A Crushing Realization

[court jester]

A story I had left behind as a rough draft for a while. Originally planned for at least two parts, if you guys like this one I'll get to work on the second! I want to be more active with writing and releasing stories, so thanks for giving me this chance!



Part One: Pet, or the Girl Who was Once Called Stella



She sat on her knees, gazing up at her Master with wide, dark eyes. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, and the expression on her face was one of utter devotion.

The Master in question was a young man of around twenty, with dark blond curls and dark blue eyes behind circular glasses. His face was illuminated by the computer screen before him, and on his face was a cruel expression that suggested entitlement and an unquenchable appetite for pleasure of all sorts. Of course, this didn't register to her, who considered Master to be the most glorious and beautiful creature she'd ever seen. If her job was to satiate his desire, she'd be happy to do that and more, which contributed to her outfit.

She wore no pants, only a tight light blue t-shirt that was cut to reveal her flat abdomen and hint at her pretty breasts, faded pink panties, and black fishnet stockings that accentuated her slender legs. Her hair had been dyed a bright shade of cotton candy pink, and atop her head was a pair of fluffy black cat ears. Before, she'd been called Stella, but now she was simply Pet, or Toy, or even Doll, if Master was in a particularly good mood.

She'd been like this for about two months now, punished to forever be a toy for her landlord's nephew after she'd failed to pay rent for the fourth month in a row. She'd been walking home from a trip to the grocer's when she'd been suddenly grabbed, dragged into an alley, and knocked unconscious. When she'd woken up, she was four inches tall, nude, and trapped in a glass box.

She could hardly remember those days though, not even the long, agonizing training process that had followed shortly after.

She remembered she'd been naughty in those days, and wonderful Master had been gracious enough to only punish her when she deserved so much worse. Every now and then her mind still flickered to the others like her she'd seen, crushed underfoot or swallowed whole, or sold off to Master's cruel friends. She barely remembered her fellow Pets, even though some of them had claimed to have had names like Leslie, Ruby, Amelia..... whenever they popped into her head she gave herself a little shake and tried to forget them. After all, she had outlasted them, no, Master had kept her instead. She was Master's favorite. She ought to be grateful. Any time she devoted her mind to them was time not devoted to Master.

Of course, Master was often busy with whatever he was doing on the computer. (She'd been blessed to have seen him pleasure himself with it many times, so she knew it was something that he greatly enjoyed.) Many times, she hadn't been able to please him as much as whatever it was, and she'd been punished in many ways for her failures: left overnight in a sock, a shoe or a pair of filthy underwear; forced to stay afloat in a glass of icy water, tied up somewhere and forced to dangle helplessly until Master grew bored.... Master's creativity and genius showed from how many different types of punishment he could come up with.
Sometimes Master would simply pick her up and force himself onto her, be that with his fingers, his tongue, or other parts, and then throw her into a jar covered in his seed, instead of speaking kindly to her and cleaning her off like he would normally. She knew she'd deserved it. Good pets served their Masters.

Suddenly, Master leaned back with a sigh of exasperation, unzipping his fly and fixing his hard gaze onto her. Without hesitation he reached out, plucking her up by the ass between two fingers and dropping her without ceremony onto his crotch.

She knew what this meant, and she felt her heart racing with a nervous excitement. Master wanted her to please him.

She watched with mounting anticipation as he slipped his length from behind his underwear, her body resting on the space just above its base. His member was at least a head taller than her and gave off a hot, musky scent, and she felt herself shivering at the thought of what was about to happen.

Hesitantly, she hoisted herself up, straddling the warm, coarse surface and starting to grind herself against it.

It was not a dignified routine, to be sure. Two months ago she would have screamed and yelled (or more accurately, squeaked and chirped) in resistance, and Master would have gripped her in his fist and forced himself into her, flicked her rear with his middle finger, or simply plucked her up, dropped her into his underpants, and left her there, hot, sweaty, and cramped, for the remainder of the day. But that was before. She was a good pet now, and now she was quite skilled at giving Master what he wanted.

“Oh, Master,” she said in a high voice, breathless as she traced a vein as thick as her arm with her fingers as she looked up at him with adoring eyes, “t-thank you..... i-it's such an honor to serve you like this....”

She rest her head against the hot, gently pulsating muscle, and let out a low purr. She knew Master enjoyed it when she acted like a cat, and she knew based on his expression that he needed some enjoyment right now. Her hips bucked, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she felt a wetness appear on her panties. She thrust her hips harder, Master's low grunts only giving her incentive to move faster. As she thrust and bucked, she wrapped her arms around the thick, warm pillar, every few moments letting out a high pitched moan of ecstasy.

The pillar was beginning to throb now. She slowly began to climb up its surface, until she could rest her chin upon the bell-shaped base of Master's manhood. It was slightly bigger than her head, and a noticeable amount of prefluid was starting to emerge from the top.

