Evan sunk to his knees as he looked out across the hell-scape in front of him, as far as the eye could see in every direction. Humans at the non-existent mercy of red-skinned demons, inflicting the most dire tortures they could imagine. Flailing limbs broke the surface of boiling black tar, pushed back under by barbed tridents. People hanged by the neck from trees were flayed, the peels of skin shoved back into gaping mouths that gasped for air. One giant demon had a sinner in its hands, slowly eating them alive as their body regenerated anything that was swallowed.

He was within the safety of a glass elevator, plummeting toward the ground.

If it’s that bad up here, what awaits me below? he thought. Why am I even here? I was a good person! This must be some kind of mistake…

Everything went black as the elevator went underground.

Minutes later, it stopped.

DING!

The doors slid open. Ahead was an immaculate, endless corridor with countless sets of parallel doors on either side. Each door had a little gold plaque.

“You have arrived at basement level 672. Please, exit the elevator,” an automated voice said.

A demoness wearing a suit stepped into sight, holding a clipboard. Aside from the red skin and horns, she wouldn’t look out of place in an office.

“I’d hurry, if I were you. The next stop for that elevator is the place we demons get sent when we screw up,” she said. “If you thought Hell was bad for humans, down there would really show you how lucky you all are.”

Wordlessly, Evan stood and stumbled out of the elevator. The doors slid shut behind him.

“Wh-why?” he asked.

“Why what?”

“Why am I here? In… in…”

“In Hell? That should be easy enough to find out! Evan Smith, right?”

He nodded.

The demoness pointed to a list titled ‘NEW ARRIVALS’ with her pen and started moving down, murmuring Evan’s name over and over.

“Ah, here we are. Several hundreds of counts of wearing cotton and polyester socks. That’s a big no no, I’m afraid.”

“That’s it? That’s why I’m in Hell? Surely this is a joke.”

“Nope. No joke.” She cleared her throat. “Leviticus 19:19 reads, ‘You are to keep My statutes. You shall not breed together two kinds of your cattle; you shall not sow your field with two kinds of seed, nor wear a garment upon you of two kinds of material mixed together.’”

Evan’s jaw dropped. Eternal damnation for that?

“That’s insane.”

“Tell me about it! There’s so many outdated rules in that old book.”

“Is there someone I can talk to about this?”

The demoness sighed. “I’ll call my manager down, you can have a word with him. Fair warning, the last sinner to complain to him about an anarchic bible passage had the words carved into her skin with a white-hot needle, one hundred thousand times. Whenever they ran out of space they gave her a sandpaper scrub down and started over.”

“Wait! There’s n-no need for that. I retract my complaint.”

“Smart move.”

Evan glanced at the ceiling, then down the corridor.

“What is this place? I was expecting Hell to be what I saw on the way down. But then there’s this place which just seems odd.”

“Everyone says that. A few hundred years ago, Big S down in the Ninth Circle decided that all the gore and fire was getting pretty stale. All the sinners already here remained in Old Hell, which is what you saw from the elevator. This is New Hell. We have a department of demons that create personal hells for each and every occupant and place them behind those doors.”

“Personal hells? And there’s one made specifically for me?”

“That’s right! You catch on quick,” the demoness said, smiling.

“What’s mine?”

“That’s a secret. I wouldn’t want to spoil it! Now, if you wouldn’t mind, please follow me. There’s apparently been a plane crash back on Earth, and we’re expecting a lot of fresh sinners. If possible, I’d like to grab some lunch before they arrive. Chop chop!”

After a moments hesitation, Evan followed her. She set a steady pace, her high heels clacking with every step.

“These doors, there’s so many of them,” he said, reading names on the plaques.

“Millions on this floor alone. The original plan was to keep all personal hells on basement level 666, for thematic reasons, but it became clear that having them all on the same floor was impractical. The journey there became a form of torture in itself. So we expanded. Regardless, we’ll be walking for a while, and I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

“I can see why you’d consider this a torture. We’ve only just set off and already I’m bored.”

The demoness giggled. “Relax. I happen to be considered one of the most fun demons around, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if you died—again—of boredom before we reach your door. Fortunately, I’ve picked up a book from the library. I’ll read it out whilst we walk.”

She showed him the book before opening it. ‘Tales of the Tiny 3: Sins of the Sons’ was written on the front cover. The art was of a man, cowering, surrounded by several giant bare feet.

“It’s a fun series, an anthology,” she said. “The first one was the most popular by far. Sadly the author got fed up during the second volume, after he was unhappy with how one of the stories turned out. Other works of his often go unfinished, which is incredibly annoying, and everyone thought he was gone for good. Then he released this, which was a nice surprise.”

“Sounds like you’re quite the fan.”

“Yep! Okay, no more talking now. I might let you ask questions between stories.”

The demoness opened the book, flipping through the first few pages.

“Here’s ‘Three Wishes’…”

“Here goes nothing.”

Paul rubbed the magic lamp. At least, that’s what the suspicious store owner said it was. A golden oil lamp, the kind that supposedly held genies capable of granting wishes. Paul didn’t believe the object was real, but it had been pretty cheap. Too cheap to turn down a potentially life changing possibility.

For a few moments, he thought he’d been scammed. Then, pink smoke emerged from the spout.

A pink cloud formed in his bedroom, then floated over to his bed. It took the shape of a young woman dressed in colourful, Arabic-style silks. Despite the exposing attire, his eyes were drawn to her jewellery-laden bare feet.

“First master in decades and he turns out to be a foot fetishist. Typical,” she said with an exotic accent.

Paul blushed. “I do not h—” He realised he was shouting and lowered his voice, scared that his mom might overhear. “I do not have a foot fetish.”

“Sureeeee you don’t.”

She lifted a foot and extended it toward him, toes wiggling seductively. He couldn’t look away. It took every nerve not to rush forward and kiss it. Her laughter broke him from the trance.

“Aren’t you a genie? Why are you so judgemental?”

“It’s funny.” She shrugged, then checked her fingernails. “I suppose I should tell you the rules.”

“Three wishes. No wishing for extra wishes.”

“Hey, check you out, foot-boy. Saves me wasting my breath. There’s another one. See if you can guess.”

“Umm…”

“I can’t appear when there’s other people around. That means no wishes unless you’re alone.”

“Does that mean other people can see you?”

“Yeah. We gotta be stealthy to avoid our masters getting awkward questions. I’ve changed my size before to get around this rule. Once I made myself teeny tiny and hid in a pocket.”

“Ch-change size?”

The genie looked at him with a glint in her eyes and smirked. “Oh. Not just a foot fetishist. You like big feet, right? And when I say big, I mean big.”

Paul looked away, blushing harder. “Why does it matter to you what gets me off?”

“Like I said, it’s funny. Any idea what your first wish might be?”

He gulped and pursed his lips. That’s a tough one, he thought.

“It could be anything,” she said with a smile. “Maybe something foot related? You could worship the feet of anyone on the planet.”

“Shut up!” he said. Then, a moment later, “Did you say anyone?”

“Anyone, Paul.”

“I didn’t tell you my name.”

“Didn’t need to.”

“What do I call you?”

“Genie is fine. I don’t care. Hurry up and make some wishes.”

Paul pictured all the feet he’d ever lusted over. Crushes he’d never had a shot with. Celebrities with sexy feet. Hell, even the countless girls he’d seen today walking around in flip-flops. Then a strange mental image formed. Him, tiny at the feet of any of those women.

“I think I’ve made up my mind.”

“Oh? Let’s here it.”

“Well, listen, I have a lot. This might be more like two wishes. I-I want—” He found the words difficult and paused, then exhaled. “I want to be tiny. Like an inch in height or something. And I want to be forced to serve the feet of a beautiful woman.”

“Tiny? Forced? I take back what I said about you being typical. You’re a super perv!” Genie threw her head back and laughed.

“Sh-shut up!”

“Look at you, all red and angry. So cute. Is there anything else regarding your fetish I should know. Do you like it when feet are sweaty or dirty?”

Paul kept his eyes low. “Yeah.”

“Okay, I’m getting a good idea of how this will go. It’s two wishes. The tiny one is easy enough. I’ll make you small and practically invincible. Don’t want you to get stomped to death and miss out on all the fun. You’ll be able to live on foot sweat and whatever gunk forms underfoot or in shoes, too. Let’s throw in what I like to call presence. You won’t be able to—or need to—fall unconscious. That way, you’ll never miss a second of feet.”

“When you say it like that, it’s kinda intimidating.”

She waved dismissively. “Everyone feels that way. Don’t worry. The rest I can cram into one wish too, leaving you with one more after. ‘Forced’ is the hard part, but I have a good idea.”

Genie’s wink and giggling made Paul nervous.

“I’m not so sure about this…”

“Don’t be such a baby. This is the chance to live out such impossible fantasies. Besides, with the final wish, you can make any alterations, or end it completely.”

She’s right! I’d still have a wish left.

“Okay.” He looked her in the eyes and nodded. “Let’s do this. I wish—”

“I already know. Let’s do this!”

Genie lifted a hand and snapped her fingers.

* * *

Paul struggled to stand. He’d woken up on a moist, soft floor. The air was humid and heavy. The worst part was the smell. It’s so cheesy! This is unbearable. It reminds me of… of…

Feet.

Two massive walls were on either side. One was sloped and curvy, leading to the entrance. The other was straight and in rough shape. It looked tattered and discoloured, felt slimy to the touch. Applying pressure caused a putrid liquid to seep out.

I’m in a shoe. A giant fucking shoe, tipped on its side.

He started hyperventilating, taking in more and more of the foul smelling ‘air’.

“Man, it’s gross in here. I can’t believe you’d wish for this. Weirdo.”

Genie’s sudden voice startled him. He looked up to see her floating, a conjured peg pinching her nostrils shut.

“Genie? You’re still here. A-and you’re floating!”

“Yep, still here. I owe you a wish. Obviously I’m floating, there’s no way I wanna touch any surface. This is a shoe, Paul. A well-worn shoe by the looks—and smell—of it.”

He shakily moved forward, heading for the opening of the shoe. It was hard to think in such an intense atmosphere.

“Wanna use that last wish and get us out of this disgusting place?” Genie asked, floating past. “Oh. Oh. I guess that’s a no.”

He turned to the side, trying to hide the erection blatantly straining at his pants.

“Imagine waking up in a giant, stinky shoe and poppin‘ a boner! Hilarious!”

“Will you be quiet for a minute?” he growled.

“Is that a wish?”

Paul stopped and his eyes widened. “No! No no no. Not a wish.”

“Relax. I’m kidding. Why are all my masters so serious?”

They made it to the opening and he was blinded by the sudden light. Covering his eyes with a hand, he exited the shoe into what had to be a gigantic living room. He could see the welcome mat nearby, like a field of yellow grass with dried mud clinging to the tips. Other shoes were nearby. Turning around, he saw that the one he’d been inside was a trainer that should have been thrown out months ago.

For some reason, the running shoe looked familiar.

“Genie. Whose feet am I supposed to be serving?”

“Great question! Well, you gave me a couple things to work with. Not only do you want to be ‘forced’ to serve at feet, but by a beautiful woman. That narrowed down the list of possibilities to almost nothing. They have to be attractive, yet also someone who you wouldn’t actually want to serve, someone who would have to force you.”

The ground trembled. Loud, fleshy slaps were growing louder with each repetition.

“Here she comes!” Genie said excitedly, before poofing into a cloud of pink smoke.

“Genie! Wait!”

He grabbed uselessly at the smoke, scattering it.

From around the corner, a massive bare foot came. Then another. The giantess approached. Paul was so stunned by the sheer size of them that he couldn’t remove his eyes. Fear and arousal mixed in his stomach.

They stopped right in from of him. A sharp, sweaty odour radiated from the lightly tanned skin. Her nails were painted purple. She crouched.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to leave my trainer.”

That voice… No!

Trembling, Paul slowly looked up to see his mom’s face staring down at him, looking disappointed. He backed away slowly.

“I considered going easy on you today, but not any more. You need to learn a lesson, honey. I’m going shopping and you’re coming with me! Taped to the sole of my smelly old birkenstock, under this big, dirty foot. How’s that sound?”

“Mom, no! Stop!” he yelled.

She laughed. “How many times do I need to explain this? You’re too small for me to hear you. It doesn’t matter if you beg, I can’t hear it. Not that I’d care. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? There’s no going back. You belong to me now—belong under my foot.”

She snatched him him, grabbed something else from nearby, then started moving through the house. He struggled in her grasp to no avail. The world was a blur and until they reached their destination, he had no idea where they were. His mom deposited him onto the dining table.

