But she didn't.

            Instead, Larissa's clog came sailing back to the ground and landed with a cataclysmic thud. She impatiently thrummed the stocking-tangled toes of her opposite foot, well within Ted's field of view. The foot which actually held him captive began musically swaying from side to side as if to soothe her joints. Then her deific voice flooded the room:

            "You are one nasty little creep, runt. I hope you know that. I'm not even sure I can wear that shoe again after I'm done with you. You got your stuff all over it, and I don't even want to look at the bottom of my foot right now. I'm probably going to need fifty showers just to feel clean again," Larissa ranted, though her voice was untainted by rage. She simply spoke truth, which somehow made it all the more unsettling.

            And she was right. Ted had messed all over that half-inch circle of her foot, even if he'd dried up of actual seed many orgasms ago. He still owed her sufficient guilt for that.

            "But I think it'll all be worth it, now you've learned your lesson," Larissa continued. "And it seems to me like you really have."

            Ted let himself relax, as though a thousand-pound brick had rolled off his shoulders. Now, at last, was the beginning of the end. He was prepared to do and say anything, from praying to groveling, required to show her that he'd changed. Really, he didn't even have to fib about that part. After an excruciating foot-job ultra-marathon, he wanted a long vacation away from this God-fearing community, just as soon as he was given medical attention and returned to his full size.

            "Which is why I'm going to keep you under my foot forever."

            The sound came from so very high above, and with the massive obstruction of Larissa's dangled nylon-foot, there was a significant degree of separation between Ted and his teenage oppressor. It was more like being spoken to by divine presence. However, even if these words had been poured directly into his cerebellum, Ted couldn't have heard them, let alone understood. Numb, he went limp in the spider-web clutches of the stocking threads. For the first time in hours, his dick finally stopped hardening.

            What did she just say?

             "Hmmm, seems like somebody isn't so happy to hear that!" Larissa wondered aloud. She gave her foot a scrunch, collapsing the paunchy pink wrinkles around Ted's cock, which remained flaccid for once. She repeated the gesture several more times, flexing and bunching her luxurious arch creases around his withered manhood, to no avail. "Yep, I guess that did it! Lesson learned for me, too, then. I should've told you how this day would end a while ago. Maybe it would've kept my foot clean from your sick juices. Well, whatever. We'll have plenty of time for you to make it up to me, seeing how your pathetic puny foot-fucking body belongs to me from now until the end of time. Or whenever your little stick just gives up from having too much fun and falls right off. Either way works for me."

            Ted was beside himself. His whole body quaked against Larissa's pillowy sole, which unfortunately just helped in stimulating his terrified member back to life. He would've cried if he wasn't so dehydrated from hours of rapidfire orgasms. Instead, all he managed was a hollowing cry of despair that choked into silence. Appealing to her sense of pity seemed pointless now, and even if he believed it would work, Ted couldn't possibly find the words to convince her.

            This couldn't be real. That's all there was to it. Ted had been suspecting this whole day was just a foot-starved night terror, and now he had the proof, because there was no way his whole life could take such a harrowing one-eighty turn in the span of a single school day. No matter how many poor choices he made, there was no conceivable way that indulging in his fantasies just once was worthy of eternal torment. A just God wouldn't allow such a thing.

            Larissa didn't speak again, but rather began humming. The tune was unfamiliar to Ted, at least at first, until he recognized some of the notes from church. She was casually rehearsing the melody of a hymn from mass, and at that precise moment, the boy recalled what he'd overheard the previous day. The girls had a choir recital tonight.

            Her hand appeared from on high again, this time toting a pair of formal ankle-height fuzz-coated black boots, with a glossy bronze zipper running up the side like the slip of her uniform skirt. These were deposited with greater care beside the discarded clogs, and the zipper teeth undone a tick at a time, to prepare for use. When Larissa's hovering foot tipped toward its new vessel, the future was clear without her even saying a word. They were going on another trip.

            Finally, probably far too late, Ted genuflected to the immortal goddess.

            "PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!" he screamed into the sound-absorbing flesh-island of Larissa's majestic foot. He roared until his voice went hoarse, until he was beyond sure that Larissa couldn't even hear anymore because she'd shoved him inside her boot to start walking. Still he endeavored, with his last reserves of pitiful strength: "GOD, NO! STOP, STOP, STOP! LISTEN TO ME, PLEASE! LARISSA! I'M SO SORRY FOR EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING! JUST LET ME GO! I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! ANYTHING, FOREVER, JUST DON'T LEAVE ME IN HERE! PLEASE, GOD, LET ME OUT!"

            Ted heard the zipper rising up the side of the felt boot, and had the distinct impression that the nails were being hammered into a coffin.

            Conditions were much tighter in this shoe than the loose-fitting leather clog. The shrunken victim was battered less severely, as Larissa's tremendous foot had little space to wriggle, but it also meant Ted's string-bound body was more constricted than ever. Like being placed in an iron lung that was slowly imploding. Or a car compactor. He wasn't simply under Larissa's foot, but after being trodden into the rigid platform, he could almost feel his inch-tall shape rising and molding into the squishy sole terrain above him. After a while, once his flattened self was sufficiently patted deep enough into the bread-dough texture of Larissa's stockinged foot, there might be nothing left to distinguish him from her bodily geometry.

            Time returned to its indeterminate trudge. Unfortunately, his series of arduous erections picked up again too, and there was nothing he could do about it. Orgasm number forty-whatever was followed immediately by the next desperate release into pulpy arch folds. The bliss of climax was now officially trumped by abrasion and exhaustion. Once Ted had nothing to look forward to, either freedom or even a break from being forcibly jacked into an ever-eager giant sole, his perception was again reduced to a single sense. There were no minutes, no hours, and no world outside this boot. His entire life, in the span of one day, had redirected entirely to the desires of a young goddess. Blind and deaf to all else, Ted could exclusively feel the cosmic weight of Larissa's oily, ample, soggy, furrow-pleated cream-blanch sole.