1. The Plan by DanceDance1982 and V11

“For fuck's sake! Another rejection?” Steve cursed. Staring down at his phone in disbelief, he skimmed through the latest email he’d just received from a local art dealer.

”Now what?” he asked himself. Steve was utterly crestfallen, he was currently unemployed with no steady income, having devoted much of his adult life into failed art projects. He was desperate for artistic recognition- whatever the cost!

Steve was your average 25 year old in many ways. He lived in a messy apartment-turned-art-studio full of stacks of his unsold abstract and classical paintings in the city. His appearance was quite typical- for an unkempt, struggling artist.

”I’m so sick of being a nobody!” he hissed to himself, “I need to do something big that will get me noticed.”

Steve skimmed through the various news articles on his phone. He was instinctively drawn to the numerous articles detailing the revolutionary applications of shrinking technology. This new tech was becoming increasingly available. It was insanely expensive and required a rigorous enrollment program to ensure that it wasn’t misused. The latest breakthrough was the PMRD or Portable Matter Reduction Device. The technology had come a long way from the early trials that required a factory sized building to merely hold the device itself. In the last ten years it had gone through several rapid iterations, going from something the size of a larger ice chest to more recently the size of a television remote.

Steve felt that the collective tipping point for this technology's popularity was coming very soon- in perhaps a month or so at most. He suspected that any day now he would be seeing people online racking up views and likes as they experimented with this new technology that everyone was talking about.

He wanted, no, he needed to be at the front of that trend.

Steve wracked his mind, trying to think of a way he could use this experimental tech to get him noticed by the global art community. Suddenly, a calendar reminder popped up on his screen.

’Reminder: Mother’s Day - 3 days’

After initially closing the notification he scratched his head in thought. Steve scrolled through his online photo sharing app feed for inspiration. A recently posted photo of an old college friend's manicure caused him to pause and his brow furrowed as he stared at it. What was it about the picture that had drawn his attention? Suddenly it hit him- the image had reminded him of his mother.

”That’s it!” he snapped in a moment of triumph. “I could shrink down and paint a masterpiece onto mom's nails! I could film the whole thing and post it online! Oh, she would be just perfect for that! It would definitely go viral! The caring son who devoted an afternoon just making art for his mom! This is genius!”

Steve was somewhat distant when it came to the relationship between himself and his mother, Julie. She was a nurse who worked long hours at one of the large and well known local hospitals. She had remained single ever since divorcing his father years ago, and as a result always genuinely relished any contact from her son.

Steve felt a pang of guilt as he thought about how he had taken advantage of his mother's maternal instinct several times in the past few years. Since his career as an artist was not profitable yet, too many of his infrequent visits with her inevitably ended in him begging for money. Surprisingly, Steve got his way more often than not. What was especially awkward for him was that he knew that she would give in so easily because he was the spitting image of his father, a man that she had dearly loved despite his horrible character flaws. His mother had even affectionately reminded him of her inability to tell him 'no' on several occasions in the past while writing him out a check to cover his rent. Steve had never consciously taken advantage of this fact, but at the same time it always made him feel even more anxious whenever he was forced to ask her for help.

Steve knew that his mother was probably just as frustrated with his lack of success as he was. He suspected that some day quite soon he would no longer be able to rely on her to help him out of a jam. He could tell that so far she had held her tongue about his situation, instead being very patient and understanding about everything. He needed this opportunity so badly!

Steve was instantly exhilarated by the novel concept of using the new shrinking technology to help him make a name for himself, it would be relatively easy to utilize such a gimmick to gain some lucrative recognition. He knew that Mother’s Day would be the perfect excuse to implement his plan whilst seemingly offering his “services” as a gift to her. It was also just the sort of thing that might be agreeable to his mother. He sat on the side of his bed, considering how she might react…

Even though Steve’s mother was just a nurse, there had always been an air about her of something much different, of something much more elegant. It was more like she had a career that absolutely required a very well refined and attractive appearance. She looked and acted more like she was in high-powered sales or a spokeswoman/model for some company doing demonstrations or talks across the country. That seemed to be a much more plausible background for her than someone who worked wearing hospital scrubs attending to the care of ailing and injured clientele.

When Steve was a young boy his mother had been quite beautiful and thought of herself as glamorous and fashionable. She was always chasing the latest trends back then and had cared a great deal about her appearance and clothing. However, there was another, much more relevant aspect pertaining to her from back when he still lived at home. It was such a minor thing to him, something that he had not really thought about in years until seeing that manicure picture: she used to always wear polish on all of her nails. Many women do that to be sure, but this was an unwavering constant with his mother. It was really quite a fundamental part of her identity when he was growing up along with all of the clothing and cosmetics.

Though it was something he had always ignored in the past, it was vital that he deeply considered the psychology of his mother's habits. He needed to devise a strategy to tempt the normally rather shy woman in front of a camera.

Steve thought back to when she had gone back to school as a single mother. He had only been a young teenager at the time. Julie had been caught off-balance by her husband’s infidelity and their quite abrupt separation and divorce. Being suddenly alone with children in tow meant that she had no choice but to completely change her lifestyle. She immediately stopped buying most of the more frivolous clothing and shoes that she had loved to wear. It was plain to Steve that his mother had no alternative but to give up on that aspect of her life, switching to wearing blue jeans and tee shirts most of the time. Her decision had obviously been out of necessity, she was suddenly on a tight budget as a new student working towards a nursing degree.

