The next ten minutes were absolute hell for Scott. With each footfall, his mother’s toes would press downward onto his sides and legs, then squeeze around him as they pushed off of the ground to take another step. The environment was muggy and devoid of fresh air, the leathery scent heavily pervading each breath. Scott had a feeling Judy was purposefully making her toes writhe a little more than was necessary, the somewhat greasy skin of each one rubbing themselves over every inch of his body at each available opportunity. Eventually, intermittently between the loud clacks of his mother’s heels against the hardwood, he heard new sounds: doorbells, clinking of wine glasses, the flapping of book pages, and the excited chatter of women’s voices. The club seemed to be getting started, and Scott was already far past sick of this event. All he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and pretend for a few hours that his mother was a little more lenient than this.
It wasn’t long before Judy finally stopped walking, and some of the pressure was alleviated from Scott’s body, indicating that his mother had finally taken a seat in the front living room, where the meeting was being held. The chatter seemed to continue on for a few minutes more, until finally, Scott felt his mother’s toes sliding off of his body and up the slope of the heel, out the opening. Confused, the boy crawled up the fabric instep of the pump and looked up into Judy’s descending palm just in time to find her thumb and forefinger pinching themselves around his sides, plucking him out of the heel. Gasping, Scott tried to resist uselessly as Judy calmly raised her bite-sized son out of the smelly prison of her shoe.
No. She wouldn’t do this to him. Not in front of other people. Surely she wouldn’t sink so low?
There was no way in hell this was going to be anything short of the most humiliating event of his entire life. Scott wanted to puke.
“Shhh… don’t worry, you’ll be back in soon, sweetie,” whispered Judy lovingly, depositing Scott into her open palm. Frantically, Scott curled into a ball, placing his hands over his exposed privates, and gazed over the huge room at the tremendous gawking faces of the forty-somethings staring him down. Scott recognized all of his mother’s book club friends, as he had seen them multiple times before this, and yet somehow those meetings were different. For one thing, he had clothes on, and for another, he was taller than their thumbs.
“Ladies…” announced Judy proudly. “You all… remember Scott, don’t you?”
“Oh, of COURSE!” squealed Jill Robinson gleefully. Always one of the most enthusiastic of Judy’s friends, Jill was always the one with something to say about any given matter, a spark of massive enthusiasm glinting in her green eyes as she crossed a leg and gripped her knee through her flowery sun dress.
“How are you, babe?” giggled Nancy Dugan, leaning forward with a huge, eager smile, her eyes growing wider as they drank in the sight of the tiny boy sprawled in his mother’s hand like a baby bird waiting helplessly for food. Nancy, while still being rather striking and good-looking, appeared to be hanging desperately onto these attributes, as she, being the eldest of the group at 49 years old, appeared to have undergone several botox treatments and hair coloring procedures that, while they allowed her to retain a glowing appearance, made her skin look unnaturally taut to Scott, as if she had marched confidently in from some “Real Housewives” set without even batting an artificial eyelash.
“I’m… fine…” peeped Scott, not wanting to have his mother become irritated with his lack of manners and worsen his punishment somehow (not that he knew how such a thing could possibly be done, but Scott didn’t put it past his mother finding a way to make the worst thing ever even worse).
“I didn’t hear him, Judy, what did he say?” asked Carolyn Ferrell, brushing away some stray hairs from her hazel bob cut and cupping her hand around her ear. Judy smiled, repeating what Scott had said to Carolyn, who nodded and smiled sweetly at Scott. Of the women assembled here, Carolyn was the only one who didn’t particularly embarrass Scott quite as much as the others. Being a close family friend, Carolyn was practically like an aunt to Scott and had known him literally since birth. Nonetheless, he would’ve preferred not to be seen by anyone in this state, even one as close as her.
“Well, Scott…” came a steady, sultry voice from the corner of the room. “Normally I’d tell you you’ve grown about a foot since I last saw you, but… I don’t think that would be very accurate now, would it?”
