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?