It was during that time Julie had really doubled down on the care and attention that she put into her hands and feet. That might seem very odd, but Steve knew that it was a rather inexpensive way for her to still feel glamorous. She had quickly abandoned the notion of nail polish as just one factor out of many in creating a stylish appearance. It became a very important part of his mother’s identity and self image. All during those years while in college she was rather obsessive about it, often changing nail polishes daily.

Usually during that time, after Julie had made dinner for Steve and his sister, she would completely clear off the kitchen table, claiming it for the evening. She would then lay out her college books but also her beauty supplies across most of the table. Julie would spend each evening until late at night studying and simultaneously fussing with her nails. But, at some point- just like she had done with the fashionable clothing- she had abandoned the habit of painting her nails as well.

Steve frowned as he pondered his mother's reaction to his crazy idea. Would she allow him to even do such a thing? She no longer wore polish on her nails, not for years now. Why had she ever stopped painting them, especially since it had been so important to her? He remembered vaguely that it had abruptly ceased right after she finished nursing school and got the job as a nurse. Perhaps her long shifts at the hospital meant that she didn't have the time to devote to painting her nails regularly? Maybe she was just too hard on nail polish at her job and finally gave it up? Steve simply didn't know- that aspect of his mother's life had always been such an inconsequential, trivial thing to him.

The fact remained that his mother had been almost religious about painting her nails for years, decades really. So, she might happily approve of his crazy idea! She was for the longest time preoccupied with that- and perhaps nostalgia might make her agreeable to such a strange stunt. After all, she continued to habitually keep her nails long and she was still just as diligent about constantly maintaining her pleasant looking hands and feet as she always had been. Julie would inspect her nails and fuss over them quite often during the idle moments of her day, almost like many younger people habitually checked their phones.

Steve nodded silently to himself, he felt that there was a good chance of his mother agreeing to help him. Though, she wasn't exactly the easiest person to predict. She could be very single-minded and focused, sometimes to her own detriment. But that particular trait had served her quite well when she had gone back to school to get her nursing degree. However, paradoxically, she could also be quite compulsive, sometimes fully committing to something on a whim. It had always seemed to him that his mother Julie sometimes had a problem when it came to resisting temptation. In example, she occasionally brought home far more than she had planned to when she went shopping or to the grocery store.

His mother's behavior could be hard to completely explain or understand sometimes to him. He knew that she was obsessed with beauty techniques and products, yet was simultaneously quite shy and preferred to stay at home most of the time. She could indeed be quite quirky, but it was all very endearing to him and resulted in her being a surprisingly fun person to be around.

His mother's penchant for beauty when he was young had obviously rubbed off onto Steve's older sister, Kathy, who had become a cosmetologist and now owned half of the biggest beauty supply and salon business in town. Long ago, while still a girl, Kathy had begun to emulate her mother's appearance habits and had simply never stopped. To this day his sister consistently kept up on the latest fashion trends. She always spent a ridiculous amount of money keeping her wardrobe, makeup and hair up to date and that of course included having her nails always flawless and painted however the current style dictated.

His sister Kathy considered herself to be some sort of an internet beauty guru in her spare time and several times a week posted beauty, clothing and nail polish videos online. It was basically a hobby for her that had over the course of the last decade steadily grown to consume most of her spare time. It was now really another full career for her. Over the last several years he had become rather tired of listening to his sister incessantly go on about her “brand”, her difficulties in trying to hire an agent and being an “influencer”.

Now that Steve considered his sister Kathy and her constant, often daily interaction with his mom, she would hopefully be another factor in his mother ultimately agreeing to his plan. While Steve was perhaps a bit too self-absorbed and distant with his mother, Kathy was the opposite. They were two-of-a-kind, he thought, his mother and sister, much more like best friends than simply family.

Steve smiled to himself as he thought about the two women. One of his close college friends that had often been around his family while he was still in school had remarked to him that his sister and mother seemed like “modeling school dropouts” and were “a pair of princesses”. His friend initially had a huge crush on his sister, Kathy. But, after being around her when he would accompany Steve back home on weekends the young man had soured on the prospect because of how shallow and self absorbed his sister could be.

His friend's humorously scathing remarks about them had always been hilarious to Steve because they were such accurate descriptions. Both women were completely obsessed with beauty. Those observations had permanently stuck in Steve's mind as affectionate terms whenever he thought about the pair. Though, they were certainly terms that he always kept to himself, never daring to utter things like that out loud to their faces. They could be quite merciless whenever they had the opportunity to gang up on him for any reason.

Steve knew that his mother would most likely be very tempted to agree to be in his video if for no other reason than to show off her wonderful new nails to her daughter afterwards. After all, Kathy likened herself to be an authority on the subject and would obviously delight in the results of his novel idea for a Mother's Day gift.

If the scenario played out exactly how Steve had calculated, his mother would be deeply touched and actually eager to become a living canvas for his art! Yet, equally as good as that- the simple fact that she consistently kept her skin and her naturally strong and fast growing nails in such great condition meant that he would most likely be able to just go over there, set up equipment, be zapped and get to filming straightaway. It would work. It had to.