The whole room erupted into laughter while Scott just cowered in utter embarrassment, clenching his eyes shut and imagining the smug look of satisfaction on the face of Susan Cartwright, the owner of the voice. Youthful looking, full-bodied, and tall, Susan was perhaps the most voluptuous of the group, and as a result had been the victim of two cheating husbands that had left her with a bitter hatred of all men, no matter how hard they tried to be nice to her, which she enacted through cruel and unneeded jokes at the expense of all unlucky enough to be within her radius. Scott, in particular, was often the brunt of her chidings when she visited because of his well-known misbehaving antics, and as a result, the boy had developed a hatred for her as well.
“Well, sweetie… time for you to learn a little lesson, okay?” piped Judy, lowering her palm toward the carpet and tilting it so that Scott rolled easily out of it, a few inches away from the tip of her now-unoccupied heel, which she quickly refilled with her massive and meaty foot, wriggling her classically purple-painted toes with delight as she did. “Ladies, we’re going to have a special… treat today, courtesy of my son, who I… found with empty beer bottles in his room,” she sighed with embarrassment.
The women all gasped, a couple placing their hands over their hearts, and then they all looked down at the carpet at the tiny naked perpetrator of such an apparently unthinkable crime. Susan took the opportunity to extend a waggling finger and make a tsk, tsk sound with her tongue and the roof of her mouth.
Scott fought back a scowl at her.
“So, like I told you… if you’d like, Scott will be more than willing to accommodate you if you’re in need of a little… massage, shall we say?” winked Judy to the women, who all snickered knowingly. “So, before we begin the book discussion… would anyone like to-”
“I would, Judy!” interjected Jill, not even waiting for the sentence to finish. She looked down at Scott and winked, grinning toothily at him.
“-go first. Of course, Jill,” laughed Judy, who had a feeling this would happen. “Scott, sweetie? Please walk over to Jill and have a seat in her shoe.” It was all the boy could do to not flinch at the sight of the forty-three-year-old woman trying to look almost seductively down at him while towering over him like an office building. Gingerly, Jill dangled her green pump lithely off the ends of her dexterous toes before allowing it to plop on the carpet upright, her bare foot crossed over her other knee and stretching and arching to air out, as if waving down to Scott, warning him of what was coming.
Scott stared down at the ground, far too humiliated to want to interact in any meaningful way with these women besides simply carrying out his mother’s commands so as to end the torment as soon as possible. He shuffled forward across the floor toward the vacant emerald green pump, a pleasantly minty aroma of some exotic foot lotion wafting around near it. He could hear Jill giggling feverishly from above.
“Don’t be shy, hon. Climb right in,” she cooed playfully. Scott looked up just enough to see her right foot flattened against the carpet now, her thick, dry heel tapping impatiently against the ground with a soft thud each time, her long toes rippling slowly, the sunlight that reached under the coffee table beaming off of her brilliantly shining silver nails.
Anticipating. Eager, almost. She could hardly wait to get the belittled teenager under her wrinkled sole.
Gulping, Scott resolved to just keep moving and avoid a breakdown as long as possible. Grabbing ahold of the green leather, Scott pulled a leg over the opening and slipped into the felt interior of the pump.
“You can just lay on down, Scott. I’ll take care of the rest,” winked Jill. Scott shuddered but tried to hide his contempt, not particularly wanting to get on anyone’s bad side when he was in such a vulnerable position. Obviously, he knew that no actual harm would come to him during this, but he wouldn’t put his mother above granting any of her friends permission to increase the tenuousness of his punishment as they saw fit. Sighing, the eighteen-year-old calmly laid down, letting his legs slip down into the shadowy tip of the pump, and rested his back against the heel segment of the shoe.
“Hmm… no, hon. The other way. Turn yourself the other way, okay?” suggested Jill sweetly, although Scott knew she wasn’t actually giving him the option. Groaning softly, he curled himself up and turned around, slowly allowing himself to slide backward down the declined surface of the pump until his head came to rest in the darkness of the toe section. The somewhat bearable minty aroma was instantly mixed with a tangy scent of sweat-soaked leather lining the interior of the shoe like sticky, organic wallpaper. Scott coughed quietly, having become far more used to this smell than any young man his age should reasonably have been considered to be. “Theeeeere…” drawled Jill throatily, delighted. “Now just hold still, hon.”