Once more he tried begging. She ignored him, tossing a huge cork-soled sandal beside him, hitting the table with a thud, tainting the air with a stale, vinegary scent. He recognised it well, part of a pair she’d worn regularly for many years. During vacations and beach trips, they’d never leave her feet. Although he couldn’t see it from this angle, he knew her blackened footprint was seared into the surface, with depressions in places where the pressure was highest.

Without hesitation, she picked him up again and slammed him onto the sandal, where the ball of her foot had left the largest indentation. The greasy cork felt clammy against his back, and the bitter aroma of years of dried sweat and stomped dirt choked him.

Her giant fingers acted before he could do anything else. One set pinned him down whilst the other brought thin strips of tape. She held him spread-eagle and applied it generously to every limb, leaving him totally immobile. Then a strip across his forehead, before bringing in the finishing touch.

“No! Plea—”

The strip of tape across his tiny mouth silenced him. His gagged protests were even less effective than his previous attempts. His mom appraised her work with a satisfied expression and picked up the sandal.

“It’s hot out today, so expect me to sweat an awful lot when we’re out and about. Don’t expect any breaks this time. Maybe if you stop doing stuff without my permission, I might stop trampling you under my smelly feet so much.”

Everything else was hidden from sight as her foot came over the sandal, ducking below the thick leather strap arching over the sole. He breathed in the mild, sweaty odour—an odour that would only get more intense with each minute from now on. The toes twitched as they passed by him, fighting the temptation to mess with him. Next came the part he’d spend the rest of the day being mercilessly crushed by. The smooth, dirt-speckled ball of her foot.

For a moment it hovered in place. Then, slowly, it descended. The pudgy flesh settled on him, settled all around him. He was literally entombed under the sole of his mother’s foot, caught in a vice between it and her disgusting sandal.

The weight bearing down on his supposedly invincible body increased significantly as she stood and started walking.

“Genie… Genie…” he sobbed through the gag, realising that he was completely screwed until his mom left him alone.

* * *

A broken Paul hit the insole of his mom’s trainer, groaning as he rolled over. Her face was over the opening, smiling down at him.

“Listen, honey. This weekend is going to be a tough one. I’m going to be working out plenty, and you’ll be lapping up every drop of sweat and keeping my feet clean. Oh, and you’ll be in my shoes whenever I’m exercising too, so get ready for that!” She giggled. “You’ll need your energy, so I want you to eat up whatever gunk you can find in there tonight. It won’t be difficult, if the smell is anything to go by. Ergh, I do not envy you right now! Goodnight, Paul.”

Her face disappeared and suddenly the shoe tipped. He stumbled down the length of the gross insole, the air getting more humid and stinky the deeper he got. At the toe-section, where he ended up, it was mind-numbing. He climbed to his feet surrounded by the darkened depressions of her toes. It wasn’t hard to see what she meant by gunk, collections of dead skin, rotted lint and other unrecognisable foot-filth littered the discoloured insole.

I have to get out, he thought desperately. But, turning back to the opening, the light was blocked.

A pair of crusty ankle socks were being shoved into the trainer. His mom pushed them almost all the way to the end, creating a smaller, smellier space than before. At least then some fresh air got in from the opening.

Just as despair started to take his mind and he fell to his knees, ready to submit and eat the foulness from his mom’s toe-print, Genie poofed into existence beside him.

“Did ya miss me?” she asked, winking.

“Genie!” He’d never been so happy to see someone.

When he tried to hug her and show his gratitude, she simply floated away.

“Whoa, keep your distance. You reek of feet, foot-boy. Looks like you got exactly what you wanted.”

He paused. This was her fault. “Y-you did this! You specifically chose to send me to my mom!”

“Duh. You wanted to be forced. It wouldn’t have been very forced if I’d given you to your crush or something, would it? Based on the request you made, I did the best I could.”

“Well undo it. All of it. That’s my final wish.”

“Oooooo, about that. You gotta be more specific.”

“Wh-what?”

“That would be two wishes. I’d have to undo the foot slavery thing.” She raised a finger. “Then I’d have to undo the shrinking thing.” She raised another finger. They waved back and forth. “See the issue? You only have one wish left.”

For a moment, he felt doomed. Wait, this is my chance to correct things. This fantasy might not be so bad if it isn’t Mom doing it to me. All I have to do is wish for it not to be her!

“I have a wish,” Paul said confidently.

“Alright. Let’s hear it.”

“I wish that I was no longer my mom’s foot slave. Make it anyone but my mom.”

“Someone beautiful?”

He nodded.

“Gotcha.”

Genie snapped her fingers. Nothing changed.

“Well,” she said, “I guess this is goodbye. It was brief, but interesting.”

Paul glanced around, confused. “Wait. Is this a joke? We’re still in my mom’s trainer. Nothing happened. I think your powers might be faulty.”

She started laughing. He didn’t share her amusement and glared impatiently.

“Wrong! The lady out there ain’t your mom anymore. Well, in a couple hours she won’t be. Right as we speak she’s filling out a legal document to disown you as her son and register you as a foot-pet. All perfectly legal. She’ll send it off and the moment it’s processed, you forfeit alllll of your human rights.”

He paled and shook his head.

“No,” he wheezed. “No. You’re lying. This is all a big joke, isn’t it?”

“Afraid not. Sorry!”

Paul fell to his knees and bowed before his only hope.

“Genie. Please, I’m begging you. Fix this. I’ll do anything. Anything.”

“Nope! You’ve used your three wishes. See ya!”

She disappeared in a parting poof of pink smoke. A cold, inescapable dread slowly settled over Paul and he curled up in the fetal position, now nothing more than an unwilling foot-pet to the woman who used to be his mother.

“Move around a bit. Make sure you’re comfortable.”

Down on the floor, between June’s feet, Jeremy tested the leather straps holding his tiny limbs to the floor. Then, he shrugged and nodded the affirmative. At that miniscule size, hearing him was impossible without the aid of equipment.

“Great!”

She beamed at her childhood friend. The appreciation she had for him in this moment was immeasurable. No-one other than Jeremy would agree to be shrunken down and used in an experiment involving smelly feet of all things. Judging by the way he glanced at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, there were some ulterior motives there. Maybe she’d played up to that interest to get what she wanted, but it was necessary.

After all, finding someone to agree to this was near impossible.

“Okay,” she said, standing. “I’ll signal the other member of the experiment to enter, then we’ll begin!.

June reached into her pocket and pressed a button on her pager. Two rooms over, its twin should be vibrating. She checked on Jeremy, who seemed confused.

“What’s wrong? Did you think we were using my feet?”

He nodded.

She laughed and shook her head. “God, absolutely not. My feet do stink sometimes, but there’s no way I’d get them smelly enough for this experiment.”

The little guy appeared to be worried by the development. Sorry, Jeremy. Too late to back out now!

Picking up a recorder, June brought it to her mouth and clicked it on.

“Beginning experiment. Observer June. A Study in Pheromones, Female Feet, Variation Five…”

The door creaked open and subject two entered the room, heading straight for the chair. When Jeremy saw her, he really starting testing those straps holding him in place.

“…Family Feet.”

“Hi honey! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you!” Jeremy’s mom said.

“Alison, please. A moment of silence whilst I finish the introduction.”

“Oops. Sorry! I’m just so excited to see him.”

With a smile, June continued listing off the specifications of the experiment. Talking about the implant inside Jeremy that measured arousal and notified them of orgasms; about the drug she’d given him beforehand to increase sensitivity to pheromones and the drug Alison had taken to increase her output of pheromones; about the heavy rubber boots and thick socks that had been provided with to induce excessive sweating.

Every spoken word made Jeremy realise the depth of what he was involved in. As Alison sat staring down at her shrunken, naked son, smiling, giggling and waving, his growing despair became evident in his wild, ineffective movements.

“—and with that, the experiment shall begin. From this moment forward, arousal levels shall be referred to as ‘A-levels’ and orgasm count shall be referred to as ‘O-count’.”

Click.

“Okay, Alison. Can you remove your boots for me?”

“Sure I can! But… is Jeremy going to be okay? My feet are real bad right now.”

“He’ll be fine. He knew what he was signing up for,” June lied.

“Really? He looks like he’s desperately trying to escape.”

“No, no. He’s just excited. Take off those boots and you’ll see what I mean.”

With a bemused expression, Alison started unlacing her boots. Jeremy’s inaudible protests and pleas went ignored. As the boots came off, a pungent, cheesy aroma blanketed the room. June’s nose wrinkled, her face screwed up, and she pinched her nostrils closed.

“Sorry, June. I did warn you,” Alison said, blushing.

“I expected as much, don’t worry. All part of the experiment.”

It was hard not to laugh seeing Jeremy rendered stunned by the incredibly offensive smell flowing from his mother’s socked feet. Even more so when she looked at his crotch and found him fully erect. It was twitching with the sheer arousal caused by the pheromones.

“Oh my,” Alison said, chuckling. “I had no idea my sweaty feet could do this to anyone, let alone my own son.”

“The device says his A-levels are incredibly high. This is amazing, I was expecting a strong reaction, but nothing like this! Let’s take it a step further. Remove your socks, please.”

June watched the older woman tug off the socks. It looked like a challenge, and by the end of it her hands were wet with sweat that had seeped out of the socks’ fibres. June tossed a box of tissues over, not wanting to get close.

After wiping off her hands, Alison positioned both bare feet over Jeremy. Sweat beaded on her heat-swollen, reddened soles, remaining for a couple seconds below dripping to the floor below. All kinds of gunk and filth had formed between those thick toes—something June spotted when they spread open to unleash a fresh wave of trapped odour.

June checked her measuring device and her eyes went wide.

“Oh… oh my god.”

“What’s up?” Alison asked, giggling and blushing. “Is he about to blow or something?”

“J-just about! It’s as if he’s being held on the edge, unable to cross over with the smell alone. His A-levels are spiking beyond what I thought possible.”

Alison started howling with laughter. “You hear that, honey? I bet you’ll be coming over to visit me a lot more after today, won’t you? Don’t look so worried, I won’t tell anyone about this. It’ll be a secret between the three of us. Let’s just hope it doesn’t slip out when I’m drunk at a family gathering—you know what I’m like after a few glasses of red. That would be so embarrassing for you!”

“Okay, Alison. If you wouldn’t mind, it’s time for physical stimulation. Touch his ‘organ’, but keep it gentle for now.”

“Got it. Gentle.”

Alison moved her foot down, big toe heading straight for her son’s tiny erection. The soft, wide pad got closer to the tip. Closer. Closer. And, finally…

Jeremy exploded onto his mom’s toe at the lightest of touches. The rest of his body was racked by a few-second-long seizure from the overwhelming level of arousal. In mere seconds, his penis was standing to attention once more and, despite the fact that he appeared to be crying from sheer disgust and humiliation, he started thrusting his crotch at the retreating big toe, eager for more.

“That’s one orgasm. His A-levels dropped for a mere moment, then spiked again. Let’s see what a heavier touch does. Smother him under your sole.”

Alison giggled as she lowered her foot, wiggling her toes for added effect. “Here comes my big, sweaty foot, Jeremy.”

The foot softly set down, causing him to disappear beneath it, swallowed up by the wrinkly sole.

“He’s going crazy under there!” Alison laughed. “You really love my foot that much?”

June laughed too. “That’s on— Wait, two more orgasms! O-count is sitting at three. Stomp him a little; don’t worry, his body can easily take it.”

June caught a glimpse of her friend as his mom’s foot lifted. In that moment his tiny eyes met hers, full of pleading tears. His body had been turned pink thanks to the heat of the massive foot, and he was wet with sweat. Then, he disappeared as the foot slammed back down.

Alison kept stomping, her bare sole meeting Jeremy and the floor with a loud, sweaty slap every time.

“We just hit an O-count of six. Let’s try something else…”

The amount of orgasms kept rising with each new tactic. Alison smothered him as normal, and started scrunching her sole, letting the wrinkles do the stimulating. She wiped her foot back and forth over his body She ground him under the ball of her foot, as if she were snuffing out a lit cigarette. The most effective by far was using her grimy toes to toy with him, aggressively wiggling them whilst he was pressed firmly against their rank undersides.

“Amazing… Simply amazing…” June snatched up a clipboard to take some handwritten notes.

“What’s the O-count at now?” Alison asked.

She was giving Jeremy a break, her reeking feet resting to either side of him. His skin was now bright red, cooked under his mom’s stinky feet, and looked as if he’d just climbed from a pool. Bits of unrecognisable filth from between her toes were dotted around, some sticking to him.

“Seventy-two.”

“Oh dear. Seventy-two orgasms under my smelly feet, how humiliating! Poor thing. At least we’ve helped June with her important research. After this, we’ll go out to a restaurant, my treat. Although,” Alison sniffed, “you probably could use a long shower first. I really hope my foot odour washes out!”