Thumbing with his smartphone, Steve began researching the expensive, complex process of obtaining a shrink device permit. He was stunned! It would cost a minimum of ten grand just for a few hours use! He’d need a bank loan to cover this extortionate amount of money. Still, blindsided by his ambition Steve made the necessary phone calls and acquired the funds to proceed with the application.

As he hastily went though the permit screens, he paused only to read the mandatory question boxes. “Purpose of application?” he read, “I guess business.” He scrolled through pages and pages of small print associated with such a drastic experimental piece of technology. Coming to the terms and conditions, he cast his eyes over the print that was in bold.

“I acknowledge that my loaned device will become nonfunctional after the four hour lease period expires. Hmm.” Steve pondered the deeper meaning of this condition, as his finger hovered beside a mandatory acknowledgment and signature box. Four hours- he would be best off repainting something he had recently done- perhaps a hasty still life of a bowl of fruit sitting against earth colored drapery onto her thumbnail, followed by some quick and simple to do roses or sunflowers onto her other nails if he had the time.

”By accepting these terms, I accept full responsibility for my height and well-being.” He ignored this worrying legal waver, not truly understanding the serious message of consequences.

“What a load of corporate bullshit,” he chuckled, “Who has time for all of this?”

Steve hastily ticked all of the boxes until his application was complete. Suddenly an email popped up in his inbox: ‘A tailor-made device for the sole purpose of reducing your size will be dispatched by tomorrow afternoon via courier’. Steve was excited as he continued to read the remainder of the email. ‘This device will only become active during the proposed lease period, 12:00 - 16:00 on Sunday. We will require a mandatory blood sample to calibrate the device to your genetic specification’.

Steve was blinded by his ambition, he willingly complied to the companies demands and pondered a way to inform his mother of his plans. He decided to not write a detailed lengthy text to his mother, choosing instead to keep his plan a secret. He pulled up her ID on his phone and sent her a quick message instead...

’Hey mom, don’t make any plans for Sunday. I’ve got an incredible surprise prepared for you x’

She replied almost immediately: ‘Good to hear from you! Wow I can’t wait! Pop in anytime xxx’

With his plan now in motion, Steve stopped by the PMRD company to have his blood drawn and submit to a mandatory physical examination. Then he ran around town to gather his supplies using some of the money left over from the loan. A high definition camcorder. Various tiny paint pots he acquired from a model shop. A tiny paint brush he’d purchased from a hobby store specializing in dollhouse furniture.

The following afternoon, the most important feature of his plan arrived, the shrink device. Tearing open the packaging, Steve studied the lengthy instructions intently. He grew frustrated with the maths involved in determining the exact shrinking ratio. Steve was too excited to spend several hours making sure he understood the intricacies of the process. He decided to simplify the complex calculations into a few ballpark numbers and then wrote out an idiot proof user guide for his techno-phobic mother. After all, she would have to resize him after he was done painting. Having confidence his plans where finalized, Steve laid upon his bed and smiled.

”Perfect, everything is in place,” he smiled to himself. Steve set an alarm for 9:00am that following Sunday morning and got into bed. He closed his eyes, completely unaware that this would be the last night he would ever spend in his apartment.

2. The Compromise by V11

As as the static buzzing of the alarm jolted Steve from his slumber, he smiled in anticipation of what was to come.

”This is it, this is the day you become a star!” Steve announced with a yawn. The doorbell of his apartment rang as he was making breakfast and Steve answered it. He greeted a bike courier and signed for his package. Steve opened the box as he ate a meal bar, tossing the contents onto his bed. He eyed his new molecular jumpsuit with a chuckle. It was a ridiculous looking sky blue garment made from a quite tough, futuristic rip proof fabric. For reasons never fully stated in any of the literature he would be required to wear this throughout the process. After closely examining it, Steve suspected that it was mainly to protect him, perhaps even to keep him warm while shrunk.

”I can’t wait to see the look on Mom's face” he smirked, “I'm going to look like I stepped off the set of a science fiction film.”

Steve drove to his mothers home. Parking up on the driveway, he was quite thankful that his sister's car wasn't there. His project would go so much smoother without her interference. He grabbed his bag full of supplies and entered the front door without even as much as a knock.

”Happy mother’s day!” Steve called out, walking into the hallway towards the soft tones of the radio coming from the kitchen.

”Oh, hey sweetie, in here,” his mother called out. Steve slowly entered in his absurd jump suit, his brown backpack draped over his shoulder.

There, standing by the sink finishing a sandwich was Steve's mother, Julie. Her blonde hair was untamed and tied back in a bun. Her face appeared a bit plain, today devoid of almost all makeup. She had been a real beauty back in her day, but her looks had started to change ever so slightly with time. There was the smallest suggestion of age around her eyes, which in Steve's estimation actually made her look even more dignified and striking. Julie was a rather short and petite woman. You could even say that she was ever so slightly overweight, although this was only apparent from her slightly plump behind from spending long hours in a chair at her job.

Julie wore a red sweetheart neck blouse, thoroughly exposing her impressive cleavage and (for her height) proportionally large bra-less breasts. A golden crescent moon shaped locket dangled from her neck swinging above her bust. She wore a short black pencil skirt that ended just above her knees, revealing her toned bronze calves and golden charm bracelet glittering above her left ankle. Her feet were encased in her white fuzzy house slippers, favorites of hers that she had worn for many, many years.

