Ted pulled his knees to his chest and bowed his head as low as he could to clear the tablecloth. The space beneath the covered study table was twilit and muggy, but would only keep him hidden if he remained silent. With his limbs clutched to his torso, Ted could feel his rampaging pulse vibrating his body from head to toe. The rhythm was so fast he was becoming light-headed. Worse, the teen honestly couldn't say whether this effect came from a deep, anticipatory sexual hunger, or from the knowledge that he was utter toast if he should be seen by a single living soul right now.

            His plan was downright insane. Yet, the longer Ted had thought about it, lying awake in bed all last night, the more he knew there wouldn't be a more perfect opportunity than the one laid before him now. It was almost as if fate was begging him to chance it for the greatest sensual catharsis of his adolescent years. Thus, here he was: hiding under the table in a vacant study classroom of a strictly girls-only Catholic school, awaiting the arrival of a certain redheaded eighteen-year-old demi-goddess by the name of Larissa, just so he could spy on her feet with the aching wish that she might remove them from her shoes and unknowingly give him a fetish-fulfilling show.

            Ted's all-boys Catholic school stood only a mile from the sister all-girls institution, though it may as well have been on the other side of the planet for all the good it did him. Most of his days were spent daydreaming and lamenting the fact that hundreds of girls his age were just down the road, all daily wearing the same sumptuous ensemble of a tight cream blouse, checkered skirt, sheer stockings, and black shoes, and yet there was no one there to admire them.

            Sunday morning at church was the only chance he had to glimpse his female contemporaries, and while the entire mass was spent with Ted stealthily peering beneath the pews for the flutter of modest pastel skirts and absentminded dangle of flats from nyloned feet, it simply wasn't the same. He wanted to exist in the aura of those Catholic schoolgirl outfits. When it came time for prayer, he always vowed to sell his soul if only he could have the chance to experience at least one of those gorgeous co-eds in her natural "educational" Catholic costume, up close and personal.

            There were so many beautiful specimens to choose from, as well. The girls in the young adult church choir were the best of the best, however, and Ted had gifted all his secret devotions to four in particular.

            First there was Tiffany, with her luscious chocolate-brown hair tied up in pigtails, combined with her infectious giggles and delightful tendency to puff out her chest, even at church; her slippered feet were always busy under the pew, tapping and writhing but rarely sliding out of the shoe. Then Kelsey, sultry beyond her years, with her flinty voice and enviable figure which pronounced her tight little behind to juicy excellence; she was more methodical, often removing only one shoe at a time and gliding her white stocking-clad big toe along the ridge of its opposite. Or Blair, who kept her dishwater-blonde locks down in an angelic cascade and had a habit of teasing the boys in Pig Latin to the point of going mute; best of all, she often attended church stocking-free, which caused her to fidget her naked pink heels off the lip of the shoe every few minutes to scratch an itch on her poor weary feet. Out of all the girls, Ted had tried his luck the most frequently with Blair by trying to sneak a fuzzy snapshot on his phone whenever her wide pink sole lifted out of her shoe a pew ahead. He'd never been called out or even caught, but still couldn't help but feel that Blair gave him even more sniveling looks since then.

            But of course, the crown jewel of the feminine social scene, and the one who was hotly lusted after by just about every man who glanced her way in life, was Larissa. Ted had never summoned the courage necessary to speak a single word to her, though she'd visited him in a number of wet dreams.

            Bluntly speaking, Larissa was the total package. Cute as a button, still clinging to a few childhood freckles, yet her blossoming transition into full womanhood was evident already. Her flaming ginger locks could snag anyone's attention from a hundred yards away, like a silent siren's song. Immaculately proportioned, the girl was developing a magnetic swell in her bosom and rear, but not overly so. She was exquisite and oozing sexuality in her every innocent move. Though not proud of this fact, Ted had on more than one occasion felt a stirring in his loins while watching Larissa place a communion wafer on her lovely tongue. Beyond her natural-born gifts, though, the girl dressed to impress, with outfits that complimented her taut shape while just skimming the line of poor taste for church.

            Ted could only dream of the opportunity to be near Larissa. And up until yesterday, that was all he had: dreams. Then, by pure happenstance, he'd found himself standing behind a stone pillar after mass, and overhead part of an innocuous conversation between some of the queenly girls who sat ahead of him for the service. Larissa held court at the center of them as usual, but said little.

            "God, I can't believe this history project Sister Margaret's got us on now," Blair groaned. She impatiently toe-tapped her flats on the tile. "And the whole thing's due Wednesday?"

            "Seriously, does she not want us to have any free time at all? Plus, we've got choir practice like three nights this week, and the recital tomorrow!" Kelsey added. Leaning against the other side of the pillar for support, she stood on one foot while easing her silk-covered foot back into its vessel. "It's probably just because she's old and crabby and hasn't had any in fifty years."

            "Hasn't had any free time, or any... you know..." Tiffany snickered. Her famous lilting laugh echoed throughout the entire sanctuary. Noticing several boys her age walking past on the way to the exit, she crossed her arms beneath her A-cups and propped them higher. "Is that what you meant, Kelsey?"

            "I don't know. Take your pick. Sister Margaret probably hasn't even been fingered for that long," Kelsey snarked.

            "Kels! We're in church!" Blair whispered, but giggled right along with Tiffany anyway. She arched her foot up until her bare sole plunked out of the pressurized hold of the flat. Stretching it to and fro, she settled the plush underside back into its holster long before Ted had his fill of furtive staring.

            "Well, I don't know about the rest of you..." Larissa began. Despite contributing nothing to the conversation yet, her soft words instantly caused her three compatriots to pay undivided attention. The queen bee twirled a slender finger through her fiery hairdo, and quietly pivoted her black-soled high heel on a fallen communion wafer. It cracked to powder beneath the grinding pressure of the girl's shoe. "...but the only way I'm going to get all that work done is by taking some extra time in one of the study rooms. Maybe Room 110. No one's ever in there."

            "That sounds cool. Are we all gonna meet in there tomorrow morning?" Tiffany asked.

            "Yeah, that seems like a good idea," Blaire said.

            "No, I don't think so. I'll just do my work alone tomorrow. An hour should be enough," Larissa said, and just like that, the decree was made. None of the other three made an attempt to challenge. "But I'll catch up with you later, once I get a good start."

            "Okay," Kelsey answered, suddenly more timid when addressing Larissa. "By the way, I think the reason nobody uses Room 110 is because the AC's broken and the sisters won't get anybody to fix it. So it might be kinda, you know, hot in there."

            "That's all right. I like a little sauna action now and again. Besides, while I'm all alone in there, maybe I could just strip down to nothing," Larissa said. Her pretty lips widened to a smarmy smile. She blew courteous air kisses to her friends, waggled her fingers, and strode away. Each step was closely watched by anyone in her immediate vicinity, savoring everything from the confidence of her gait to the way her dark-tinted nylons shone like constellations wherever her pale, shapely legs moved within. Ted peeked around the side of the pillar, careful not to be seen by Larissa's underlings, and watched her exit into the sunshine.

            His mission was clear then. To come anywhere near such forbidden fruit, Ted would have to put himself at tremendous risk. Still, the factors at play couldn't be more ideal. One: Room 110 was, supposedly, usually abandoned. Two: Larissa's commanding personality ensured none of her friends would unexpectedly drop by, either. Three: That broken AC would surely mean at least a little dressing down. Ted knew the redhead's comment about stripping to nothing was made in sexily jesting earnest, but nevertheless, there was at least the possibility of minor disrobing.

            Specifically, Larissa's feet. Ted had only caught distant fleeting glimpses of them before, but on those rare occasions in church when Larissa liberated the occupants of her high heels, the boy was entranced by their pinkish-white complexion, the tapestry of fleshy creases, and the coy way she'd roll and flex her soles to continually alter their shape. He could only imagine what those peds would look like from up close.

            Finally, this morning, after playing hooky from his own Catholic school and somehow sneaking inside the all-girls academy unseen to Room 110 before the first bell tolled, Ted would no longer have to simply "imagine." He would see it for himself.

            The minutes ticked by, with no sign of the guest of honor. Kelsey wasn't bluffing about the atmosphere in this room. It was stale, almost muggy, and Ted was starting to get seriously uncomfortable. However, he couldn't risk moving, with so much at stake. Just when he was beginning to think of chickening out, though, he heard the doorknob turn, followed by delicate yet proud footsteps across the ancient carpet. Though Ted didn't dare look out from under the tablecloth, he knew the pace of that stride like a religious anthem. Moreover, he heard muffled pop tunes coming from cranked-up earbuds, and the owner's own melodic voice humming along to the song.

            Larissa had arrived.

Seeing a chair pulled out from under the table, Ted backed himself to the furthest corner and held his breath. The girl gracefully took her seat, folding her patterned skirt under her athletic thighs before scooting back up to the table. Her bent exposed legs suddenly pointed in Ted's direction, plainly visible even in the shadow of the clothen table thanks to Larissa's fair skin tone and the slight sparkle of her nylons.

            These garments were a decidedly different shade than the obscuring grey-scale tone she'd worn to church the day before. For Monday, Larissa had selected a nude stocking pair so thin and sheer, it was all but translucent. In fact, Ted might've guessed this was an optical illusion and she'd actually gone commando, if not for the fabric's subtle gleam. Otherwise, the separation between his wandering eyes and Larissa's fabulous gams was nil. Which, by extension, meant Ted would have the cleanest possible view of the girl's ethereal feet, if only she'd notice the heat of the room and get more comfortable.

            Ten minutes passed. So far, so good. The girl did seem content with the stuffiness of the space, and didn't yet doff any of her uniform, as taunted the day before. Still, Ted was encouraged by the fact that Larissa was listening to her iPod. It would help mask any ghostly sounds in the room originating from any lurking foot-pervs. Indeed, Ted looked upon himself that way; he even felt guilt for this filthy little venture. Nevertheless, the combination of hormones, repressed fetishes, and desperate need to be near Larissa overpowered that shame. He was here. He had to follow through now.

            Once sure that Larissa wasn't budging from her seat, Ted got up the courage to creep closer. An inch at a time, he moved silently over the floor, pulled by gravitational forces toward the object of his fascination and even devotion. Those sheer stockings grew more beautiful around her sporting-sculpted calves and thighs, all framed by the frilly inner stitches of her skirt. Her shoes, Ted now realized, were not high heels or even the more traditional flats many of the Catholic students wore, but stylish leathery black clogs missing the back, which allowed her rounded heel free reign to sift about. This meant removing them would be easier than ever, if only she would do it.

            It occurred to Ted that if Larissa ever did directly address him with speech or even her gaze, he'd probably listen to whatever she said, no matter how ridiculous or demanding.

            He drew nearer. With one more scoot, he was now in reaching distance. If time were to freeze itself, Ted could lean forward just a few inches and take hold of those glorious shoes, maybe cradling Larissa's nyloned peds on their way to freedom. Instead, he sat perfectly still, hyper-conscious of the fact that if the redhead were to idly kick one of her feet forward, the hardy underbelly of her clog would clock Ted full in the face, revealing his location. The jig would be up, and his life would be over.

            Yet Ted had come this far, and there was no turning back.

            And then, finally, his patience paid off. Twenty minutes into her solo project study session, Larissa sighed with a singsong wane, wedged her shoes against one another, and simultaneously pried both feet out of the dark mouths of their respective clogs. They clunked softly on the floor, while the prized peds in their sheer velvety prisons came to rest atop the leather maws, gently compressing the overarch down beneath Larissa's supple soles.