“The experiment isn’t over yet, Alison.”

“It isn’t?”

June smiled. “This is a week-long experiment. Didn’t you read the contract?”

Alison grimaced and gave her son a sympathetic prod with her big toe. His upper body flinched away, whilst his lower body instinctively thrust toward it.

“Looks like you and my feet aren’t done yet. What’s next, June?”

“Next you need to unstrap him. He’s going in your socks and boots, underfoot.”

Jeremy’s exhaustion fled upon hearing that. He started struggling once more. Alison dropped him straight into a sock without hesitation, then plunged her foot inside. She giggled.

“Did he have another?”

“Three, actually. One when he hit the bottom of the sock, another two when your foot made contact.”

Alison put on her other sock, then both boots. She laced up the unbreathable rubber, tightening its hold on her foot. June couldn’t even begin to imagine how awful it must be in there for Jeremy, how hot and mind-numbingly smelly it would be.

“Now what?” Alison asked as she stood.

“Now, you’re welcome to do as you please. Go home and relax; go out for a long walk; hell, go to the gym if you’re feeling really cruel. Just come back here next week—around the same time—and we’ll conclude the experiment.”

“Before I go, can I get one of those devices? I’d like to monitor how he’s doing.”

“Sure. Here’s a spare.”

Alison started laughing again as she watched the O-count ticking up. Jeremy’s A-levels remained at maximum, only dropping slightly between orgasms.

“Watch this,” Alison said.

Suddenly, the O-count started rising faster.

June looked at the older woman with curiosity. “What are you doing to him in there?”

“Squeezing him with my toes. Seems like he enjoys it!”

Helen was reading her book in her armchair, illuminated by warm, orange lamplight, when her youngest son entered.

“James. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep.”

Smiling, she slipped a bookmark between pages and set the book down. I know that expression. He wants to ask for something, but he’s embarrassed. How adorable! She removed her reading glasses too, placing them atop the book.

“Come on now, James. What can I help with? You know I can read you like a—”

She gestured at the side-table and chuckled.

However, his eyes weren’t on the book. They went straight past it, settling on her shrink-ray beyond. Then they snapped up to the ceiling.

“Is Dad in bed?”

“He is. Needs to be well-rested for work tomorrow. I assume this isn’t for his ears? It’s a little soon to be buying birthday presents. Let me worry about that.”

James shook his head. “No. Th-that’s not it.”

“Then what is it? Tell me.”

“I…” he seemed to be about to speak, before he blushed and the words failed.

“Oh. I see. You’ve finally got a girlfriend!”

He grimaced. “Sorry, no.”

“Well out with it then! We don’t have all night.”

The poor boy looked positively ill. Red-faced, trembling, stammering. She hadn’t seen him like this since…

Helen grinned.

“I think I understand. This is like the time your sister caught you sniffing her gym shoes. I remember how funny that was. She demanded foot rubs from that day on, didn’t she? And you were so happy to give them, even with your brother calling you names. I’d have made the same demand, but I couldn’t make you rub my old, wrinkly feet. That would have been too mean.”

On the floor, her feet slipped out of her slippers and rested in front of the tattered house-shoes. When his eyes were dragged down to them and widened, she knew she was on the right track.

“That’s why your here, isn’t it? My feet. Maybe I was a little too apprehensive back then. Now I feel sad, thinking about all those foot rubs I’ve missed out on. Well, there’s no time like the present to ca—”

“No,” he said. “Y-you’re wrong.”

“Then please, enlighten me, James.”

His throat swelled with an audible gulp.

“O-okay. I do like your feet. But that’s not all. I want… I want…”

Helen leaned closer and wiggled her toes excitedly. “Go on. You’re so close.”

“I want to be your tiny foot-pet!”

Silence. She blinked slowly, not sure if she’d heard correctly.

“Why?” she asked.

“I just… do. I like feet. Giant feet. Your feet. The idea of serving my own mother is so humiliating, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s possible with your shrink-ray.”

She laughed, making him blush harder. “That’s quite the fantasy. As much as I’d like to accept—I know all about tiny people serving feet—I don’t think I can. You’re my son. We want grand-kids someday!”

“Darren and Lauren will give you grand-kids. They’re both so successful. They’re both in committed relationships and have moved out. I’m not like them, Mom.”

“And so you want to spend your whole life shrunken at my feet?”

“Y-yeah.”

The idea was tempting. James hadn’t been quite the exceptional child his siblings had been. Both of them had always topped their classes in academics, athletics and popularity. James always ended up around the bottom. Helen had given a foot-pet a ‘test drive’ once, at a place where they were sold. The experience was incredible, but so expensive! With James, all she’d have to do is shrink him down and send off the papers.

Maybe he was meant to be beneath people. This is what he wants, and I’ve always given my children what they want.

“This isn’t something you can go back on, James. Once you’re my foot-pet, you’ll always be my foot-pet. I can’t imagine your father will ever speak to you again. Your brother and sister will find it hilarious, of course. If you thought the teasing back then was bad, this time it’ll be brutal. Then there’s me. I’ll be a kind owner, but I’ll also expect a lot from you. Your every waking moment will be spent at my feet, and every sleeping moment in my footwear. The smell will be intense at that size. The pressure when you’re underfoot will feel as if you’re being crushed, yet the density side-effect will protect your body. Disobey me, and you’ll be punished.”

“Wait, you’re okay with it?”

“Very much so. I adore having my feet fussed over.”

“And you’ll shrink me to be your foot-pet?”

“Only if it’s really what you want, James. Are you sure?”

He hesitated, then looked down at her feet again and clenched his fists.

“Yes!”

“Keep it down,” Helen said, chuckling. She grabbed the shrink-ray and adjusted the setting to three inches. “You’ll wake your father up.”

The shrink-ray made a bunch of noises and came to life in her hand, lighting up. She aimed it at her son and fired. Within seconds he was tiny, staring up in wonder at her and her mature, comparatively gigantic feet.

“Come on, my new pet. You have years of foot massages to make up for.”

* * *

Ding-dong! Ding-dong!

Cheddar’s naked body was trapped underneath the pudgy ball of his owner’s giant foot as he attended to her toes, stretching his neck to lick anything in reach. As always, the undersides of her toes and the spaces in-between had a strong, sour flavour that made him shudder with disgust.

“That’ll be Lauren and the twins,” his owner said. “Go answer it would you, dear? I’m a little busy with my favourite pet.”

“…disgusting…pervert…disappointment…”

“Don’t listen to that grumpy old man. You’ve never disappointed my feet.”

The foot atop Cheddar scrunched, causing the wrinkles to deepen and multiple. The sole’s creases pinched his chastity cage, its natural warmth stimulating his penis within. He groaned in frustration, the cage preventing him from getting hard. Her rough skin caressed his nipples too, adding to the sexual torment.

“Is that little cage of yours uncomfortable? Since it’s Christmas, I might give you a release, as a present. When was your last? Two months ago? Three?”

Six, Cheddar thought as tears welled. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since that fateful day. It’s hard to keep track when his entire life revolves around a pair of mature feet. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, feet. Massaging them, kissing them, licking them, being trampled underneath them. The reaction from the rest of his family had been expected. His father disowned him. Whenever his older siblings came over to visit, the teasing was relentless. Before, his parents would have protected him. Now, the closest thing he got was his owner hiding him beneath her foot.

Cheddar had been forbidden from calling her ‘Mom’. She’d decided he was due a name change as well, since he had been demoted from son to foot-pet.

It had been an eye-opening experience, that was for sure. Cheddar wasn’t even sure he had a foot fetish any more; spending every second of his life enslaved to a pair of smelly feet larger than himself had destroyed almost all interest in them. What remained of his fetish was kept under control by the chastity cage—a Christmas present from his sweet sister a few years ago.

His owner’s toes playfully squeezed his head as children ran past.

“Behave, you two! Play nice with your cousins,” Lauren shouted.

Cheddar felt anxious listening to his former sister’s approaching footsteps. Whilst his former brother was content with verbal bullying, she was much more hands on. Not counting his owner’s festive mercy, Lauren was the only person who got him Christmas ‘gifts’.

The chastity cage had been the cruellest so far, seconded by the social media account documenting his new life to the world. He cowered under toes, scared of what she’d got him this year.

Her shadow was cast over him. Rather than peek between the toes and see her likely smiling face, he dutifully kept licking them instead.

“My toes really needed this. They’ve been feeling so unloved recently,” Cheddar’s owner said.

“Aww, is little James not giving his mommy’s toes enough love?” his former sister said.

“Lauren. We’ve spoke about this. Cheddar. Not James, Cheddar.”

“Oh, yeah, my bad! It’s because he stinks like your feet, right?”

“That’s right!”

They both laughed together and Cheddar felt himself reddening with humiliation, attempting to behind the toes as a massive pair of blue eyes appeared above them, peering between. They twinkled with amusement—he didn’t need to see her mouth to know she was grinning. Her skin crinkled as she presumably grimaced at the odour.

“Ergh. You’re not wrong, Mom. Very cheesy.”

“Sounds like someone’s not doing a good enough job down there. Cheddar, do you want a release for Christmas or not? Because if you do, you’re gonna have to work a lot harder.”

They laughed again as he sped up the licking, lapping up more and more of the various flavours of his owner’s toe-flesh.

“I’ve got him a wonderful present this year,” Lauren said. “Should I spoil the surprise? I really wanna spoil the surprise.”

His owner chuckled. “Go ahead, sweetie.”

Lauren giggled childishly.

“Remember those gym shoes of mine I caught you sniffing, all that time ago, J— Cheddar? It feels like so long ago. That was before I had the twins, before Darren gave me the cutest nieces and nephews. Before you decided to become Mom’s tiny toe-toy. Well, I found them. At the back of my closet, in a ragged old shoebox. They reek just as bad as they used to, only staler. I was quite surprised that they still fit. Tightly, but I can get my feet in with some effort.

“That was several months ago. Ever since, I’ve been wearing them. No socks. Finding those rotten things was a blessing in disguise, really, because they motivated me to start exercising again. Now those gym shoes are nasty beyond belief. And,” she paused to snicker, “those are your presents! Your ex-sister’s stinkiest shoes!”

“How kind!” Cheddar’s owner said, caressing his face with the soft pads of her toes. “What do we say when someone gets us a gift, slave?”

“…thank…you…” he managed. Words were difficult these days—his vocal chords were out of practice.

“You’re welcome, foot freak! Smell ’em good, because that’s the stench of your future owner’s feet.”

Cheddar stopped licking.

“That’s a long way off yet,” his owner grumbled. “I still have a good few decades left in me.”

“I know that, Mom. I just mean… eventually…”

He didn’t like the sound of the chuckle that followed.

“Oi! Did I tell you to stop licking? And, yes, I suppose that will be the case one day. Your brother certainly won’t be interested. I can’t remember the last time he even insulted Cheddar.”

Cheddar went back to licking his owner’s salty toes, trying not to burst into tears as the two women above discussed his fate so casually.

SLAM.

Ken screamed through his gag as the heat-spa’s lid locked with a click, seconds after his mom closed it. She’d always found the cruellest, most ironic ways to punish him.

“Get comfortable, Kenny,” she said through the internal sound system. “You’re going to be there for a few hours, at the very least. Maybe next time you’ll think twice about taking my car without permission.”

He struggled against the heat-spa’s drain, tied spread-eagle to it with strands of yarn.

The twin holes above him were now the only connection he had to the outside. However, he was thinking less about escaping through them, and more about what was about to come through them. Faint echoes of movement travelled through the holes, telling him that the beginning of his torture was imminent.

“Here they come!” his mom teased.

Again, Ken screamed.

The twin holes darkened. His heart thundered and time slowed to a crawl. He watched in horror as his mom’s tanned feet entered through the holes, red-painted toes wiggling gleefully. They both waved around above him, allowing him to sample their faint aroma. They were huge compared to his shrunken self, each over three times the size of him.

“I made sure they were nice and clean. I know how much you HATE it when my feet stink, Kenny. Especially when they get all hot and sweaty; they become simply unbearable.”

His mom’s feet trembled as she laughed.

Seals clamped around her lower calves, closing off the holes completely, making them airtight. Heat-spas did this to protect users from the inevitable smell, not taking into consideration the unlikely event that a person might be shrunken and trapped within, turning the relaxation device into an improvised torture chamber.

“It’s not just about the car, I hope you realise. It’s about the drugs too. Did you really thing I wouldn’t notice? I’ve done that stuff plenty of times myself, when I was younger. Except I was never stupid enough to hotbox my mom’s car. The smell is going to be such a pain to get out of those seats.”

