For the next week or so, Beatrice kept Timothy at home. She had called Fizzy Pop herself and spoken with Clare, informing her that she was keeping her boyfriend at home for the present time due to health reasons. Clare had been expecting some kind of notification like this, so she wasn’t too surprised — she even took an extra minute or two to talk to Beatrice, to get to know her. She was more curious than anything about how a loser like Timothy could keep a girlfriend, especially one as assertive, intelligent, and on-the-ball as Beatrice seemed to be.
“So, have you taken him to a doctor?” asked Clare over the phone. “Timmy says he went but none of us really believed him. He’s not really good at lying.”
“Well, from the sounds of it he’s not much good at much else, either,” said Beatrice wryly, drawing a laugh from Clare.
“Wow, I’m sure he’s got his hands full with you, Beatrice,” she said. “What’s he…uh…what’s he like…in a relationship, if you don’t mind my asking.”
“What’s he like?” asked Beatrice. “Like a scared little puppy. Like a little child, really.”
“Oh!” said Clare, surprised by Beatrice’s immediate answer. “Oh, well…yeah, that’s not too surprising to hear, actually. He’s a straight up beta here at work, and it’s painfully obvious to the rest of us who work here, especially since all the higher-ups are women.”
“Oh that’s rich,” laughed Beatrice, thinking that she liked how this Clare person sounded. “But you know, Timmy gets off on it — he loves it when women make him feel small or stupid.”
“Well, then he must be having the time of his life,” said Clare. “How small did you say he was now?”
“He’s three feet tall and weighs 42 pounds,” said Beatrice. “He’s all skin and bones. It’s unbelievable.”
“God, it really is,” came Clare’s voice, almost in awe. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this, though, Beatrice.”
“Oh I love it,” said Beatrice straight-up. “I love that he’s getting smaller. His health is fine otherwise, even though he really is getting emaciated. All organ function is normal. He’s just…shrinking. And…well, I like being dominant, let’s just say that.”
“I can hear it,” said Clare, impressed by Beatrice’s forthrightness, “and, if I’m being honest, I think I’d get a real kick out of seeing the two of you together.”
“Well, it’s funny you say that,” said Beatrice, “because I’ve spent a fair amount of time imagining what it’s like when Timothy interacts with the women he works with — you know, all the ones who are above him because they’re smarter and have a better work ethic?”
“Yeah,” chuckled Clare.
“Yeah,” continued Beatrice, “I’d really enjoy watching those interactions. I love seeing him squirm, even as his face gets bright red because he’s turned on and can’t help it.”
“You’re really something, Beatrice,” said Clare, laughing some more. “Well, you know what — we can make this happen. I have good news — the new product I designed with my all-female team has really impressed the CEO of Fizzy Pop, so he’s giving me a big promotion.”
“That’s awesome to hear!” said Beatrice.
“Yes! And, to celebrate, I’m throwing a big party at my house next week. I want you to come, and bring Timmy. I have a few fun ideas that I really think you’d enjoy being a part of.”
Ten minutes later, Beatrice hung up the phone, smiling ear to ear. This was going to be one party to remember.
When she told Timothy about Clare’s party, he tried to act more excited than he actually was, even though he had to admit that the idea of Beatrice, Clare, Ashley, Patricia, and Katie all together definitely got him going. He was less excited, though, because he was worried that his shrinking would get out of hand…in fact, it already had. He was down to three feet, and he was so weak and scrawny that he was having trouble doing normal, everyday things that he had not even considered before.
For example, he was having trouble getting enough momentum to lug himself up to sit on the toilet seat. Beatrice had noticed and had brought in a step stool at the base of the toilet, not without having a laugh at his expense. He couldn’t reach the kitchen counters anymore — ordinarily, this wouldn’t have bothered Beatrice, but she was still insisting that Timothy make her dinner every night, so she had bleacher-like steps installed so that he could reach the countertops. His prepared meals didn’t get much better than that first night, but Timothy knew that Beatrice was only making him do it because she enjoyed dominating and subjugating him. She even had him wear an apron that she bought, that said “Never Trust a Skinny Chef.” She got a real kick out of watching him stumble around in the kitchen in this oversized apron, using the newly-installed steps just to reach the counter, and another step stool just to reach the ingredients in the refrigerator and pantry.