”Oh wow!” Julie exclaimed upon her son's entrance to the kitchen, “I must say, I was expecting flowers- are you taking me skiing or something?”

Steve was very eager to make sure that his mother's hands were in good form for being filmed, but he managed to maintain eye contact with her and not give in to glancing down to them at all.

”Ha, even better than that mom! Why don’t you go sit in the lounge and I’ll tell you all about my plans,” Steve confidently responded.

“We can go in there in a moment, but first, don't you think that you're forgetting something?” Julie asked, smiling sweetly up at her son.

“No... I mean, I think I brought over everything that I-”

“Steven!”

Steve's puzzled brow broke into relief as he realized that his mother merely wanted a kiss.

“Oh- I'm sorry, mom. I've been looking forward to this so much that-”

“That you forgot your manners, apparently.”

Steve approached his slightly annoyed looking mother and bent down slightly so that she could more easily reach him. He puckered up for a kiss.

Julie's face lit up with a big grin, “There! There's that handsome face, the one that I adore!”

Steve blushed despite himself.

Julie always had pet characteristics that she had affectionately attributed to each of her children; for her daughter Kathy, it had always been praising, caressing, and playing with her lovely blonde locks. She almost seemed obsessed with her daughter's hair when Kathy was young, but it was all just playful affection. For Steve it had always been his face, of all things, that Julie had focused on. It was obviously because he looked exactly like a young version of his father. She had always complimented random aspects of it and booping him on the nose or stroking his cheek as she tried to coax a smile out of him had always been quite typical behavior for her.

“Oh, you have such a kissable mouth! I still don't understand exactly why you aren't married yet, Steve.”

“Mom!”

“Oh, I know you don't want to be heckled. But you really do have the most handsome mouth! At least I think so- it's just like your fathers. Although, I am still thankful almost daily that you only inherited his good looks and not his poor judgment.”

Julie covetously touched his lips with a soft fingertip and then quickly stretched upwards on her tippy-toes to kiss him on his cheek.

“There, now don't you feel better?”

“Yes, I do. Really! I do! Now then... living room? Please?”

Julie looked on with a disappointed, slightly hurt expression from her affection being pushed aside so brusquely as she followed him to the other room.

As they entered, Steve eyed the oak coffee table in front of the beige leather sofa. Perfect, he thought, spotting the ideal location to film his deed.

”Now, take a seat on the sofa and close your eyes,” Steve requested.

“Alright. But, I'm really confused, Steve!”

“Please, just trust me. Sit down and close your eyes!”

When she had settled, Steve began to set up his work station on the table. He made sure the light would be good there and arranged the camcorder, the paint pots and brush. His mother, Julie, seemed to continue keeping her eyes closed with an excited smile on her face. She reacted to the noises around her with slight turns of her head towards the direction of his activity. Steve placed the shrinking device and instructions beside her on the sofa.

Everything was almost ready, but he realized that there was something else he really needed to at least check on before turning on the camera. Steve felt really bad for doing this, like he would be violating her space, but he wanted everything to be just right. As strange as it sounded, his mother's hands were really starring in this video alongside him- what if she had a recent mishap in the garden or kitchen resulting in broken nails? Or god forbid, an angry looking blister or a cut on her thumb? Steve knew that she had very youthful looking hands, but still. This was going to be documented up close and in high definition. After all, his video was going to be shot with the focus framed in tightly on a very small area of the table where he would be since he was going to be shrunk and doing work. Aesthetics mattered a lot to some people, often too much in Steve's estimation, but realistically any large blemish or imperfection on any of her fingers would be distracting and actually quite grotesque filmed so closely.

Steve bent in and craned his neck forward as he eagerly tried to catch a glimpse of her folded hands. Julie's reaction was instantaneous.

“Steve! What are you doing!? Why are you so close to me and looking at my-”

“Mom!” Steve knew immediately that she was peeking at him through slightly raised eyelids. “Close your eyes! For real this time!”

“I'm sorry, I'm just nervous- excited, I guess. You're being so mysterious and I just don't know what's going on,” Julie smiled, her eyes shutting tight. “But, why were you doing that- that whatever you were doing? And when can I open my eyes?”

“In a bit. I'm not done yet. Just be patient- and keep your eyes actually closed this time.”

Steve made sure she wasn't looking and then held his breath, bending in closer to her once again. His face hovered over his mother's lap for a moment as he looked over her hands and nails, trying to quickly evaluate them. No cuts, scrapes or blisters that he could see, her fingers as always were quite clean and well hydrated thanks to her constant attention to them. No broken fingernails either- they were of a medium length, meticulously well tended and healthy looking, which was quite typical for her. She had not disappointed his expectations at all. Her hands truly looked as youthful as his sisters did, a woman fully twenty years younger than her.

Steve pulled back and relaxed, his worries finally calmed. Just as he had hoped, his mother's hands would be good enough today for filming so close as-is, without the need for any further preparation whatsoever. He knew from past experience when he was younger and still lived at home that they would certainly be very photogenic and quite elegant once finished. Everything would look quite professional in the video.

Steve nodded to himself, every aspect of this entire set up was perfect- excellent lighting, a very competent camera, the perfect subject- and without much real effort expended! With some relief he checked the composure of the shot before hitting record on the camera. Steve took a deep breath before announcing his plans.