“I’m sorry,” Ken tried to say through the gag. Even if the strip of tape hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have heard.

“Let’s switch this thing on, shall we?”

Heaters built into the walls started to hum quietly. In seconds, the increase in temperature was noticeable. Ken watched his mom curl her toes.

“Ooooo, I can already feel it. It’s getting toasty in there!”

A minute was all it took for the first bead of sweat to form, rolling out from the deepest of her many wrinkles. It hung for a moment before falling, hitting the angled ground near Ken. More droplets fell from the feet as they started blushing, pale bottoms turning pink. Whenever the sweat dripped onto him he flinched, wishing to be anywhere other than here. No matter where it landed, it all flowed into the drain he was bound to, wisked away to the waste-tank.

The restless soles, constantly scrunching and stretching, spreading their rapidly growing aroma, had turned a warm, glistening pink all over. Ken felt himself sweating, but it was nothing compared to those giant feet.

“A little more heat would be perfect, hold on.”

The walls hummed louder and started to glow orange.

“Ahhh. Much better. How’s it in there for you? Stinky enough yet?”

As she laughed her feet scrunched extra tight, squeezing sweat out from between deep creases of reddening skin. One hit him between the eyes and he screwed them shut thanks to the salty sting.

A minute later, when he finally managed to blink the vile liquid away, his mom’s feet were red and starting to swell.

“Alright, now that this thing’s at a comfortable temperature, I’m going to read for a few hours. I’ll let you out when I’m done, of course—unless I fall asleep. This is so relaxing, it’s going to be hard not to! If I do happen to fall asleep, I’ll have to let you out when I wake up, Kenny.”

Ken screamed and cried some more, begging his bindings to break. But, even if they do, where would I go? he thought. I’m locked in here, trapped with my mom’s massive sweaty feet.

“Then when you do eventually get out of there, it won’t be over. No, I think you need more punishment. To prove you’ve learned your lesson, I’m going to hook the heat-spa’s waste tank up to your mouth. That’s right, I expect you to drink every drop! If not, we’ll be repeating this tomorrow night. In fact, I’m ready to do this every night until I know for sure this naughty behaviour won’t repeat itself. Am I clear?”

He didn’t bother answering. It was pointless.

“I read something interesting on my phone earlier. Gimme a sec. Here, see how cheesy it is between my toes whilst you wait.”

A foot bowed, toe-pads stopping less than an inch away from the tip of his nose. He panicked as beads of sweat slowly formed, threatening to drip directly onto his face. If only that were the case. Instead her toes spread, releasing the hot pockets of pungent air trapped between them. She blindly guided his head between the closest two as he shook it wildly, not wanting to believe that this was real. It had to be a nightmare.

“So? Does it smell like cheese?”

She laughed, wiggled the toes on either side of head, and kept him there for another minute before her foot retreated.

“Ah! Found it! Apparently, on average, human feet make half a pint of sweat every day. Mine make a little bit more, I think, thanks to my overactive glands. Anyway, the instructions say that a couple hours of using the heat-spa will equal a daily amount of sweat. There’s going to be over a pint of my foot sweat in that waste-tank, Kenny, and you’re going to drink all of it. Or don’t. That’s fine by me. Putting you in the heat-spa with my stinky, sweaty feet is hilarious!

“I think I’ll start reading now that you know what you’re in for. Enjoy.”

Ken had nothing to do other than stare at his mom’s heat-swollen feet whilst she read. They had been roasted an angry shade of red. Whilst sweat rained around him and her restless feet danced above, he could hear the turning of pages. There were the odd giggles, too, accompanied by teasing wiggles of her toes.

Time started to lose meaning when every moment was filled with such overwhelming sensory torture. Minutes were stretched to their limits in the heat-spa.

After what felt like several hours, Ken heard the most terrifying noise so far.

Snoring.

Snoring.

Creeeeeeak.

Ken gently pushed open the room into the living room, clenching his teeth at the high pitched sound from the hinges. He waited for a reaction. Nothing.

“Mom?” he said, quietly.

Again, nothing.

With a small smile, he entered the room. Laid out across the couch, napping, was his mother. Propped up on the couch’s arm were her feet, covered by dark tights—likely damp with sweat following a long day at the office. Their scent had been perceivable even outside of the room, seeping into the hall through the crack from which he’d spied.

“Jackpot,” Ken whispered, hurrying over to the end of the couch.

Kneeling, he gazed at her feet. Above average size for a woman, yet from the floor, looming above, they looked huge. Perfectly wrinkled soles separated from him by a thin layer of nylon.

Already—only a few steps in—he could smell nothing else. His mom’s feet had always had a strong aroma, especially after hours and hours crammed into a pair of high-heels. It was corny, and slightly vinegary, yet despite the unpleasantness it was intoxicating… at least to Ken. He sampled the scent with a few hesitant sniffs before getting closer, feeling himself hardening in his shorts.

Close enough to feel their warmth on his skin, the stink was incredible. He was surrounded by it, submerged in a cloud of humid foot odour.

A small moan slipped out and he froze, then continued sniffing after she didn’t so much as stir.

Eyes closed, he tuned out everything but the aroma of sweaty feet. His erection twitched furiously. His eager nose explored everywhere, working its way up. Heels. Arches. Balls. Toes. The latter was where the most potent odour lurked, warm pockets collected in the nooks around their undersides, begging for him to insert his nose. Not once did he make contact, no matter how tempted he felt, for fear of waking his mom up. Although, they were close enough to warm his face.

Strangely, the smell seemed to be getting stronger. At first he thought it was simply his imagination, but soon it had increased noticeably.

Slowly, Ken opened his eyes.

His mom’s feet were bigger. Much bigger.

“What the f—”

Any profanity was interrupted by a gasp as he shrunk further, causing him to fall backward in surprise, sprawled in a pool of oversized clothes.

“A new outbreak of the shrinking virus has been going around, so be sure to keep your distance from others in public. Wash your hands at every possibility,” this morning’s breaking news had said. “Shrinking in carriers is said to be triggered by extreme sensory stimulation

“Blindingly bright lights.

“Deafeningly loud noises.

“Or, even something as simple as particularly strong odours.”

Ken heard his mom suddenly snort awake, heard the creak of the couch as she sat up and shuffled closer to peek over the arm. Her investigative expression peered down at him, freshly woken eyes still half-shut. A couple of slow blinks was all it took to take in the unfolding scene, and her eyes shot wide open.

“Kenneth! You’re small!”

In an anxious panic, he tore free of the clothes that almost buried him, his mother’s shadow cast across him as she stood; grew bigger as she approached, concerned. It took him a shocked second before he realised he’d shrunk out of all of his clothing.

Which meant he was half-sized, naked and fully erect at the aromatic feet of his worried mom.

“Why are you…” Her words trailed off as she glanced from her toes to him, seeing the shameful scene. “Oh.”

Then, after a moment of silent thought, “oh.”

All hints of maternal concern fled from her expression. Like a switch had been flipped, her features became stern and disapproving.

“I-i-it isn’t wh-what you think.”

“Were you smelling my feet, Kenneth?” She sniffed and reflexively wrinkled her nose. “What’s wrong with you? They reek! I can hardly stand it and they’re mine. Worst of all, there’s that. You should be ashamed of yourself, young man!”

“Listen, you’re wrong. I—”

The words caught in his throat as her fingers went to her nylon-encased knees, pinching the dark material and tugging it down inch by inch. Once the crotch-section was bunched up below the hem of her sensible skirt, she held it steady and stepped out of the tights, one foot at a time. They were tossed to the floor with Ken’s own clothes, spreading their bitter, corny scent.

“…Mom?”

Now bare, his mom’s feet fidgeted on the floor. Her cherry-red-topped toes curled and stretched, the tiny joints making quiet bony clicks and pops. They rose and fell, drumming the ground with their wide pads, sticky patters sounding from the impact of the soft skin, damp and slightly pruned with sweat.

Tearing his eyes away was difficult, yet necessary. More inches were being chipped away from his height since he sat so close to the discarded tights. He shuffled away, not wanting to stand and further expose himself. However, his mom stepped forward, blocking his path with a stomp.

Milliseconds after the sole landed with a moist slap, her heady musk filled his airways and he shrank some more.

“I know exactly what happened here. Please, stop me if I say anything wrong,” she said. He knew better than to protest, even with every stinky breath stealing his size. “Being a filthy foot pervert, you waited until I got home from work, when my feet are at their smelliest, and then waited until I feel asleep. Once I was out like a light, you took advantage and started sniffing away at my sweaty after-work feet to your heart’s content.”

Her toes tensed against the floor.

“Except you’d carelessly gone and caught the shrinking virus. Now look at you. Getting smaller by the second all because of my smelly feet.”

“Okay, you’re right. I’m an idiot and a p-p-pervert. I-I’m sorry, really sorry. Mom, help me! I’m still shrinking. Get your foot away from me and let’s go to the hospital.”

A moment of heavy silence passed with him looking up at her unreadable expression.

“Please, I’m scared, Mom,” he continued. “I don’t want to get any smaller.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before taking advantage of my feet.”

Increasingly aware of how small he was getting—likely head-height with her knees if he were to stand—he felt sick with panic that in opposition to his dwindling size.

“I’ll do anything, just, please, save me!”

The toes on the foot beside him drummed thoughtfully.

“Anything?” she asked, chuckling.

Ken nodded frantically.

“Alright then. I’ll tell you what I want.”

Drumming toes stilled. Her foot moved, lifting from the ground and leaving a footprint-shaped sheen in its absence. Instead of returned to rest beside its twin, it remained in the air, hovering above him. It was the first proper glimpse of either of her bare soles since removing the tights. The numerous wrinkles were visibility moist with sweat. After a day spent baking in a high-heel, wrapped in nylon, the skin was left reddened, even yellowish in places.

And the smell…

Oh god, the smell.

At this point, the incredibly strong odour of his mom’s feet was barely erotic to him. With every inch he lost, his sense of smell grew more powerful. That didn’t stop his erection from stiffening further.

“I want to see just how small you can get,” Ken’s mom said.

A chilling fear spread throughout his body at her words. She didn’t give him a moment to react, bringing her foot down right onto his wide-eyed face.

His body crumpled under her weight, forced to the ground. Pushing back did nothing, the difference in strength was far too great. It was like trying to move a mountain. Her rough sole smothered his upper body completely, soaking him with the layer of sweaty that already clung to it. His face sunk into the pudgy ball of her foot, warm foot-flesh no matter where he looked.

The worst part was the smell. As he got smaller, it grew significantly stronger, and as it grew stronger, he got smaller.

“You’re so tiny now!” she exclaimed, laughing as he felt his legs shrink under her heel, which proceeded to crush them.

Ken’s mom applied more pressure now that he was entirely under her foot, causing the rest of his body to become entombed in her stinky sole just like his head. He felt himself began to perspire from the residual heat being shared, though that was nothing compared to her own sweat.

Yelling only filled his mouth with sour and salty flavours.

“Let’s see that little face of yours. I want to see exactly how sorry you are.”

The foot lifted—taking Ken with it for a moment, before the foot shook and dislodged him—giving him a moment to take a slightly-less-tainted breath. It moved down. Toes appeared overhead, giving him an especially vinegary whiff. Her big and seconds toes spread open before the foot descended once more, surrounding his face with reeking skin that oozed some particularly grimy substance. She peered between the toes from above, meeting his eyes and smiling.

“What’s that I feel poking into the bottom of my foot? It’s incredible, I can hardly stomach the stench of my sweaty feet and you’re down there hard as a rock thanks to them! Let’s see, what if I…”

An aroused gasp slipped from his mouth. His mom had scrunched her sole, causing the warm wrinkles to caress his naked body as they formed, enveloping his erection between folds. She held the scrunch for the longest of seconds before relaxing, smoothing out the skin as much as it was able.

Then she repeated the process. Over and over the dominating sole scrunched, dragging him closer to an involuntary orgasm. Still shrinking, the all-encompassing sole only became bigger and smellier, causing a complete sensory overload as he approached that edge.

“If I don’t feel you licking between my toes right away, Kenneth, you’re going in my dirty tights and my feet will be joining you. Obviously, if that’s what you want, feel free to disobey.”

Immediately he started lapping away, his desperate tongue swiping the fine layer of nastiness from the smelliest part of her foot. The sourness was overwhelming, eye-watering, yet he endured, wanting nothing more than for this nightmare to be done with.

Once he did start licking, his mom scrunched harder than ever before and a sweaty wrinkle caught his penis in a death-grip, squeezing it until it burst between the fleshy folds. He cried out as the most intense orgasm shot through him, bucking against the massive sole then spasming under its weight.