            Ted was enraptured. This was closer to a religious experience than anything he'd ever gone through in Catholic mass, short of those brief occasions when one of the girls let her shoe droop from a poised toe. His member had become rock-hard in the span of a few seconds, and showed no signs of going down until this situation paid off somehow. It took all his willpower not to reach out and caress Larissa's stocking-encased feet, if not lunge to wrap his lips around the adorable bite-sized digit ends and meaty heel.

            Even while half in the dark and seeing them from above, Ted could tell this girl's feet were off the Richter scale. They were flawless in their formation, not too boat-like or stubby, but rather just on the enticing side of large. Her toes were long, but certainly not finger-esque, with pale shafts and pudgy pink dewdrop-shaped tips. The heels, though gently callused from athletic extracurriculars, were worthy of being shown off upon the exposed stage of those backless clogs. And at last her soles, even if still only peeking out when Larissa rocked her feet side to side, had already won Ted over as the best feature on the teenage empress's pretty appendages. They were deeply arched, with a beefy ball-hump at the height of the slope, but swooped deep for the wrinkle-ridden epicenter, where the skin was palest and doughiest.

            Ted's pulse stampeded as he used his phone to snap pictures from every angle he dared take. This was even more dangerous than before. If Larissa so much as arched her foot and batted her toes while the boy was capturing the moment, she'd kick the device right out of his hand.

            But still, he wanted more. Though Ted would cherish these pictures for a very long time, if not the rest of his life, it wasn't the same as being among Larissa's heavenly feet. Despite the danger and the screaming subconscious voice inside his skull telling him to quit while he was ahead, Ted knew he'd painfully regret not sneaking in close, just for a minute or two. After spending such a long time beside Larissa's luscious legs, he judged her to be a calm and stationary worker. She wasn't going anywhere. So, against better judgment and common sense, the boy laid himself flat on the carpet without making a peep. Then, again an inch at a time, he eased himself under the chair.

            With his heart in his throat, Ted came to rest fully beneath the towering throne of his redheaded idol. From here, he had a marvelous view up her checkered skirt as well, which was generally a secondary priority behind the ultimate goal of seeing her feet at play; still, it was an arousing bonus, and Ted indulged in a lingering stare. The fluffy underskirt folds shielding her panties were simply to die for, and the boy longed to further explore, though of course going that far was impossible. These Catholic schoolgirl skirts were practically designed to be difficult to stare upside. Even with that slip divot that ran up the length of its owner's toned leg. Besides, he had all he needed right here on the floor, a few inches from his face.

            This was the REAL action.

            Minutes passed, far more than the boy intended, but he'd lost all sense of time. Her feet were too hypnotic in their every twitch, shape, and color. The longer he laid here, the more the boy felt as if he wasn't just hiding under Larissa, but looking up to her at the proper scale she deserved to be, in keeping with her larger-than-life personality and royal attitude. As if the girl had assumed a scale massive enough to break through the walls of the school, letting her skirts soar toward the sky, propelled by her continually growing runner's legs, and rooted to the pitiful earth by expanding feet the size of trucks which threatened to rip through the papery nylons at any second.

            Squelched air caught in Ted's lungs. He'd scarcely breathed the entire time he lay under Larissa's chair, but only realized now. Trembling, afraid of coughing if too under-oxygenated, the boy opened his mouth to inhale and turned toward his unaware mistress's legs. Just then, she flexed her feet again, reopening the maws of her shoes and smoothing out the loping wrinkles in both her fleshy soles and the well-worn stockings. In that instant, a waft of pungent, stinging air was released in Ted's direction. The moist, mealy stench of Larissa's feet was compounded by the fustiness of the study room, and that unfortunate cloud was gulped down his throat.

            The smell was startling in its acidity and zest, even if Ted had to admit he'd have killed for the chance to sniff any of the girls' feet, especially Larissa's. Still, it was simply too much, and in the mind-bending surprise of the moment, the boy flinched hard out of instinct. He reared up, banging his head on the underside of the chair with such force that even the legs of the table were jostled.

            Ted went stiff as a board, while Larissa's feet fidgeted to relocate the openings in her clogs. Once she'd politely reinserted her peds inside their leather habitats, she pushed back her chair away from the table. The skirt flapped Monroe-style, those shimmering stockinged legs parted, and the inquisitive redhead was staring directly at the intruder between her shoes.

In any other scenario, Ted guessed, the girl might have screamed bloody-murder and either commenced battering him with the nearest stapler, or simply sprinted off to find the appropriate law enforcement to do a better job. After all, there was a strange boy hiding conspicuously in view of her underwear and bare legs, not only sporting an obvious chub but camping in a school he was forbidden from entering in the first place. His offenses were many and would likely follow him the rest of his young life. However, Larissa did not scream, for a very particular reason.

            All of these unusual circumstances were superseded by the fact that Ted was now only one inch tall.

            "Oh my God," the girl boomed. Her otherworldly tone reverberated in the shrunken man's bones. Larissa leaned over in her chair, spreading her legs wide and separating her shoes away from the little creature, though still keeping them close enough that she could easily clap him between the rubbery insteps if she chose. "What... is... that?"

            Ted was still grappling with the fact that, somehow without him even noticing, he and his clothes had reduced in size from five-foot-ten down to a paltry thumbnail stature, and so couldn't process Larissa's thunderous words. He was, however, vaguely conscious of the two enormous clogs settled on either side of him like the limbs of a sphinx. Except this was no statue, but a titanic living thing, as evidenced when the girl inched her shoes a little closer together again, walling Ted into a black canyon of her footwear. The view extended between the shining spires of her legs, past her knees, and up to her curiously squinting face.

            "Well, this is interesting," she said. Confusion was still written in her countenance, but an undeniable adventurous twinge plucked up her attitude. Larissa cutely wrinkled her nose. "This room's pretty hot, so I could be hallucinating, sort of like in a desert. But... I don't think I am. I think you're real. Aren't you, little thing?"

            Without waiting for an answer, Larissa nudged her left shoe in closer to the inch-tall creature. Delicately, she bopped Ted's body with just the rounded toe of the clog. Still, even this gentle force was enough to send him rolling aside like a ping-pong ball, where he smacked into the inner flank of the girl's opposing shoe.

            "OW!" Ted shrieked.

            "Woah," Larissa whispered. "It talks. Which I guess means you're real. So that's interesting, too."

            Dizzy from being smacked by a barge-sized shoe he'd so coveted only minutes before, Ted clutched his temple. He wasn't freaking out at all, because it was readily apparent that this wasn't real. It couldn't be. Ted's best guess was that he'd been lying awake for so long in his bedroom Sunday night, awaiting the dawn to enact his voyeuristic plan, that he'd drifted off into dreams of epic failure and, apparently, actualizing his belief that Larissa was a veritable goddess in need of a size greater suited to her worth. Now, it was just a matter of waking up again, so he could remind his waking self that it was a very bad idea to try sneaking into the girl's Catholic school for a peek at Larissa's feet. Easy enough.

            "You're a funny thing, you know that? I mean, you look like a person. You look about the same age as me. Which would mean you're human, and yet..." Larissa drawled. As in most situations, she wasn't speaking to him looking for response, but holding a one-sided conversation. The endpoint was decided by her, and already assumed. "...and yet you can't be a person. No human being is that small, that easy to kick around. And what were you doing down there in the first place? This is a girls school, you know, little thing. Maybe your brain isn't big enough to have reasoned that out, but unfortunately, you're trespassing. Which means there will have to be consequences."

            Steadily, Ted was catching up with reality. He listened to Larissa's measured words, feeling his blood turn chilled. Why hadn't he woken up yet?

            "No response, hmm? That proves the small brain idea, I guess, then. Let's have a closer look at you, little thing," Larissa continued. She leaned down further, dragging her French-manicured fingertips along the carpet, and drew near to Ted, opening up her palm and curling her digits for collection at the last instant. With her clogs still planted firmly on either side, and the inch-tall man woozy from her "test," there was no chance of escape. A smooth palm as snow-white as her elegant soles walled Ted in, collided with him, and then her fingers reared from overhead to pull him in. The intricate musculature of her thin fingers was evident while she coiled the boy into a merciless fist.

            "W-Wait..." Ted murmured, as he was balled up inside the girl's humid, controlling hand. "T-This... this is..."

            "Well, now. You definitely are human-ish, even if you're not fully human. More of an... I don't know... it? I mean, there's no species that you'd fit into, I'm sorry to say," Larissa explained. Her fingers rippled around her tiny capture, giving her a better look at him as her thumb pinned him to her creased palm. She nibbled the corner of her lip and cocked her head to the side, causing her red tresses to flourish. "You're quite the sneaky little runt, you know. I didn't even hear you creeping up under me. Speaking of which, I can't say I really appreciate your tiny little eyes trying to sneak a peek, even if you're just an animal-thing, and not a man. That's a no-no, you know."

            This was the most Ted had ever heard the soft-spoken social matriarch say, and what's more, she was saying it to him. It was fascinating watching this gorgeous face on such a jumbotron scale: her lips shifting, her nostrils flaring, her green eyes twinkling while her lashes batted. He would've been captivated by her voice regardless of his size. However, he was also literally captivated by her powerful hand, and so had no choice but to listen to every word she spoke. Strangely, he also noticed that he still had a full-mast boner. Now that he'd fully recovered from the earlier blow, it occurred to Ted that he should give himself up and reveal his identity, for his own safety.

            Yet something stopped him. Larissa's bewilderment over his species was the only thing protecting him from having to admit that, yes, he'd snuck into the all-girls school to snoop on her feet. Self-preservation caused Ted to stay silent.

            "I've still got to get some work done here, so I can't deal with you quite yet," Larissa said to the critter in her hand. For someone who'd never seen a shrunken person before, she seemed to be taking it rather well. The initial shock had worn off, and in its place was the same godlike self-assurance that characterized the girl's whole personality. Only this time, the tiny subject she was addressing was a size appropriate to the way Larissa already treated most people.

            And she seemed to relish it.

            Ted bowed his head, hoping not to be recognized. For all he knew, though, Larissa had never even laid eyes on him, nor committed him to memory if she had. His level of significance to the head popular girl's life was accurately measured by his current size.

            "So try not to squirm around too much once I put you away. You've already got one strike against me, after all. Believe me when I say you don't want two," Larissa scolded, though she punctuated it with a smile. The girl stood up from the chair, fingered her skirt pocket open, and dangled the boy over the fabric entryway.

            Ted plopped inside, rolled along the linty bottom, and felt a set of gigantic fingers patting him through the skirt's wall, ensuring he was right where she'd put him. A satisfied murmur sounded from outside, then morphed into a devious snicker. The redheaded giantess took her seat again and resumed work, leaving Ted to stew in the tightly folded pocket, held spread-eagle over the curved plain of her giant thigh.

Half an hour later, the boy felt a shift in the living ecosystem that was Larissa's humongous body. Try as he might to stay steady, it was impossible once the girl started walking. If seeing Larissa march from afar was a spectacle before, it was his entire focus now that he was kept so close to her. Ted was bounced like a rogue popcorn kernel from corner to corner of the pocket in time with Larissa's mighty, fast-paced stride. Whenever he pinged close to the lip of the skirt pocket, he considered the possibility of clinging on, and waiting for an opportunity to jump once Larissa took a seat again. He had no idea how to go about surviving this mysterious transformation or how to reverse it, but first things first: he had to escape Larissa.

            She didn't make it easy, of course. Shortly after the idea occurred to him, her hand re-entered the pocket. Larissa's gigantic palm and flattened fingers acted as a ceiling, pushing Ted back down each time he started arising toward the exit portal. Every step, her hand sank lower in the pocket, her fingers cuddling tighter around, until she gathered him back into her pinched fist. To an outside observer, Larissa would've simply looked like she had stuffed her hands in her pockets, even though the eighteen-year-old had a fragile human life caged in her fingers.

