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"Alright, what to do with you now?" Laura softly tapped a finger to her chin, her eyes cocked at the ceiling as she considered how best to train George, the bug currently whimpering on the cold floor between her feet. "Let me just slip into something a little more comfortable first." she said out loud, really speaking to herself more than any bugs in earshot. She strolled over to one of the walls of the room, next to the TV cabinet, where a veritable mountain of haphazardly placed cloth lay, one of her clothes piles scattered around the living room. Digging into the messy fabric she pulled out two wrinkly rags and put them up to her nose, judging if they were adequately clean. "eh, good enough." she though out loud, unlacing her bikini top. Her back was to George, not showing off her firm breasts to the would be voyeur, who, admittedly found the petite brunette quite attractive. She slid on the slightly oversized T-shirt, the dye pattern on it in a yellow to red gradient from top to bottom. Slipping her bottoms off, she provided her captive a view of her plump, peachy rear; the bikini bottoms placing a slight imprint on the supple flesh. From his vantage point far below and far behind, he just caught a glimpse of her nether regions, clearly she felt no need to be modest around him, subconsciously disheartening him. Stepping into a pair of panties, she pulled them until they came to rest on her wide hips, the oversized T-shirt's bottom just covering them, but allowing George to them due to his vantage point. She was dressed as casually as you could get, clearly not doing anything she thought was important, just training a disobedient pet for a friend. Throwing the discarded swimwear into a different pile, (clearly an advanced organising system she had).

She strolled back over to her awaiting trainee, half not fleeing due to the fear, and half due to the fruitlessness of the deed. Her soles slapped against the wooden floor, their slight moistness causing her peds to grip the shiny surface for just a moment, a slight velcro like ripping sound as they were peeled off by her leg muscles. "Sarah wanted you to rub her feet right? Let's start there. You fine with that?" she smiled down, both knowing he had no choice. Hoisting him up roughly with two fingers, she dropped him onto the cold glass living room table, falling with the tiniest of inaudible thuds. The lights around the room projecting ghostly streaks onto the slightly reflective surface. George could see himself only as a distorted and dark figure, slightly transparent, looking past giving a view of the rug far below, developing a small twinge of vertigo. Loudly and lazily falling onto the plush surface of the beige sofa with the crushing squelch of cushioning, Laura kicked her feet up onto the glass table and stared down at George, her toes twitching in excitement, as if they had strings attached and she were a puppet master, which she was in a way.

After a brief moment of silence, a small snicker escaped Laura's lips. "Awwwww, are you scared?" she said, noticing his vulnerable posture and slight shivering, even from so high a vantage point. "This is so going on my timeline." she chided as she produced a mobile phone from her adjacent handbag, snapping a quick photo and tapping on the screen with her thumbs, no doubt adding some humiliating caption for all friends to giggle at. After the digital dance of her fingers, she set the rectangular device down and lay her feet horizontally. "Okay, this is real easy, start at my heel and work your way up. Really put your back into so I have at least a chance of feeling it." George hesitantly approached the behemoth that was her foot, the pink surface flush with subtle movements, involuntarily and unnoticed by all. Even when horizontally set, the monster towered over him, easily twice his height at the heel. The thick skin of her heel wore an intricate pattern of swirls and vortices, all swollen the tiniest bit. Sand still held tightly in the deepest folds and corners of her sole, the tiny grains hugging just on the edge of her instep, toes and heel. As he took a few cautious steps forward he was hit by the smell. Not that her feet were particularly sweaty or bad smelling, but the sheer size of it amplified the smell to neigh unbearable proportions. He had spent an entire night in one of Sarah's socks as punishment, so he was somewhat acclimatised to bad smells, but the stale odour of a sock is different to that of the fresh appendage actively exuding the noxious gas. George froze in place; considering what he was about to do. What happened to "resisting these giant bitches"? he wondered, he wasn't going to debase himself to some chick who's dorm looked like a hurricane passed through it. The sheer casualness and light-heartenedness she treated this situation making him feel emasculated and pathetic, the sheer sadistic joy she produced with each subtle movement and torment breaking his brain. 

