Beccal was excited to use her homemade slime on her first client as a sex worker. She gathered it all in a brand new Tupperware container and then set about to get ready. She went to her one closet in her studio apartment - as soon as the door opened, a mountain of clothes spilled out.

“Ooof,” Beccal lamented and started searching through her assortment of clothes. Settling on a skintight latex mini-dress. She went to the shower to shave and get her skin shiny and clean. Then, after blow-drying her whole body dry - that was one of her little quirks. She used the blow dryer to dry off her body, not just her hair.

She kept her hair short, so as to be more manageable. Oiling her fair, freckled skin, and rubbing the same oil along her charcoal dark hair so it would slick back enough for her to put on her hair net. She then pinned one of her favorite wigs atop it. Applying light gloss, and heavy eyeliner, a dusting of blush over her cheekbones, and a bit on her nose to help hide her freckles. She then slipped on the latex mini-dress. It came down to about her mid-thigh on her 6’5” tall body.

“It will be so nice to have a pussy and not have to tuck anymore!” She sighed as she looked at her body profile in the full-body mirror. Then touching up her gloss again, she left to put on her shoes, 4-inch pleaser heels, open toe, and toenails still painted from her pedicure yesterday. The long dark hair of her wig swished her shoulders as she click-clacked around the studio apartment to grab her purse and slip the Tupperware of homemade slime into it. Grabbing her keys and waving goodbye to her snoozing cat that was lounging on the counter, she left to meet her client.

_

Owen, aka TrampleMeMommy56, had arranged to have the meetup in a condemned building, abandoned by the city for twenty years. He’d been squatting there for a little over a decade on and off, while he and his now official ex-wife got into their heated fights. He had made this shambling shack into a home. It was once something like an office building for menial workers. There were scraps of torn-down/worn-out cubicle siding stashed in various corners. The tile floor had seen better days; it was regularly swept, but it needed a heavy mopping.

As agreed, he’s brought the tarp and towels. And he was laying them out, waiting anxiously for Miss B or simply Mistress to arrive. He’d been chatting with her online for a few weeks at the very least - maybe months, he couldn't keep track. And his small dick was already hard in his cargo pants as he paced and waited, checking his pocket watch and glancing at his phone.

Finally, he received a text from her.

“I’m on my way. You better be ready for me, you saucy boy!”

He squeaked and gave a little bounce, “Yes, Mistress, very ready, the door should be open. I’m eager and waiting for you.”

She replied with a kiss emoji and a heel emoji. “Get naked on that tarp for me, kneeling and eyes downcast. I wore my special heels just for you.”

He immediately obeyed by stripping his clothes off and folding them to sit on the dry but clean ..ish tile floor on the outside of the tarp, with his phone set atop them. His skin exploded with gooseflesh as he heard the door open moments later and the sound of her click-clack footsteps approaching. She turned down various halls trying to find him. So the volume of her footsteps got farther, then closer, until she was standing right in front of him. The crinkle of the tarp under her heels made him inhale a sharp breath.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? This tiny little thing, kneeling at my feet.” She greeted and ran the top of her heel along the top of his thigh. He inhaled another sharp breath.

“Do you have my money? First things first…”

“My pants pocket, right back pocket, my wallet. It’s all there, I assure you.” He said in a shaky voice. His erection was valiantly trying to poke its drooling head from the abundant nest of pubic hair in his lap as he knelt with his hands behind his back.

She went over to pick up the clothes, take out the wallet, then the cash and thumbed through it to count it all - four hundred and fifty dollars, in crisp small bills like he’d gotten it straight from the bank.

Beccal shoved the cash in the side pocket of her purse full of slime. She then took the Tupperware of slime out, and started to circle walk around him. The click-clack of her heels hypnotic as she circled and circled and circled. With each step, Owen felt his mind drop into a kind of trance.

“Good, as you fall deeper, you’ll become smaller, and smaller, until you’re just a little micro, lost in an abandoned place, echoey and terrifying,” Beccal’s voice said in her best Tist voice.

Click-Clack

Click-Clack

Click-Clack

Owen’s head hung loosely like a rag doll, his neck floppy, his breath slow and deep.

“Good. That’s right.”

