Obey and Keep Quiet
My name is Phil Tiny
chapter 19
by
copier
· original author:
swp1
He didn’t have much of a choice. She held all the cards. He went over to the flask, picked it up (an awkward considering it was about the same size as him), and walked over to her feet.
“Good,” she said. She had won. She inched her feet forward into a more comfortable position, almost knocking poor Phil off the table. She then grabbed the plate and brought it up to her. Flipped on the TV behind Phil with her remote and started eating. Phil began to wash her toes as she watched some sitcom. After several minutes he finally finished.
“Can I have some food now?” he asked.
She looked at her toes to make sure he did a good job, and finally answered with a yes. She picked him up and dropped on the edge of the plate. Phil began to munch on a piece of nearby spaghetti. It wasn’t quite as warm, but he was still hungry. Sheila laughed as he devoured little bits of noodle.
He looked up at her. She was wearing a red tank top, exposing most of her cleavage, and a black skirt. Her hair was put back, and she was looking down at him laughing. She was not wearing what she was at the office but had put on more casual clothing.
“You wouldn’t believe how cute you are, little one,” she purred.
Ignoring this, Phil asked, “When did you put that top on?”
“I’ve been wearing it ever since I picked you up at Rita’s. After work I changed. Plus you’re the one who picked it out. It was the one you really liked. Is this really the first time you noticed it? I’ve been wearing it for a while,” she answered.
I guess so, Phil thought. Now he remembered picking it out though. She was right: he approved of many of them, but that was the one he really liked. When she put it on and showed it to him, he instantly said yes without a moment’s hesitation. She must have noticed that this was his favorite. It made him blush a little.
After a few seconds of silence, she returned to her television, and he returned to the food. She was still eating it. Her fork was on the other end of the plate, twirling spaghetti onto it. Every once in a while, the noodle he was eating would disappear into her fork.
“After this, are you taking me home?” Phil asked, breaking the silence.
“Home? Why would you want that? It’s awfully quiet here. I could use your company.”
“But I want to see my mother,” he protested. He also wanted to leave this torturous lady, but he didn’t dare say that.
“Please. I can entertain you far better than your mother. Stay here. It’ll be fun,” she answered. “Here let me get us some more tomato sauce.”
Phil hadn’t noticed, but she had run out of sauce on her plate. Suddenly he lost his balance as she lifted the plate underneath him and walked over to the kitchen. He dove more towards the middle to avoid falling off during the ride. As she was adding more sauce, he noticed a spoonful about to fall on top of him. He quickly ran back to the edge to avoid it, but it was too late. Soon he was completely entrenched in the red stuff. He heard a squeal of delight from Sheila above. She walked back, which again knocked Phil to the ground. He felt a little better once she sat back down.
That was short lived though. She pushed him towards the dead center with her fork. Then suddenly the fork fell on top of him. His chest was threaded between two of the spokes. He tried to break free but couldn’t. She then started twirling the fork. Spaghetti noodles wrapped around him, trapping him in chains. Soon the fork was lifted upwards towards Sheila’s mouth.
“Please,” he screamed. “Don’t do this. I just want to go home! Please can you just take me home?”
“I don’t know. I am rather busy tonight. I think it’s just easier if you stay with me,” she replied laughing. “I think it’s rather insulting that I feed you and take care of you for the day, and all you do is ask to leave.”
She hovered Phil above her mouth. He could tell that she was enjoying this. She grabbed every spaghetti strand one-by-one and sucked it off of Phil. He could feel his grip loosening. Eventually there was only one strand left. It was stuck between his chest and one of the fork spokes. She began to pull at it with her lips. This loosened Phil’s hold, and he took this as an opportunity to wiggle himself free. This was a huge mistake though without the spokes to keep him in place, he simply fell. Sheila positioned her mouth right below him and opened. He began to slide down her down towards her throat until she finally pressed him towards the roof of her mouth. Gravity then switched shifted as she tilted her head back to normal. She let go of her release causing him to fall onto her tongue.
“Now if you don’t apologize and start to be a little more grateful, I may not be able put up with you,” she threatened, swallowing a little spit to make her point clear. Phil managed to grab onto one of her teeth just in time to not go down with the spit.
“Okay, I am sorry!” Phil screamed, scared for his life.
“You’re what? I can’t hear you.”
“I am sorry. Please don’t eat me.”
“Will you accept living here as my pet with gratitude?”
“Yes!”
“Will you obey always or face the consequences?”
“Yes!”
“From now on, it’s ‘Yes, Master Sheila’ to you.”
“Yes, Master Sheila.”
“Okay, I’ll let you out.” With that she spit him onto her lap. “Now I don’t have to be that mean. I only did it to make a point. If you obey me, you’ll find I can be very nice to my pets.”