”Okay Mom, you can open your eyes now!” he announces triumphantly. As Julie opened her eyes, she looked over the various objects around her before glancing up to her son in complete astonishment.

”Okay, you’ve lost me, what is all of this?” she said as she looked over the paint pots.

”This is your surprise mom!”

With no other easy option to pick such a small object up from the coffee table, Julie elegantly captured the handle of the tiny paintbrush in a pinch between the edges of her thumb and index fingernails. She held it up in front of her face and her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at it. It was more of a well made prop that belonged in a dollhouse due to it's size than an actual usable paint brush.

”This is- well, it's adorable, but... You’ll have to explain everything to me honey.” she said with a concerned frown as she carefully deposited the brush back onto the table.

“Well, I know how hard you work!” Steve gulped, trying to stick to his carefully thought out words that he hoped would cinch the chance for his video to go viral. “So I wanted to do something special for you this mother’s day.”

”Do what exactly? What is all this for?” Julie stared with confusion at the bizarre table arrangements.

”Well, see that device next to you... Umm... That’s a shrink ray.” he sheepishly mumbled. Julie's green eyes locked with his. Steve could tell that his mother was quite confused and then her eyes grew huge.

“That's- that's one of those shrink guns!?”

Julie's expression was quite alarmed and yet she simultaneously looked almost like she was drowning as her mouth trembled, opening and shutting several times. Steve couldn't help but also notice that her cheeks had suddenly flushed with color, like she had just been deeply embarrassed. Steve immediately thought that this was a strange reaction, but perhaps his mother believed that shrink technology was quite dangerous and she was panicking as she thought about his safety? Maybe she had recently seen some over-hyped and hysterical news story on the technology? He dismissed her reaction as quickly as he had noticed it, after all, it could only be something like that.

“Yes, it's a shrink gun! But, just hear me out! I’m going to shrink myself down and give you an amazing manicure!” Steve blurted out.

Julie's jaw dropped in astonishment. Her face hardened, stern and disappointed as her lips churned in preparation to respond.

“Is this some kind of a joke?” Julie said flatly, “How did you even afford such a thing?”

Steve immediately realized that this was going wrong very quickly. Never in a million years had he expected his mother’s reaction to be so disagreeable. He suppressed a despondent frown at the growing risk of his expensive stunt actually backfiring. He quickly reached out and grabbed up one of her almost unnaturally soft hands into both of his. Julie was obviously taken aback by his uncharacteristic gesture but didn't tug away. He squeezed her warm hand gently before stroking it as he mustered up his confidence.

”No, hear me out,” he implored, “I’m going to give your fingernails the most detailed, incredible paint job that the world has ever seen!”

Steve looked down to her hand that he held. He blinked and tried to summon a hopeful smile to reassure his mother that he had not overstretched his ambition. In his peripheral vision he could see her glance at her captured hand for a moment and then look up at him. He could tell that she was intently studying him with an expression of real concern on her face. Steve held his smile and chose not to look at her directly- after all, as his mother she was quite well versed in reading him. He hoped that just a bit of subtle acting right in front of her might still sell his idea and make her receptive and excited about the prospect.

Steve tried desperately to not seem awkward but confident and actually enthusiastic about his Mother's Day plan as he gazed down at the dainty hand that he held. He continued to keep his smile in place and tried to not blink too much as he deliberately made it a point to look it over with slightly exaggerated enthusiasm as she watched. She just had to say yes- just as he had suspected, her hands were good enough to do this already and they could just get on with filming everything right now!

Steve knew that his only other alternative for well manicured hands, his sister, probably wouldn't cooperate with his crazy plan so easily and might actually do something mischievous to him once he was shrunk. After all, he was arguably making a foray into his sister Kathy's territory- trying to make a video for public dissemination. That might not end well with how cruel she could sometimes be towards him. One of his fingers absentmindedly stroked his mother's long, smooth thumbnail as Julie frowned at him.

“So, sweetie, I think I'm still not quite understanding-why exactly is there a camera set up for this?” Julie's eyebrows furrowed as she regarded the red blinking light above the lens.

”Well, nothing like this has ever been done before! I was hoping- you know- if I recorded it... That- I want to put it up on the internet and... Well, I'm hoping that it might make me famous!” Steve forced himself to grin as genuinely as he could muster. His mother glanced up at him, barely withholding a knowing, pessimistic sigh of disappointment as she tugged free her hand.

“Oh Steve, this all sounds so dumb- why can’t you just get a proper job?” Julie exclaimed, she sullenly glanced down at the floor and then back up into her son's embarrassed face.

Steve felt like he had been slapped. This was an incredibly blunt statement coming from his mother. She was losing patience with him. Still, he couldn’t get sidetracked, not now. He ignored her comment entirely, choosing to stay laser focused on what was at stake.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I honestly think this will be the making of me!”

”Hmm... whilst I admire your enthusiasm,” Julie smiled sweetly, “You know that painted fingernails are forbidden at the hospital, right?”

”What? No... Oh, come on! Really?”

Steve had already been quite nervous, but able to hide it. This pushed him over the top, completely throwing him off balance. He felt a cold sting of sweat roll down the back of his neck upon this sudden revelation.

“Oh, my! Steve, are you sure that you're feeling well? You've suddenly gone quite pale!”

