It’s funny how life turns out sometimes.

            For instance, the case of Cameron, who’d recently had his foot fetish discovered by his mother and sister and subsequently used to turn him into a magically shrunken foot-worshipping orgasm-pumping machine, recent life was particularly strange. Shortly after convincing his family members to make him their permanent miniature slave, all in payment for the right to tease and suckle their luscious toes for eternity, Cameron found his circumstances abruptly returned to the ordinary after his mother Brianna came to her senses and concluded her son was far more useful as a tool when restored to his former height of six-foot instead.

            Thus, things were more or less back to their intended physical states. Cameron stood taller and stronger than his mother and sister. Yet life remained funny. And this was mostly due to the fact that now, despite possessing the physical capacity to resist and flee for the hills, Cameron remained just as lowly a living toy for his mother and sister as when he was reduced to a few inches in height. If anything, he’d grown ever-more loyal since his return to his normal height.

            The family couldn’t have been happier.

            As was the custom now, Cameron awoke curled up like a puppy dog at the end of his little sister Alyssa’s queen-size bed. Beneath the covers, naturally. Like usual, the young woman’s bare peds were propped lazily against his body for warmth during the eve: one near his neck, the other hovering at his waist.

            Oily with her night sweat, Alyssa’s sole scrunched against her older brother’s lips. Cameron understood the expectation even without speech. He planted numerous good-morning kisses upon the firm, lightly doughy foot flesh; occasionally, his tongue flicked over his lips to lap up the lingering sleep-perspiration. While she enjoyed the benefits of his servitude, Alyssa murmured in gratitude. She rubbed a heel itch on his helpfully placed nose, then flattened her sole flush to his countenance again for fuller access to the creamy span of her foot’s underside.

            Only too happy to oblige, Cameron laid a trail of kisses from his sister’s happily bunching toes down to her thick, pumiced heel. He ensured to smooch each and every furrowed flesh wrinkle, just how the dirty-blonde liked it. In turn, her toes danced along the fly button of his pajamas, taunting him with the threat of poking her largest digit through the opening and running her cool toepad along his member. With that silent promise, Cameron’s kisses upon Alyssa’s other foot became even more ferocious.

            While their relationship had always been contentious, especially after Cameron was discovered indulging in his taboo fetish by inhaling his sister’s used socks, the family’s new arrangement had worked wonders on all fronts. Alyssa certainly still had her snarky fun, exclusively at her big brother’s expense, but Cameron knew it was just her way of saying she loved him, and more specifically, loved having him at her feet like the dog he was.

            “Breakfast, you two!” Brianna declared cheerily from the hallway. She rapped on the door. “The early bird gets the worm, and so on.”

            “Ughhh… fifteen more minutes! It’s the weekend, Mom!” Alyssa groaned, obviously still half asleep. Smirking, she lifted up the covers and peered down to the end of the bed at her sibling, utterly at the mercy of her feet. “Longer kisses, bro. Pretend like you’re making out with some girl you’ve been crushing on for years. Oh wait, you already are!”

            “Y-Yeah,” Cameron stammered. He massaged Alyssa’s pink sole while he spoke. “Sort of.”

            “Sort of is right. Cuz you’re not making out with a girl you’re crushing on for years, you’re making out with a foot you’ve been perving on for years. Same diff, though. Now hurry up and make out with my foot before I have to call you a loser again.” Alyssa’s threats were peppered with victorious smiles and the continued prodding of her toes at Cameron’s crotch through the pajamas, which were slowly starting to tent with morning wood.

            Spurred on, Cameron opened his mouth and passionately greeted Alyssa’s sole. He nibbled, licking in appropriate intervals, and puckered for all he was worth. The downy flavors of the blankets and nocturnally flaked skin, combined with overnight skin cream, washed into Cameron’s cheeks. Lovely. In response, Alyssa’s foot flexed tighter, rounding itself for kissing convenience. Her toes gripped Cameron’s hair, shoving the sole flesh down as flat as it would lie on his features.

