For Richer, For Smaller (Chapter 30)

“That’s very helpful, ma’am, and your account of events does align with everything we’ve heard from your employees. Except for that alleged domestic incident,” the male cop replied.

“You see, even in light of the company’s success, there are those who have… questioned… whether your husband’s choices to step down as CEO, and to shrink in the first place, were made of his own free will,” the other officer added. “Maybe you can clarify for us. Why would your husband choose this for himself, to become so small, and give up so much?”

“Oh, that’s very simple,” Lillian responded. “My feet.”

“Your… feet, ma’am?”

“Yes. My feet,” she repeated, serene as ever. “You see, my dear Tony has always had a weakness for beautiful feet, and even more so when he’s being walked on. Stood upon. Trampled. Squashed. The contact, the pressure, the sensations, the surrendering of control. Everything. It goes beyond any fetish or fantasy for him. It’s… an obsession. It’s his greatest joy in life. I’ve certainly got the receipts and bank records to prove the exact dollar amount of his love for having my feet all over him, not to mention thousands of texts, emails, phone records, home security footage, and even private videos to prove it with written and visual aids too. Tony is an incurable foot-man, and I love him for it. But that’s only scratching the surface. For most of his life, he’s wished to be… smaller. Not just by a few inches, but tinier than anyone on Earth or in all of history, and all so that experience he craves so much… to be under feet, practically smothering, taking on all that weight and having the time of his life… would become more intense than ever. That part I can definitely prove with some very extensive internet search histories, plus his personal hard drive full of prime examples of his deepest desires. None of which would’ve been impossible to replicate, until now. For Tony, no other role in his life, whether as a husband, or a businessman, or even as a man at all, was ever as important as his need to shrink, and put himself below my feet. Where he belongs.”

Somehow the truth was just about the last thing Tony expected his wife to speak in this moment, even though she’d been almost-entirely honest with the officers so far, except for some creative liberties regarding his willingness to hand over his whole company and personal freedom to her. But at least when it came to her feet, Lillian knew better than anyone in the world – more so even than her shrunken squish-pet sin-eater of a husband – just how deep his loving madness for them went, and she’d just put it perfectly into words for the investigators. His ego wouldn’t have allowed Tony to admit any time before now that it was indeed his own passionately bedeviled mania for being trampled below her feet, not any deceit or cunning or marital betrayal on her part, which had led him down an unusual primrose path to total sole-smothered ruin. However, the giantess had finally crumpled him down to enough of a hair-narrow nub of the person he once was that there was no longer a way for the shrinker to place blame anywhere else but upon himself. Lillian wasn’t some kind of genius mastermind or corporate assassin who’d engineered her provider’s downfall, and to continue directing all his loathing toward her in that way was to give the woman far too much credit.

Rather, Tony comprehended at long last that it was all his own doing. Everything. Humble, broken, and impossibly at-peace with this revelation at the whirling hurricane center of all the crushing suffocating body-morphing undersole misery his miniature existence had exclusively become, the six-incher understood at last. He had chosen his own destroyer. From that first moment in his youth when he’d taken notice of beautiful bare feminine feet, watched them pattering and thumping and arch-bending so elegantly yet unmercifully in their haste across the floor, until he began to surreally wish he himself was laid down there as subjugated cushioning between them and the ground, Tony had set himself on-target for this exact fate, here and now. A man with his relentless drive, sexual necessity, and razor-sharp professional know-how couldn’t help but make the impossible become possible. In the strangest of ways, finally accepting his own responsibility for both the triumphant and humiliating milestones of his foot-enamored life allowed Tony to come to peace.

But of course, his calm inside the storm beneath Lillian’s hot-and-heavy sole still didn’t change the little creature’s seething requirement to see his wife taken down hard by these cops. It was her turn to taste defeat. Yes, Tony might have reached the semi-enlightened end state of his own weighty foot-stickered destiny and acquiesced to his personal onus when it came to his permanent shrinkage and imprisonment in an ever-shifting purgatory of heel-to-ball in-shoe torture. Yet that still didn’t make the blonde bitch any less of a selfish delusional leeching sugar-baby who had long-since run out of usefulness in her spouse’s journey. Once this absurdity was corrected, Tony would be reinstated as CEO and rather-quickly afterward buy himself an entire harem of sultry-soled twenty-something goddesses who would actually treat him the way he wished, while Lillian would be hauled away to a life of anonymity in some dull minimum-to-medium-security pen, because she literally wasn’t worth the trouble of hiring lawyers good enough to give her the chair. And the only real tragedy of it would be the probable calluses and athlete’s foot her once-glorious peds would gradually suffer while deprived of near-daily spa treatments in her filthy cell. But her six-inch ex-husband would soon forget about her, and her feet as well, after he’d ultimately reclaimed that balance of bountiful riches, absolute career authority, and continuously-orgasmic well-calibrated trampling bliss he’d yearned for all along. This conclusion was so close now that he could almost reach out and grab it, if his entire body wasn’t so utterly immobilized and deathly pressurized below Lillian’s gorgeous but unworthy giant foot.

“Right. Thank you… again, ma’am, for your honesty,” the female cop replied after an uncomfortable throat-clearing silence, following their interviewee’s divulgence of all the couple’s fetishistic dirty laundry. “This… information… does line up with claims made by other parties we’ve spoken to.”

“You mentioned you could back up this story with proof?” her partner added. “I’ll remind you again, you’re under no obligation at this time to provide us with those materials. But, if you were able to help us make sense of all these accounts today, any… questions… about the situation with you and your husband would likely go away much faster. So, is it at all possible you could-”

“It would be my pleasure!” Lillian boldly interrupted.