In her feverish dreams, she did, indeed, become smaller - smaller than a mouse, smaller than even the tiniest ant, completely lost and forgotten on the carpet in her own apartment; she waded through the endless, terrifying forest of coarse wool, and everywhere around her Adam's laugh boomed, sending tremors through the soles of her feet all the way up to making her hair stand up. As she kept wading through that forest, slipping past thick stalks of cotton and wading through trash and dust she'd never otherwise notice, his laugh seemed to be getting louder and louder, until it was like he was right there, screaming in her ear. She stopped in her tracks - and she realized that it wasn't, after all, a carpet, it was the tiniest spot on the insole of his running shoe, his promise coming true as he was about to put it on at any moment. And Monica screamed...

And then Monica woke up. She lifted her head, her heart racing; she realized, then, that the mass of odorous clothing that he tossed her into felt different from yesterday. Softer. Lighter. Less homogeneous... She probed around with her arms, sighed, then struggled against that pungent mass of fabric; she moved aside what seemed like his underwear, got her leg out of a thick, odorous gym sock that it happened to slip into last night; and then she crawled up, towards the very faint light that was making its way into the drawer.

Her head broke through the clothing - there was a sweatshirt there, on top, and she broke free right between the torso and the sleeve. She hungrily inhaled fresh air; it seemed to burn her lungs, as used as they were to Adam's manly musk. She looked around. Yes. Yes, she got bigger.

She didn't even know how to feel. She'd heard of cases like that before. This curse could spontaneously reverse, but it didn't guarantee that she'd go all the way back, no, not at all. Being bigger would be better - but she was nowhere big enough to actually regain her independence. She was, perhaps, a foot tall; maybe a few inches over. But she still wasn't even able to get herself out of here.

And, of course, Adam was still here. And she shuddered at the thought of him seeing her bigger. After all, he made it pretty clear that he wanted her smaller...

***

"You're so dumb. How did you make all this money? It's ridiculous".

He was stomping around her kitchen, making his morning coffee. Coffee was the only thing Adam made himself. For meals, he preferred to either go out or order in, once again at her generous expense. One of the many ways in which he indiscriminately spent her fortune. Her hard work, her blood and nerves, her ambition... it all manifested in money, and now he had all that money. And he took great pleasure in constantly reminding her of it.

As he coursed between the kitchen table and the counter with her coffee machine - at least one ridiculously overpriced thing that she had bought herself - she crawled after him on her belly, kissing the cold tiled floor everywhere his feet touched it. If she had any thought of fighting him off after her increase in height, it all vanished the moment he'd opened that drawer. "What the", he had said then, looking at her in disbelief. "Dang! You're bigger now."

Then he'd slammed the drawer shut, only to return fifteen minutes later, having showered and all that. "I bet you're so disappointed", he'd told her. "Here I promised you'd be cuddled up with my toes in my shoe, and now you're too big. Right?"

She had stayed silent, and he prompted her: "Say it, you wanted to get smaller, right?"

"I did", she had replied, her voice shaking.

"Maybe you didn't want it hard enough, then", he'd suggested. "Guess we'll have to train you a bit better, Mo".

And now he had her worshipping the floor that he walked on. Once his coffee was ready, he finally stopped pacing and rested against the table, his bare foot impatiently slapping the floor. In her devoted floor-kissing, she sheepishly slithered towards it - and, before she new it, the ball of his foot harshly landed on the back of her head and slammed it into the tile. Monica saw stars. The foot rested on her, pinning her down, forcing her to flail like a fish out of water.

Far above, Adam was sipping on coffee and browsing something on his phone.

His cool foot shuffled lightly on her head and upper body, relentlessly driving her down into the tile, with the masterful precision that he'd learned so well - not enough to damage her, but plenty to hurt and dominate. The foot lifted for a second; she rolled around on her back, and then his toes assaulted her face, one of them brutally making its way past her dry lips. She ran her tongue against his skin, feeling like... well, like a woman toe-fucked in the mouth on the floor of her own kitchen by a man several years her junior and much less successful by all metrics. Except... well, if he managed to get here, he deserved to be above her. Wasn't that what she'd always believed? That people got exactly what they deserved?

Smart, successful, preppy Monica got to be a tiny, degraded, subservient footbitch, and this jock got to rule over everything she used to own. Once again: even if she gets her old size back, will she really be able to break this predicament?

He yanked his foot away, then crouched next to her, showing her the screen of his phone. She had to squint. On the screen, there was an online retailer page; an article with a succinct description. She noticed leather straps, shiny metal, what looked like a harness... and a pricetag in five digits. She had to take a double take. Five? Five figures for something that will let him walk her around on all fours, on a leash, in fetish gear?

"This'll fit your new size. Will make showing you off that much better", Adam beamed at her. "I'll start taking you for walks. You'll be my on-the-go solution for muddy boots, Mo. My loyal little chihuahua. Do you like it?"

Her face went pale; she trembled at the sight of his grinning face and that phone screen. Her mind felt empty and blank. She swallowed, hard, feeling the inevitable headache coming in slow, steady waves. She nodded, hoping he'd just step away...

"Well, ask for it", he said. "Ask me to get it for you".

That meant, of course, another dip into her account. Her money. For this fiendish piece of BDSM gear, that he'll use to humiliate her publicly. If she has another growth of shrinking spurt, it won't even fit her anymore. Might be a one-time purchase. Something in her rebelled...

Adam reached towards her face with a finger, tapped on her lips, noted the slight bruising on the side of her head and chuckled.

"Come on, I know you want it", he said. "You want me to spend your money on this. You want to be my little doggy on a leash. Right, Mo? Just say it".

She closed her eyes. He'd never relent. What use is there in saying no?

"Yes", she said.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Master".

"No-no, yes what, Mo?"

"Yes. I want to wear it. I want... it. I want to be your dog!"

She could hear the fabric of his shorts stretching as he got hard.

"Not a dog", he noted. "Doggy. Little Monica is a doggy foot bitch. I still hope you'll get smaller, Mo, but god I am going to enjoy this so fucking much".

She suspected that she wouldn't.