Of course, Beatrice bought all these things with Timothy’s money. She had effectively taken kocaeli escort over his finances by this point, which he found hot on one hand…but on the other hand, Beatrice was not showing any ability or willingness to control her spending, and he was actually worried that she was going to financially bleed him dry. She spent a good portion of the day lounging her big knockout body on Timothy’s sofa, surfing the web for fancy new clothes and shoes. She especially liked using Timothy’s money to buy a large variety of tall new heels for herself — each time she bought a new pair she taunted Timothy with the promise of rising above him even taller within the next day or two, as the heels were express-order delivered to the door.
Aside from cooking meals, Beatrice was making Timothy perform all manner of menial chores and tasks around the house. She had him sweep the floors, dust all the furniture, and polish the silverware. She had him rub her feet and give her back and neck massages, mocking the measly job his small hands could manage. All this time, Beatrice’s own finances were not sitting idle: she was pouring in money from a cam-model site where she spent most of her time verbally dominating her male fans. Her new partnership with the rapidly shrinking Timothy had seemed to inspire her to nourish and cultivate her dominant instincts, and they were paying off. Within a couple weeks, she had hundreds of new fans, many of whom were only too willing to give her large sums of money in exchange for her services. They got what they paid for — Beatrice was truly dominant, and a stunningly gorgeous one to boot, and so the money came cascading in from all sides. She barely had to lift a finger, and she was getting rich right there on Timothy’s sofa as she watched him putter about the house, doing this or that arbitrary chore she had thought up for him.
For his part, Timothy was feeling more and more like he was in some kind of limbo — on one hand, he just felt happy and thrilled…in awe of the fact that he was allowed to spend his days in Beatrice’s presence. She entranced him completely, and with each day that passed he grew more and more under her spell. Part of this was due to the fact that she was getting more and more beautiful, and tall, and elegant each day that passed, which Timothy could have hardly believed possible when he first met her. However, it was also due to the manner in which Beatrice was treating him. She wasn’t treating him like her boyfriend, her lover, or like an equal human being. Instead, more and more, she seemed to be treating him like her servant, like…and Timothy shuddered a bit at this word even though it exited him sexually…like…her slave.
And this was why he felt like he was in limbo, in some kind of go-between world. He didn’t know how he really felt about this whole “slave” thing. It definitely turned him on…there was no doubt about that. But having a dominant girlfriend who was actually determined to treat him like he was truly lower, like he was something less than human, had taken him by surprise. Yes, he had wished for this from Maia, but he was beginning to think that perhaps he had not truly realized what he was asking for. Being treated like a slave by someone like Beatrice who could effortlessly dominate him made him feel…well, like he was actually powerless, like he had no say over what happened in his life. For the first few days, he was able to play off this feeling as part of the sexual enjoyment he was experiencing, but as the days passed and Beatrice spent more and more of his money, and made him do more and more arbitrary chores around the house, he found himself wishing that he had a little more say in the things that happened in his life.
But this wasn’t possible — any attempt he had to assert himself or his own power was immediately, harshly, and inexorably put down by Beatrice. If Timothy hadn’t been so enamored by her size and her beauty, he would have realized what anyone from the outside could see: that she was a controlling, abusive partner who was using her significant other for her own fantasies of power and domination. Deep down, Timothy did actually know this, but he was so thrilled to have such a being as his girlfriend that he ignored all the warning signs that were going off in his head. He just had to adapt a little…that was all. He had asked for this and Maia had provided. His mind flashed nervously back to her raised eyebrows and the shifting colors of her beatific eyes, and her asking him if he was sure that he wanted to live with the consequences of having his fantasies come true. He had been so certain a couple of weeks ago, so certain…was he less certain now? He looked over at Beatrice, with her great lithe body stretched out on the sofa, her voluptuous thighs on full display, her thick hips and enormous ass making an obvious dent in the sofa cushions, as she thumbed through some fashion magazines, in search of some platform high heels.