She turned her head and locked eyes with Master, inwardly disappointed his face showed no signs of affection or even lust. So she decided to use her special trick. She flashed a winning smile, traced her index finger along the edge of the bell, then placed a tiny kiss onto its hot, fleshy surface.
Nothing happened.

She felt a wave of cold fear travel down her spine. This was supposed to be it! Master had always come at this part, it had always made him immensely happy – if it wouldn't work now, then....
Without warning, Master wrapped his fingers around her body, pinning her arms to her sides and slightly squeezing her chest and straining her breath.

“I-I'm sorry Master!” she squeaked in fright. “I-I promise I'll d-do better – aaagh!”

Her pleas were cut off suddenly as Master gaze a short but rough squeeze, forcing the air from her lungs and drawing a frightened squeal from her. His thumb was pushing against her breasts, an action which some small part of her brain dimly registered as molestation, but the rest of her simply hoped Master would get whatever pleasure he wanted out of this.

He adjusted his grip and lifted her slightly higher, so she sat in the palm of his left hand, gazing up at his handsome face with awe in her eyes. He ran a finger down the back of her left thigh with his right index, drawing a moan from her lips before using his fingernail to delicately peel down her panties. He forced her onto her back with the thumb of the hand she sat on, the sweaty flesh of his palm quivering ever so slightly as he raised his opposite index finger once again.

“M-Master-?” She asked, but that was all she could get out before he jammed the pad of his index into her exposed womanhood, causing her to cry out and buck against his touch reflexively.

“Y-Yes Master, do it!” she moaned, trying to lean into his touch despite the invasiveness of it all. “R-Right there M-Master.... a-as much as you want.... I'm already d-dripping wet.... m-make me scream, Master!”

Master obliged without a word, the rough surface of his finger now glistening with her womanly juices as he aggressively pushed it into her sacred spot. She tried to force a giggle and pretend sh enjoyed it, but Master was starting to hurt her now. She didn't say anything about that, however. She knew what the consequences would be otherwise.

Master kept pressing, pleasure and pain exploding at the same in her tiny brain as he extracted pleasure from her. This was her purpose, she told herself. Do as he pleases, however it feels.
Although, she seemed to hear a tiny voice in the back of her mind say, there was once a time Master wasn't so harsh. He was almost kind. His pleasuring was much easier, and more fun for the both of them. He used to kiss her, to tell her she was a good girl.... she was still a good girl to him, wasn't she?

She pushed the thought away, trying to force herself into enjoying the physical sensations sweeping over her. She moaned loudly, her little voice only driving him to push and caress harder.
Just as she was nearing climax, Master retracted his finger, leaving her panting and slick with sweat.

“M-Master....?” The pet looked up at the personification of her purpose, her voice hoarse and a growing sense of discomfort in the pit of her stomach.
Master glared down at her for a moment, then:
“Fuckin' hell.”

Without warning, she was being lifted, lifted up with such abrupt force she tumbled face-first onto the rough surface of Master's palm, the stale scents of sweat and his own seed flooding her nose. She sat up, heart pounding with an uneasy fear as her eyes fell upon the thin lips she was now level with.

Quietly, she opened her mouth to speak once again.
“M-Master–?”

He tipped his palm, sending her falling onto Masters face with an undignified squeak of fright. Her hips and waist were being tickled by a warm, wet thing she knew to be his tongue, and her mouth, ears, and nose were awash with the heavy breathing coming from Master's nostrils.
She felt a sucking sensation, along with a sudden warmth and wetness, and realized that Master was lapping her, slurping her up like a spaghetti noodle, her legs already fully enveloped by his massive mouth and lips.

God, when was the last time she'd had spaghetti? At best, Master let her eat scraps of bread from sandwiches or just slices from a grocery store. Mostly though, it was things like dog food, stale crumbs and leftovers from bags of chips and whatnot, or – when she had been especially good or especially naughty – drops of his own seed.

Her head ached, the slurping sounds of Master's tongue and lips along with his grunts and moans not helping matters. She stank a sickly sweet scent. Her body was sore in just about every joint and crevice she could imagine.

She felt woozy, as if she'd just come out of a great fog. She blinked a few times, and the gravity of the situation hit her: Her name was Stella; she was 24 years old, and she'd failed to pay rent in time. That creepy old landlord had had her shrunken down as punishment, and given him to her so-called “Master.”

Thomas Grives, her landlord's nephew. A creepy little asshole who lived in a small apartment a few blocks away, and spent his days either watching porn, bitching to his uncle, or leering at any young woman unfortunate enough to cross paths with him. It was little surprise that he'd done what he'd done to Stella and the other women – while they were still alive, at least.

“Tom!” she screamed, her voice now without a single trace of submission, “put me down right this fucking instant, you fucking pervert!”