Click-Clack

Click-Clack

Click-Clack

Several more minutes of walking, and Beccal took the lid off the Tupperware of slime and ran her fingers through the gooey substance before she started throwing gobs of it at him like spackle, just the sounds of the slime going splat against skin or the slick, heavy tarp he sat on. Made Beccal’s girlcock twitch in interest. He exhaled softly with each direct hit. He could feel the ooze of the goo heavy in globs on his hair, and sliding against his scalp and then down his neck and his arms, his back, some landed on his leg. The direct hit of the slime on his small cock summoned a high-pitched gasp from him.

“Please,” he whimpered.

“Such a small noise, what was that?” Beccal taunted. Owen whimpered his plea again, and before the plea could fully escape his lips, she threw a splat of slime onto his upturned face, his open mouth, the ooze of it smeared across his face, sprawled across his cheek, and got tangled into his scraggly beard. He smacked his lips, feeling the texture against his lips, and the gritty custard taste of it on his tongue. His hand reached to start rubbing his small cock - the custard as lube. The faster he jerked, the more it matted into the nest of hair in his crotch.

Beccal click-clacked in circles more as she watched him, her hand reached to adjust her own girlcock as she watched him, in the shared fantasy that she was a giantess and he was a micro human. She enjoyed the fantasy of being a giantess flinging slime all over the pathetic humans. In her mind, the slime she made was an aphrodisiac as soon as it touched the skin of the humans - it made them so insanely horny that they couldn’t help but touch themselves.

She heard his breath hitch, and she click-clacked a few steps over to him and pressed the tip of her heel atop his hand. His stroking paused. She twitched her foot to shoe his hand away. His hand moved and he leaned back on both hands, offering his front to her. She drizzled the slime across his chest, like she was dressing and decorating a cake. He sighed as it drooled across one nipple and into his navel.

After a moment, she couldn’t help herself, she hiked her dress up, and took her girl cock out - long, and hard. She reached forward to grab his hair and rubbed his face against her shaft. He took in a big whiff and moaned.

“You like the way my slime tastes?” She asked.

“Yes, I do, I really do.” He answered in a floaty voice, and he kissed the shaft. She pulled on his hair and angled his head back. “Keep that mouth open,” she said. And then tipped the Tupperware into his mouth. “Do not swallow it. You’re going to lubricate my giantess cock and suck me til I cum a load into the slime, only then you can swallow it, is that understood?”

“Mmph...” He muffled and nodded. She inhaled a sharp breath.

“Good," she whimpered, and shivered at how needy and horny her own voice sounded as she ran the glistening head of her girlcock around his lips - glossing his lips with pre-cum.

“Open," she whispered.

He opened his mouth slowly, the slime ran down the corners of his mouth, as she inched herself in and started using his mouth, fucking the slime into his gums, against his tongue, and into his teeth like a fellatio toothbrushing. Beccal hissed in pleasure as she rubbed her shaft in and out of his mouth, coating it with slime and rubbing against the tops of his molars - the few he had left. He drooled more slime down his body to pool down into his lap. He whimpered around her cock as she started to thrust faster.

“Yes, stroke yourself so you cum with me,” she wheezed, dumping the rest of the slime atop his head and using her hands to massage it into his head, as her hips just kept pumping into his mouth. She could hear the sloshing sounds of his own stroking- the sound, that wet and messy sound, was turning her on more and more until she slammed her hips into his mouth and came, hard, holding his head to her body, shooting viscous girlcock jizz against the back of his throat.

She heard him making gagging noises, and smiled, as she twitched - cumming again, she hissed and bucked into his mouth again - raising a leg to rest her heel on his shoulder, framing his face with her bent leg. “

Ahh… swallow it all. Human, swallow my giantess cum, swallow my slime!" She whispered between hisses of pleasure, feeling his wild tongue thrashing against her skin.

Slowly, she pulled out and saw how covered and sticky he was with the custard-y slime. She smiled.

“Ready to grow back to your normal size?”

“Give me a few minutes …. Please … I don’t want to grow yet. I want to just … bask in this for a few more moments,” his floaty voice answered.

Beccal nodded and tucked her girlcock away, and straightened her outfit, “Right, well, when you are ready for the trample trance - let me know.”

