“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.