He kolej escort felt an unassailable surge in his loins. No…this was definitely what he wanted. It was just that…just that…well, he kind of wished that Maia would show up sometime again so he could talk to her a little more. Her presence reassured him…and somewhere in the back of his brain, he wanted to get her comforting affirmation that he had not, in fact, made a mistake. But he didn’t have the power to summon her. He would just have to wait.
A week later, Timothy was sitting in the passenger seat of his own car, his legs completely straight out on the car seat — they were not even long enough to dangle off the end of the seat. To his left and rising above him imposingly was Beatrice, whose eyes were focused on the road as she drove. She looked absolutely ravishing — she was wearing a long dress of black velvet that had an opening running down a good portion of one side, giving the viewer an impressive and tantalizing view of her shapely and curvaceous thighs, which had grown even more appealing within the previous week. In fact, every bit of her had grown, although she had not shown that she was aware of this herself. She rose high in the driver’s seat, her head brushing the car ceiling, as her gigantic breasts sat heavily on her chest. Her ass had grown even more enormous, and it positively spilled over both sides of the car seat. Timothy looked at her hand gripping the steering wheel. Her nails were manicured and painted the same jet black as her dress, and were sharpened so that they looked like claws. Her large hand and long fingers looked so powerful and strong…he glanced up at her face, which had grown even more beautiful the previous week. Her dark eye shadow and black lipstick made her look almost otherworldly…like some dark angel from the underworld. She was the most stunning, the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
“Like what you see, huh?” came her slow cool voice, filling the car with its deep abundance. She glanced over at him sitting there in the passenger seat and snickered a little, the sound seeming to come out of her body almost involuntarily.
“Well, for someone who looks like you…I can’t really expect any other reaction, now, can I? I mean, how could someone like you not be overwhelmed by someone like me?” Timothy looked down at his own outfit and body. She was definitely right — the difference between them was staggering. He was wearing a pair of kakis that Beatrice had bought for him online — they had been meant for preschoolers, which she did not fail to mention to him as she made the purchase.
“Look at this, Timmy,” she had said, her eyes open in wonder. “It says here that the average height and weight for a kindergarten girl, a female kindergartener, Timmy, is 3 feet 8 inches and 46 pounds. You’re not only smaller than the average kindergarten girl, Timmy — she’d totally dwarf you!”
Back in the car, Timothy recalled this conversation as he felt himself get hard. It was certainly humiliating, this knowledge that he was now no smaller than a preschooler. His kakis went along with a tiny little golf shirt that Beatrice insisted he tuck in.
“We’re going to Clare’s party,” she had said to him as she dressed him, “and from what I hear it’s going to be quite fancy and luxurious. I don’t want you looking even more out of place than you already will, ok?”
“O-ok,” he had replied as she tucked his shirt in with her long fingers, playfully brushing his dick with her hand in the process.
Even though he was excited about the prospect of Clare’s party, Timothy would have been lying to himself if he had said that he wasn’t nervous. In fact, he was very nervous, and, as Beatrice drove them along as the sun set in the sky along the highway, he knew that he had every reason to feel this way. He hadn’t seen the girls at work for over a week now — how much bigger and more beautiful had they gotten in that time? He had no idea. They also hadn’t seen him after he had shrunk even more this past week. At 2 feet 10 inches, he was now looking up Beatrice’s thighs whenever she stood over him. Even her vagina had grown out of his reach. He anxiously wondered how much taller Ashley had gotten, and how much Katie’s huge ass and hips had grown, and how much bigger Patricia’s huge rack had become…to say nothing of Clare. He thought about his boss with an uneasy kind of disquiet, even as he relished the excitement of the party. What was she going to say when she saw how small and pathetic he had become? What were the other girls going to say? How would they act? How would they treat him? He got goosebumps as his agitation and excitement mixd together and grew in intensity.
It must have been obvious to Beatrice what was going on in his head, because in the midst of driving she glanced over at him and spoke.
“A little nervous, huh?” She chuckled as she looked back ahead at the darkening road. “I’d be konak escort nervous too if I were you. Apparently a lot of higher-ups from your company are gonna be there. Can you imagine their faces when they see you, Timmy?”
“I’m…I’m nervous, yes,” said Timothy in a small voice. “I hope…I hope they’re nice to me and not…uh…not too — “
“Not too what?” cut in Beatrice, her eyebrows raising as a naughty smile spread across her face. “Not too much like me?”
