Scott squinted in the dark up toward the living room ceiling, tucked beneath the blankets of his armchair bedding. Sleep had nearly overtaken him in the lovely rare quiet of the Stevens household. It was only just half past eleven, but after he was given the chance to leap for bed, he’d taken it without a second thought. Bailey had mercifully departed the house shortly before, leaving him back in the relative safety of his sister’s grasp.

            “Remember our deal tomorrow,” Maggie said brightly as she’d propped her six-inch brother against her stomach, giving him a bizarre upward view from the bottom of her torso. “I got you out of rubbing her toes, so you gotta come rub mine now.”

            “I will,” he promised.

            “Sorry about the super-random things I said about putting you in my shoes and stuff. She’s just used to hearing me talk about it.”

            “No problem,” Scott mumbled, finally adjusting to being taken aback by this incomprehensibly considerate version of his sister. He held his breath, selecting his words carefully at this opportunity for a look into his sister’s consistently evolving moral code. “You… talk a lot about this kind of stuff to them at practice?”

            “I don’t know. Sometimes. Why?”
            “Just curious.”

            “It doesn’t mean anything… me telling them what I do with you or not. It’s just for fun.”

            Scott seriously doubted the veracity of the idea that it didn’t mean anything, given the going-over he’d just received in Bailey’s hands, but at least his sister didn’t seem to take it too seriously.

            “Yeah,” he agreed. “I guess you don’t really… do that anymore.”

            Maggie smirked. Her thumb and index finger closed together around the back of Scott’s shirt, plucking him out of her palm. A moment later, he was dangling prone in her grasp just around eye level.

            “Why do you mention it?” she asked calmly. “Do you want me to?”

            “Not really.”

            “You sure?”

            “Um… yeah. I am,” Scott continued, careful not to let his tone become patronizing, despite the fact that he was having to defend himself against such a ridiculous claim.

            “Well, I don’t know,” she shrugged. She’d exited the foyer and made her way into the living room, leaning up against a plush couch armrest as she eased into the seat. Her fingers continued to dangle her toy sibling. “I’ve never done it.”

            “It’s really not fun,” he said neutrally.

            This was as big of a protest as he was likely to allow himself while Maggie held him so precariously. It felt strange, declaring such a thing to his sister. It occurred to him that he’d never really flat-out admitted this, obvious a fact as it seemed.

            “Uh-huh,” she replied, somehow still with some doubt infused into her tone.

            “You don’t think so?”

            “It’s just some stuff I’ve read about for my internship this summer…”
            “What stuff?” He tried not to sound too desperate.
            “Like, it talks about how people who have had a lot of R&R-type stuff… people who’ve been in people’s shoes for a long time, like years… people like you…” Maggie explained. “They can start to, I don’t know… be sort of okay with it? Like, maybe even be more comfortable there than some other places.”

            “More comfortable… getting worn in somebody’s shoe?”

            “Yeah,” Maggie said with some of her usual snide haughtiness, as though the answer was the most natural thing in the world. “Trust me. It’s a bunch of doctors who did studies and wrote all this. They’d know what they’re talking about.”

            “I gotcha,” Scott said, deciding to quit while he was ahead.

            “It’s not the same for everybody, obviously,” she continued. She twirled a finger through her blonde locks with the opposite hand, occasionally flicking the silky end of the tuft at Scott’s head. “But if you ever… you know, start to feel different. Even if it’s pretty embarrassing for you to say… well, you can tell me. And…”

            “…y-yeah?”

            “I’d help you out, of course,” Maggie said. Her lips puckered as pressed her fingertip into it, then transferred the air kiss to the top of Scott’s head. Promptly, her hand lowered down to the cushions, setting her six-inch brother down between her newly liberated bare feet. “Anytime.”

            The young man spent an awkward few seconds fumbling in the buoyant terrain of the couch cushions while his sister’s tanned peds trounced playfully about in the softness. He was powerless to the motion of the ground decided by his little sibling’s feet. Her toes danced with cheerful glee, bopping playfully at his legs and arms on every unsuccessful attempt. Every time he thought he was about to be able to stand up, the balls of Maggie’s feet would sink into the fabric, shuffling its shape yet again. In the end, he was only able to get his balance by propping himself up on his sister’s big toes, which flanked on either side.

            She beamed with pride as she allowed him to stand below her crouched form on the couch, bulbous toes flexing beneath his miniature hands. When he started to slip, forcing him to wedge his arms into the fleshy crevice between her digits, she happily hugged his limbs into the plush grip of her skin and stood him back up again. At last seemingly satisfied with their gentle game, Maggie pressed the tip of her finger between her lips and then brought it to Scott, this time delivering a much wetter good-night kiss.

            “All you gotta do is ask,” she simpered. Maggie slipped back into the hall and switched the light off as she went, leaving Scott in thankful blackness.

            Huddled beneath the blanket, conflicted by a day full of increasingly troubling developments, Scott buried his skull in the armchair cushion.

            What all now did he have to be newly concerned about? It was practically migraine-inducing to recall.