            Though muddled through the double-barrier of skirt fabric and a giant girl's fist, Ted could detect bustling life outside. Larissa had apparently long-abandoned Room 110 and made her way to the main halls for the start of the school day. Feminine voices buzzed from every direction with just as much booming grandeur as his captor's own. A mélange of laughter, gossip, whining, and stern back-talking filled the air, and made Ted fearful of whatever was to come. Escape would be much tougher now, with so many equally gargantuan female bodies lumbering around. Even if he wasn't squished underfoot, who was to say anyone else would be more forgiving than Larissa?

            The swell of voices grew louder, then expanded to echoes in a wider space. Given that the all-boys school was a sister site with the same schedule, Ted had a good idea of where they were. The entire school had gathered for morning prayers and announcements in the chapel before proceeding to regular classes. When Larissa finally took a seat in one of the pews, it wasn't long before Ted heard voices he recognized even without seeing faces, namely Tiffany, Kelsey, and Blair.

            As it turned out, though, he didn't have to guess identities for long. Larissa's fingers fastened around him and easily dragged the puny boy out of her pocket, bringing him out in her open palm for observation by the trio of lovely underlings. The dull roar of conversation throughout the rest of the hall shielded the quartet of choir girls from being noticed by any outsiders with their curious trinket.

            "Wow, I thought you were kidding in your text, Larissa!" Tiffany hissed under her breath. Her eyes boggled at the sight of the tiny thing, and perhaps by force of habit, she adjusted her bosom in the presence of a male. At his miniature perspective, even Tiffany's A-cups visibly jiggled for Ted.

            Had he not been so paralyzed at the moment, it would've been a treat.

            "That's insane. It's alive, right?" Kelsey whispered. She narrowed her vision, bringing her huge face closer to Larissa's hand until her warm exhalations could steam over Ted's body. "What is it?"

            "That's what I'm trying to figure out," the redhead replied. She curled her fingers up around Ted to discourage him from trying to leap over the side of her palm. "Any ideas?"

            "He looks sort of our age, but I've never seen him before," Tiffany said. She prodded a pink-painted fingernail at Ted, flipping him over onto his back. Her trademark machine-gun giggle came instantly after. "I guess fairies are real?"

            "I don't recognize him, either," Kelsey said.

            "I do," Blair quietly snarled. The other three girls turned expectantly to the blonde, whose upper lip curled with disdain. Her vision narrowed to slits and her lips thinned, closely resembling the last time Ted caught her eye. Blair's volume lowered to a throaty murmur, but her words were unmistakable: "That's the boy who took a picture of my feet at church."

            Ted's insides folded in on themselves. If he'd ceased to exist at this exact moment, that would've been just fine with him.

            "Seriously?" Tiffany gawked. Her already-wide eyes turned wilder; her jaw dropped. "No way! Ew-ew-ew-ew-ew!"

            "Are you positive?" Kelsey questioned. She blinked, looking the inch-tall man up and down, then tucked her pinky finger under his chin, forcing him to look up at her. "I don't recognize him at all. Besides, how could he be a boy that did that if he's only this big? And why would somebody take a picture of your feet, anyway?"

            "Who knows? He's probably sick and gross and thinks feet are hot," Blair retorted. She crossed her arms and harrumphed at her friends. "It doesn't matter. That's him. I know it for sure. Where'd you find him, Larissa?"

            The redhead remained quiet for a moment, her eyes glazed over, the gears churning within. She pursed her lips.

            "On the floor in the study room," she breathed. "Between my... shoes. While I had them off. Wait a minute. Was... he at church yesterday, Blair? When I was telling you where I was going to work on Sister Margaret's history project?"

            "Yes. Yes, he was."

            The four girls went silent, and resorted to staring Ted down, as if their combined gazes might split him apart and reveal the inner workings. The shrunken boy himself couldn't be sure that wouldn't happen. Between Tiffany's disgust, Kelsey's mistrust, Blair's knowing hatred, and Larissa's cool and calculating presence, he was on the verge of cracking. Why, oh why, couldn't he just have been happy with his fantasies and stayed at school?

            "Ew-ew-ew-ew..." Tiffany repeated. She jittered in her seat. "This is too gross for this early in the morning..."

            "Definitely pretty nasty," Kelsey agreed. "What are you going to do with him?"

            "Maybe Blair should decide that," Larissa crooned, a vile smirk creasing the corners of her plush lips. "You know. Since the little runt was perving on her feet, and all. It seems only fair."

            "Blair? What do you think?" Kelsey asked.

            The girls had to abruptly silence themselves as the morning prayer began. Ted was instantly sealed into the closed-blossom shape of Larissa's clasped hands. In the warm, fleshy pod of her thankful palms, the boy could only hear whispers and slow breathing from the quartet of giantesses just above the droning of the sister at the front of the chapel. However, by pressing his face to the crevice between Larissa's thumb and index finger, the boy could just barely see through. Beyond, he spied Blair, with her fingers laced together but her head decidedly unbowed. Rather, she was staring drunkenly into the mid-distance, not unlike how Ted's face probably looked whenever he caught a glimpse of a hot choir girl taking off her shoes in the stuffy cathedral. The blonde nibbled her lower lip.

            "Do you see what she's doing up there?" Blair muttered.

            "Who? Where?" Kelsey balked.

            "The girl two rows up. Whatever her name is, Tracy? Who cares. Just look under the aisle."

            "Hey, she's pulling her heels off. God, I wish my mom would buy me a pair that expensive..." Tiffany sighed. "Oh, wait."

            "Yeah..." Kelsey chuckled. "She's just dangling them off. Look at all the room she's got down there to put stuff."

            "Not bad," Blair said.

            "Are you three thinking what I'm thinking?" Larissa riddled, though her haunting smile and effervescent emerald-iris glow already said it all. The matter was resolved. The judge, jury, and executioner had her prey right between her claws. She sealed her fingers tighter, blocking Ted's view out. Announcements carried on, but eventually, a longer session of prayer was called for. The student body hunched down on the kneelers. This was when Larissa's hands parted again.

"You should totally do it," Kelsey snickered.

            "Oh-my-God, it's so disgusting, but... yeah, Larissa, you definitely should," Tiffany agreed. "Maybe it's sort of like that time my Mom caught me trying my uncle's cigarettes, and she made me smoke the rest of the pack? I never want to look at the stupid things again! That must be what this little creep needs."

            "Do it," Blair whispered harshly. "Do it, Larissa. He deserves it. And don't go easy on him, either."

            "Oh, you don't have to worry," the redhead purred. "I wasn't going to."

            Ted's first sight upon re-entering the world outside Larissa's hand was of his gigantic idol's fast-approaching feet. As she was already bowed on her knees, those black clogs hanging loosely halfway off, with her heels upturned to the ceiling. All it took was a quick flex of her stocking-hugged foot for Larissa to clear a shadowy path between the leather slab of the shoe and her sole. She pinched Ted between her thumb and middle finger, swiftly delivering him toward the opening before anyone else around them could see.

            It happened far too fast for the boy to resist. He struggled meekly against her firm digits, and even tried to cling to her nailbed, but it was hopeless. As soon as he was held over the steaming maw of the space under Larissa's foot, she used her index finger to flick him across the face and send the shrunken lad tumbling into the dark gulch. The instant he was inside, wedged into the V-sloped union between the ball of her foot and the muggy clog insole, Larissa slapped her silken foot back into place.

            Airless darkness and broiling foot mass swallowed Ted up. Tucked just under the fleshy dune of where Larissa's sole peaked in its curve, the boy was made to suffer the claustrophobic, sandwiching torment of being ground into the ragged insole as the enormous redhead's toes clutched her shoe as tightly to her foot as she could. The harder she balled her lithe digits together, the closer her well-loved footwear was squeezed against the velvet underside of her elegant appendage. For Ted, this meant his body was being steadily flattened to a spread-eagle position as though he was being kneaded under a giant kitchen rolling pin. Oxygen was drained from his airways, his body was painfully compressed from every angle, and his spine was practically recalibrated to fit the inch-long swath of titanic curved stocking where he was now pressurized.

            God, this prayer was long.

            Every time Larissa's foot moved at all, Ted's experience in the vertical slant of her clog was compounded. No matter which way he faced, it was bad news. When he'd first landed, the front of his body was flush to Larissa's sheer legwear. It stretched and swooped to fit the minute contours of the girl's youthful wrinkles and slopes, but only succeeded in itching Ted's face. At least in this position, though, the front of his body was marginally spared the impact whenever Larissa clapped her sole back to her dangling clog, due to the cushier give of her skin just through the wall of nylon.

            The victim was indeed grateful for that small mercy, and if the circumstances less frightening and uncertain than they were now, Ted would've been in utter heaven. After all, if could travel back and time and tell his past self that he'd eventually get the chance to press his face deep into the fragrant, stocking-coated sole of Larissa herself, he could have died happy. Unfortunately, reality presented the "small" caveat that he had to be at the girl's complete mercy while shrunken and imprisoned, perhaps never to see the light of day again. Just a small catch.

            Ted couldn't say whether it was due to Larissa tiring of keeping him in the same position or simply centrifugal force from her constantly-fidgeting feet, but eventually the boy was spun around in his muggy cell. Where once the front of his body was hugged into the rising hill that formed the ball of Larissa's foot, now he was faced squarely with the flat and unrelenting plain of her backless black clog's insole. As soon as this happened, Ted instantly longed to return to the other way, where the pillowy bulwark of Larissa's foot offered the slightest of airbag-like protection whenever she shifted her shoe, even if the stocking fibers were hellishly itchy. Now, all he had was the hard, cracking plank of the insole itself. Each second that passed, Ted found himself slamming into it, with the gigantic schoolgirl's muscular foot propelling him along, unable to be resisted. Leather was flaking off from multiple years of the shoe's use, and Ted's body was being ground into the insole so hard by Larissa's bobbing foot that he was actually scraping away new chips with every pulse.

            They couldn't go on like this. Ted knew that. Already he was bruised and weary, and the sister at the front of the chapel hadn't even finished delivering the morning prayer. What had it been, five minutes? Less? Hell, Larissa hadn't even applied any gravitational pressure upon her foot except that which she provided by flexing her shoe back and forth. Once she rose from the kneeler, and actually started walking, things would only get worse. And, assuredly, this was already the most challenging time of Ted's young life. No matter how desperately he'd wished to be near this queen bee's angelic feet, he had to face the facts: she would stamp him right into the afterlife, Catholic-style, if he stayed.

            The best window for escape was now, while Larissa's body weight wasn't yet concentrated down on her clog. Ted wriggled about every which way, attempting to grapple with the fibers of the nylon and clamber his way out whenever the shoe was let slightly loose from Larissa's foot. No sooner could the boy even hook his fingers into the netting, though, and he'd quickly be stamped again by a sole-slapping collision: discombobulated, turned around, and on the brink of passing out. His giant peer constantly traded her prisoner back and forth in circles, from pile-driving into her worn-down clog basin to gathering rug burns on the webbed, loping wall of her nyloned sole.

            Ted was astounded by the surreality of this situation. Within reaching distance of where he was currently being tormented by a carefree girl's stockinged legs, there were dozens of other crowded students, blissfully unaware of his presence. What would those girls think, if he was revealed? Would they feel for his tortured plight, or scream and gag with the same zeal as the choir quartet who condemned him down here in the first place? Either way, the boy was continually taken aback with the knowledge of humongous life cheerfully existing just outside his sphere of foot-shaped influence. If only he could reach them.

            It was difficult for Ted to process the echoes of the chapel from down below. All sound was cut off each time Larissa's sole pumped flat to the clog, and even when she allowed some stray air and light to trickle down into her limp footwear, the boy was too preoccupied with being body-checked by a happily springing sole to notice. Once he finally managed to adapt to the rhythm of Larissa's dancing motion, though, Ted could anticipate the next squishy blow to her mammoth ped.