She went over to put the now-empty Tupperware back in her purse. The sound of her click-clack heels gave Owen shivers. As soon as she wrestled the tub back into the purse. She turned around and saw him nod. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Lay down in the slime of the Giantess, feel the ruins of mushy buildings all around you…” she said in a sultry voice, watching as Owen obeyed, slowly lying on his side on the tarp. And Beccal walked onto the tarp. And slipped one foot out of the heel and then the other and started to step and walk, trampling all over his body in her bare giantess feet. “With each step of my foot on your body, you feel your body - your limbs grow and stretch bigger … and bigger … and bigger..” she said as she walked and paced across his body, hearing his spine crack a few times he tapped once - as was their signal that he was fine and she could keep going - but if he tapped twice, that meant stop.

“Do you feel your body growing bigger, the debris around you getting smaller and smaller?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good, keep growing for me… growing big and strong …”

She walked across him a few more times before she started to slow down and just massage her feet on certain areas of his body that they’d discussed that he liked. “When I count down from five, you’ll be wide awake, you’ll feel refreshed, satisfied, and happy.”

“Refreshed. Satisfied and Happy,” he repeated.

“That’s right..”

“Five.”

She massaged her feet along his legs, his thighs, his crotch.

“Four.”

She ran her toes over his spinal column, and ground the palm of her foot onto the crown of his head.

“Three.”

Her other foot pushed him over until he was on his back and ran toes over his nipples and his belly.

“Two.”

She wiped her feet on his arms, then lightly kicked each side of his face.

“One.”

His eyes opened and he smiled slowly. “That was wonderful.”

“Yes. Do you want help cleaning up the tarp?”

“No, thank you. I will pack that mess. I have a special way that I do it. Privately. I’m safe, you’ve been paid, you can leave now.”

“Right. Well, you know where to find me, if you want another session.”

“If I can afford you again, I definitely will contact you. Goodbye. Mistress”

Beccal gathered her things, her money, and gave one last look at Owen before she made her way out of the abandoned building. By the time she got back outside, it was night and completely dark under the new moon. She got in her car and made her way home, knowing she had to feed her cat before she clawed up the walls in protest.

___

Once home, she stripped off the latex and got in the shower. Afterward, slipping into her nightdress, she climbed into bed and reached for the bag of cash she’d scored for the night. Grinning, she started thumbing through it. And her mind was already planning how much she was going to save and how much to spend, and when she could take on a new client to get paid more. She definitely had to buy more custard, that’s for sure.

The next day, she slipped on some jeans and a loose, flowy top and made her way to the grocery store to pick up some more custard and a few fashion magazines to look at. She liked them better than adult magazines to fap off to. She was at the register, snagging a pack of gum for the clerk to ring up last minute, who gave her an annoyed, tired glance before ringing it up. And pressing the button for the total, “56.19 is your total, Ma’am.”

Beccal beamed at being called ma’am and took out three twenties to pay for it. The grocery clerk scanned the twenties and then looked up at her from over his dark-rimmed glasses. “We can’t accept this; these bills are counterfeit,” he said in a tired Zoomer drawl.

“What?! They can’t be!” Beccal protested.

“My scanner says they are counterfeit. Do you have another method of payment?”

Scoffing, Beccal felt her throat burn with acid reflux and her heart started to flutter in panic. “No, here, try these bills instead.” She said, taking out another three twenties. The clerk sighed, setting aside the already scanned bills to scan the new ones. “Nope, these are counterfeit, too.”

“What?!”

There was a slow, sadistic smile forming on the clerk’s lips, “Someone scammed you good, lady,” he said.

Beccal sighed sadly, “You have no idea. I guess I’m a real April’s Fool.”

“So do you have a card or something to pay for all this or ??”

Beccal looked at the items on the counter and the line forming behind her. She shrugged. “Just keep it. Keep those bills too, souvenirs, in case the guy who scammed me comes in here trying to buy some custard too.”

“I’m legally obligated to report all phony bills to the police, don’t worry about that. Have a good day, ma’am. Happy April Fool’s Day!" The clerk called out to her as she walked away back out to the car, with no custard, no gum and no fashion magazines. Once she got back to her car, she sighed.

Covering her face in her hands, she growled at her own stupidity. Then gasped and glared down at her rising boner, trying to tent her jeans. “Seriously? You find that hot? What the fuck is wrong with you?” She sassed to her own body. Then ran her hand over the bulge and moaned. “I got used… is that what this is about? Yeah … I think it is,” she groaned.

Putting the key in the ignition and driving off back home, she rubbed her boner through her jeans, wondering just how she could use the rest of the funny money to pick up her next client. She clearly had a new fetish forming - and she wanted to explore it - explore every nook and cranny of it.