            A newcomer to Judy’s campaign with a clear and vocal desire to borrow him for some literally one-on-one attention. A reappearance by Nancy, who now clearly had a mind to reserve Scott for her own session somehow or other. A girlfriend who was about to be on the other side of the globe for a year and a half, far too far to rescue him from his life’s underfooted woes. A cold-eyed seventeen-year-old with the desire to spill his secrets and store the rest of him in her shoes. And finally, a sister who was evidently hoping and praying he would willingly ask her to make him her personal toe putty.

            That Sylvia woman was the only glimmer of a hope in Scott’s mind, and an anonymous one at that. Being trampled under her muggy feet hadn’t exactly been a pleasure, but it was informative. He still couldn’t grasp Judy’s sudden willingness to rent him out to her in particular. Whatever the reason, though, it was worth finding out, by most means necessary.

            Not all, though. That would’ve been excessive. There were far too many “means” available to Scott to consider using all of them.

            A series of ticking creaks from the garage door interrupted his worrying. The softer slam of the car door and the lack of key fumbling at the entrance told him it was his mother returning, as if he couldn’t guess by the clack of her heels on the hardwood. Judy wasn’t the type to enter a room without making herself known until she was really ready, and by then, there was no chance for anyone to focus on anything else.

            The sound of her shoes echoed sharply in his eardrums.

            Lights in the kitchen clicked by on. Scott remained still, wrapped into a ball and monitoring the speed of his rising and falling chest. Life would be much easier if he could just allow this day to end. He always dealt with his mother better after a good night’s rest; it wasn’t by a huge margin, but it was enough.

            “Scoooott…” The crooned call was sweet as a childhood lullaby, and yet it made Scott go rigid in his bones. So much for the good night’s rest. He held motionless as the blanket was pinched in the corner and unfolded away from his body, revealing Judy standing above him with a hand on her hip and a tired smile on her face.

            “Hi, Mom-” he slurred. “-my.”

            “Were you asleep already, sweetie?”

            “Almost.”

            “I’m sorry,” she said, cocking her head as her index finger descended to pet Scott’s cheek. “I just wanted to say thank you for doing a good job today during my meeting. I think you made a nice impression. Keep it up, and you’ll keep getting my permission to leave with Ella.”

            “Thanks. Actually, she’s-” he began, stopping short of revealing the upcoming impossibility of this luxury.

            “She’s what, honey?”
            “She’s helped me stay focused,” Scott said. “I know I tripped up earlier this week, and seeing her was a nice reminder that… well, I’m on your side.”

            Judy nodded, a smile creeping over her lips as she stroked her son’s hair.

            “I’m proud of the progress you’re making. Just keep thinking that way, and everyone will get what they want.”

            Trying not to loathe himself too much for his yes-man mode, Scott motionlessly allowed his mother’s giant fingers to caress his back like a guinea pig. He even pretended to relax a bit under her touch, sinking lower into the cushion. Judy’s fingers followed, continuing with their attempt at soothing, although it came off a bit more like a reminder.

            “Where’d you go after Ella and I left?” Scott asked, emboldened by his mother’s good mood.

            “Oh, a couple of meetings with backers, and just one Representative. Some of the ladies from this morning came too for a cocktail party after. Nothing I’m sure you’re interested in, honey.”

            “Ah.”

            Did “ladies” include Sylvia?

            “Why do you ask?”

            “You just look tired,” he said gently, daring to follow up with a playful smirk as he stared up at his mother through her fingers. “No offense, obviously.”

            “Of course,” she chuckled. “It has been a long day. For both of us.”

            Judy arched back to full height again, at last relenting the weight of her fingers on her son’s back. She stretched, sliding her palms along her hips and rocking side to side in her notably towering heels that easily bumped her over the six-foot-tall mark.

            Scott peered over the edge of the couch, watching his mother’s feet flex in the prisons of the heels. Slightly swollen from labored walking on the spikes, her skin was flushed and weary as her feet were at last pried out of their adornments. Judy sighed deeply, releasing the tension as her nude feet lurched over the carpet.

            At the same time, a probably-doomed idea popped in the back of Scott’s mind. And suddenly, he couldn’t shake it.

            “If you wanted, um… you know, if you’re tired and want to kinda… relax, or something…” Scott began, feigning awkwardness as he knitted his fingers together. “…I could… you know. Help.”

            “Oh?” Judy’s lips pursed for just a second before puffing again, offering a silent kiss to her son between a breath. “You’d do that, honey?”

            “Yeah.” Scott kept his face frozen in an earnest state of neutrality.

            Both mother and son understood perfectly well that he’d “do” that whether or not he wanted to, if Judy demanded it; the real surprise for the woman was that he’d volunteered at all.

            And consequently, Scott knew that his parent was already scoping for potential trickery, even as she smiled with such unrivaled joy at his revolting offer. God, what a heel he was.

            “Well, that has to be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me this month. Sweetie, I would love that,” Judy said. “You really are making such wonderful growth.”

            Judy leaned down, collecting her six-inch son into her broad palm. The journey to her bedroom was a slow and deliberate one as she studied her offspring, her fingers smoothing down his hair and tickling his stomach.

            Meanwhile, Scott uncomfortably pondered what his mother’s version of “wonderful growth” meant. Because if the probable-future Senator Stevens had her way, he imagined she wouldn’t be happy until every child in America was shrunken at the feet of their mothers, requesting the opportunity to prostrate, heart and sole.