            This allowed him to wrap his fingertips between the slippery nylon threads and climb, then brace himself into the fetal position whenever the next casual beating against Larissa's sole was about to begin. Using this method, he advanced slowly, but actually managed to hike up a solid three inches along the fleshy incline of this leviathan teen's foot. Larissa had to feel him moving around, yet she did nothing to stop him, perhaps afraid of being caught by one of the sisters messing around with a shrunken prisoner during prayer time, or even a nearby classmate.

Ted approached the rounded hump of her heel. The light through the chapel stained glass was blooming brighter, and what's more, the goings-on above could now be heard. By focusing as intently as possible, the boy could finally make out the sister's words:

            "...amen. Thank you. You may all take your seats again now."

            Uh-oh.

            For a second, he considered throwing his last stores of energy into hurling himself over the wall of Larissa's heel to liberty. Then, from behind the broad athletic pillar of her titanic leg, the girl's hand hovered into view. Though it hung casually under the shelf of the pew, probably inviting no unwanted attentions from her regular-sized neighbors, it was all Ted could focus on. She didn't even have to look down to address Ted. Her fingers twiddled in midair, as if waving to him, and then Larissa's manicured index finger pointed like a lance, while the rest of her slender digits rolled into a white-knuckle fist. Suddenly her hand came driving down, her finger leading the charge, and struck Ted's body with little more effort than it would take to push a sock roll back under the lip of a shoe. Yet for the boy, this amounted to a powerful sucker-punch, and with one insistent shove from Larissa's expertly poised finger, Ted tumbled back into the shoe-shaped ravine, scraping along the nylon the whole way down.

            The room rumbled as every uniformed girl stowed the kneelers back under the pews, followed by tucking their skirts beneath their legs to sit again. Though Ted couldn't actually see any of this, he watched the limited window above change from the sculpted ceiling to an inverted vantage point aimed backward at dozens of female legs, bedecked in a wide variety of creamy knee socks, shady nylon stockings, spandex, and completed with dainty slippers, ballet flats, and buckled mary-janes. This tantalizing view of freedom was not shown to Ted for long, though, as Larissa lowered her toned rear end back to the pew, and at last laid her clogs flat on the cold floor, ensuring that her shapely feet now slumped fully into the slant of the flaky insoles.

            Which of course meant the shrunken boy inside her shoe was trounced like never before.

            Larissa's foot didn't merely press down; it crashed into the ground like a meteor. Ted unleashed a pathetic yelp that was quickly consumed into the absorbent new ceiling of living, breathing sole. The boy's survival instinct told him to throw his hands up in an effort to catch the heaving slab of spongy flesh entombed inside paper-thin stocking, though of course this was an absurd gesture, and he knew it. At this size, he wasn't even strong enough to lift her pinky toe. All it would take was one purposeful, powerful downward slam at just the right angle, and Larissa would crush him. No bones about it. If she got it in her mind to dispose of him, it would require just an instant and a slam of her foot, and no one would ever know, except maybe whoever had to clean the little red stain out of her nude nylons.

            There was nothing to hear now. No light to make out, and no fresh air to enjoy. There was only the unbearably heavy, endlessly shifting, monumental landmass of Larissa's pale, wrinkle-painted sole sagging down on the helpless inch-tall victim beneath her.

            Unlike when she was crouched on the kneeler, Larissa kept her feet steady and still as the grave. As irritating and even painful as it was when the girl's soles kept juggling Ted against the clog like a yo-yo minutes before, he almost missed it now, when she instead gave no indication of peeling away the stale blanket of nylon from his flattened form. For the remainder of morning announcements, the redhead's shoe didn't budge. At most, her toes occasionally curled or flexed at the bow of the clog, but this did little other than cause the formation of pinkish crinkles in her sole flesh to remold like clay. As if she'd suddenly forgotten he was there at all.

            Ted supposed he ought to count himself lucky that she'd stowed him, either by accident or serendipity, under the doughiest stretch of her foot's underside. Larissa's sole turned out to be just as smooth and milky-soft as in the boy's dreams, and would surely have been a life-changing pleasure to even touch them with his hands at full size, let alone engage in such holy rituals as kissing or worshiping them. Unfortunately, because he was only an inch tall, those luxurious traits meant that he was merely kept conscious and justly barely unbroken beneath the burly heft of snow-white sole-meat that seemed to run infinitely into the dark of her shoe prison.

            Without warning, Larissa's ped arched high in the shoe, propelling herself off the balls of her feet to stand up from the pew. Ted had been massaged so hard into the grainy ceiling of nylon, he adhered to it momentarily, but plunked right off again once the girl's foot rose an inch away from the insole. The stringy nylon was pulled taut over the convex differential of her bowl-shaped sole, and acted like an upside-down trampoline, preventing the prisoner from crawling to his feet to make another escape attempt at the mouth of the clog cave just ahead.

            It was somehow even more defeating to be allowed brief access to light and oxygen, rather than being non-fatally smushed in the void, if only because there was no chance of going toward it, no matter how much he wanted. Larissa had him right where she wanted, and all she had to do was arch her foot a little to keep him in place. Or, on occasion, poke him in the face without even looking. The mirage of opportunity vanished just as soon as it had come when Larissa set her sole flush to the clog's basin again, and joined the rest of the filing crowd on their way en masse from the chapel. Thus, Ted was introduced to a new torture he'd been fearing from the very second Larissa jammed him inside her shoe: being walked on.

            The laborious activity was just as grueling as he'd anticipated, and yet somehow even more so. Instead of the withheld weight of her foot piling on Ted, he now had to contend with an ever-altering degree of compression which tested the limits of his body. This ranged from a magnetic floating sensation while airborne, during which he orbited the pudgy creases of her sole, to a spine-bending squeeze whenever the girl's foot made berth on land again and stood upon him so hard that all feeling was numbed except the near-possibility of snapping bones.

            Larissa walked with the steady gait of someone who owed urgency to no one, and yet simultaneously the thudding confidence of a girl who could and would be noticed by anyone passing through her vicinity. This resulted in measured paces, arching and replanting her foot upon the inch-tall man slow as molasses, but still transferring her full weight into each limb in turn when striding forth. Ted almost wished she'd stop dragging this out and just run to the next class, which might result in a worse battering, but at least it would be over sooner, and likely happen so fast that all he'd be able to keep track of was an epileptic trampling of flesh-and-nylon from all directions.

            What he got instead was a sense-teasing warning whenever the redhead's hovering foot was getting ready to trod on him again. First, the whole black vessel of the shoe would tip downward, causing Ted to roll along the slick, perspiration-glazed insole, until he splatted against the wedge-angle between the clog and the ball of Larissa's ped again. Next, the girl would arch her toes so deeply that the leather of the shoe would bristle as the artificial folds rubbed together, and in turn, the pressure on Ted was cranked up until he was snow-angeled into the wet netting of the nylon above. Only then, with her foot anchored on her stylishly arched foot that oh-so-temptingly dangled the chunky clog off her heel, did Larissa set down. Again, nothing about the process was rushed, and the girl took her time standing with a rolling motion, from toe to heel. This meant Ted had to feel his legs gently pulverized under the sinking ceiling of ruddy sole every single time, followed by the disappearance of his body under the heft, and finally his head's consumption to the beefy, mattress-like isle of a foot. From there, Larissa would take a step, then pluck her ped right up again to begin the process anew. Over and over, again and again, she dragged Ted to the edge of a blackout, only to bring him squealing back during the roller-coaster fling of her arcing leg.

The shrunken boy couldn't say for sure when Larissa stopped walking and came to a merciful standstill again for the start of first period. Perhaps he'd been bludgeoned into a defensive sleep for a while, because when he became fully conscious again, he was no longer being stepped on, but simply pinned flat in a peacefully resting shoe, with his face forcibly nuzzled into the crumbling insole again, while the redhead's pearlescent sole draped over his puny body to ensure he had no other choice.

            Finally, when the hope of escape was temporarily yet decidedly killed, could Ted get truly ahold of himself enough to take in his surroundings. Namely, the damp, mealy odor permeating the air and seeping thick into the shrunken lad's lungs with every miniature gulp. Sheer adrenaline had kept him from really noticing it during the initial entrapment between sole and slab, but now that he had plenty of time in mind-numbing solitude to notice, it was all he could think about. The stench was precisely the same one which had fatefully caused Ted to be caught in the first place by detecting its whiffy, oily notes and banging his head on the chair.

            Except now, the smelly effect was multiplied exponentially. It was truly astonishing in its potency. Like black smoke unfurling from a forest fire. It wasn't even necessarily that it was disgusting beyond comprehension, though it certainly was grim, but rather how densely the smell packed into the thin sliver of space between Larissa's heavy foot and her unmoving clog floor. Every trace air molecule was composed more of feminine hormones and foot-slime than it was oxygen, which was already tainted by sweaty vapor as it was. Not to mention the disintegrating leather and polish of the insole itself, which had been soaked over probably-hundreds of occasions by oozing salt water and the gruesome impact of Larissa's purposefully heavy footsteps. Like an undying ember, the essence of this stinging reek had to be reignited every time the royal redhead slipped her foot into her faithful clogs, cooking the materials anew in heat and porous brine.

            And Ted was right at the center of it all.

            Never in his life could he have dreamed that his whole being would be funneled into such singular focus on one object, and that object being the lovely, yacht-sized underbelly of a foot belonging to the church choir's hottest young spitfire. Without sound, light, air, or even bodily awareness, it seemed more and more that this prodigious sole was the only thing that existed now. Ted's entire reality had been compressed down into this pocket-universe within the itchy, punishing, brackish, alluring underworld of Larissa's foot-packed shoe, and the tender swath just beneath her supple sole, to be exact.

            Trying to wriggle his way out was a bust. It took several minutes of back-breaking labor to even advance a few millimeters along Larissa's sole, and really, the boy wasn't even certain he was going the right direction. He did his best to judge based on the geometry of the girl's arch, and where it began to level off in the direction of her heel, but his senses were foggy at best, and when Larissa was sitting at a desk with her feet flat on the floor, the fleshy slope was negligible. Then there was the fact that, once Ted really started thrusting and managed to travel an inch at the expense of most of his energy, the act was answered with instantaneous justice.

            Larissa lifted her leg off the ground just enough that her clog's rubbery mouth could dangle buoyantly from the elegant obelisk that made up her foot. This bought Ted a second's reprieve, once he'd untangled himself from the nude mesh coating around the girl's steamy skin. However, it was impossible to make use of that time, let alone get his head on straight enough to see which direction the light was streaming in from, before his vengeful peer brought her foot careening back to the carpeted floor.

            As it was only an inch, and the classroom floor consisted of soft shag, Larissa's gesture wouldn't have registered to outsiders as anything more than a muted thump of her shoe. Ted's story was much different, though, as he collapsed flat under the oncoming wall of meaty, blushing sole padding. This made being walked on feel like a harmless pillow fight. Since Larissa had scrunched her sole to its puffiest capacity, the cushioned shape of her arch had essentially vanished, replaced only with swollen pink wrinkles and bunched-up nylon netting. As a result, the inch-tall toy below felt as though he'd been buried under a giant parade float balloon, give or take a few thousand extra pounds, in a brutal half-second span. He didn't even have the air left to gasp as he was pinned back to the insole, and this time, Larissa didn't let up.