The orgasm was so mind-numbingly strong that for a minute, everything went black.

When the world came back, his body was no longer underneath her foot. No, he was now tiny enough that all of him was between her giant toes, which stood taller than him on either side.

“Somebody stopped licking for a moment.” His mom’s voice boomed from above, carrying an amused tone. “Do you know what that means?”

Before Ken could even think of a response the walls closed around him. He was trapped between her smelly toes. They gripped him tightly and lifted him up into the air. He couldn’t help but notice he’d finally stopped shrinking, although that brought little comfort now he was so small he fit in his mother’s toe-crevice with room to spare.

His prison went dark. The sound of nylon sliding against bare skin—usually a subtle sound—was deafening at his new size. That bitter, corny scent returned, mingling with the odour of her foot.

“As punishment for being a nasty little pervert, you can stay there all tonight and all tomorrow. Maybe even the day after, too! I’ll see how I feel.” Ken’s mom laughed and rubbed her toes together, squeezing him. “Then I’ll think about taking you to a hospital.”

Camping Trip

Linda sat on the couch, sipping at a glass of apple juice. She licked refreshing droplets from her lips as she set the glass back on the coffee table, beside a second, full glass and her walking boots. They were old and battered, flecks of tried mud scatted around them. Although they were the last thing that belonged on a coffee table, they had a purpose.

On cue, she heard descending footsteps.

“Almost packed and ready, kiddo? We’ve gotta set off soon if we want to hike around with the rest of the group for a bit before making camp. Tardiness isn’t something they’ve come to expect from us over the years.”

Eric looked anything but ready. And she doubted there was a rucksack filled to the brim with supplies waiting in his room, unlike hers on the floor at her bare feet.

Stood at the bottom of the stairs, he met her stare and grimaced.

“Look, Mom, we need to talk. I—”

“There’s no sense in talking from across the room, silly.” Linda patted the couch. “Come sit here, next to me. I’ve even poured you some chilled apple juice. I know how thirsty you get on hot days like this.”

“Thanks,” he said.

Linda watched patiently as her son downed the whole thing, resisting the ever-growing urge to grin. Ice cubes pinged off the bottom of the empty glass as he set it down, eyeing the misplaced boots with bemusement.

“So, there was something you wanted to tell me?”

He looked nervous. “Yeah. About the yearly camping trip. I… I’m not coming along this year.”

“I see.”

She waited for him to fill the silence with whatever excuses he’d prepared. It didn’t take long.

“Look, Mom, it’s summer and I want to spend it with my friends. Driving to fun places. Going to parties and having a blast. The guys were wanting to hit the beach tomorrow and there’s no way I can miss that.”

“We do this every year, Eric. Me and you. Won’t you reconsider? Hanging out with your friends can surely wait until next week, right?”

“No. I’ve made my decision. I’m not the little kid I was when we first started going.”

“It’s the last thing we still do together.”

“We can do something else! It’s not that I don’t want to hang out with you. I love you, Mom, I really do. But I don’t like going on this trip. The rest of the group are your friends and I have nothing in common with them. And I’m definitely too old to be sharing that tiny tent with you.”

She frowned and exhaled slowly through her nose. Lifting her arm, she peered at her watch and that frown turned into a half-smile.

“Sorry, but you’re coming with me and that’s final.”

“What? I’m an adult now. I don’t have to do what you want all the time. Obviously I feel bad if you’re upset and I’ll make it up to you, I promise, but you can’t make me go.”

“Actually, I can,” Linda said smugly.

“Ha! No you… you…” His brow furrowed and he stretched his jaw. “You… can’t…”

“Is everything okay there, kiddo?”

No response, though his lips did tremble at the attempt. She leaned over and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her maternal smile unwavering. His eyes flicked to her, down to his body, then back to her and narrowed. The silent accusation made her chuckle.

“Have you ever heard of the shrinking serum?” Linda asked. “Tasteless, originally. Spiking cases involving the drug were a nightmare, bad enough that the company had to give every new batch a distinct, bitter flavour to warn unsuspecting victims. It just so happens that I had an old batch lying around.

“First it paralyses; a precursory effect. Then, between five and fifteen minutes later, the body finishes processing and it enters the bloodstream. That’s when the shrinking happens.”

The accusation in his eyes had given way to fear.

Linda adjusted how she was sat, lifting a foot from the floor and resting it on the opposing knee, sole facing up and toward Eric. Her hand on his shoulder moved to his head and gently tilted it down for a better view.

“Don’t you think I have a sexy foot?” She ran the tops of her fingers along the sole, wiping off any floor-dirt she’d picked up walking around. “I went at both of them with a pumice to get rid of most of the hard bits. There’s still some on my heels, granted, and a bunch of dry, flaky skin hiding between my toes, but I did the best I could to make them all lovely and soft, just for you.”

She scrunched her sole, causing the shallow wrinkles to deepen and multiply, then stretched, turning them back into nothing more than lines across the arch.

Chuckling, she changed her seating position again, turning sideways, scooting back and placing both feet in his lap. His face twisted as she raised the closest and hovered it inches away, toes wiggling.

“I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering what the condition of my foot has to do with you. Well, kiddo, for the next five days and four night you’ll be getting very familiar with my feet. The majority of your time will be spent in my walking boots, pressed against my bare soles in hiking socks. We could have done this the easy way, Eric. Now we’re doing it the hard way. For you, that is. For me, I imagine it’ll be quite fun!”

She laughed and toyed with his vulnerable features, smushing the ball of her foot against his lips, jamming his nose between her toes and waving them in front of his eyes. They must have had some scent, because his nose wrinkled up in disgust.

“Are my feet stinky? I’ve barely done anything since showering, cheeky! If you want stinky, I’ll show you stinky.”

The relieved twitches on his paralysed, placid expression as Linda swung her feet out of his lap was highly amusing. She reached out and picked up one of her walking boots.

They’d seen plenty of wear and tear over the years of hiking and they showed it—both inside and outside. Her head instinctively turned away as it came close and her nose caught whiff of the heady stench. Unlike Eric, she didn’t stick to one big trip outdoors every year. She went on several, throughout all four seasons.

And the balled up socks stuffed inside were from a long walk at the start of the year, woolly and thick to combat the cold. Completely inappropriate for a summer stint, of course.

Linda grinned as she fished one out, feeling the sweat-crusted fibres reluctantly squish in her grasp.

She gave the sock a cautious sniff and wrenched away, gagging. It was a brutal odour, like it had been soaking in a fetid foot-swamp. That’s what I get for leaving sweaty socks in smelly boots, I guess. Although, she’d provided herself with the perfect way to make this week unforgettable for her wayward-wanting son. His pleading eyes did nothing to stop her pressing sock over his nose, making sure that the tip—the crustiest part—teased at his nostrils.

The whiny groan that slipped out in protest would have likely been a horrified scream if he’d been able to manage such a thing.

“See? That’s stinky. This nasty thing and its friend were soaking when I peeled them off all those months ago. I kinda forgot about them, so they’ve been stewing in my smelly old boots this whole time. Speaking of my smelly old boots…”

Linda picked up the same boot she’d stolen the socks from and placed the opening over Eric’s nose. He could breathe nothing other that the stale, bitter aroma of long-dried foot sweat.

“There we go, kiddo. Breathe it in. That’s probably a decade worth of my foot odour you’re currently smelling. Dozens and dozens of hikes. In winter I’d wear thick socks, like the one you’ve just sampling, and my feet would be nice and toasty despite the weather. In summer, they’d be pouring with sweat no matter what I did. I can’t imagine how much your poor nose is suffering right now. Even passing under my nose the smell was strong enough to make me gag. Over my face? I’d be crying. Oh, wait, looks like you already are!”

For a several agonising—to Eric—minutes she held it in place, laughing at the muted sounds of disgust he struggled to make. His eyes continued to water from the sheer magnitude of the odour.

Linda returned the boot back to the coffee table when Eric started to shrink. She watched him with an excited smile, her foot flexing of its own accord, eager to feel him underneath it. He ended up no larger than her big toe, naked and staring up at her from the middle of the couch cushion.

* * *

“Night, Linda!”

“Goodnight, guys. We really pushed ourselves today! Have we ever made it to the creek and back on the very first day before?” Linda asked the retiring couple.

“That’s all down to you, I’d say,” the man said with a smile. “I’ve never seen you with so much energy before.”

The woman laughed. “Yeah, where did that come from? Shame Eric isn’t here to see it.”

Linda pressed her boot against the ground, feeling Eric’s tiny body sink deeper into the ball of her foot. She grinned.

“A shame indeed. Maybe he’ll join us all next year.”

Once they had returned to their tent, Linda was left alone—with the exception of her shrunken son, anyway. Every other member of the camping group had gone to bed, vacating the folding chairs set up around the campfire. She pushed her booted feet closer, feeling the heat of the flames grow, travelling up through the rubber treads and slowly cooking her feet within. Her toes wiggled against the crusty tips of her socks. A day of ceaseless walking under the hot sun had produced enough sweat to revitalise the wool, and her toes were hard at work on the tips.

She felt a cruel satisfaction simply thinking about the current state of her feet. Sorry, kiddo, but it had to be done. After this you’ll realise how important it is to spend time with me. She bit her lip. Otherwise we’ll be doing this more often!

Half an hour later, the fire was dying and Linda’s hot boots were steadily cooling.

“Better call it a night,” she said quietly. “We’ve gotta be up earlier for another long day of walking tomorrow, kiddo.”

Eric couldn’t hear her, of course. That hadn’t stopped her whispering teases to him all day.

Linda poured half of the pre-emptively filled bucket over the fire to douse it, poked and stirred the blackened remnants with a long stick to expose any embers, then dumped the rest of the water over it. She kicked the ashes and charred splinters around to double check, then stomped over to her tent, exaggerating the steps she took on Eric, holding the point of pressure for a couple seconds longer than necessary.

Once the tent was zipped up she sat on the floor and placed a foot out in front—the one Eric was under—and removed her boot. She hooked a thumb into the opening of the sock and it soon followed, parting from the reddened, glistening skin underneath.

As it peeled past the ball, her tiny son was uncovered, partially embedded into the plump ball of her foot, disrupting the wrinkles all around. The moment cool air touched his pink, bare back he started struggling, although was unsuccessful in freeing himself from her hot sweaty sole.

The sweat-drenched sock fell limp once it cleared her toes, which flexed to flaunt their freedom.

Linda found it impossible to hold in her amusement any longer. She turned away, hand over her mouth, trying to keep the laughter quiet as to not disturb their fellow campers, though Eric surely heard her. It was the thought of her son that caused such a reaction, thinking about how she could barely stomach her bare foot—even whilst full-sized and half-turned away—yet he had no choice but to endure, pressed flush against the weeping pores.

“Come on, kiddo, keep wriggling! You can do it!”

Her verbal encouragement didn’t work.

Deviously, she extended a finger and placed the edge of her fingernail against him. Slowly she started trailing it around, wiggling ever-so-slightly, dishing out the most effective tickling she could given the size difference.

Eric’s struggles became feral as she tickled. He’s always been so sensitive. Poor thing. I bet this is pure torture for the little guy. Yet, he was still unable to free himself.

After a few minutes spent lazily tickling her stuck son, Linda rolled her eyes.

“Looks like I have to do everything for you. Where would you be without me, eh? All the things I do for you and all I get is abandoned.”

She pinched his head between her fingertips and peeled him away from the moist embrace of her reeking sole. The front side of him was soaked and the same shade of red as the bottom of her boot-cooked foot.

Placing him down on the floor, he immediately fell to his knees, pleading in a voice too quiet for her to hear.

“I’ll be honest, I can’t hear a word you’re saying. And, even if I could, it wouldn’t help. The antidote is all the way at home. So until we get back you’re stuck like that. Now, you’re going to need your energy for tomorrow. Today was an easy day. Come and get your dinner.”

Linda’s foot waited, resting on its side, the out-step bulged up in contact with the ground. The foot dwarfing her measly-sized son was relaxed, yet she was eager for his attention. It had been far too long since a tongue had serviced her feet, which was a luxury she’d coaxed out of many a desperate man in her younger years. Though, none had ever been so desperate as to do it with her feet in such a foul state.

“There’s plenty prepared. A three course meal! No-one else in the group gets such a treat, out here in the middle of nowhere. Nibble on my dry heel for your starter, lap at those countless sweaty wrinkles for your main, and for dessert…” Her toes were lazily parted, giving glimpses of what lurked in-between. She leaned in for a better look and had to recoil, blinking away tears at the pungent odour akin to sour cheese seeping out from the crevices. The pockets of dead skin had fused with toe-trapped sweat, creating a nasty gunk. Getting up close and personal with that was an experience she was willing to leave exclusively to Eric. “…fresh, delicious toe-jam.”