He decided he would cross his arms and refuse, knowing full well how she would react. It took Laura a few seconds to realise that he was rebelling again, his body completely hidden behind her reclining foot, slightly darkened by the thin shadow it cast. Shifting her foot over, she shot daggers at the once again disobedient creature. "I thought we were over this? Ugh, rub my foot, now!" she said quite forcefully. George betrayed no wavering at this, even if he was almost losing control of his bladder. Laura rolled her eyes, if this is how he was going to act it was fine by her. Laura kicked her other foot upright, her toe pads contacting the cool glass. She slid her foot along the transparent surface toward George at an incredible speed, the friction between her sticky skin and the glass causing it to produce brief high-pitched squeaking sounds. The extremity bulldozed over toward him, too fast for him to react; the toes plowing into him with force, their height just enough to kick him on top of her foot rather than under it. George felt his body land onto the soft skin of the top of her foot, disoriented by the fast motion. Before he could upright himself his vision was blocked from above. The sole of her other foot pinned him between it and the top of her other foot, the force just enough to keep him stuck. The moisture and heat immediately shot up, his surroundings soft but firm, too dark for him to see anything but the reddened light that snuck through the apertures at between the top and sole of her foot. A feeling akin to being pressed between two firm mattresses. "I don't need your cooperation, ya know?" she spoken down to him, her voice loud and clear enough to worm into his flesh prison. She began to rub the sole compressing him back and forth, increasing the pressure as she did. He began to roll up and down the surface, stray grains of sand rubbing onto him and irritating his skin. "This is as good as any foot rub you could give me. I've got a feeling you aren't liking it though." she stopped the rolling, pinning him under the ball of her foot, the metatarsal bone just felt deep behind the layer of flesh and sinew. "So, rub..." she increased the pressure, gently kneading him back and forth under the ball of her foot, "my..." the pressure was becoming unbearable, he could feel himself compressed, his lungs too crushed to suck in any of the foul air from the cramped confine "foot!" she finished with one last monumental push with the titanic ball of her foot, the pressure badly bruising the captive before pulling it away. Tilting her foot and allowing her unwilling passenger's limp body to slide off and land with a pat.

George lay panting on the cold glass table surface, his body badly bruised and lungs burning with starvation. He struggled to his feet, a limp deciding to accompany him as he did. Laura sat back like nothing had occurred, her feet taking their previous locations in front of him. George struggled to the heel that had only a few seconds ago almost crushed him to death, slightly moister after being rubbed against its twin. With both arms he pushed into the thick skin, the firm surface refusing to budge much. "Harder." she said quite matter-of-factly. George used all his force, pushing his legs back for maximum leverage; he pushed as hard as he could, using both his  forearms to knead the unyielding flesh. Finally he managed to push into the swirling patterned surface enough to make a real dent, Laura responding to his satisfactory display by wiggling her hips deeper into the cushion and flicking on the TV, looking forward to a relaxing evening of mindless reality TV and foot rubs. George continued in his Herculean task, a fruitless and back breaking endeavour in reality, the idle entertainment of a goddess, much as many classical heroes had done. 