            For several agonizing minutes, the redhead exerted incredible pressure down on her foot. She twisted and pivoted, pumping her clog like a gas pedal, or just plain squashing it with most of her might. It had to be at least somewhat awkward and tiring for her to keep this up while seated in class, though it still couldn't compare to Ted's misery. No part of the boy's tiny body wasn't subject to utter numbness that still somehow managed to pepper his consciousness with needle-like discomfort. Violently fondling sole wrinkles were in constant flowing and refolding flux above him, catching in the sticky binds of the used stocking, but never failing to roll hard over his vulnerable head like hardy ocean tides composed of raunchy, feminine skin.

            In so little time, from when he was first captured by Larissa to now, he'd constantly had to correct his perspective on what the "worst" experience under her foot could be. Every time Ted thought he'd found it, the girl proved just how much rougher things could be. First it was being pat-a-caked from sole to dangled clog while inverted on the kneeler, then it was the unknowable isolation of being affixed but not quite stamped during morning announcements, then the cruel trudge of being catwalk-marched upon to the first class, and at last there was this, the new winner, as Larissa put effort into grinding her living plaything along the ratty battleground of her clog with a sole as beautiful and unforgiving as the girl herself.

            The effort to pressurize her foot down on the boy so tenaciously and for so long was clearly getting to Larissa. The girl never visibly broke a sweat in public, let alone had a single ginger hair out of place, but that was just the façade she put up for the mere mortals who surrounded her. Down below in the trenches of her clogs, where her feet were working hard to grate a boy with her sole-crammed nylon, things were much different. Before, there was already a mucky stench and light frosting of sweat coated over the squishy inner sanctum of the shoe. Now, with physical strain being poured into the act of crushing Ted just short of actually turning him into goo, Larissa was heating up.

            As her pores opened wide, her pale smudged flesh turned from slick to outright moist, and the gathering warmth and stuffiness just increased the effect. All of this, too, while she was smothering Ted under her foot. The boy was treated not just to a tremendous beating from her sole, but a revolting bath in her swampy juices, sluiced through the soggy nylon and drip-fed onto his body. His shrunken clothes were so heavy with her sweat, they were on the verge of tearing off like wet paper, and his body wasn't doing so great either, pruning and getting sorer all the time. Predictably, the musty smell of before had evolved into a ripe and full-bodied pestilence. Yet Ted had moved beyond disgust or even pain; Larissa pushed him down so hard now, the boy had gone loopy and extended his consciousness into a zone where he was only aware of the intimacy and unholy pressure from her deadly arch caving in on him at all times.

            After God-knew-how long had passed, the compressed stocking-flesh sandwich of foot and fairy-boy came undone. Sleepily, Ted noticed sensation at last returning to his stubby body, as well as the swish of nylon peeling away from his tattered clothes. Larissa had relaxed her foot, bringing it to rest gently yet firmly on his body once again, but not pressing. Immediately, the boy decided not to re-attempt any escapes in the near future, if at all. He might not survive another one of those. Then, and only then, did Ted notice something new. Something much worse than the reality of being deliberately compressed by a buff, marsmallowy wall of sole.

            He was sporting a shamelessly raging boner.

            Ted's mind swam. How long had he been hard? Just after being intentionally squeezed to within an inch of his life by Larissa's foot, or even longer than that? Perhaps even the whole time, but it had escaped his notice out of general horror and denial. The thought of being aroused despite the risk of demise was even more repugnant to the boy than that actual risk itself. Especially under a foot generating such mass quantities of rich musk and greasy sweat, which was never the true appeal of this appendage for Ted.

            Sure, he'd spent his whole adolescence lusting after pretty female feet, dreaming of their creamy textures, changing hues, and fruitful shapes, yet never being allowed to touch one; it was only natural that he'd be turned on by his first tangible exposure to one, especially when that one foot belonged to the most beautiful redhead he or most anyone in town had ever laid eyes on. Nevertheless, his body was betraying him on the worst day of his life, filling him with self-loathing over his erection, and that didn't even account for the most dangerous question of all.

            What if Larissa noticed it?

            The bell rang, class came to an end, and Ted prepared himself to suffer through another stroll. He felt the arch in her sole as she rose from the chair to move again. Larissa walked with the same languid style, but by comparison to being crumpled under her aggressive foot, this was a cake walk. She reached her next class without event, or at least Ted perceived this, given that her shoe stopped moving and her foot came comfortably to rest on top of him again.

            The reunion with her malleable, stationary sole would've been relatively welcome after such a difficult morning, but Ted's boner still hadn't gone away. He did his best to shift his body onto the side to prevent his jean-clad manhood from tickling into a plush wrinkle, though it was tough when Larissa was so intent on pressing him flat on his little back against her clog platform. Scratchy as the sweat-laced nylon was becoming, the boy was grateful for it now, as it surely helped disguise the feeling of his micro-chub against the sensitive plain of foot skin it was trying to poke.

            The period came and went. Larissa marched on to her next class, then settled in for another boring hour which, for her prisoner, felt like time had elongated even further. Still she showed no sign of removing Ted from her shoe to explain her intentions or issue an ultimatum. At this point, the inch-tall man was ready to settle for being held between two pinched fingers and screamed at for a while, if only it hinted at his eventual fate. His penance simply carried on.

            As midday was approaching, conditions beneath Larissa's omnipotent sole were getting sharper and balmier all the time, between the marriage of foggy shoe-heat and putrid foot-funk bacteria. The treatment time in a soggy clog at least made Larissa's already-silky feet even softer, but that only went so far when they were getting so sticky, damp, and rancid. Monotony or not, Ted longed for any kind of sign from above that things were coming to a head soon. Surely she couldn't keep him here forever? And, almost as importantly, surely his goddamn erection would go down soon? Neither existential question could be explained, and both filled the boy with dread.

            Perhaps worst of all, Ted knew his testosterone-fueled response wasn't just a fluke. At some deep level, he wasn't completely ungrateful for this bizarre scenario. How many times had he promised his soul to a higher power, if only he could be granted the chance to be near goddesses anything like this quartet of popular girls, and more specifically, spend time near their luscious feet? Yeah, maybe they weren't perfect; they'd all agreed to torture a shrunken peer at the site of his greatest fetish, but who was to say that wasn't well-deserved? Maybe his subconscious (and manhood) knew something he didn't, and despite all the madness, he was meant to find the silver lining here and appreciate the opportunity to debase himself at the altar of Larissa's sanctified, voluptuous sole?

            If only it wasn't for this nylon blocking him from the promised land of her foot, so near and yet so far. Ted liked a shimmering naked stocking as much as the next guy, but after grinding and pounding under a colossal one for a whole morning, while it sopped up perspiration and stamped its netted imprint into his face, the boy had just about had his fill. It was just as well, though. Without it, his hard-on would surely be discovered.

            The last period before lunch arrived. Ted was surprised when he wasn't cocooned back under Larissa's resting nylon-sole again, but instead left at the bottom of another inverted gorge when her toes pointed to the floor. His legs sunk partially into the separation angle between appendage and clog, where the globular ball of Larissa's foot was pinned to the insole. The rest of the girl's arch, however, slid away from the shoe's base, allowing it to dangle again, much as it had on the kneeler this morning. The gargantuan redhead wasn't bowed, though, but rather seated on a bar stool tall enough that she could freely hang her svelte legs down without touching the ground. Whether this was good or bad news for Ted remained to be seen; already he was reminded of her busily bobbing soles from the prayers as she tapped her clog treads against the chair's rungs.

            This new position allowed Ted just enough access to the outside world to learn that they were in Larissa's home economics class. The teacher's voice seemed miles away, discouraging the hope of ever getting her attention. Making matters worse, he heard the chatty crossfire of familiar voices somewhere far above at the level of the table. Larissa, it seemed, had hooked up with her friends again. Once the class instructions were delivered, the girls were left to their own devices.

            "So Sister Margaret told me to get off my phone or she'd take it away, and then she actually did it!" Tiffany gushed. "I was sooooo humiliated, and I wanted to be like, "Hey, Sister, this is a private school, so my parents are paying your salary, and they-"

            "Hold on a second, Tiff," Kelsey shushed her friend. "Well?"

            "Yeah," Blair snickered. "Larissa? Don't you want to show us how your... extra credit project is coming?"

            "Maybe in a little while," the redhead coyly declared. At this slight reference to Ted, she popped her leg up in a broad arc, then smacked her shoe hard against the lower bar of the chair. On impact, her previously dormant sole was once again clapped to the stage of the shoe, wrinkles clenched and ribbed sole musculature engaged. "To tell you the truth, he's... coming along just fine. But I think he could be doing a much better job."

            "Oh?" Tiffany perked up.

            "How's that?" Kelsey asked.

            "You'll see soon. I came up with a project idea for class today that I think will make a very useful education tool for him," Larissa explained. Her foot resumed its idle fidgeting, as she once again focused on conversing with other regular-sized humans, and allowed her oppressive sole to continue babysitting Ted with only minor interference. It constrained him flush to the clog. "Here's a hint. I brought an extra one in my purse today, so it works out perfect."

            "Hey, let me see," Blair whispered. "Oh... I think I get it now."

            "How's that thing going to be your home ec project, Larissa?" Tiffany replied.

            Through the distorted wind tunnel of the dangled shoe, Ted could only make out the echoes of the girls' voices and the rustling of objects being removed from a handbag. Most of the noise was drowned out anyway whenever Larissa's sole flexed, creating friction between the webby nylon and flaking insole. He was pretty sure he could hear the clattering of utensils up on the countertop, but it was hard to be sure when the rounded summit of Larissa's sole was so intent on rubbing Ted into the very grains of the clog insole itself. Though the nylon still provided some protection, his full-mast boner was now vigorously caressing the plump mass of flesh. He was just lucky Larissa was so preoccupied now.

            "There. I think that will do it," the redhead announced.

            "That's your project?" Tiffany giggled. "You barely did anything to it!"

            "I'm not done yet. We're still missing a very important ingredient."

            "Okay, but even then, you just made a hole!"

            "Yeah, but that's all it's gonna take, isn't it?" Blair said, clearly understanding better. "Come on now. We want to see you use it."

            "This is going to be good," Kelsey laughed.

            Ted heard thudding on the leathery over-lip of the clog, which he realized was the sound of Larissa's fingers gripping the shoe to pull it off. The whole contraption began to fall away. Nylon fibers swept along the caked insole, until it was fully removed, and Ted was free to tumble toward the blunted toe point of the empty footwear.

            Before he could even try to right himself, the shoe was suddenly soaring upward, causing him to bank in a semi-circle along the rounded basin like a loose marble. He ping-ponged from the weathered slab to the bungee cupping above, then finally came to rest just a few precious inches away from the edge of the righted clog. However, there was no point in crawling toward it, not only because the shoe was still floating a perilous height above the ground, but also because Larissa's enchanting green eyes suddenly filled in the horizon. Just staring in at him. She batted her long eyelashes, narrowed her vision, and sighed from deep within.

            "Hey, won't somebody see him?" Tiffany whispered.

            "Nobody will see. Just keep doing everything normally like nothing's wrong, and nobody will think anything," Larissa commanded her lackey, without skipping a beat and without blinking in her stare-down with Ted. Her volume lowered to a murmur, only to be heard by the boy living inside her shoe. She tipped the footwear down a few inches, revealing her pink lips, which puffed warm air into the hovel of her clog, and then she spoke: "That goes for you too, pipsqueak. When I take you out of here, I don't want to see any funny business. If you make a single sound, or try to run away, I'll put you back in here for good, and you won't be coming out. And not a single person will even miss you. Understand?"

            Ted was terrified beyond belief. Larissa's voice was so calm and collected, yet steely and frigid; she meant every syllable, he could tell. The boy might've pissed himself if he wasn't still fully erect. In survival mode, he nodded.