Obviously, he made no rush forward to begin. If he was hungry, he likely thought he’d be able to last a while longer and spare himself the disgusting meal.

He was wrong.

Linda only smiled gently at his hesitation, placing a thumb on her sole and pushing it along, soft skin rippling in its path. When she reached the ball she started circling it, manipulating the firm wrinkles as she saw fit.

“I won’t force you, of course. You’re still my son and I love you. Fortunately, there is another way to motivate you. Every time you disobey me is another day tiny and underfoot. Let’s start off with an extra week to really drive the point home. That means even when we get home you’ve another week of my massive stinky feet to deal with. How exciting!”

By now he seemingly understood that she couldn’t hear his pleas, for he didn’t bother with any. He stumbled over to her foot, tiny expression a mask of despair.

“Don’t look so glum. It’s only a foot. A big, sweaty foot, but a foot nonetheless. Don’t be such a big—sorry, little—baby.”

Linda watched her son finally reach her foot. He placed his hands on the warm sole, staring into the porous eyeful that lay before him, breathing in the strong odour. She bit her lip as he extended his tongue and started licking reluctantly.

I’m going to enjoy this camping trip, she thought, imagining what lay ahead. Eric, eating the dry skin from her heel like one of those hungry little fishes. Him climbing amongst her toes, sticking his head between them to slurp up all of today’s filth. Then, once he’d eaten, she’d toss him in the bottom of her sleeping bag for a night at her feet, ready for another day underfoot tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, and the day after, and the day after…

“Mom? I’m home!”

Daisy didn’t hear a response. She slipped out of her flip-flops, padding along the hardwood floor in bare feet. Weird. Her car’s here. How about…

“Sam?” Nothing. She grinned. “Sammy?”

Still nothing. Well, almost nothing. Faintly, very faintly, she heard mechanical whirring, rhythmic thumping and short, controlled panting. Her mom was on the treadmill again, explaining the lack of response, but it didn’t sound like her brother was home. He’d definitely have replied. He hates when I call him Sammy.

Sighing, Daisy headed for the couch. Before reaching it, she stopped, sniffing. A faint, unpleasant aroma hung in the air. Her eyes followed her nose and found socks on the coffee table. Four of them, two pink socks—her own—and two grey, visibly dirty ankle socks. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of her mom’s workout socks.

“Gross, Mom. Why leave them here? I could have brought friends home! That would have been so embarrassing.”

Then, the socks moved. She thought she was seeing things, dismissing the movement as an illusion until it happened again. She picked up her socks, and used them to move her mom’s socks without actually having to touch them. Underneath, she found the last thing she’d expect to find.

Sam.

Her brother was tiny, perhaps around a mere inch in height, stuck to the table with two strips of tape—one across his legs, the other across his arms and chest. A third strip was placed over his lips and the table beneath, holding his head in place. After being uncovered, he set his desperate gaze on her and wriggled to the best of his abilities.

“Bro, what happened?”

It took a few seconds of silence before she laughed at her question and carefully peeled away the tape gagging him. Whatever he immediately started blabbering about, it was inaudible.

“Hold on, Sam. I can’t hear you.”

She leaned down, face turned away from the bundle of smelly socks, and placed her ear directly above his tiny face.

“Daisy, you gotta help me.” His words were little more than a squeak, barely audible. “Mom’s gone crazy! I got home and sh-she used the shrink-ray on me. You know, the one she used back when we were moving house. She taped me to the coffee table and started putting your socks on me, calling me a pervert and disgusting. Then she kicked off her trainers, stripped off her sweaty socks, and started using them on me. It was horrible!”

“Using them? Like, forcing you to sniff them?”

He nodded, avoiding meeting her eye.

“Why?” Daisy asked, unable to keep the smile from her lips.

“She…” He looked away and blushed.

“Go on. Tell me!”

“Okay. Okay. She thinks I was sniffing your socks.”

Daisy followed her brother’s nod over at her socks and a bemused expression crossed her face.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know!” He blushed deeper. “Sh-she found them, apparently. Found them… under my pillow. I swear I didn’t steal your socks, Daisy! That’s disgusting. You know I hate feet. They stink. Please, help me. Please, tell Mom th—”

Remembering last night, when she tugged off her worn socks and left them under Sam’s pillow, Daisy burst into laughter. They were supposed to stink him out whilst he was sleeping. Their mom wasn’t supposed to find them.

“D-Daisy?” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, dear brother. How’s mom planning to punish you for stealing my sweaty socks?”

“I d-didn’t steal them!”

“Alright. Fine. Let’s say she’s wrong and you didn’t steal them.” She suppressed the urge to smirk. “How’s she planning on punishing you?”

His struggles against the tape resumed with new energy.

“She’s going to make me smell her feet! Mom’s on the treadmill now, running, and she didn’t put on socks. Daisy, Mom’s gone without socks in those old gym shoes of hers, the ones that are all tattered and clear rooms with their stink. Daisy, I’ll do anything if you let me out and protect me from her. Her feet are going to reek and I don’t know if I can take it!”

Daisy proceeded to blow a raspberry over Sam’s tiny body, spraying him with spittle.

“I’ll be honest with you, Sammy. I put those socks under your pillow. It was a prank, to make you go to sleep wondering why you could smell my dirty socks. But, it looks like the prank turned out better than I could have hoped.”

“What? How could you?”

“Because it’s funny!” She laughed in his tiny face.

“Okay, okay. Great prank. Very funny. But it’s gone too far. You know I hate feet. This is going to be torture!”

Daisy pursed her lips and studied her desperate brother. He’s right, this is probably too mean, even for me. But he does also deserve for being such a brat. Always playing pranks on me, now crying after I finally get my own back. It’s my job as a big sister to show him that if he’s gonna give it, he’s gotta know how to take it.

“I’ll let you out, Sammy.” The misled relief in his expression made her want to howl with laughter. “On one condition.”

“Yes! Anything!”

Chuckling, Daisy lifted a leg and planted her bare foot beside him on the table, resting on its outstep. Dirty and slightly sweaty, it loomed over him, lightly wrinkling with a semi-scrunch. Her soft toes curled in his face, the pads nearly brushing against his skin. She had a back off a bit, after catching a whiff of her own foot. It was smellier than anticipated. He cringed at their proximity, turning away.

“Kiss my pretty toes. Sorry if they’re dirty. Wearing flip-flops tends to do that.”

“I-is there… anything else?” he asked, quieter than before now that she’d backed off.

“Nope. This is the only way you’re getting out of this mess. Kissy kissy!”

He glanced over to the door, where the sounds of their mother’s thumping footsteps on the treadmill were coming from. His expression was defeated upon turning back, nodding reluctantly.

“Okay. I’ll—”

“No need to talk. Just kiss!”

With a pre-emptive disgust painted across his features, Sam started kissing her giant toes. She giggled at the sensation. It was tickly, but nice. Seeing her annoying younger brother perform such a humiliating act at her feet was as empowering for her as it must be degrading for him.

They were both so caught up in the display—each for different reasons—that neither of them noticed that the faint whirring from the gym room had ceased. The panting was replaced by deep breaths. Those fast, thumping steps were now slow and getting louder on her approach.

Their mom was finished with her workout.

Daisy froze, grinned, then pulled her foot away. Before Sam could so much as squeak the tiny strip of tape was back over his mouth, pinning his miniscule head to the coffee table. Their mom entered the room a second later, appearing exhausted. Her forehead was moist with perspiration.

“Daisy! I didn’t hear you get back,” she said, not even glancing at Sam.

“I haven’t been back long. Looks like you had one hell of a workout.”

“Oh, yes. I was… motivated.”

Daisy couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I noticed. Hope you don’t mind, but I took his gag off to get an explanation.” She grinned devilishly. “What a little foot freak!”

Sam’s eyes went wide at the betrayal. The flash of anger was replaced by a hopeless despair as their mom stopped beside the coffee table, casting it in her shadow. A warm, post-workout aroma flowed from her sweaty, pink-hued skin and damp clothes, causing Daisy to wrinkle her nose in response.

“It’s hard to imagine him liking feet for much longer after what I have planned. Pinch your nostrils shut, sweetie. This is going to be intense.”

Daisy didn’t hesitate to obey. She had no desire to sample the horrendous stench that had likely built up in those gym shoes. Her mom’s trainers were tattered and almost completely worn-out. The fit, middle-aged woman had had those things for around two years. Two years of abuse, of soaking up an absurd amount of sweat, odour and filth.

Daisy’s mom sat on the couch, right in front of where Sam was trapped. He was in tears now, fighting the three measly strips of tape like a wild animal in a cage. She leant forward, reaching down to her shoes on the floor, and untied both sets of frayed laces. Off slipped a shoe, which she brought up to the coffee table and waved around over Sam.

“Oh, you’re in for a treat you pervert. What would your friends think if they knew you were stealing your sister’s smelly socks to get off with? They’d think you were disgusting. Today, we’re going to fix that. We’re going to fix you. And this,” the trainer jiggled, “will play a part. Brace yourself, Samuel, this will be stinky.”

Their mom slammed the trainer down onto Sam, the opening swallowing him up. The sides crumpled under pressure, causing the insole to get closer and closer to where he surely was. Daisy grinned imagining how horrible it had to smell in there—it was bad enough out here, with her nostrils pinched shut and her mom’s single bare foot at a reasonable distance away.

A minute later the running shoe was removed, revealing that Daisy’s shrunken brother had ceased his pointless struggles and was sobbing instead, limbs still.

“Think that was bad?” their mom asked. Down on the floor her bare foot helped its twin free from the other trainer. As the first was dropped to the floor, both now-bare feet raised and landed on the coffee table, heels resting mere inches away from Sam on either side. “Try my feet!”

Daisy stood and walked around the coffee table for a better look. Sam didn’t even notice her, his wide eyes were darting from foot to foot, forced to take tortured breaths.

The bottoms of their mom’s feet looked particularly nasty after that sockless workout. Her long, soles were a deep shade of red, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Thicker drops beaded in places—in the depths of wrinkles, in between fat-headed toes, eventually giving in to gravity and rolling down the rough, mature skin, dodging around lumps of grime and chewed-up pieces of old insole glued in place. The toes curled then stretched, spreading slightly, displaying fouler gunk hidden in their pits.

In a moment of curiosity that she immediately regretted, Daisy unplugged her nose and took a cautious sniff. The rush of stink caused her to physically stumble backward in response. That’s awful! she thought, half grossed out and half amused—now knowing what her brother had no choice but to endure. It was a hot, humid and cheesy odour, and she had no doubt that she’d be able to smell it even in the neighbouring kitchen or hallway.

“Enjoying yourself, Samuel? Well, better get used to it, because we’re staying like this for a few hours. That’s right! Hours of nothing but smelling my sweaty feet.”

Hours? Wow, Mom, harsh! Poor Sammy. Stuck tiny between Mom’s stinky feet for hours. Unless…

“Mom,” Daisy said, pinched nostrils causing her to sound nasally.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?”

“This—” Daisy suppressed a giggle, “—isn’t the first time he’s stolen my dirty socks.”

She watched their mom shoot Sam a withering look, who was now screaming once more, likely wishing to argue his innocence.

“You’d better tell me what happened.”

“Gladly!”

Daisy went on to make up a bunch of lies, each making her brother’s reactions more and more violent. Telling their mom how she’d been pretending to sleep whilst he fished freshly-worn socks from her hamper, hidden as he pick-pocketed sweaty socks from her trainers, acted as if she didn’t notice pairs peeled off and dumped on the floor missing mere minutes later.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” her mom demanded.

“Because I didn’t want to get Sammy in trouble! It’s just a fetish, Mom.” With a half-smirk, she met Sam’s pleading gaze. “Sure, liking smelly, dirty feet is gross, but it’s what he’s into.”

“No. I won’t accept this. He’s violated your privacy, Daisy. You have to understand that. Taken advantage of his own sister. We have to snuff this out immediately, before it grows into a greater problem. What if he can’t control himself and breaks into a girls’ locker room to steal footwear? That’s a crime! Thanks for informing me of this, sweetie. Hours won’t cut it anymore. He’s going to be suffering at my feet for days.”

We can do better than that!

“Remember when you caught me with cigarettes?”

“How could I forget. You haven’t touched them since,” Daisy’s mom’s eyes narrowed, “right?”

Daisy nodded. “Exactly my point. You—we—need to repeat that, only with stinky feet instead. I had to smoke an entire pack, even though I was crying and doing nothing but apologising, I had to keep going. By the end I was a wreck; snotty, wheezing, bloodshot eyes… but I haven’t touched a cigarette since then.”