Scott swallowed hard, staring up at the opening of the shoe, and watched hopelessly as the light entering into the musty darkness of the pump was blocked out by Jill’s bare foot rising higher and higher above the shoe, preparing to dive in. Her sole scrunching, her toes wriggling, her heel bending, Jill pointed her big toe and slowly slipped it into the pump. In moments, Scott felt his body being buried under the crushing, fleshy weight of Jill’s sole, his head soon meeting a similar fate as it became entwined between the thick, meaty toes of the towering woman’s all-too eager foot. Jill seemed to have been more prepared for this than she let on, because Scott barely had a moment to try and get his bearings before her digits began writhing uncomfortably, bopping her soft toe prints against his unfortunate face. Scott shivered and tried not to inhale, as the salty scent was increased tenfold in such close proximity to the woman’s fleshy toe crevices, which seemed like peachy breeding grounds for foot sweat that was practically coaxed out of her pores whenever she wore these thick green leather pumps.
“How does it feel, sugar?” came the voice of Susan, weakened by the sound-resistant wall of leather around the shoe, but Scott could make out the words when he concentrated.
“Oh, GOD, it’s… amazing…” whispered Jill with satisfaction. As she said this, Scott felt her toes stop wriggling and instantly curl downward, gripping tightly around his head. The teen yelped softly as his head was inserted snugly between the titanic forty-three-year-olds toe crevice, his face settling disgustingly against the warm flesh, which was quickly working up a slick layer of sweat and trickling outward. Admittedly, Jill seemed to take better care of her feet than Judy, as her skin was much softer and well-pampered, but this didn’t change the fact that her foot was unceremoniously laid across Scott’s entire naked body.
The teen was embarrassed whenever his mother did this to him, but it was somehow always helped slightly by the fact that she was, indeed, his mother, and had changed him as a baby and raised him. Hell, even when his girlfriend had taken a try with wearing him in her shoe, it hadn’t been this bad.
Now, however, he was being fully exposed and even touched by one of his mother’s friends: an outsider, who didn’t seem at all concerned with the humiliation she was putting the boy through. As Jill’s monumental toes on each side of Scott’s fact, acting like a soft, fleshy vice, began rigorously squirming again, Scott blushed a deeper shade of red than he’d have ever thought possible. At this moment, the teen half-heartedly felt himself wish for death, or at least a debilitating coma.
The next fifteen minutes passed uneventfully. Jill settled into a pattern of, every thirty seconds or so, gently squeezing her toes inward. This would compress her soft toe flesh against Scott’s face and torso each time, which would inevitably print a new layer of fresh sweat droplets along the unfortunate teen’s face. His face and lips sticky with Jill’s drying foot sweat, Scott eventually had to settle into a rhythm of coughing and breathing more heavily when his head wasn’t being lovingly squeezed by his mother’s friend’s big toe. The spicy aroma made it hard to do this, though, and particularly when his face was compressed against the warm skin between Jill’s grungy toes, the stale and fleshy taste meeting his lips was nearly unbearable.
The end couldn’t come soon enough. Scott couldn’t hear what was being said particularly well beyond a vague murmur of the discussion on the club’s book, but at long last, he felt Jill’s toes pulling out of the shoe. For a moment, glued stickily by gummy dried sweat, Scott felt himself sticking to the woman’s toes and his body being dragged along the well-worn sole of the shoe. Thrashing quickly, though, Scott managed to free himself just as Jill tenderly tipped her heel over, allowing the boy to roll roughly out onto the carpet. Gasping for breath and getting his bearings, Scott stood to his feet and coughed, managing a look up at his mother, who was smirking down at him, one of her legs crossed, her hands folded together regally on her lap.
This was going to be a very, very long meeting.