            “Now that’s more like it,” Alyssa sighed.

            However, just when she had successfully coaxed Cameron’s member it into a full mast through the fabric, she did what she so often did and turned the act into a tease. She slipped out from under the covers and whipped the rest of the blankets away, revealing her fetally balled brother at the end of the bed. She tsked at him, as he was looking slightly forlorn to have had the make-out cut short.

            “Breakfast is gonna get cold, loser,” she chuckled, shaking her head. Her crystal blue eyes were alight with mirth. “And you know Mom’s already gonna have yours ready and waiting for you to scarf down like a little piggy.”

            “Yes,” Cameron agreed.

            “Yes, what?”

            “Yes, Princess.” He rolled out of his sister’s bed and shambled after her. Of course Alyssa led the way downstairs, shepherding her brother by an invisible and intangible chain. The hierarchy was so ingrained that neither she nor Brianna had yet even needed to tell Cameron to wait behind them for instruction and guidance. He just did it.

            In the kitchen, Brianna was making the finishing touches on a lovely Saturday morning breakfast array for her kids. Her blonde hair a rather luminous shade in the sunlight through the window, she flipped a final pancake onto the platter.

            “Morning, Mom,” Alyssa said. She leaned in and kissed her mother on the cheek.

            “Morning, Mom,” Cameron said and, as was expected, he squatted down on all fours, his cheek pressed to the floor. His mother’s broad, meaty sole was pre-emptively flexed backward, awaiting his greeting. Warm in the cheeks, Cameron leaned forward and planted a kiss on the plush underside of Brianna’s foot.

            “And good morning to the two of you, too,” Brianna chuckled. She peeked over her shoulder and down at her son, groveling around her naked peds. “My feet are a little cold, honey. I could use my slippers. Why don’t you be a dear and fetch them for me, all right?”

            “Sure,” Cameron said. He hopped back to his feet and meekly made his way for the stairs again.

            “Mine, too!” Alyssa called out.

            Cameron obeyed. He first fetched his mother’s lavender-colored fluff-coated pair, then Alyssa’s bubble gum-pink, decidedly more stylish set. Returning to the kitchen, he dropped to his knees in front of Brianna again and set the first slipper on his thigh. Giggling at the extra step of pampering, his mother propped her foot up on the boy’s leg and slid it into the fuzzy footwear. On the second, her instep brushed his deep inner thigh.

            “You want yours, too?” Cameron asked of his sister, already plopping to his haunches.

            “Mmmmm….  nah, I decided not to,” Alyssa said. She curled her toes, cracking the joints, then lithely kicked the pink slippers out of her brother’s grip. There was doubt on whether she even wanted them in the first place. “You can just put them back in my closet where you found them later.”

            “I’m sure he will,” Brianna said with a clap of her hands. “Now, I hope you’re both in the mood for pancakes!”

            A minute later, the family was gathered in typical fashion for the morning meal. Brianna and Alyssa took up opposite seats at the table beside the patio door. The breakfast of pancakes, fruit, and OJ stretched before them for the taking.

            Under the table, sitting cross-legged in his proper place, was Cameron, facing his mother’s chair. This particular vantage point put him at eye level with the folds of her bathrobe just between her supple thighs. All it would take was for Brianna to lean forward with her leg spread, a pluck of the fluffy robe fabric, and she could have her son in a nigh-inescapable headlock between her maternal quads.

            Of course, she had no intention of playing pranks at this hour of the day. And not when Cameron’s breakfast was indeed in danger of getting cold, with three pancakes stacked on a plate laid upon the floor. Luckily, his mother was quick to avoid that risk, as she happily plunged her naked right foot directly into the syrup-sopped cakes. Her toes squirmed and grasped at the sticky crumbs, letting the sugary matter squish up between her bell-ended digits. Then for good measure, Brianna reached under the table, gripping the syrup bottle, and poured another dollop directly over her foot.

            Just on the off-chance it wasn’t perfectly clear already that Cameron was to make his mother’s foot an integral part of the feeding experience.