            "Good. Now, why don't you come out of there, you skeevy little pervert?" Larissa's fingers tipped the shoe another inch down, creating a slide too steep for Ted to stand on. He somersaulted down the incline, half-wondering if she was just dumping him in the home ec waste basket. It would make this all a lot easier. At the last second, the platform of the girl's soft fingers appeared from underneath, and caught him. Her fist quickly balled him up, replacing the prison cell of her shoe with a much tighter one in her hand.

            When Larissa's fingers uncurled atop the table, revealing not only the eagerly grinning faces of her three gigantic beautiful cohorts but also her class project, Ted had to wonder if this was all a prank. What exactly was he looking at, except a piece of ruined laundry? To his eyes, it appeared Larissa had simply taken a spare nude-colored stocking from her purse, and using safety scissors, snipped a very small hole less than half an inch across into the silky foot-slope of the garment.

            Then he saw the sewing needle and thread resting beside the stocking, and it hit him. Hard.

"Oh, you see it now, don't you?" Larissa throatily whispered. Her hot, spearmint-flavored breath steamed around Ted upon her finger-fenced hand. "You understand. It's a pretty good idea, right? Just in case you're too stupid and busy thinking about having sex with a foot or something, though, let me be clear: I'm going to sew you into the bottom of this stocking. Facing the bottom, so there's nowhere else for you to go. And then I'm going to put it on."

            Ted's jaw hung open. That was about what he estimated. Furtively, he gazed from one side to the other. Far away, so distant it might as well have been a neighboring island, he spied the closest table of four giant girls, all merrily gabbing together and tinkering with their own class projects. Would they even hear him, let alone look this way?

            "You probably wanna cry out, huh?" Larissa hissed. "You wanna try and get the attention of those girls over at the next table, right? Maybe you're thinking they'll want to help you. I don't know, maybe they actually do, but who cares? The question you should definitely ask yourself before you try screaming, though, is can you get their attention faster than I can drop you right back in my shoe and squish you flat? Because if you can't do that faster, well... then it's probably a pretty bad idea, isn't it, mister?"

            Tiffany, Kelsey, and Blair all waited with baited breath. Judging from their bug-eyed expressions, even they seemed intimidated by their leader.

            Ted hung his head. He remained silent.

            "Good little perv," Larissa cooed in a nigh-maternal tone. Sated for the time being, she lowered her hand to the table, but didn't pick up the needle and thread just yet. Instead, her opposite palm hung just above Ted, her fingertips revolving softly around one another. "By the way... no offense, but these clothes of yours are pretty heinous. And I don't just mean your uniform looked gross already, I mean it's seriously disgusting now from being down in my shoe. But hey, the clothes fit the person, right? Anyway, we're gonna have to lose these for my home econ project to work, so hold still and let me take them off, runt, or you're going back in the shoe forever again."

            Despondent, Ted went limp in the redhead's powerful hand. What other choice did he have? Like an inch-tall ragdoll, he laid meekly in her palm, while Larissa's fingernails pinched at his soiled Catholic uniform. It was so dense with her foot sweat, the fabric particles barely hung together anymore. She didn't cleanly remove it, but rather ripped the uniform into even tinier shreds, starting with the sleeves of his jacket and shirt, and ending with his pants. In just five quick rips, Larissa had stripped her prisoner down to his skivvies. She discarded these ruined flecks into the trash, then returned her hand over Ted.

            "Take them off," she whispered. "I'd do it, but I don't want to accidentally knock something off that you're going to need later. C'mon. Underwear off, like I'm sure you do in every sick dream you ever had about girls like us."

            Ted put his hand at his boxer waistline, but hesitated, even while knowing that was probable suicide. This was the last vestige of his privacy and, moreover, the last thing concealing his shame. Once it was revealed, there'd be no going back. He'd have no defense to use for his eventual release, if the girl got it into her mind that he enjoyed this. In many ways, taking off his final piece of clothing for Larissa was even more dehumanizing than the original shrinking.

            "Just do it," the redhead huffed. She was getting impatient, and her palm was growing clammier. "We can all tell you've got a thingy going on in there. Hurry up and show it to us, or I'll rip your undies and probably your funny little dick off, too, on accident. I'm counting now, okay? Five... four... three... two..."

            Surrendering once again, Ted took the plunge and dropped his boxers, which Larissa quickly collected and threw away too. Now fully naked in front of the wide-eyed popular quartet, which admittedly was occasionally not far off from his REM-cycle fantasies, the boy felt more used and degraded than ever. Why couldn't he have been born with a fetish that didn't drive him to such extremes? Why did it all have to go this way?

            Tiffany, Kelsey, and Blair savored an appropriate amount of giggling at Ted's naked expense before the teacher could get suspicious, though Larissa only smirked, all-business. As always, something was happening under the surface, playing chess three moves ahead. Her cool-tipped fingers returned for Ted and deposited him face-down on the hole in the stocking. As though it was tailor-made for this custom legwear, the shrunken boy's whole lower torso, including his crotch, midriff, and upper thighs, fitted snugly into the opening Larissa had cut. As she'd insinuated, however, this was merely step one.

            "See? Wasn't that so much easier when you listened to me?" Larissa whispered, though the question was rhetorical. She obviously didn't want Ted to lift his head to answer, once she had him positioned right where she wanted on the nylon nest. "By the way, you don't have to look so depressed about this, runt. This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it? To be able to touch me? Don't talk back, I know the answer already. I felt your teeny-tiny nub flicking off the whole day, you know. I'm not stupid like you are. Honestly, I have no idea how somebody could still be "into" something, no matter how much they like it, after what I've been doing to you today, and am still going to do to you. But, whatever. Your kink's not my problem, it's yours. Anyway, try to see how good this will be for you. After I'm done with you, and all the sin is out of you, you might even be turned into a normal boy, instead of a desperate creepy foot-loving weirdo. Now hold still, so I don't stab you on accident with this needle."

            For the next ten minutes, Ted laid on the spare nylon while Larissa did her work. He held his arms and legs outspread, right where the girl's needle prodded, for fear of jagged reprisal. It made his shoulders and hips sore, but there was no way Ted was testing her after that speech. Stitch by delicate stitch, the thread was looped through the stocking net, up and over the boy's limbs, and even his neck and the small of his back. Each time a new section was completed, Larissa's fingers cinched the thread tight around Ted: not enough to cut off circulation, but plenty to make it clear that he was going absolutely nowhere until she cut him free.

            When the job was completed, Ted was actually glad he was bound so tightly into the stocking, as it made it impossible to see his ridiculous self. Of course, Tiffany took many photos with the flash on, for safekeeping. Kelsey occasionally whispered sewing advice in Larissa's ear, while Blair even took a turn adding the final stitches. These threads were pulled even tighter than those completed by the diabolical ginger mastermind.

No extra fanfare followed. Ted heard more murmuring from behind, followed by the telltale clunk of a certain backless leather clog he'd grown accustomed to over the course of the morning, albeit from within the belly of the beast. Larissa had removed her shoe, and after a few more seconds of nylon grazing her bare legs, she'd stripped it bare and made way for use of the new "project." Her fingers scooped the stocking up and let it hang off the edge, causing Ted to hurtle halfway toward the floor before the stitching caught him with the muscle-straining punch of a late-opening parachute. As he was facing up into the filtered mass of wrinkly nylon, the boy could see, but not very clearly, at least until Larissa's fingers pried open the mouth of the garment and eased her toes inside.

            The process of the redhead's pale, runner-sculpted legs filling in the stocking was, for Ted, not unlike how he imagined swimmers felt seeing a shark's fin approach. He was floating in a mess of nylon, vaguely conscious of what was coming, and yet unable to do anything to stop it as the killer approached. The closer Larissa's foot came inside the tube, the easier it was to see, until all that was left between Ted's exposed junk and the monstrous foot was a matter of inches. That space was quickly eaten up as the giant girl pulled her nylon taut to her skin, and her ped shoved the rest of its way into its home.

            The circular patch of her peachy-white sole, rife with furrows and spongy creases, ploughed straight into the shrunken boy's micro-cock. A horny mewl escaped the boy's lips, and then he fell silent again, too nervous that he'd miss a single sensation and trade it for pain if he protested. The other girls at the table stealthily took turns sneaking peeks under the table to confirm their friend had really gone through with it, and Tiffany continued snapping pictures.

            Larissa, meanwhile, made herself at home. She lifted the shoe back to her toes. After she'd settled fully in, and allowed the darkness of her clog to swallow both Ted and her foot once again, two convenient sole wrinkle-flaps of flesh hugged around his hard-on. From there, as soon as Larissa had set her foot flat into the clog again, the undulating texture of her sole commenced stroking the little teen's erection whenever her foot so much as tipped forward. No matter how hard he tried to keep quiet, Ted was powerless to avoid moaning.

            The discomforts and irritants of being imprisoned in a shoe beneath a miasmic nylon banner backed by a vast feminine sole were still present, of course. In fact, they'd only gotten worse as time ticked wearily on and Larissa's foot wept fresh batches of perfume-tinted sweat. But none of those things were even present in Ted's mind at this point. His every thought and emotion was now exclusively devoted to the religious experience happening at belt-level.

            So this is what he'd been waiting for his whole life.

            Squishy, mucky, bouncy sole skin hammered into Ted's hard-on. Moon-hued creases waxed and waned, changing their shapes by the second. This was the absolute trough of her foot: the place where the skin was thickest and best preserved within the stifling bounds of her stockings and shoes. Larissa's sole was softer than any pillow, any cloud, any frosting-capped pastry Ted had ever eaten in his life. These river-lines constantly invited the boy's member into new miniature valleys of smelly flesh, smoothed out, followed by a delicious tickle along his whole scrotum, and then a new tiny divide formed in her ever-flexing sole.

            Ted sunk his fists into the nylon for purchase as though it was a mattress on the wildest tryst of his life. There was no getting away from this even if he wanted to, though he definitely didn't want to; the binds of Larissa's sewing job ensured he was there to stay. His legs squirmed and bucked, both fleeing the surging feeling between them and trying to claw even closer to the girl's foot. That little hole in the stocking really made all the difference. With no itchy webbed barrier grating against the shrunken man in his most sensitive region, and no jeans or underwear obstructing either, his crotch had become a singular site of exquisite pleasures while the rest of him was still subjected to the same muggy, sweaty water torture.

            Larissa was an absolute maestro. All she had to do was tilt her foot down, then bob back up. Maybe point one of her toes. After that, the trickle-down effect on the landscape of her arch, where buttery wrinkles lapped like waves, coaxed him closer to the edge. The only points of comparison he had were his own masturbation sessions and one embarrassing hand-job attempt at summer camp, which meant this moment now, shrunken and crammed into the queen bee's ratty clog, was without a doubt the most erotic experience of the boy's whole life. Moreover, it wasn't ever likely to be topped. He squealed like a piglet, thrashing and shaking for more.

            Two minutes after Larissa put her shoe back on, the plaything under her foot explosively orgasmed. He trembled for several minutes following in the tingly afterglow, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding. Despite the still-marshy conditions surrounding his body above the navel, Ted felt as though he was being carried on a chariot. His bliss couldn't be matched, and no sooner had he gotten over the first cum, when he felt his member rising again to slide between Larissa's sole folds. Ted didn't try to resist. Since home ec class had come to an end, the girl was on the move once more, and her ped's underbelly was changing its wrinkle formation so rapidly, the boy could scarcely keep up. The efficient roll off the ball of her foot, then the airborne arc, then the head-on collision with earth again. Every instantaneous stage caused Larissa's sole to evolve its moldable form, from flat and stringent as a drum to puffed and husky as a marshmallow, and every plush-crinkly variation in between. He came even faster this time, and accordingly, the cooldown time was shorter before his member perked up again for round three.

