"What do you think about Alice's suggestion, Don?"

He looked up into the questioner's face, unable to recall what preceded the question. He sat across from his wife Alice, who looked angry and distracted; to his right was the marriage counselor Melinda, who had asked the question. Alice was wearing a black pant suit with black heels, and her curly shoulder length hair looked unkempt. She had her hands in her lap and was staring at the ground. Melinda to her left was wearing a brown knee length skirt that rode up a bit when she crossed one knee over the other - as she was now doing - revealing long and shapely legs encased in tan nylons. She wore brown leather heels with a small open toe, revealing just a bit of her big and second toes.

Don asked himself, "What do I think about what?" He had been absentmindedly watching that shoe as she spoke, eying the tips of Melinda's toes and the small patch of nylon that covered both; her foot as it dangled near Don's leg bobbed up and down briefly in an impatient staccato.

He said, "Can- can you repeat the question?"

Both women sighed wearily, Alice looked up and said, "Jesus, Don aren't you taking this seriously at all?" She looked as sad as Don had ever seen her, and he tried to feel sympathy but couldn't. He looked back at the ground - pausing his gaze at Melinda's foot again on the way down - and mumbled something non-committal.

Alice angrily stamped her foot and gave a small shout of dismay, fighting back tears. Melinda put her hand on Alice's for a short moment in an attempt at comfort, then turned to Don. She uncrossed her legs and faced him and said, "Don, Alice, I think we've made some progress in our time together. You came to me with some problems of intimacy and control, and I think we've gotten some things accomplished in these few meetings. You've both been really great in your attempts to grow," she looked Don straight in the eyes, "especially you Alice."

She turned to the almost crying woman, whose black curls hid her eyes, and grabbed her hand again. "You've been great, Alice, and I think you deserve to get something back for your efforts." She looked over her shoulder at Don, "But I think we can all agree that Don hasn't really made much of an effort." Don looked up again, startled by the confrontational tone, as she continued, "And as your counselor I think it's time we take our therapy to the next level."

"What next level?" Don asked, as Alice too looked up slightly confused, regaining control of herself.

"I think it's time for some role playing exercises," said Melinda, swinging her foot slightly back and forth. Don's eyes flicked down automatically, just for a brief glimpse of her foot as it swayed once, her ankle as it bent under the smooth nylons. She brought her toes up and the heel of her shoe popped off and she said, "Let's start with power exchange. Don, get down on your knees and kiss my foot."

"What?" Don's eyes darted to Melinda's, then his Alice's, back to the counselor's. He felt his palms begin to sweat.

Melinda remained silent for a moment, then pointed one red-nailed finger down at her dangling foot and said, "Kiss it."

"What?" repeated Don, lamely, then, "No!" and a small nervous laugh escaped him. He swallowed hard in a dry throat and looked at his wife, and laughed again.

"I thought you might say that," said Melinda.

Don experienced a brief period of disorientation; he blacked out. When he awoke he was lying on the ground, looking up into the faces of his wife, Alice, and his marriage therapist Melinda. Don was about one foot tall.

Melinda repeated her earlier order, "Don, I want you on your knees, kissing my foot. This is an order."

Don looked up in complete awe at the woman above him, at her massive face beaming down on him. Her visage was partially blocked by her foot, swaying back and forth over Don's miniaturized form, the shoe now hanging from her nyloned toes. Don stood up and his mind contemplated flight. He turned his head from the giantess above him, seeking an escape route.

"No, Don. You're not going anywhere."

He knew she was right; there was no way to get away from her, she was too big! Or rather, Don was too small. It would take him a dozen strides to match Melinda's one; he would have no chance to outrun her if she wanted to catch him. He looked back up at Melinda, started to speak. "Why-"

"Do not speak unless spoken too." Don froze in horror as Melinda continued, "Alice please observe as I employ the proper punishment for disobedience."

Melinda uncrossed her leg and extended her foot toward Don, who could only stare dumbly and gape as the sole of her open-toed pump bore down on him. She used the toe of her shoe to nudge Don in the chest, a slight motion for her that sent the tiny man sprawling onto his back. Her foot continued to descend until it rested firmly on his chest, pinning him to the carpet. Don looked up, past the toe of the shoe, along the now colossal nyloned leg into the face of his marriage counselor, who now appeared to be 30 feet tall or more to the miniaturized man.

"Don, I gave you an order," said Melinda as she raised her other foot into the air. "I told you to kiss my foot." The other shoe fell off, revealing a smooth, high-arched foot, covered in tan pantyhose, hovering above Don't upturned face. "When I tell you to kiss my foot, you will kiss my foot."

With that she brought her exposed toes down, covering Don's face in warm pungent nylon odor. Don could still see her face, towering above, through the tan hose; the smell of Melinda's toes was overwhelming, and despite his predicament Don was highly aroused. "Now," she said, as she scrunched her toes, smothering the tiny man's face between her first and second toes, "kiss."