She strolled back around the coffee table and reseated on the couch. Her mom’s feet moved along as she lifted her own, kicking them up onto it. Now four feet towered above her bound bug of a brother.

“We need to expose him to our feet for much longer than he can take. We have to ignore when he begs and cries—just like you did with me—and push his limits far beyond what he wants. In a few… let’s say, months, he’ll be the normal, foot-detested son you’ve always dreamed of.”

Daisy watched her mom’s deep-in-thought expression anxiously. Damn! Why did I say months? She’ll never go for it. Weeks might have worked. Oh well. I get to watch Sammy suffer at mom’s feet for tonight, at least. I—

Slowly, their mom nodded. A smile crept onto her lips.

“Yes… yes! Excellent idea, sweetie. Sorry, Samuel, but this is for your own good. For the next few months, you’ll be remaining at that size, experiencing nothing other than our feet. Clean, dirty, sweaty. No matter what condition they’re in, you’ll be smelling, kissing and licking them. You’ll either in our shoes or tied to our soles. Every morsel of food will be eaten from between our cheesy toes, mixed together with whatever we find in those grubby little crevices. It sounds like a disgusting way of torturing you—it pretty much is, in all honesty—but by the end of it, you’ll thank us for ridding you of these perversions.”

Daisy and her mom flexed their feet over her brother then. She was eager to torment him underfoot, and she had a feeling that her mom felt similarly.

Best. Prank. Ever. Who knew a pair of socks could be so effective?

“No…”

The controller fell from David’s suddenly limp fingers. It hit the floor hard, clattering expensively, though it wasn’t like it mattered. Not compared to the forfeit for losing.

“Yes!” his sister, Penny, cheered. “I win! I win!”

“That you did, honey. Well done for beating your big brother after he talked so tough,” their mom said, chuckling over on the armchair. Her bare toes pattered on hardwood, anticipating what came next.

“Wa-wait. This can’t be right. There’s no way I lost…”

A figure cast David in its shadow. He craned his neck to look up at Penny standing over him, lips twisted into the most insufferable grin she could manage. When he tried climbing to his feet she pushed him back down, overpowering him surprisingly easily in his state of shock.

“Stay down there, LOSER. Get used to being smaller than me for a change.”

“Only for a week, honey,” their mom said. “That’s what we agreed.”

“Mom, come on, you don’t think I was serious, do you?” he asked, gulping as he saw her reach for her handbag beside the chair.

“You’re too old to be reneging on bets, David. You lost, fair and square.”

“But Mom, I—”

“Enough. If you’d have won, I doubt you’d be complaining that Penny does your chores for the whole month. Instead you have to spent a week half an inch tall.”

“Yeah, between your toes. Isn’t that too far?”

“You agreed to it.”

“Because I didn’t think it’d actually happen! This is ridiculous.”

Finally, after rooting around for the duration of the conversation, David’s mom found what she was searching for. Out came her DURD—Domestic Use Reduction Device—and it buzzed to life with only a single button press. Panic tightened his chest upon seeing the device, caused his heart to race and nausea to build. He felt sick at the thought of what was about to happen.

“Can we do something else? I’ll do anything. Anything.”

“I’m not the person you have to ask. Better come to an agreement with your sister quickly, though, this’ll only take a couple minutes to set up.”

David reluctantly removed his fearful gaze from his mom playing with the DURD’s display and shifted it to his still-grinning sister. She shuffled her small bare feet, waiting excitedly for his request.

“Penny…”

“Yeeeeeees? What’s up, bro?”

It was obvious from the twitch of her lips that she was resisting the urge to laugh.

“Please, let me do something else. O-or even try again? Double or quits.”

There’s no way I lose twice, he thought. She got lucky.

“Hmm. Let me think.”

Her fingers stroked her chin—an exaggerated gesture. He was forced to watch her think, listening to the slapping of her bare sole on the ground as she tapped her foot, listening to his mom tinkering with the DURD, steadily sealing his fate.

“I’ve decided!” she announced. “And I might let you off… if you kiss my pretty feet.”

David sighed. It was cruel of her, but much better than the alternative. Despite his instincts to show nothing more than disrespect to his brat of a sister, he knelt. Her feet had a natural, youthful look to them. Soft, made softer still by infrequent maintenance. Currently—on account of a recent sleepover with all her friends—her toenails were neatly trimmed and painted pink.

Closing his eyes, he gave into the degrading demand and started planting light, hesitant kisses on her eager toes. She was giggling; either from the sensation, the sight, or both. Even their mom had a chuckle at what was unfolding. Eventually she pushed him back with a gentle kick and sat on the floor. Both feet lifted, paused for a moment for him to bask in the sight of her pink soles and plump toes, then rushed forward to claim his face.

“Keep kissing,” she ordered, on the edge of laughter.

David had no choice other than to kiss the soft, slightly sweaty skin rubbing against his face, exploring his features. Penny collapsed backwards clutching her belly, laughing loudly, yet never pulling her feet away for even a second.

“Okay, okay,” she said, breathlessly. “Now go kiss mom’s feet. Then, maybe, I’ll forget all about this bet.”

A glance cast at his mom’s waiting feet made Penny crouch down beside him and lay a hand on his shoulder.

“Think about it, big bro. Kiss mom’s feet now and potentially get out of a week shrunken and glued between her toes, nothing to drink but toe-sweat, nothing to eat but dead skin and toe-jam. Kiss her feet now and it’s entirely possible you’ll be spared. I know I would. Spending any amount of time between mom’s cheesy toes would be a nightmare.”

“Hey,” their mom said with a smile. “I have functioning ears.”

“It’s true! Don’t even try to deny your feet stink.”

“Alright, I’ll admit my feet don’t smell the best, but we don’t have to talk about it, do we?”

“Sorry, Mom,” Penny said, giggling.

Before crawling over to his mom’s feet, David spared her a questioning glance. She met it for only a moment, raising a questioning brow. He sighed again, then approached. Then had a sour, mildly cheesy—like Penny had hinted at—odour, recently freed from a pair of ‘too warm’ slippers. It took a moment of mental steeling before he started kissing the rougher, more mature skin of the tops of her toes. The nails were trimmed too short, unpainted.

“Well?” Penny said. She’d paused rolling around with laughter and lay watching, waiting, for him to carry out her command.

David’s mom was silent aside from snorts of amusement as he started lathering her smelly toes with kisses, catching whiffs of their pungent odour on every nasal breath. He heard Penny laughing harder than ever, rolling side to side on the floor behind him, probably with arms wrapped around her stomach as she tried to contain the laughter. His face turned redder with each kiss, hoping that soon it would be all over.

Once Penny had finally gotten over the scene, she climbed to her feet and cleared her throat.

“I’ve decided.” She stopped to let out a giggle that made David’s skin crawl. “No mercy. Mom, shrink him. I’ll go get the glue!”

“Mom, n—”

“Sorry, David, a bet’s a bet. It’s only for a week.”

Zaaaaaaap!

A nearly transparent beam of light shot from the DURD’s barrel and struck him in the chest. Immediately, around where the beam hit, he felt his flesh… spiralling. Inwards, toward the point of impact. That changed to an indescribable odd sensation, spreading out from the chest-spiral. A burst of dizziness, then, he felt his whole body dwindling rapidly.

In mere moment he was a half-inch tall. In front of him, a pair of giant feet with unpainted toenails. A similar odour to before flowed over him, although much, much stronger. The toes curled, plump pads bulging and rubbing against the floor. Another set of feet were quickly approaching from behind, every gargantuan footstep shaking his entire world.

With the massive, smiling faces of his mom and sister peering down at his shrunken self, David really felt his new size. The tube of specialised glue that Penny fiddled with made him incredibly nervous.

“That the stuff?” his mom asked, her voice booming, vibrating the ground itself.

“Yep! The same glue Stacey von Vallenhappenheimer used on Pik-Pok to glue her ex-boyfriend to her sole. That was hilarious! Well, it’s not quite the same glue. Simi liar enough, different brand.” Penny stomped a foot, making David stumble. “If you gave me more pocket money I’d have been able to get the good stuff!”

“All that’s important is that you’re sure it’ll work. This only lasts a week, right?”

David saw his mom reach for the glue, then saw Penny yank it away.

“Yes it only lasts a week. That’s what Stacey von Vallenhappenheimer said.”

“Okay, but—”

“Mom, please, trust me. Pull your toes apart. I’m gonna shove him in there!”

Their laughter was deafening. David ran towards the underside of the armchair in a moment of pure terror, between his mom’s feet. That did nothing to stop Penny pinching him between her fingers and bringing him close to her face. She stuck out her tongue tauntingly, then rolled him between her fingertips, spinning him around to see his mom prying apart her big and second toes, exposing the rank, jammy crevice between. Before he even had time to scream he was thrust toward the disgusting gap, hurtling toward it. Penny showed no reluctance shoving her fingers in there, pressing David firmly against the reeking skin.

Then he felt a cold metal tip travelling around the edges of his tiny body, distributing glue to seal him in place for the week.

* * *

June raced into the living room, stopping beside her grandmother’s armchair and jumping with excitement.

“Granny, all the dishes are washed up. Can I see uncle now? Can I?”

The older woman, still looking rather young for her age, raised a questioning brow. “Are they all dry?”

“They’re on the drying rack. Please don’t make me dry them off with a towel. That’ll take sooooo long. I only have a few hours before Mom and Dad get back from their date. Let me see him!”

June’s grandmother rolled her eyes, smiling wryly.

“You do remind me of your mother sometimes, June. So much energy. I can hardly keep up. If you want to see Uncle David so bad, get ready, my foot is probably going to be a bit smelly.”

“You always have stinky feet, Grandma.”

“Hey! Watch it cheeky, or I’ll fetch the DURD. I still have seven vacant toe-gaps for naughty girls.”

They both giggled at the mock threat. June’s grandmother picked up a foot from the floor, resting it sideways on the opposing knee. She peeled off the sweat-dampened ankle socks, exposing an aged, heavily wrinkled sole. More and more rough, flushed skin was unveiled, then her thick-headed toes.

June turned away at the surge of warmth and unpleasant odour wafting up from her grandmother’s bare foot. Yet, she soon turned back, giggling at the thought of the tiny man imprisoned between the toes. They spread wide and she finally saw him, peppered with sock lint alongside the skin all around.

“Gross!” June leaned closer, sniffed, then reeled away at the stench coming from the toe-gap.

“I warned you.”

“That’s so funny he has to put up with such an awful smell. Won’t he be used to it after all these years?”

“According to the doctors, no. Poor thing. It’s impossible for him to get used to it.” June’s grandmother smiled sadly, giving Uncle David a poke. He came to life for a moment, writhing in place. The movement lasted for a few seconds before he stilled. “Little David is stuck there for good, ever since the bet.”

“Mom’s never told me how it happened. She just starts laughing whenever I ask. Will you tell me the story?”

“Sure. I don’t see the harm in it. It all started with your mom beating your uncle at a video game he was supposedly good at. If he won, she had to do all his chores for a month. If she won, well, you can see the result.” June’s grandmother chuckled. “It was only supposed to be for a week, but the glue your mom used was cheap stuff, and wasn’t an anti-allergy variant. Of course, we had no idea that David was allergic. We found out a week later when he wouldn’t come off. The doctors couldn’t do anything about it, he’d literally fused to my foot. If we’d realised sooner, we’d have been able to save him.”

“Were you angry at Mom?”

“At first, yes. She’d just robbed your uncle of his life. University. A house. Marriage. He’d never get to experience those things. Instead all he gets is a lifetime between my toes. Then after thinking about it for a while I calmed down. It was an unfortunate accident. Your mom had a point, too.” She chuckled. “It is pretty hilarious. Once I calmed down, and after I got over my sympathy, I could see the funny side. I can only imagine how gross and humiliating it must be for David.”

“Does he eat? Or sleep?”

“Oh, your uncle is always eating. Notice how there’s no toe-jam. All the dead skin between those two toes is eaten up by him. No, he doesn’t sleep, either. Can’t, apparently. The fusion left him as nothing more than a living, thinking toe-wart; stuck in an unwilling symbiotic relationship with my foot. Sweat, dead skin and toe-jam is plenty to sustain him. Even if they were to perform an operation to remove him, his body has adapted to fit the new environment. He literally can’t survive without feet.”

“Oh my god, Granny, that’s nasty!” June laughed. “So he’s constantly smelling and tasting your stinky feet? He can’t even sleep to escape it? And he actually needs them to live?”

“That’s right.”