            Truly, Ted couldn't imagine the act of actually making love being any more intense than this already was. It was heaven and hell, all wrapped into one, and even split evenly across his body itself. The boy's top half resided in a place of darkness and irritated skin, where syrupy nylon stitches wove across his aching torso and clobbered him down into the time-beaten insole. After several hours of this stinging monotony, Satan couldn't do any better. Meanwhile, his lower half was living in a scissor-cut beam of angelic light, graced with the constant overbearing presence of the world's silkiest, tenderest, greasiest patch of youthful foot flesh smothered into his undeserving privates. Perhaps he was hasty to assume this was all a tragic mistake. How bad could Larissa really be, after all, if she willingly decided to gift him with this prolonged and sensuous contact on her fair-skinned sole?

The third orgasm wracked Ted's body, losing none of its potency, and though he had to take a breather, his prick still went back to attention for its fastest turnaround yet. Number four was coming up quick. In a perfect world, the boy supposed he might like the chance to slow down and savor each and every grinding climax on Larissa's sole, but who was he to make demands now? It was a bit tiring to go three-for-three without so much as a pause between erections, but his time might be running out, for all he knew, before the godlike redhead decided she was through with him, and chose to end the lesson and the foot orgy.

            Larissa was certainly right about one thing, at least: this home econ project from sexual hell was, indeed, going to draw all the sin out of him. And if this was the sin, then that little circle of stippled, creamy sole plastered over Ted's dick was the forbidden fruit.

            Whereas the morning passed in tortuous tedium, being rolled and bopped and smashed under a ceiling of saline-dripping stocking, the rest of the day had instead abandoned all sense of time, once Ted's whole existence was re-centered, appropriately, on the epicenter of Larissa's sole. The girl had surely already finished up lunch and made her way to more than on afternoon course. Those activities seemed like impossible philosophy to someone as lowly as Ted had become, and so he barely thought of the passing hours at all. He didn't need to concern himself with the affairs of someone like her. She had her world, and he had his.

            Orgasm numbers four, five, six, and seven were just as welcome as the last, and they came roughly as quickly. Though Ted didn't have the carnal history to actually know this, Larissa's sole was like the ultimate sexual partner: endlessly energetic, never boring, and always hungry for the next shenanigans. The shrunken man, unfortunately, lacked those qualities. Numbers eight through eleven were tiring, and the diminutive lad's junk was starting to chafe, but he was prepared to put up with some bite if it ended with such a euphoric climax. After a dozen spurts, he lost count in the haze, but nevertheless carried on like it was his one purpose in life, because as of today, it was.

            Ted had even learned how to fidget his strung-up body to match whatever Larissa's pliable foot was doing at any given time for maximum effect. When her foot was laid still on the classroom carpet, it was mostly up to him to shimmy his hips as best as the tethers would allow, enjoying the smooth stasis of the girl's reposed sole; it felt a bit like the first blemishing lick off a fresh ice cream scoop, albeit much warmer. Then, when the time came for the colossal ginger to stalk off to her next period, her foot did most of the work; Ted only had to brace himself for the oncoming impacts, while Larissa's metamorphosing sole continually puckered its wrinkles around his hard-ons. The sensation was damned close to a blow-job, the boy figured, as the sweat-drenched lip-shape of each doughy crease reformed then stretched back out, all but sucking on him from the underfoot pressure.

            Afternoon passed into early evening. Larissa presumably was dismissed from school for the day, but Ted frankly had no idea about that, nor of much else. Somewhere along the line, when the masturbatory build-up was actually beginning to hurt, it occurred to Ted that he was well-past the point of even a freak sexual occurrence. No matter how perfect a sole he had to work with, and indeed Larissa's was probably as close as he would ever get, his insatiable member had now managed to make him spasm dozens of times in a single day, without breaks in between, and while the rest of his body was trampled and bruised by ratty nude stockings for hours on end.

            When the next uncomfortable orgasm completed, Ted mentally took the reins. He couldn't move his body much other than shaking, but after spending an uncertain day down in the depths of Larissa's clog, his mind was now sharpened enough to focus with laser-precision on a single subject and pick it apart. For the last few hours, he'd aimed on the luxurious gratification of his tormentor's spongy sole, but now Ted instead used every granule of will he had left to resist temptation. Foot fetish or not, this was getting out of hand. He'd climaxed so many times, his cock was throbbing from friction burns rather than delight. With great concentration, he managed to slow his member down, but only slightly. And though he failed to curtail another stinging orgasm, Ted shuddered right into profound clarity.

            Surely this, at last, was the lesson Larissa had planned for him. He could see it now. She planned to torture him with the one secret he held closest to his heart, his full-fledged worship of her feet; after that, too traumatized by overstimulation and jack-off endurance, he'd be a more "normal" boy. Ted doubted that was entirely true, since he was sure to be scarred by this psycho-sexual experience for the rest of his days, but he was, in the strangest way possible, comforted upon realizing how all these bizarre puzzle pieces lined up.

            The end was in sight. He just had to endure, throw himself at the mercy of Larissa's Catholic-themed justice, then never even glance the way of these girls again forever.

            Ted was more than willing to live with those terms.

            He'd become so accustomed to his pain-and-pleasure micro-universe, that the boy was actually startled when he felt the gravelly clog insole beneath him sliding away. The wide black vessel gave way to light through the leather mouth, and Larissa's customized stocking launched back into the real world. Due to his bindings, Ted went right along with her foot, roped to the bottom and praying she remembered he was here before slamming her leg back to earth. The boy had been rubbed so vigorously into the bottom of her astronomic foot by now, though, he was fairly certain he'd have stuck fast to the redhead's opalescent sole even if he wasn't tied down to it.

            The girl's foot continued hovering just a few inches away from the ground, and judging by the opposite ped resting on the carpet jungle below, with the monumental barricade of a bedpost just behind, Ted realized Larissa was sitting on the end of her bedroom mattress with one leg crossed over the other. Yet again today, he was placed in circumstances that should've made for the ultimate fantasy: being alone with Larissa in her room, and on the floor, no less, near her after-school feet. Her pasty sole was still just as balmy and supple as it was while crammed inside her clog. Unfortunately, his priorities now had to shift to prepare for his fetishistic trial, courtesy of the girl's demented lesson. Any minute now, Ted decided, Larissa would peel his drained body off her boat-sized sole like a barnacle, then give him the scolding of his life, culminating in an existence devoted to distancing himself from choir girl feet.

But she didn't.

            Instead, Larissa's clog came sailing back to the ground and landed with a cataclysmic thud. She impatiently thrummed the stocking-tangled toes of her opposite foot, well within Ted's field of view. The foot which actually held him captive began musically swaying from side to side as if to soothe her joints. Then her deific voice flooded the room:

            "You are one nasty little creep, runt. I hope you know that. I'm not even sure I can wear that shoe again after I'm done with you. You got your stuff all over it, and I don't even want to look at the bottom of my foot right now. I'm probably going to need fifty showers just to feel clean again," Larissa ranted, though her voice was untainted by rage. She simply spoke truth, which somehow made it all the more unsettling.

            And she was right. Ted had messed all over that half-inch circle of her foot, even if he'd dried up of actual seed many orgasms ago. He still owed her sufficient guilt for that.

            "But I think it'll all be worth it, now you've learned your lesson," Larissa continued. "And it seems to me like you really have."

            Ted let himself relax, as though a thousand-pound brick had rolled off his shoulders. Now, at last, was the beginning of the end. He was prepared to do and say anything, from praying to groveling, required to show her that he'd changed. Really, he didn't even have to fib about that part. After an excruciating foot-job ultra-marathon, he wanted a long vacation away from this God-fearing community, just as soon as he was given medical attention and returned to his full size.

            "Which is why I'm going to keep you under my foot forever."

            The sound came from so very high above, and with the massive obstruction of Larissa's dangled nylon-foot, there was a significant degree of separation between Ted and his teenage oppressor. It was more like being spoken to by divine presence. However, even if these words had been poured directly into his cerebellum, Ted couldn't have heard them, let alone understood. Numb, he went limp in the spider-web clutches of the stocking threads. For the first time in hours, his dick finally stopped hardening.

            What did she just say?

             "Hmmm, seems like somebody isn't so happy to hear that!" Larissa wondered aloud. She gave her foot a scrunch, collapsing the paunchy pink wrinkles around Ted's cock, which remained flaccid for once. She repeated the gesture several more times, flexing and bunching her luxurious arch creases around his withered manhood, to no avail. "Yep, I guess that did it! Lesson learned for me, too, then. I should've told you how this day would end a while ago. Maybe it would've kept my foot clean from your sick juices. Well, whatever. We'll have plenty of time for you to make it up to me, seeing how your pathetic puny foot-fucking body belongs to me from now until the end of time. Or whenever your little stick just gives up from having too much fun and falls right off. Either way works for me."

            Ted was beside himself. His whole body quaked against Larissa's pillowy sole, which unfortunately just helped in stimulating his terrified member back to life. He would've cried if he wasn't so dehydrated from hours of rapidfire orgasms. Instead, all he managed was a hollowing cry of despair that choked into silence. Appealing to her sense of pity seemed pointless now, and even if he believed it would work, Ted couldn't possibly find the words to convince her.

            This couldn't be real. That's all there was to it. Ted had been suspecting this whole day was just a foot-starved night terror, and now he had the proof, because there was no way his whole life could take such a harrowing one-eighty turn in the span of a single school day. No matter how many poor choices he made, there was no conceivable way that indulging in his fantasies just once was worthy of eternal torment. A just God wouldn't allow such a thing.

            Larissa didn't speak again, but rather began humming. The tune was unfamiliar to Ted, at least at first, until he recognized some of the notes from church. She was casually rehearsing the melody of a hymn from mass, and at that precise moment, the boy recalled what he'd overheard the previous day. The girls had a choir recital tonight.

            Her hand appeared from on high again, this time toting a pair of formal ankle-height fuzz-coated black boots, with a glossy bronze zipper running up the side like the slip of her uniform skirt. These were deposited with greater care beside the discarded clogs, and the zipper teeth undone a tick at a time, to prepare for use. When Larissa's hovering foot tipped toward its new vessel, the future was clear without her even saying a word. They were going on another trip.

            Finally, probably far too late, Ted genuflected to the immortal goddess.

            "PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!" he screamed into the sound-absorbing flesh-island of Larissa's majestic foot. He roared until his voice went hoarse, until he was beyond sure that Larissa couldn't even hear anymore because she'd shoved him inside her boot to start walking. Still he endeavored, with his last reserves of pitiful strength: "GOD, NO! STOP, STOP, STOP! LISTEN TO ME, PLEASE! LARISSA! I'M SO SORRY FOR EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING! JUST LET ME GO! I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! ANYTHING, FOREVER, JUST DON'T LEAVE ME IN HERE! PLEASE, GOD, LET ME OUT!"

            Ted heard the zipper rising up the side of the felt boot, and had the distinct impression that the nails were being hammered into a coffin.

            Conditions were much tighter in this shoe than the loose-fitting leather clog. The shrunken victim was battered less severely, as Larissa's tremendous foot had little space to wriggle, but it also meant Ted's string-bound body was more constricted than ever. Like being placed in an iron lung that was slowly imploding. Or a car compactor. He wasn't simply under Larissa's foot, but after being trodden into the rigid platform, he could almost feel his inch-tall shape rising and molding into the squishy sole terrain above him. After a while, once his flattened self was sufficiently patted deep enough into the bread-dough texture of Larissa's stockinged foot, there might be nothing left to distinguish him from her bodily geometry.