“N-no, no!” said Timothy, vehement in his attempts to fall into one of her traps. “No…I—I love how you treat me!”
“Haha oh my god you do!” laughed Beatrice, nodding her head in agreement. “Any person with an ounce of self-respect would bristle at half of the stuff I do and say to you, but you’re such a total sub that you love it — all of it!” She reached her free hand over and ran her hand roughly through his hair, petting him just like she would pet an animal. Timothy felt his dick get even harder as he responded to Beatrice’s touch. Even with a little nonchalant touch like this, she was showing her power over him; her hand and fingers felt so strong, like they could literally make him do whatever she wanted. Even with this almost superficial contact, he could tell that even the slightest movement of her fingers would have manipulated his entire head and neck.
“I just…I just don’t want them to feel…uh…too weirded out when they see me,” said Timothy after Beatrice had brought her hand away from him.
“Oh well you’d better just forget about that one,” said Beatrice. “Everyone’s going to gawk at you — and there’s nothing you can do about it, little one. And really, who can blame them? You’re a 28-year-old man who is the size of a 3 year-old. Can you expect people not to stare?”
“I—I guess not,” said Timothy, looking down at his hands. “It’s just…I, uh…it makes me feel kinda anxious…the idea of being the center of attention.”
“The center of attention?” said Beatrice derisively, laughing again. “Well don’t worry about that, Timmy. I’m sure people will stare and point at first, but I don’t think you have to worry too much about being the center of attention. That’s usually reserved for people who can actually hold people’s attention, you know. People who are interesting and who have engaging and provocative things to talk about. Or —” and here she smiled, “—people who are just hot.”
Timothy looked down at his hands again…he knew that he was neither of those things, and that she was implying, as she so often did, that she was. And it was impossible to argue with her — he knew she was right. He felt a tiny little movement in the pit of his stomach as he felt himself, ever so slightly, shrink again. Beatrice’s put-downs still packed an emotional punch, but they were becoming so frequent that Timothy was beginning to get used to them. And because he was becoming more and more accustomed to them, they didn’t make him shrink as much as they had initially.
“That is — ” Beatrice continued thoughtfully, clearly enjoying the build-up, “you won’t be the center of attention…unless some people have some things planned for you.”
“P-people? Plans? What plans?” he uttered, looking up sharply. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh did I say something out loud?” asked Beatrice in a mocking voice. “Sorry, I had meant to talk to myself.”
“B-but…but what…uh…what were you saying, about plans for me?” Timothy was really now starting to worry.
“Never mind, you tiny thing,” she said, that dark smile still on her face. “You’ll see soon enough.”
“B-but —” Timothy began in protest, his voice rising in pitch, but Beatrice cut him off.
“You’re not disobeying me, are you little one?” she asked, her voice suddenly sounding dangerous. “I told you never mind.”
Timothy obediently shut his mouth, bowing his head as Beatrice drove on. He didn’t know why, but suddenly he felt an urge to cry. He felt totally, utterly powerless. While he would have previously thought that he would enjoy this feeling, it was clear to him right now that he wasn’t enjoying it. He felt like he had absolutely no agency in his life…no power to do or say anything on his own. He felt like his personality, his humanity, was being slowly crushed out of him by his titanic girlfriend. It felt…tragic. He started to sniffle a little bit as he felt the tears beginning to gather at the corners of his eyes.
“Oh, are you scared, little thing? Are you afraid of the party?” Beatrice’s voice was tinged with mockery, and yet there was something in it that was comforting. Was she…was she taking pity on him? Timothy looked up hopefully, his vision blurred by his tears. He nodded his head.
“Aww my god,” said Beatrice quietly, almost to herself, “that’s so hot. Look at you, you pathetic little shell of a human, sitting there scared, in those ridiculous clothes…” Beatrice was getting excited, and Timothy sniffled louder, feeling that his brief hope of her empathy had been crushed. She didn’t care about him — she was just getting off on his fear. He suddenly felt a huge hand in his lap. She had reached over and was fondling him through his pants with her hand, which filled up his lap entirely.