“I understand Master Sheila.”
What happens next?
“Good,” she said. She had won. She inched her feet forward into a more comfortable position, almost knocking poor Phil off the table. She then grabbed the plate and brought it up to her. Flipped on the TV behind Phil with her remote and started eating. Phil began to wash her toes as she watched some sitcom. After several minutes he finally finished.
“Can I have some food now?” he asked.
She looked at her toes to make sure he did a good job, and finally answered with a yes. She picked him up and dropped on the edge of the plate. Phil began to munch on a piece of nearby spaghetti. It wasn’t quite as warm, but he was still hungry. Sheila laughed as he devoured little bits of noodle.
He looked up at her. She was wearing a red tank top, exposing most of her cleavage, and a black skirt. Her hair was put back, and she was looking down at him laughing. She was not wearing what she was at the office but had put on more casual clothing.
“You wouldn’t believe how cute you are, little one,” she purred.
Ignoring this, Phil asked, “When did you put that top on?”
“I’ve been wearing it ever since I picked you up at Rita’s. After work I changed. Plus you’re the one who picked it out. It was the one you really liked. Is this really the first time you noticed it? I’ve been wearing it for a while,” she answered.
I guess so, Phil thought. Now he remembered picking it out though. She was right: he approved of many of them, but that was the one he really liked. When she put it on and showed it to him, he instantly said yes without a moment’s hesitation. She must have noticed that this was his favorite. It made him blush a little.
After a few seconds of silence, she returned to her television, and he returned to the food. She was still eating it. Her fork was on the other end of the plate, twirling spaghetti onto it. Every once in a while, the noodle he was eating would disappear into her fork.
“After this, are you taking me home?” Phil asked, breaking the silence.
“Home? Why would you want that? It’s awfully quiet here. I could use your company.”
“But I want to see my mother,” he protested. He also wanted to leave this torturous lady, but he didn’t dare say that.
“Please. I can entertain you far better than your mother. Stay here. It’ll be fun,” she answered. “Here let me get us some more tomato sauce.”
Phil hadn’t noticed, but she had run out of sauce on her plate. Suddenly he lost his balance as she lifted the plate underneath him and walked over to the kitchen. He dove more towards the middle to avoid falling off during the ride. As she was adding more sauce, he noticed a spoonful about to fall on top of him. He quickly ran back to the edge to avoid it, but it was too late. Soon he was completely entrenched in the red stuff. He heard a squeal of delight from Sheila above. She walked back, which again knocked Phil to the ground. He felt a little better once she sat back down.
That was short lived though. She pushed him towards the dead center with her fork. Then suddenly the fork fell on top of him. His chest was threaded between two of the spokes. He tried to break free but couldn’t. She then started twirling the fork. Spaghetti noodles wrapped around him, trapping him in chains. Soon the fork was lifted upwards towards Sheila’s mouth.
“Please,” he screamed. “Don’t do this. I just want to go home! Please can you just take me home?”
“I don’t know. I am rather busy tonight. I think it’s just easier if you stay with me,” she replied laughing. “I think it’s rather insulting that I feed you and take care of you for the day, and all you do is ask to leave.”
She hovered Phil above her mouth. He could tell that she was enjoying this. She grabbed every spaghetti strand one-by-one and sucked it off of Phil. He could feel his grip loosening. Eventually there was only one strand left. It was stuck between his chest and one of the fork spokes. She began to pull at it with her lips. This loosened Phil’s hold, and he took this as an opportunity to wiggle himself free. This was a huge mistake though without the spokes to keep him in place, he simply fell. Sheila positioned her mouth right below him and opened. He began to slide down her down towards her throat until she finally pressed him towards the roof of her mouth. Gravity then switched shifted as she tilted her head back to normal. She let go of her release causing him to fall onto her tongue.
“Now if you don’t apologize and start to be a little more grateful, I may not be able put up with you,” she threatened, swallowing a little spit to make her point clear. Phil managed to grab onto one of her teeth just in time to not go down with the spit.
“Okay, I am sorry!” Phil screamed, scared for his life.
“You’re what? I can’t hear you.”
“I am sorry. Please don’t eat me.”
“Will you accept living here as my pet with gratitude?”
“Yes!”
“Will you obey always or face the consequences?”
“Yes!”
“From now on, it’s ‘Yes, Master Sheila’ to you.”
“Yes, Master Sheila.”
“Okay, I’ll let you out.” With that she spit him onto her lap. “Now I don’t have to be that mean. I only did it to make a point. If you obey me, you’ll find I can be very nice to my pets.”
“I understand Master Sheila.”
What happens next?
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March 24, 2025
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