            Time returned to its indeterminate trudge. Unfortunately, his series of arduous erections picked up again too, and there was nothing he could do about it. Orgasm number forty-whatever was followed immediately by the next desperate release into pulpy arch folds. The bliss of climax was now officially trumped by abrasion and exhaustion. Once Ted had nothing to look forward to, either freedom or even a break from being forcibly jacked into an ever-eager giant sole, his perception was again reduced to a single sense. There were no minutes, no hours, and no world outside this boot. His entire life, in the span of one day, had redirected entirely to the desires of a young goddess. Blind and deaf to all else, Ted could exclusively feel the cosmic weight of Larissa's oily, ample, soggy, furrow-pleated cream-blanch sole.

At the very least, the girl's ankle-high boot hadn't spent a whole school day marinating her tired feet, so the aroma of starch and felt instead overpowered Ted rather than gooey perspiration and toejam, but this was the smallest and only mercy available. In all other ways, the boy was utterly shattered. Every other step, he wondered if it wouldn't just be simpler if the girl crushed him outright. It would likely be preferable to forever spent under her humongous foot. He'd only spent a day imprisoned in her shoe so far, and already those long hours had packed in the equivalent of a lifetime of mind-rending suffering and sexual over-satisfaction.

            The redhead had arrived at church for the recital, as suggested by the muffled sound of girlish jibber-jabber and thundering footsteps trickling through the clenched zipper teeth to Ted's shrunken ears. As before, there were dozens of other humans just beyond these fuzzy cell walls: probably girls with less self-centered systems of morality than Larissa and her clique, perhaps even a few who would feel sorry for Ted and deliver him to safety at last. All it would take was a good scream in listening range, and they'd find him. But alas, the church was crowded with bustling bodies, the dull roar of joking and singing warm-ups wholly drowning out his meager cries. And that wasn't even taking into account the black hole of noise and matter which existed inside Larissa's shoe at the mushy intersection between her stale nylons and boot insole flap: the singularity where Ted was trapped under her totalitarian foot, and hadn't a prayer of escaping until she snipped his bindings loose.

            But then, a small miracle was bestowed on Ted. He didn't notice it for more than half an hour as Larissa milled around the cathedral's backstage, conversing with friends and even practicing her solo verse with a surprisingly invigorating siren song that shook her body all the way to her arch, and Ted along with her. However, when at last the redhead took a rest on a folding chair, and relieved the pressure on her boot-clad peds by temporarily unzipping them, enough sensation returned to Ted's numbed limbs for him to realize.

            The stocking tethers had come unstitched. He was free.

            Maybe it was the increased pounding employed by these tight ankle-boots, or the slow-burn result of Larissa's nylons baking in lukewarm sweat all day, or perhaps even divine intervention. Either way, Ted found he could snake his arms and legs out from under the strings.

            Then, all but confirming this was a gift from the heavens, Larissa's foot started to lift away. Her sole came unpeeled from the boy's sticky, beleaguered body and abandoned him in the soft black expanse. Stocking fibers around her toes snagged and crackled with micro-bursts of static electricity up along the felt-lined boot tunnel. Her heel crested over the bendable upper lip of the footwear, followed by her elegant sole with its dime-sized porthole of milky skin-bearing exposure, then at last her dexterous toes. Larissa didn't completely remove her foot from the boot, but perched it on the ovular roof, creating just enough of a gap to the side of her plush instep that a tiny inch-tall man might crawl through unmolested. As it was, the redhead didn't seem to have noticed at all that Ted had broken out of solitary confinement beneath her foot, due to the fact that she hadn't unleashed righteous fury upon him yet. Whenever she did notice, Ted was quite certain it would be curtains for him, which was why this was now or never.

            The boy's energy was all but sapped from a day of being beaten and masturbated, but when a flicker of newfound hope lit in his heart, he found the gumption to get moving. This was it. He had to crawl at first, until strength returned to his legs, and then he stumbled to the curving wall of the felt boot leading up the side toward the light. Still Larissa's nude foot merely balanced on the boot's maw, occasionally shining with the feminine starlight of either congealed sweat or nylon shimmer; Ted couldn't say. Even better, he didn't hear the telltale criss-cross of squawking voices belonging to the redhead's trio of popular underlings above. In fact, he heard no voices at all, except those squealing in soprano from a far distance. The commotion of the recital set-up would actually serve to offer greater cover during his escape, and confirmed to Ted that his one and only window of opportunity was opened now, emblazoned with glowing neon.

            The rolling barricade of charcoaly material itself was sheer and slippery, impossible to climb, but luckily for Ted, Larissa had chosen a zip-up pair. The metal teeth weren't separated all the way down, but they offered a convenient ladder for the boy's miniscule fingers. Quaking from fatigue and thirst, Ted swallowed his fears and took hold of the zipper track. He could do this. He had to.

            Hand over hand, he ascended, until the metal tangs parted, not yet wide enough for him to squeeze through, but enough that the upper flaps of the boot parted like black flower petals. Stained-glass light and fresh air greeted Ted as he victoriously took hold of the boot's edge a single inch away from Larissa's resting foot. Any instant now, she'd shove her ped back inside, and discover he was missing, but by then, the boy would hopefully be long gone, hiding and awaiting the first giantess who might not make him her foot-pet.

            As Ted clung to the lip of the boot and scanned the horizon for a route, his eyes boggled when his gaze was reciprocated by a nearby woman. Not even a yard away, seated behind Larissa's backstage chair, was a golden-haired titaness in a form-fitting business-casual skirt ensemble, with leather pumps encasing her spandex-tubbed feet and dark-rimmed glasses framing her luminous eyes. She blinked when she saw Ted, her pupils dilating slightly, but the calm in her smiling lips relayed a complex volume of information to the shrunken lad with just a look. Unlike the pious shock he'd witnessed in Larissa just this morning, this woman wasn't perturbed by the sight of a miniature human being. In fact, she looked perfectly comfortable, not malicious or conniving in the least. Even benevolent.

            Then he recognized her. It was hard to place the woman at first, but she was none other than August Turner, a twenty-four-year-old law student and part-time bookstore clerk who always dropped by for major holidays and concert nights. She also happened to be Blair's older sister, as their exceptional beauty and striking fashion choices apparently ran in the family. Ted had never gotten such a close look at her. Right now, however, in his moment of ultimate need, he was just grateful to have been sent this gorgeous blonde bookworm as a guardian angel. A law student, who understood the balance of justice and right versus wrong, would surely be more amenable to aiding him than the bratty redheaded mistress he was currently serving under. He couldn't have asked for a better God-send.

"HELP!" Ted shrieked at the top of his lungs. The effort of making himself heard nearly depleted his second wind, and he trembled uncontrollably to stay hanging onto the edge of the boot. Another few seconds, and he'd lose his grip, and forever be condemned to Larissa's foot-shaped purgatory. "HELP ME, PLEASE! OVER HERE!"

            Ted was grateful for the continued white noise rebounding through the whole chapel, or Larissa might have heard him. Her monolithic foot remained still as a living statue, just behind her prisoner's back. All it would take was a single flicker of her net-coddled pinky toe, and he'd be sailing back into the raunchy darkness.

            August heard him. She frowned, looked both ways to the backstage curtains, and then nodded solemnly. Her hand rose from its politely folded position in her lap, and reached forth: her palm opened wide, while her graceful fingers unfurled to receive a tiny subject.

            The shrunken boy's heart all but sang along with the practicing choristers. He watched the enormous woman's hand coming near to rescue him, and felt renewed in his faith. It had been a trying and frightful day, when his resolve had been tested on multiple occasions, his spirit nearly broken, but it was all worth it for this. As August's soft, peachy fingertips parted to touch him, the boy allowed himself to surrender into her oncoming grip.

            Except she didn't pick him up. Her fingers didn't affectionately pinch around the boy's sides to cradle him into the heavenly cloud of her silken lined palm. Instead, she curled her slender digits into her hand, leaving only the powerful mast of her extended index finger to reach him. The spiraled pad of her cushy fingertip pressed itself into Ted's face, cutting off his air and view.

            "W-What... what are you d-doing?" he uttered helplessly into the spherical orb of finger flesh which now covered most of his body. His words arrived in the form of croaks, too quiet to be heard by the gigantic blonde, let alone himself. "Help me. P-Please!"

            August was gentle at first, merely testing his meager grip on the boot's ledge, but after a moment, she pushed harder, using only a paltry percentage of the total strength contained in that delicate hand, yet dominating Ted a thousand to one. He lost his hold with one hand, and suddenly was only dangling off the mouth of the shoe by one petrified fist. Once again partially submerged back in the dark boot tunnel, Ted was keenly aware of Larissa's stockinged instep positioned just above him.

            Now crouched on the ground, the golden-haired false messiah peered into the shoe at the little man trying not to fall into hell. She smiled at him, cocked her head to the side, and lifted her hand to her chin. That same finger she'd just used to so-nearly shove Ted into oblivion was instead poised over her lips in a hushing stance.

            "Shhhhh..." August drawled. Her lullabying voice haunted Ted's horrified little self, almost causing him to lose his last grip. The woman's hand reopened, her fingers now waggling up and down in a farewell wave. She didn't speak again, but her silent pink lips curved to shape an accompanying farewell: "Buh-bye."

            A bell tolled from the church roof, signifying the recital was about to begin. The bespectacled valkyrie winked, allowed her glistening tongue to playfully prod just over her lower lip, and then her fingers swooped down to Ted again. All it took was a single tap on his face, and the boy's final chance of release was robbed from him.

            He tumbled end-over-end toward the stark insole, falling for what felt like minutes, even though he had only a matter of inches to descend. The last of the inspiring light through the open teeth of the ankle boot's zipper was left behind, and even August's gaze vanished from the high-up glimpse of the outside world. That opening seemed miles away now, and only getting further away, as Larissa's foot was shifting back toward the mouth to reinsert her toes. After her nyloned ped was in position, all it took was a swoop from her sole, and her foot ate up the space again, bottling the last of the light and air, and entombing her prisoner for his life-long sentence.

            Ted screamed and cried beneath the crushing weight of her plum sole, bargaining with the redhead herself or even a higher power, whoever would listen. But it seemed no one was, and after Larissa rose from the chair to take her place among her gleeful teenage peers on the choir stands, the boy understood how pointless his pleas were. No one was coming for him, and no one ever would. The organ music surged through the cathedral brickwork, and an army of angelic girls' voices belted to the sky. Larissa subtly tapped her shoe, keeping rhythm, and banged Ted into her clammy, anointed sole-meat with each note. Almost instantly, his tortured boner picked back up, and as much as it hurt, it seemed he'd be ready to cum again before even the first song ended.

            Larissa smiled, closed her eyes, and let rip a hallelujah on the final bar. She stamped her boot to the stand at the same time, consuming Ted yet deeper into the gossamer pad of her stout sole, and squeezed yet another drop of sin from the pathetic foot-loving hell-dweller.

            "Maybe we should take our seats," August whispered to another female audience member as they tiptoed behind the stage to the aisle. "I didn't realize it was about to start!"

            "You must get distracted easily," said Tiffany's older sibling Rachel, with a teasing air. "Only kidding. You're August, right? I see you around campus sometimes, but I know our sisters are pretty close. What were you even doing back there for so long? I thought Kelsey and the others were practicing somewhere else."

            "Oh, they were. I just wanted to wish Larissa good luck on her big solo tonight. She's really going places someday, I'm sure."

            "Did you do it? Wish her luck? I never even saw you say a word to her."

            "In a way, I did," August teased, but didn't offer further explanation. She and her fellow law student slid into the nearest empty pew, dropping their voices to respectful whispers as the next song was prepared. She looked casually in the direction of the floor at her spiked pump cupping her tired foot, which currently was tingling with life on the lush and sensitive fleshy underside due to a very special secret. Matching Rachel's spritely tone, the blonde winked, then added just before the next swell of religious song: "You'll understand when you're older."