George was halfway along her instep when her phone chirped its electronic chirp, distracting him from kneading the flesh, softer and easier to work with than the thick hide of her heel. Picking up the device, she smiled as she opened up her notifications. "Wow, 50 likes in less than an hour, people are really enjoying your suffering." she tormented down to him, successfully disheartening him. "Do you know a Miranda?" she said as a smirk crept up one side of her face. This caught George's attention; Miranda was George's ex, breaking up with him after his diagnosis. It hit him hard that she would drop him during such a difficult situation, and he felt nothing but sadness when he thought about her and his lost life. "Well, check this out!" she turned the screen to him, the blue and white of Facebook's trademark design glowing through the glass of the screen. Miranda had left a comment on the post "OMG is that George? That little fucker was serious about the shrinking shit XD give him hell huney!" was what it said, the casual words striking him hard. "Wow, tough break, huh?" was all that Laura said, going back to scrolling down her timeline as George resumed his job, choking on his anger and sadness. George was almost in tears, this was so unfair, why him? Why did he have to shrink, why did everyone hate him? He would be forgotten by everyone before he even died, a tiny toy used up for entertainment. Why would Miranda be so mean to him? To relish in his suffering for no reason. Just because of some stupid condition? Why was the society, nay, the world, so cruel? The only thing that brought George any relief was that his job was almost done. "Don't forget I have two feet that need attention." she said, almost reading his mind as she wiggled her unpainted toes. George began to sob.

"Hey, bug, how does pizza sound for dinner?" George looked up at her hopefully, his stomach had been grumbling this whole time. He looked into her deep brown eyes with puppy dog eyes worn on his face. Laura burst out laughing, "as if you are gonna eat people food. Not today, love." George, dejected, began finishing up on the toes of her second foot, his job truly almost completed, much to the celebration of his aching back. Laura called up the pizza place and within half an hour was sat on her couch, shovelling steamy pepperoni covered slices into her mouth as George lay between her feet panting, totally out of energy. Laura closed her feet around him, her heels and toes touching, sealing George between her arches. "Mind giving them a bit of polish, huney?" she giggled to herself, not even looking at him. George was lost, what did she want? The heat, moisture and smell was beginning to climb as he was sealed so snuggly, barely enough room for his body laying down. The soles were becoming sticky, the pores opening up and releasing their vapour. He looked up at her, stomach grumbling jealously as she devoured the pizza, waiting for further orders. "What, you got a tongue don't ya? Just give them a few licks." George was disgusted, it was filthy and humiliating enough being sealed between them, but licking them? That was an entirely new level of disgusting. Feeling his still bruised and battered body ache, he decided that he really couldn't take anymore punishment lest he become crippled.

Gritting his teeth, he stood erect, his back bracing against the sole of her foot as he peaked his tongue out his lips. He leaned over to the opposite sole, arms holding him upright as he ran his tongue up a tiny section of the instep. Instantly his tongue recoiled at the bitter and salty taste, the slight lint, sand and general detritus that had piggy backed on her soles throughout the day grazing his tongue uncomfortably. Laura noticing his reaction giggled slightly, her entire body shaking as the sounds escaped her throat. "Try again sweety." she said in the most condescending tone she could muster. George took a deep breath and pinched his nose, a feeble attempt to mitigate the taste a little. He leaned in once more and gave a somewhat bigger lick, the same dregs and grit of her foot presenting themselves to his tongue once again. Disgust and humiliation shuddered through his body; why didn't he just stay with Sarah? Why, God, why didn't he? Laura reclined as far back as she could go, patting her pizza filled stomach satisfyingly. "This is the life: pizza, TV, and you, my little foot bitch, all coming together nicely. We're hitting the gym tomorrow, lots of fun we can have there." she said. The fun part obviously true to her, not so much for her possession. George couldn't wait.

George didn't sleep that well tonight, Laura dropped him hastily into a sock and forced her foot deep inside, pinning him underneath her toes as she crawled into bed. The sock was simultaneously cold and damp and humid and hot, like some kind of fever made physical. He struggled through the omnipresent stench that clung throughout the entire confined space, and was prodded by squirming midnight toes. Every time he would catch a few minutes of precious sleep the foot would be upturned by her night time movements and send him careening to the bottom with the force of gravity; like a nightmare that would end before you hit the ground, only you would land with a fabric muffled squelch. George lay, sobbing, in the deepest, darkest corners of the sock of a sleeping giant. Her slight snoring escaping her mouth and filling the room. He was alone, and it made her absolutely ecstatic. To make matters worse they were going to the gym tomorrow, surely to put him through sweaty, painful torment. George was just about to vomit.

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