[Original author: Power and Lust from Writing.com]

Yep, Adam was jacking off again. This was a regular thing…even with the parade of sluts he often brought home (to her apartment!), the young stud was always horny and full of cum. He grabbed his phone, dropped his gym shorts, and began beating his colossal meat. God, it was huge, and fucking sexy.

Monica bit her lip and kept at her labor of slurping, even as the canopy of gym shorts pooled around his ankles. One of the first nights he was here, when she was still bigger than his cock, the affection-starved girl had presumed to crawl up to his crotch, to offer her oral services there. He had quickly swatted her down for her impudence. Adam was a real man who fucked real women. Monica was just a tiny foot bitch, good for one thing only.

But she took pride in her work. She pressed her torso into the broad sole and licked with passion, digging her tongue into the grooves and whorls of the meaty flesh, savoring every taste of musky sour sweat. The sounds of moaning porn stars drifted from Adam’s phone above, mixing with the sounds of the basketball game on TV, and of course the unmistakeable wet rhythmic strokes of his monolithic tool. Monica gripped at his flexing toes for traction, trying to time her licks with his quickening pace. She could feel his muscles tense as he got closer. She hated herself for how much this turned her on…

Suddenly the wall of feet lurched forward, pinning Monica’s legs forcefully to the ground as Adam reached his climax. He let out a rumbling bestial groan as liters of hot white cum pumped from his love cannon. The first volley barely missed Monica, spattering on the floor to her side. The second spurt was a direct hit, and her face was drenched in the thick fragrant fluid. More dribbled down onto his feet as he sighed contentedly.

“You’re not small enough to live on my toe dirt yet, so here’s a protein supplement” he laughed, wiping off his cock with a discarded sock and pulling up his shorts. He leaned back and resumed watching TV as Monica dug into her dinner. She slurped greedily; other than foot grit this was the first food she had eaten all day, and the gobs of sperm were more palatable when warm.

The ball game in the background was at halftime, and a mixed-size group of shrunken cheerleaders was building a pyramid to blaring music. Their acrobatics were interrupted as the star point guard stepped into frame, making it clear that the pyramid of buxom women barely reached the rubber toe of his immaculate orange sneaker. They lost their balance and collapsed as the crowd jeered and laughed. Monica wondered idly how many of those women would be going home with the athletes tonight…or how many good luck charms were already nestled in the players’ insoles and jockstraps.

Finally when Monica had eaten her fill, Adam toweled her off roughly with the other gym sock and carried her upstairs. He tossed both carelessly into the dirty laundry drawer, which had served as her bedchamber for the past week. “By the way, I’m taking another couple grand out of the account. I need new shoes. They’ll be your new home soon after all.” He already had access to her banking as part of the caretaker agreement. But he liked to tell her anyway. He grinned and shut the drawer.

Then…darkness. Somehow Monica found this to be the hardest part of her day. At least when Adam was giving her orders she could simply obey, falling into a state of mindless servitude. Here she was alone with her thoughts, with hours to reflect on how far she had fallen. Adam’s scent was omnipresent, a fog of pheromones penetrating her mind and infiltrating her dreams. As she finally fades into a fitful sleep, she wonders how small she’ll be when she opens her eyes…