“Ew!” June peered down at her uncle, grinning. “Sucks to be you, Uncle David. Don’t worry, if you ever get removed and need a new pair of feet to leech off of, I volunteer. My feet get so sweaty, especially when I play sports. You’d love it!”

“Is that a genuine offer, young lady? Obviously I won’t be around forever, so he’s going to have to be removed one day.”

June’s face lit up. “Can I really? I was just teasing him. I didn’t know you’d let me.”

“Sure. Can I trust you to look after my son?”

June nodded frantically.

Her grandmother laughed. “Alright, don’t get too giddy. I’ll have to talk to your parents and it won’t be until you’re older, but one day we can transfer him over.”

“Hear that, Uncle? You’re gonna be my toe-pet next. Isn’t that exciting?”

June’s uncle twitched again in response to what she said. Twitched, presumably, with mutual excitement. She’d never know for sure, given he had no way to communicate any more, but she thought he looked forward to her feet.

Penny walked into the living room and winced at the strong cheesy smell in the air. The smell of her mom’s feet. They were propped up on the coffee table whilst she napped on the couch, head lulled back, snoring loudly. Those mature wrinkly soles were an intense shade of pink, littered with grime and tiny scraps of chewed-up insole.

“Good job I brought this,” Penny said, pinching her nostrils shut with a peg. It was uncomfortable, but preferable to breathing in that awful foot odour.

She approached with a pencil in one hand and a sewing kit in the other. On the end of the pencil her shrunken brother struggled, mummified to the wood-encased graphite with thin tape. The only parts of him left exposed were his tiny dangling feet and the upper-half of his face. Keeping the smile off her lips was difficult knowing that he had to breathe through his nose, enduring the pungent aroma of their mom’s feet with every necessary inhale.

The sewing kit was left on the floor beside their mom’s trainers for later use. Those tattered gardening shoes had seen plenty of abuse over the years, leaving them discoloured and dirty, a couple holes here and there, seams threatening to split at a moment’s notice. Previously they’d served as running shoes, becoming casual shoes once a suitable replacement had been bought, then relegated to garden-use only after one too many smell complaints from her friends. And, since they already reeked, the middle-aged woman had an excuse to wear them without socks, much to her kids’ dismay.

With a devious chuckle, Penny crouched down and positioned the pencil above the opening of a trainer, placing her brother directly in the path of the humid stench flowing out.

“Does that smell good, Pete?”

She pretended not to see him frantically shaking his little head. Instead she angled the pencil and entered the shoe, pushing Pete’s face against the insole itself, on the depression where their mom’s rough heel would sit. A greasy, pitch black footprint was seared into the tough, spongy material, and Penny knew the experience had to be hell for her brother.

“Geez, bro, I’d hate to be you right now.” She continued rubbing him against the sweat-stained surface. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about tattling on me to Mom. All you had to do was keep your mouth shut and we’d both have been happy. Now I’m grounded for trying a cigarette. How unfair. How are you older than me and still don’t know not to be a snitch? I think it’s time to learn.”

Penny pulled the pencil out and faced her mom’s feet. Pete’s worming around stopped for a second after escaping the shoe, but started again the moment he saw what awaited him.

All those pitiful gagged protests he made were pointless. Regardless of how sorry he was now, he still had to be punished.

“Don’t worry, Mom’s a heavy sleeper. Especially after spending the morning in the garden. Last week I tried waking her up during her break and nothing worked. So I’m going to have plenty of time to torture you. Now, I gotta decide where to start. Let’s go from the bottom up.”

Penny pressed her brother against an unwrinkled, coarse heel—though it had been temporarily softened after soaking up sweat—and held him there for a minute, allowing him to scream and struggle against the lukewarm skin. She giggled when she started brushing him back and forth as if brushing teeth, changing angles to fully explore the heel.

“Snitches don’t get stitches, big brother. Or is little brother more accurate now? Snitches get feet. The giant stinky feet of their moms.”

The insignificant sounds of suffering that made it through the layer of tape covering Pete’s mouth did nothing to stop her moving him up to their mom’s arch.

Here the skin was severely wrinkled, paler and softer toward the insteps, where the sole was too high to normally touch the ground whilst standing. Though, it still looked moist after hours of hard work.

First Penny ran her bound brother up and down the gradual curve of the glistening arch, skimming along the tops of the wrinkles. Then she decided to force him into the creases of thick skin, prying apart the fleshy folds to get to the trapped sweat and filth inside. After repeating this process for each of the dozens of wrinkles lining the arch, his face and the tape wrapped around his diminished body was dirty.

“Now the ball. Oh man, I can’t wait to rub you against Mom’s nasty callous. She really should shave that thing down. The matching one on her other foot, too. Okay, let’s start far away and slowwwwwwwww-ly get closer and closer.”

The yellowed patch of tough skin was in the middle of the heat-swollen ball of their mom’s foot. Penny pushed Pete hard into the malleable skin and he sunk as deep as it would allow. Then she dragged him in circles around the callous, parting any shallow wrinkle he passed through. With each circle he got nearer until he face was skirting the edge of sickly yellowed skin.

Then, Penny lifted her brother away from the foot, letting him stare at the callous before she slammed him into it and massaged it using his shrunken body.

“So gross,” she murmured, torn between gagging and grinning.

The poor little guy looked broken by the time he was raised up to the looming toes, no longer fighting uselessly against the—at his size and strength—unbreakable tape.

Their mom’s toes were relaxed, lazily parted to give partially obstructed views of the pits between. Penny thought she heard Pete sobbing quietly as she guided the pencil between two toes. She brought him down, mashing him into the rank crevice and holding him in place.

“It’s like you’re a piece of Mom’s toe-jam!” Penny said delightedly. “I can’t even begin to imagine how nasty that stuff smells. I’m shuddering just thinking about it. But you don’t have a choice other than to sniff Mom’s toe-jam. You’re completely at my mercy and I can make you do whatever I want.”

Penny sawed the pencil back and forth between the toes. She paused only when her mom snorted in her sleep, though the slumbering gardener hadn’t roused, thankfully. Nor did she wake up when her toes twitched as the super sensitive skin was stimulated. Penny laughed as Pete touched a particularly ticklish nerve and the toes reflexively grabbed him, only letting go after a few firm tugs.

The sawing motion was repeated between each of the toes. By the time it was over Pete was caked in dried sweat and toe-jam, eyes found to be filled with despair when she met them.

“Have you learned your lesson?” she asked.

It took his foot-addled mind a couple seconds to register the question and nod.

“Okay. Prove it.”

Penny picked at the smoothed-down end of the tape with her fingernail and pulled it once there was enough to grab, peeling it around to uncover his mouth and nothing more.

“I don’t want to hear any pathetic squeals begging me to stop, little brother. The only reason I freed your mouth is to lick anything that comes within reach. And if you don’t lick…” She laughed. “Well, you don’t want to find out.”

Bringing him over to the big toe of the foot he’d just gotten very familiar with, she made him lick the pudgy pad. Then, inside of going straight down, she took the pencil up to the toenail and made him lick underneath it. Next, all down the stem, drawing more ticklish reactions from their mom. Finally he was returned to the toe-pit. After two licks that twisted his expression with disgust, he recoiled, coughing, and turned his head away.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Pete.”

Penny pulled the pencil free and stepped back. She sat on the floor crossed-legged, next to both the sewing kit and the stinky vacant trainers. She set the pencil down, ignoring the annoying, inaudible shouts coming from her brother.

Picking up a shoe, she grimaced as her fingers reached inside and dislodged the insole. It wasn’t the insole that had come with the shoes. This—and its twin—were custom made to be sturdy and comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that her mom hadn’t thrown them out with the previous pair of trainers that had literally rotted away from overuse. Whilst the unholy-scented, falling apart running shoes had been tossed out, the surviving insoles had been inheritated.

With the insole removed, the dark footprint was displayed in its entirety. The areas that weren’t turned completely black by sweat and pressure were discoloured in shades of yellow and grey, marred by clumps of foot-gunk and dead skin that had been stomped flat or pushed out from under the heavy sole and toes, becoming akin to rocks on a landscape.

“I’m going to be washing my hands for hours after this,” Penny said, cringing at the knowledge she’d have to touch the foul insole some more.

She opened up the sewing kit and withdrew a needle and thread.

“Don’t move. If you try and resist me I’ll just shrink you again, so that you’ll be just a speck. Then I’ll wipe you between mom’s toes instead. I think the sweat, toe-jam and natural skin-oils would be plenty to hold you in place. She wouldn’t have a clue you were there, living between her cheesy toes, spending every second breathing in the stink.”

That threat seemed to work. Pete was still whilst being unwrapped, aside from wincing in pain as the sticky tape was peeled off. Residual stickiness helped keep him in place as she moved him to the insole, laid in the space between the sole-print and the five toe-prints. His tiny eyes were filled with pleas as she got to work with the needle and thread, sewing him to the insole. This time he wasn’t mummified, only tied in key places to ensure immobility yet able to feel his naked body being molested by sweating toes and covered in sweat. The thread would have made a poor gag so she used more of the thin tape, only a small strip.

“Perfect,” Penny said, smiling down at her helpless brother. “When Mom eventually wakes up from her snooze, she’s going to put her trainers back on and go finish the garden. I’m going to tell her you’ve gone out to stay at friend’s house. It’s so funny that you’ll be in her shoes whilst she’s hard at work! You know how much she sweats, how bad her feet smell in those trainers without socks. Hell, I bet it’s gonna be awful even before she puts her foot in. This is what you deserve for snitching on me, bro, so I’ll enjoy every second you’re in there under your unknowing torturer: Mom!”

Carefully, she inserted the insole back into the trainer and ran her fingers around the edges, pressing it back into place. She screwed up her face and shivered in pure disgust from simply touching the vile thing.

The final step was to hide nearby and wait for her mom to wake up. First, however, she really wanted to scrub her hands clean. On the way out of the room, another evil idea came to mind, a finishing touch to Pete’s torment.

* * *

Pete cried inside his mom’s stinky trainer. His muscles were sore from trying to free himself. There was nothing he could do but wait, breathing in the residual warmth and humidity that remained in the shoes from the latest wearing, wishing his nose didn’t work.

The odour was cheesy like her sweaty bare feet, yet that cheesiness was second to the stale, vinegary stench of the ancient insole beneath. Over a decade of sweat was baked into the material.

Every noise from outside the trainer brought fresh fear to his mind, thinking it was his mom waking. It was like watching a horror movie and knowing a jump-scare was coming.

He narrowed his eyes upon hearing Penny once more, panting and grunting.

The hope that she’d changed her mind proved unfounded, unfortunately.

He realised she’d been carrying something heavy as she set it down with a dull slam and sighed loudly.

“Should have tricked him into brining this down before I shrunk him,” she muttered.

Terrified curiosity guessed blindly at what the heavy object might be. That question was answered after listening to his sister fiddle around then turn it on. The object came to life with a metallic rattling that quietened a few seconds later, yet didn’t fade completely. A humming sound confirmed the suspicions that he’d prayed to be wrong.

Those sounds were from the old heater his mom would bring out only during the coldest of winter nights, powerful enough to heat multiple rooms at once.

Within minutes he was sweating. And that was in a shoe, further away from the heater than his mom’s sleeping feet. Closing his eyes he could picture them, sweat beading on the rough skin and running down the wrinkles to form puddles around her heels on the coffee table. Slowly her feet would be roasted red, turned into the ultimate tools of smelly torture.

For the better part of half an hour Pete squirmed uncomfortably, suffering from stench and heat. He stilled upon hearing a rousing snort and the lazy movements of a drowsy person sitting up.

“What is this doing here?” his mom asked. “Pete! Penny! Which of you decided to prank me by getting this heater out? My t-shirt is drenched in sweat. And my feet…”

Two wet, fleshy slaps were heard as she stood. They continued in his direction, getting louder. The trainers trembled at her approach.

“Oh well. They were going to get sweaty anyway.”

The leather of her other trainer protested with subtle sounds as she wrangled her foot inside. Pete gulped. It was his turn next.

Pete’s entire world shook as his mom picked up her trainer. Her toes entered almost shyly, their pads now an angry shade of red with droplets of sweat literally dripping from them as if they were salivating in sight of their prey. The odour inside the shoe intensified and became unbearable. Cheesy and vinegary, hot and humid, every breath was a torture surpassing the last. The toes came closer in bursts as his mom forced the shoe on until they passed overhead and settled beyond where he lay. On one side her toes, on the other a wall of sole-flesh, bulging under her weight. If he were to wiggle, he’d be able to brush against either of the two.

His mom stood and headed back to the garden, leaving him with no choice other than to endure. The spectral giggling of his younger sister reached his ears, the same giggle she was likely making in whatever hiding place she’d chosen to watch.