“I'm fine, I just- I mean... You always used to paint them and... You would always keep your nails so nice.”

“I did? Just when have you ever even paid attention to-”

“Yes, you did! When Kathy and I were young!” Steve blurted out incredulously, “That hallway closet by my old bedroom was always full of nothing but nail polish bottles and expensive beauty products! You always spent so much time fussing with them! So, I thought that maybe you would really enjoy it if... Honestly, mom- I really can't paint them?”

“Well, no, Steve! I’m back in early tomorrow morning. Why don’t you take me out for dinner instead?”

”I can’t! I’ve invested so much into this!”

”You silly, silly boy! Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t afford the risk of being marked up for having painted nails during a shift. Hmm, I'm off after tomorrow, how about then? I'll have a few days to-”

“I can't do it then! It's got to be today! It's got to be now!”

“Well, if it wasn't for tomorrow's shift I would love to, Steve.” Julie folded the fingers of one hand into her palm and regarded her fingernails, shaking her head as if to clear her recent confusion. “I always try to keep my hands really nice, they've always been a point of pride for me. But also because if I didn't care for them your sister would give me grief about it- you know how she is.”

Julie finished looking over her nails and then used them to pick away a few tiny crumbs of bread on her shirt from her lunch as she went on. “Because of work they need to stay natural. Painting them is just not allowed. It is simply against their policy. I'm sorry dear, but today just won't work!”

Steve was panicking, he would be in a mountain of debt if his plan failed. Julie looked troubled as she studied her son's distressed face.

Glancing down at his mother's slippers, an uncomfortable, yet potentially vindicating idea entered Steve's mind. He knew for a fact that it wasn't just her hands that she always took excellent care of. Would this be a fair compromise to her dilemma? An undesirable but alternative canvas he could work on? His lips quivered as he contemplated the words about to escape his mouth.

“Well..” he muttered, clearing his throat with a nervous cough, “What about your toenails, then?”

”Ha! Good one Steve!” Julie chuckled in disbelief. She was quite confident that he was joking.

“No really- can I paint them? You're not going into work wearing sandals. Nobody there will see them, right?”

Steve stared down at her with a poker faced expression, a look of determination in his eyes. He watched as she thought over his proposition. For a moment, at the end she had looked... frightened? But it was gone as quickly as it had shown itself on her face. What had that been? Panic?

“Are you actually being serious?”

Steve nodded with begrudging ambition. Julie glanced down at her well worn slippers and laughed uncomfortably.

”Please, will you let me do this for you, mom?”

Steve pondered the impact his new plan could actually have- painting her fingernails would have been a sweet and caring gesture. But painting her toenails? It had a subservient undertone that could make him a laughing stock. Nevertheless, time was running out and he needed to see it though. After all, he risked becoming both bankrupted and homeless if he backed out now.

”Steve, I don’t want this. I thought we were going for a nice meal or something. This- it's just weird!”

”I know, Mom, but just give me an hour or so, you can read one of your women's magazines whilst I paint.”

”Wow, you really are keen! But, my toes? Do you realize I’ve had these on all morning?” Julie replied, glancing down to her fuzzy slippers as her toes wriggled within the moist fabric.

”It wouldn't bother me, Mom.” Steve gulped.

“It wouldn’t?” Julie's nose wrinkled as she crossed her legs. She dangled her right slipper from her toes.

“Can you not smell that?” Julie asked curiously, looking her son in the eye as the slipper continued to dangle restlessly.

”Smell what?” Steve managed a weak smile, despite the slight hint of a ripe musk from her slippers.

Julie shook her head.

”Oh, don’t play dumb with me mister! You know how bad these slippers smell! I've had them, well- I've had them forever!”

Julie rolled her eyes as he continued to act oblivious to her words.

“I can’t believe I’m even having to even say this, but there’s no way I’d knowingly let you near my feet while shrunk!”

Steve knew that his mother just had no idea the amount of finance and preparation he had invested into this plan. Meanwhile, Julie briefly pondered the idea that her son may have some sort of foot fetish, but shrugged off the idea at least for the time being, realizing the relative absurdity of such a thing.

”Mom, I need this! I promise I’ll make it up to you afterwards!”

Julie looked into his sweet, pleading face before glancing downwards to her feet.

“Wow, your persistent. But, I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

“What do you mean?”

“So, you want to be shrunken down, like a little bug at my feet?” Steve nodded and Julie's eyebrows furrowed suspiciously, “Does that not freak you out? It freaks me out.”

“Mom, it’s fine.”

”But... the smell from my slippers? Does it honestly not bother you?”

”Nope. I think they're fine.”

”Ha! Oh really? Would you be willing to prove that?”

Julie smirked deviously. Steve watched nervously as his mother slid off her slipper from her right foot, catching it in her hands before playfully slapping it's sole against her opposite hand.

“Erm... prove it how?”

”Oh, I can think of a few ways. See my slipper? I dare you, give it a sniff!” Julie chuckled, unable to contain herself any longer, “Seeing as your so keen to be at my feet!”

Julie forced the warm slipper into his hand, “Prove it to me!”

”Alright, fine- I will!” Steve responded. He began to lift up the slipper and place it over his nose.

“No, way!” Julie gasped in disbelief, holding back her laughter as her son looked down bravely.

