step. We’re much less likely to get caught if you’re in my mouth.” Each word caused her pit of a maw to contort in a new way, offering glimpses at the steep fall to the gullet.

“Why’s that?” Retsuko said uneasily.

“Because I could always swallow the evidence.” Tsunoda’s tongue rose to meet Retsuko, swabbing her feet-first then working up with the tip. Saliva soaked a slimy coat over her pajamas. “Just kidding,” Tsunoda added as she withdrew her tongue. “Probably, at least. Here!” Her tongue poked out again, lain flat past the lower lip. “Come on down.”

Not that Retsuko had a choice. She splatted atop the wet surface, given a moment to gain her bearings—then Tsunoda oriented her head upright and drew her tongue back inside. Retsuko managed to rise to her knees. Light flooded in from the yawning entrance; she looked beyond flat deer teeth and found her tiny, inches-tall self on Tsunoda’s phone screen. An oval of parted lip and teeth framed her disheveled appearance, gunky droplets of drool gushing from the mouth’s roof.

Tsunoda presented an upturned finger to Retsuko’s face. On it rested her shrunken crumb of a cellphone.

“Good thing I sprang for that waterproof case,” Retsuko said while gathering the phone into her slimy, trembling hands. “Hi… chat.” The camera caught her drenched face at a low-angle. Still streaming with chat at a constant scroll of viewers waiting for her to put on a show.

She couldn’t stick the poses like Tsunoda had last night. Too shy. Too unconfident in her body and flustered over her surroundings. Each half-hearted pose drew her attention elsewhere. To the curved roof of a mouth she could touch with her fingertips. Downwards to the spongy tongue dimpled beneath her paws.

Being Tsunoda’s foot-toy hadn’t hurt, but it did leave a substantial impact. How could she ever face Tsunoda at her normal height? Or anyone, for that matter? She had lowered her standing in the world. She had made herself a figurine. A toy.

And that wasn’t entirely the problem. Tsunoda had done all that the night before yet she remained the picture of confidence.

The problem was how much Retsuko had enjoyed it. How much she enjoyed this. Each pose she struck for the camera was a little more risqué than the last. Spit matted fur and pajamas to her curves, lending an impression of nudity to her appearance.

She wasn’t showing off for the viewers anymore. She was showing off for Tsunoda.

Notice me, Retsuko’s body pleaded as she held her butt up in the air.

Play with me, her body begged—hormones running rampant as she went on her back and parted her legs.

Use me! she wanted so badly to shout. Almost ripping the soggy fabric right off her chest.

These efforts earned a lone giggle. Fur-ruffling breath blasted from the gullet. Tsunoda’s tongue tremored, sending Retsuko plunging forward. She splatted facedown in a puddle of drool. Rather than catch her, Tsunoda had reeled her tongue away. Leaving Retsuko in the mouth’s basin.

A murky light shone through puddled drool. Retsuko retrieved the phone, swiped away the filmy lacquer. “Ch-chat, can I make a confession?” She looked down at the camera with an almost anguished expression. “I’m really enjoying this. That’s not too weird for a gal to say, is it?”

Viewers assured her they’d give their arms or more to be in her position. Of course they’d say she was normal. They were all perverts.

But maybe Retsuko counted herself among them.

The tip of Tsunoda’s tongue nudged her cheek. She looked over to find the pink mass angled low in the front, high in the back—like a pet ready to play.

…or a predator ready to pounce.

She yelped as it did just that. Sinew swamped her body, smacking her back down into the slobbery basin. To her viewers the scene must have looked like nonsense. The spit-muddied screen showing pink flesh and flailing limbs.

To Retsuko it wasn’t any less of a blur. The tongue’s underside blanketed her, the tip a forceful and affectionate presence. She remembered Tsunoda kissing her tongue the night before and returned the favor. The tongue tip couldn’t fit in her mouth, but she tried her hardest. Whimpering as her throat bobbed with each spit droplet force-fed to her.

Grunts.

Whimpers.

Shudders.

She was willing prey to Tsunoda’s mouth.

“Aaahhh.”

Then a bass sigh brought with it the breakroom’s unpleasant air. Frigid enough to leave Retsuko’s teeth chattering while she laid there. Spat out onto the table in a spreading puddle of doe drool. Ceiling lights glared harsh above, as in an interrogation room. Unlike the intimate bedroom shade in Tsunoda’s mouth, this laid her kinky outburst bare.

“I think we’ll have to cut it off there, I’m afraid,” Tsunoda sighed—talking to her cellphone. She didn’t look at all changed by the experience. Because it had barely been anything to her. Some tongue movements, a couple toe taps.

“What?” Retsuko said groggily. Sitting up proved a struggle, pajamas oversaturated with spit. She pushed her hands through the gunky morass around her until she wrested her phone.

“Much as I’d love to keep going, my break is over soon. I need to stuff Retsuko away in my purse for now. Say ‘bye’ to all our fans, PunyPan. If you can still speak, that is.”

Maybe being shrunk had an effect on the brain.

Maybe Retsuko’s life as a pushover made her more suited to this crumb size than her actual one.

