"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.