With the slipper thoroughly over his nose, Steve took a deep breath in through his nostrils. The scent overcame him! It was a powerful, thick musk! An intense vinegar like odor was coupled with the stale flowery scent of old lotion, the combination of those two disparate elements was so strong that the scent threatened to leave a taste it in the back of his throat. It was only then that Steve realized just how awful her feet might be to work on as a tiny.

“You're a freak!” Julie exclaimed as she laughed, “I was only joking!”

Steve's face turned bright red. Julie shook her head, stunned that he would be so willing to smell her ripe slipper just to prove himself worthy of such a bizarre and preposterous task.

“Ha! I can’t believe that you're actually smelling my slipper, Steve!”.

“What?” he responded, “It doesn’t smell that bad,” he lied, trying to save whatever little dignity remained as the musk continued to assault his nostrils. He knew he had a job to do so with determination he kept the slipper over his nose, proving to himself that he could endure such an overwhelming odor with another deep breath.

Steve glanced down to his mother's hands as he fought to keep his eyes from watering due to the smell of her slipper. Her hands were so clean, as they rightfully should be, and as an artist well-versed in form and proportion he had always found them to be quite remarkable. Though it was perhaps a rather odd insight, to him they had always seemed to be the epitome of beautiful female hands. They had always looked like the type of woman's hands that he might see in a skin care or beauty product advertisement. Though it would have been embarrassing and weird to admit it out loud, he would have actually enjoyed being tiny around them. He could not deny that for some reason the sight of them had always been rather comforting to him. But this? Her feet? He set his mouth firmly. This was the only way. He just needed to plow through. Garbage collectors went through so much worse than this everyday and her feet would only carry a milder, residual smell from her slippers.

”My slipper doesn't smell?” Julie smirked incredulously, “Oh really? Are you enjoying yourself then?”

Steve was becoming more and more uncomfortable as this discussion progressed.

“Wait, I never said I like it! I just said it doesn’t bother me!” Steve's cheeks flushed cheeks with embarrassment as he hastily removed the slipper from his face.

”Sure,” Julie rolled her eyes, “you look positively repulsed. You know, I’d love a good foot massage. It won’t make you ‘famous’, but I’m beginning to think that you’d enjoy it all the same.”

”Mom! I’m serious, this is purely to get me famous!”

”Ha! Oh, I could definitely see a Mother's Day foot massage video going viral.”

”Mom please! I know this will work, just trust me.”

”Okay, Steve, let me get this straight: you want to shrink yourself down, paint my toenails and somehow that will make you famous?”

“Yes!” he replied swiftly, “I have a plan mom!”

”Well, you certainly are insistent. But it still feels like I’d be torturing you, sweetie.” she said with mocking concern. “Are you sure you’ve thought this all through?”

Steve took a long, forlorn look at his mother's foot. Julie's exposed toes scrunched in the cool air of the open lounge. Her toenails were very well kept but natural looking, like her fingernails. Steve realized that he had almost forgotten and endearing yet perhaps slightly unusual quirk about his mother's feet. She had somewhat prominent big toes, they were long and simultaneously rather plump, one might even say powerfully built. Julie always kept the nails on those toes slightly long. Steve had never really thought about why she might do so- she simply always had his entire life and it was quite distinctive. Those long, quite convex toenails which terminated past the tips of her already conspicuous big toes made them seem even larger because of it.

Despite how weird such an act would normally be to him, Steve could not help but to critically evaluate his mother’s feet, after all, his avenue to almost guaranteed fame now unfortunately depended on them being at least aesthetically tolerable. His eyes roamed to her high arched sole, it had delicate seams with a flushed, moist complexion in the light. A solitary toe ring gleamed from her middle toe and was another bit of evidence that she did not neglect her feet. They were quite nicely shaped and completely unblemished- no bunions, no unsightly marks at all. They were very feminine despite looking quite meaty and strong. Her feet were just like he had remembered them to be, which was excellent. His mother's feet were actually much like her hands, very youthful and almost unbelievably soft looking, which shouldn't have surprised him with how meticulous she was about caring for them as well.

That was it then- her feet would actually be a passable alternative. They would probably be quite acceptable zoomed in on with the camera. Once tended to by him, they might be just as professional looking in his video as her nice hands would have been. With polish they would probably appear quite striking and pleasantly exotic because of the uncommon length of her toenails. It really could work!

“Well? Are you sure about this?”

”I don’t mind mom, really!” Steve's nose wrinkled as he handed back the slipper to his mother.

”Oh, don’t you worry, I can see that!” Julie grinned, wafting the slipper back and forth in her hand. Steve continued to stand his ground confidently, it was then she knew his serious intentions about the whole proposal and finally gave in.

”Fuck it- I’ll do it” Julie slid her slipper back onto her bare foot, “I’ll shrink you!” she whispered slowly, “and you can do your little plan.”

”Brilliant, your the best!” Steve cheered victorious.

“Aww, but Steve, what if you get stuck tiny?”

“Stuck?”

“Yes, stuck. Did you not see that news story about those poor engineers?” Julie asked with a degree of genuine concern, referencing a recent news story where a shrink device's cloud storage of user's physical parameters malfunctioned, leaving four computer engineers stuck at just a few inches tall.

”I’ll be fine mom!”

“You really are crazy! I suppose if that did happen, at least I’ve got the perfect home for you.”