Or maybe the office’s de-facto Plain Jane was just kinkier than she thought.

Whatever the reason, Retsuko whimpered, “BigDoe?”

Tsunoda looked down from her phone. “You say something down there, pipsqueak?”

“Hhhow are your gag reflexes?”

“Oh, I can down pills without water! I could probably swallow you whole even if you were twice as big.”

“Do you have any, um...” Retsuko massaged her spit-drenched tail. “...floss?”

“Always. Any real lady needs to be sure her teeth are sparkling. But I don’t think you’re big enough to use any.” A pause. “O.M.G.” Tsunoda clapped her hands over her mouth. “Do I have, like, food between my teeth? On stream? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not that!” Retsuko’s frantic waving managed to silence Tsunoda. “But, I’m so weak at this size… I bet floss would be hard for me to break as rope.”

Tsunoda’s brow crinkled. “Why would you want that? Unless...” Then it un-crinkled as understanding dawned. “Ooohhh…”

“N-not, ‘oh!’ Forget it. It’s embarrassing.”

“Do you think we should hear her out, chat?” Tsunoda pinched Retsuko’s sides, rotating her to face the giant phone screen and the explosion of horny fans in chat.

They needed to know what she had to say.

“It’s just...” Retsuko reluctantly turned to look up at Tsunoda. “It’d be a waste for me to spend the rest of work in your purse. It’d be long. Boring.”

Tsunoda drummed fingers against her cheek. “And what would be more exciting for you?”

“What if I… tied myself... to your uvula?” Silence hung. Retsuko’s heart hammered through each awkward second. “That was stupid of me to say!” she blurted. “Just put me in your purse. We should end the stream before we get caught.”

“End the stream? When you really want to stay nice and toasty in my warm mouth?” Tsunoda produced a box of mint floss from her purse. She coiled a green thread around her index finger than snapped it off. “Here ya go.” The floss slipped from her finger as she pointed it down at Retsuko. Rope-thick string draped over her head and shoulders, coiled down to her feet.

Taking a handful of floss, she gave it an experimental tug—failing to form the faintest tear. “I’m really this weak?” she whispered.

“Oooh, PunyPan,” Tsunoda sang. The table rattled as she plunked her chin near its edge. “Come feed yourself to me.” She yawned her maw wide and invited Retsuko to go back in. And she did—gingerly stepping atop the rolled-out carpet of tongue. Padding deeper, where less and less light reached. Soon she could only make out the glistening shape of the uvula: that final landmark between herself and a winking gullet.

An experimental touch. Slick, smooth skin yielded. Tsunoda didn’t even react.

Retsuko wedged her cellphone into the faintest kink in one of the rearmost molars. “Alright, chat,” she quavered, backing from the phone while watching to make sure it would stay put. “Here… we… go.”

It took a few tries. She had never handled rope, much less when tying herself to something. But with her back fastened to the fleshy surface, she called: “Okay, BigDoe!”

To which Tsunoda replied by sealing her into darkness—Retsuko’s puny phone camera a meager light in the spit-glossed dark.

That day, everyone who talked to Tsunoda noticed something odd about her.

Other women still couldn’t shut her up and men never wanted to tell her to shut up. But through the rapid-fire flap of her lips, every one of her coworkers swore they saw something. A little reddish-orange blob at the back of her mouth. Like some food that got stuck.

Except food wasn’t furry.

It had taken incredible effort for Retsuko to bind herself, but now that she was stuck—she was stuck. That workday made for the most intense experience of her life.

There was the guilty, taboo thrill of being spied in glimpses by her giant friends and coworkers. Each time wondering whether Haida or Fenneko or anyone else might hold Tsunoda’s mouth open like a dentist and boom, “Retsuko?” in disbelief.

The eardrum-battering loudness of Tsunoda’s voice, vibrating through her uvula and its tiny passenger.

The danger, because there was danger. The longer she spent there, the more saliva made her bondage gear brittle. If it broke she would plunge straight into Tsunoda’s gullet.

Retsuko lost track of time. She was a wreck, hung limp from the uvula as if she were a part of it. But that only added to the experience.

“Retsuko?”

It was the third time that hot breath billowed around her that she realized Tsunoda was bellowing her name. She stirred, blinking around.

“Ready to come out?”

Tsunoda yawned her mouth for Retsuko’s sake. The bathroom mirror outside didn’t match any in the office. Understanding came, leaving her breathless: she had been in here for close to an entire workday. Tsunoda had brought her home. She was too weak to answer; meeting Tsunoda’s eyes in the mirror, she gave a faint handshake.

Giggles blasted over her, uvula sent swinging.

“Suit yourself. Oh, and sorry about your phone. But if you want my honest opinion, you needed an upgrade.”

Retsuko looked over to where her phone had been lodged. It must have chipped off at some point, wolfed down her coworker’s gullet.

“Well, I live to please,” Tsunoda boomed. “Seeya in the morning, ‘mistress,’ because you’re not coming out ‘til then.” Her teeth banged together as she snapped her jaw shut.

“Thank you, mistress,” Retsuko rasped before being sealed away. Reduced to a part of her coworker, her doe-bug, her own mistress for the rest of the night.