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To the Victor Go the Spoils (Chapter 1)
🕑 Added 2025-03-26 13:00:05 +0000 UTC“Well, good morning, loves,” Charlotte murmured as she lifted the lid of the box, allowing in light for its inch-high occupants for the first time in twelve hours, as well as gifting them another heart-stopping visage of the brunette’s billboard-scale countenance. The Brit’s eyes sparkled with delight as she looked over the little things, an ear-to-ear grin spreading on her lips. This would never get old. “Did you miss me? Hope you all had some interesting dreams. I certainly did. And lucky for me, now I get to make them come true.”
Immediately a flurry of insect-like voices arose, a few complaining, but most crying and begging for mercy, and all of them obscenely American. Furrowing her brow, Charlotte shook her head, then palm-struck the side of the box with the kind of force that would’ve squelched any of the shrunken humans into a stain if they were unfortunate enough to be standing in the way. The blow immediately quieted all her naysayers, who were flung with seismic force along the base and piled atop one another against the opposing wall, groaning and bursting into tears.
“There, that’s much better, isn’t it?” Charlotte asked, as she set the box down on her bedside table. As she casually spoke to her traumatized victims, she selected a pair of long silken-black stockings from the dresser. “Sorry, you’re all great fun to play with, but we really have got to work on curbing you of all that whingeing. Face it. You were taken. And thank goodness, too, because… and I’m not sure those inflated American egos could have handled hearing this before… but you really were getting to be an embarrassment to the rest of the world. Yes, the United Kingdom did take over everything else as well, but if you ask me, your lot were the best catch. And I think this sort of state suits you all much better. It definitely suits me.”
Taking a seat on the bed, then Charlotte proceeded to pry open the lacy mouth of one dark stocking, letting its shiny length hang between her parted thighs. Then, reaching into the box, she gently gathered a handful of four squirming shrinkers, and sprinkled them one by one into the nylon tube, careful not to let any spill over the edge and reach the floor. She giggled at their descending screams, followed by the light plop of their bodies wearily landing in the shadowy toe section.
“You must know the routine by now,” Charlotte teased while stretching the opening to make way for her creamy-soft bare foot. Her pale sole flexed and toes wiggled in anticipation, much to the dread of the tinies inside her garment looking up toward the distant escape hatch, and the comparatively-gargantuan slab of arch-slope they would soon unite underneath. “I doubt you’ll follow it, though. But, one can still hope.”
With that, the twenty-year-old self-made goddess plunged her foot into the stocking, the seductive netting hugging the contours of her leg, and suddenly she experienced that all-too-wonderful feeling of those tiny bodies getting pinned spread-eagle beneath the plush heft of her toes. It was so hilariously simple to render them utterly powerless, that Charlotte couldn’t help but indulge at least once a day since receiving her box of toys. At first, all four were caught wrestling her wriggly digits-shafts, getting easily overwhelmed by the dewy bulbed pads of her toes and having their limbs caught in the ticklish crevices. Of course their struggles only made Charlotte tug the stocking up her thighs yet harder, increasing the pressure at the one-inchers’ backs beneath her dancing toes.
“Oh, God… how did I ever get on in the mornings before you all came around?” the giantess purred. She closed her eyes and exhaled, as her skin prickled with goose bumps, probably to a degree that her pets could feel it against the underside toe texture nonlethally mashing them into submission. For further self-soothing, she reached into the box and gathered up another three wormy slaves, which she began dominating with the simplest rippling curls of her fingers, ensuring none had a prayer of climbing out of her fist while serving as makeshift humanoid-shaped stress balls. “You know, I admit there were a few times I wondered if maybe it was slight overkill for us to conquer and shrink everyone else outside the UK, but was I ever wrong to have thought that. I really do pity anyone too boring to try this out for themselves, because it’s absolutely wonderful.”
Once she’d thoroughly chastened the little creatures imprisoned within the silky-snug netting of her stocking, Charlotte scrunched her toes down and yanked on the nylon under her heel, causing the four terrified Americans to roll beneath her entire foot. Here, the games became even less fun for the men and women now near-smothered into the tepid cushy wrinkles of her sole. By the sounds of their squeals and indecipherable pleading, she guessed they were already sustaining a few bruises, likely getting the wind knocked out of their lungs as they were battered by her ever-shifting arch while also having nothing to inhale but the scent of eucalyptus lotion and night sweat, though Charlotte was careful not to crush them or even snap their bones. After all, what use would they be to her then?
Naturally, though, Charlotte constantly hovered at the edge of this rather-charitable mindset. It felt so amazing to have the puny critters flattened beneath her sole as she pushed her foot into the ground with just enough compression to keep them in place without popping, and it was often tempting to go just a bit further, to feel them shriek once more, then give way in a deadly sandwich between her merrily-bobbing toes and the sultry nylon fibers. Though she’d given in a few times before, Charlotte knew it would be wasteful to dispose of her toys too quickly, and so had reached contentment with merely injuring them, humiliating them, and thunderously laughing in the face of their hopeful wheedling.
Luckily, however, she sometimes had a very good reason to shorten the roster.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Charlotte snapped in a cold-blooded tone. Opening her eyes, she reached with lightning-quickness and caught a crafty little man who’d somehow managed to clamber over the top of the still-open box. Pinching him between the tips of her fingers, the posh brunette giantess held him up to her face, her expression having lost all signs of deceptive kindness, and gone for a killer’s glare. “Just what do you think you’re doing, you little shit?”
“Argghhh… y-you… can’t do this to us!” the guy squeaked, grunting from the near-mortal pressure of Charlotte’s tree-trunk fingers. “We are… the U-S-of-A! We… beat you once… in 1781… and we’ll do it again! You… oof… aren’t gonna win!”
“Oh, a fan of ancient history, are you?” the girl chuckled, giving the toys still in her garment a good sole-grinding twist against the stocking grain which made them collectively sob. “Well, here’s another more-recent piece of history you might want to consider: we aren’t going to win, because we have already won. And as for you, well, I’d have been kind enough to keep you for my amusement like the others if you proved willing to adapt to the new world order. But, you haven’t, and so I think we’ll have to place you in solitary confinement instead. To the victors go the spoils, after all.”
Snickering over the idiotic American’s further whining, Charlotte closed her eyes and spread her jaws wide, tipping her head back and giving him a view into the saliva-glistening void of her mouth which instantly silenced him again. Her tongue rose, a pink serpent streaked with fluid and taste buds, and licked the inch-tall man’s entire body with slimy roughness that almost knocked him out. The giantess wanted him alive for the trip downward, however, and savored his final yelps before tossing him like a popcorn kernel into her maw, swishing him for a moment between cheeks and clacking her teeth together with threatening malice, before finally gulping him down her ribbed gullet on a bedding of bubbly drool.
“Now that’s how I like to start off the morning!” Charlotte muttered to herself with a smile, a hand daintily placed over her throat. “Would anyone ELSE like to try my patience?”