Master – no Tom froze, probably from shock. His eyes crossed as he looked down at her, and he plucked her from his mouth with a wet plop, dropping her back into his open palm.. Strands of his saliva dripped from her body, and her clothes were soaked through.

Stella coughed a few times before managing, “Now put me the fuck down.”

Tom scowled. “And why should I do that, Pet?”

“Because if you don't, I swear to god I'll kill you when I get back to normal. I was already planning to beat the shit out of you, but at least you'll be alive.”

Tom stared down at her blankly. Stella stared right back, refusing to let her gaze leave his.
Then, Tom laughed. It was a short, harsh sound, more of a bark than anything else, and Stella flinched in spite of herself at the noise.

“Damn,” Tom said, poking her in the stomach with a massive index finger, “it's really the same two thoughts in your head, huh?”

Stella frowned. “W-What are you talking about? Put me the fuck down, Tom! I'm not fucking kidding!”

“Sorry, sorry,” the college-aged young asshole said with a sneer. “It's just funny how this has happened three times now, and every time it's always you squeakin' on about how you're gonna kill me or whatever, and then I just dunk you in some Royal Jelly and instantly you're begging for me to use you as my own personal cocksleeve.”

An uneasy feeling came over Stella.

“R-Royal Jelly?” She felt like she'd heard the term before, but she couldn't place from where.

“Yeah,” Tom said casually, tightening his grip around her body. The air rushed through Stella's ears as he stood and let his arms drop, and she felt dizzy and nauseous as the blood rushed to her head.

“T-Toomm,” she groaned, now hit with the after-effects of what had to be half a dozen different conditions – dehydration, starvation, oxygen deprivation, and the like. “P-Put me.... the fuck.... d-d-down.”

“Shut up,” Tom replied calmly, and before she realized it, Stella was being lifted in the air, granting her a blurry view of Tom as he rummaged through old takeout boxes and adult magazines. She had a stupid realization that this is somewhat how it felt to be a phone on a selfie stick, before:

“Here it is.”

He held a small glass tube (that is, it was about a full head taller than Stella was currently), filled with a strange pink substance. Stella felt a chill go down her spine as Tom grinned down at her, then tipped its contents into a pile on the desk. It looked grainy and clumpy, like the kinetic sand she'd seen at retail stores, and even from here she could smell its sickly sweet aroma.

“Hey, Pet.” Tom's voice was gleefully cruel. “You wanna know what Royal Jelly is?”

Before she could answer, Tom dropped her in the pile unceremoniously, giving her a faceful of the stuff.

“Eugh.... What the fuck is this!?” Stella snapped as she tried to stand up and brush the stuff from her eyes and mouth, but instead of an answer, she received two fingers on her back, forcing her back onto the ground and rolling her body back and forth in the pink dust. As she squeaked and yelled in protest, she inevitably began to inhale more of the stuff, her head grew fuzzier, groggy from the sickly sweet smell and the onset of exhaustion she now felt.
Royal Jelly. Some kind of pheromone?

“Tom.....” she groaned, trying to push the giant fingers away with arms that felt impossibly heavy, “stoooop..... you hahfta.... ch-change me.... back....”

She heard Tom laughing to himself, felt her head grow fuzzier and fuzzier.... then she felt. Good. Like, really, really good. So good, she let out a little giggle and leaned back, placing a hand upon her chest and running her palm up and down her torso. Her fingers tickled her skin, sending electric little shocks through her flesh and bringing soft little noises and grunts of pleasure from her lips.

“Ngh..... ah.......mhmm.....”

“Shit, honestly, I'm shocked you're even breathing,” a voice said from somewhere high up and far away. Her head throbbed even as it buzzed, and two different words bounced around in her skull in response to the voice, naming it both Master and Tom.

She arched her neck, looking up at the godlike figure before her with delirious curiosity.

“That's your fourth dose in an hour! Other pets barely made it to three before I had to throw them away. The high-strength batches don't last too long, but they sure do work great, huh? I mean, I bet you can't even remember what your name is right now! Go on, tell me, what's your name?”

As though to emphasize his question, Master/Tom (Master seemed a bit more correct in her head, even though something about her body felt sick, vomity) extended a finger and loomed down to her. The sight of such a digit, so grand in its size and strength, sent a shiver of excitement through her body followed up with a new accumulation of wetness in her already-soaked panties. She discreetly found herself sliding a hand down her waist and between her legs, rubbing tenderly at her most sensitive parts through her underwear while she responded.

“I'm..... I'm....”

She struggled for a second. She was quite lightheaded, wasn't she? Her head struggled to find the words for a long moment. Then, it came to her, and she spoke with her next words with a squeak of utter delight.

“I'm Master's favorite pet, of course!”

[anaio10]

Thanks. Beautiful beginning.