“Ha, oh really, and where’s that?”

“Oh somewhere warm and comfy,” Julie smirked, as she tapped her foot up and down, her slipper slapping against her heel.

“What do you think, Steve?” she said, glancing down to her restless foot, her right eyebrow raised in playful curiosity, “Would you like to live in mommy's slipper? Seeing how much you love their smell?”

”Eww, Mom! Cut it out!” Steve grimaced.

“What?” she said, shrugging her shoulders, “That would definitely make the news, don’t you think?”

”Ha, yeah, good one mom!” Steve replied nervously. He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the empowered, dominant persona his mother was taking on. It was rather odd behavior coming from her.

”Aww, you're adorable, Steve! At least let me take a shower for you first and then I can apply my afternoon lotion so that my feet can at least look nice and fresh for your camera.”

”No, it’s fine, I haven’t got time for that. Let’s just do this now.”

“Are you sure you haven’t got a thing for, ahem, for women's feet?” Julie's face was incredulous as she studied him.

”What? Ew, Mom, no!”

“You know- I wouldn't judge you for it. After all, I-”

“Mom!”

”Alright then, if you say so. Though I do wonder if you're telling me the truth.”

“Just stop!”

“Oh, I’m only joking sweetie, you're going to regret this though, you know!” she said smugly, cracking her toes as he sighed in agreement.

”I know.” he muttered glumly.

“Well, don’t say that I didn’t warn you! So... What do you need me to do?” Julie's toes violently scrunched inside the well worn fabric of her slippers.

”Just read those instructions.”

Julie quietly studied his notes.

”Three inches! Are you crazy?” she questioned abruptly, “You’ll be the size of mouse!” she spat in shock. Julie's thumb and index finger pinched in a demonstrative size comparison and her cheeks suddenly visibly flushed. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through, Steve?”

”Yes, just read the instructions and tell me when your done!” Steve snapped impatiently. He could not afford to waste any more time on such stupid hesitations.

”This all sounds very dangerous, you’ll be so fragile!”

”I’ll be fine!” Steve snapped again, “Please- just read the damned thing!”

”Fine!” Julie snapped back, thoroughly annoyed with her son. After a few awkward minutes of silent study she looked up and nodded at him.

”Okay, Steve, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m ready to shrink you.”

“Great!” Steve replied anxiously, “Just let me reset the camera. Can you close your eyes again, like you're waiting for me to reveal my plan? Oh- and when I'm done talking, act surprised, like, in a good way this time!”

”Sure. But, don't expect me to enjoy any of this. It's really weird.”

“I know it is, but-”

“And you had better not get any paint at all on my toe's cuticles! I always work really hard to keep them absolutely perfect!”

“Mom, please, that's just insulting.”

“I'm serious, Steve. I spend an hour at least on them every-”

“I'm a much better painter than that, okay? Now, just shut your eyes and we'll start again!”

Julie shut her eyes as Steve began again with his Mother's Day declaration to her, except this time he would paint her toenails.

“Oh, how lovely!” Julie finally responded with fake enthusiasm to his proposal, “I can hardly wait!”

”Right then, I’m going to stand up on the table and I'll tell you when I’m ready.”

Steve placed his right foot onto the table as it creaked and wobbled from his weight. With both feet planted in the center of the coffee table, he looked down to his mother and smiled nervously. She glanced up as her toes absentmindedly scrunched inside of her slippers.

”Okay mom, I’m ready!”

Julie smiled up at him, a subtle and strange expression on her face as she held the device tightly between her fingers. Steve caught her expression but didn't know at all really how to interpret it. It was a very odd look. Though, it was probably just her coming to terms with the fact that a quite bizarre and amazing event was about to unfold in front of her, right on top of her coffee table.

”So you really want me to shrink you?” Julie softly questioned, her finger hovering over the large red button.

”I do!”

”But, how will I know when to grow you back?”

”I’ll walk to the camera when I’m ready. Just, make sure to do it by 4 o’clock.”

In hindsight, Steve should probably have been more honest about the whole shrink leasing process. He had handed an insanely expensive machine to his techno-phobic mother, who had no idea of the potential life changing implications it could cause. But before he could muster the courage to caution her, she spoke.

”Are you ready?”

”Yes... do it!” Steve cried out. He tightly shut his eyes and clenched his fists as he balanced atop his mother's coffee table.

Right after Steve had shut his eyes, Julie let slip an anxious, almost excited smile. She slowly looked over her son standing there atop her coffee table, his entire body tensed as if waiting for someone to slap him. It was almost as if the spunky little middle-aged blonde woman was taking the necessary time to deliberately commit what her son currently looked like to memory.

“Mom? What are you waiting for?” Steve said with a turn of his head, his eyes still clenched tightly shut. “Are you going to do it or not?”

“As you wish.”

Julie pushed the button. A bright green light illuminated the room.

Suddenly, Steve felt a painful static charge surround his trembling body! He yelled out in agony, almost losing consciousness. His body contorted and cramped as the pitch of his hearing was seemingly transformed. The buzzing of the static in the room around him crackled and warped inside his skull. As the noise started to fade, he could hear the distant, soft sounds of the radio from the kitchen. Everything was now a slow, deep pitch.

As Steve felt his body release from the painful static charge, he took a deep breath and prepared to open his eyes...

3. The New Perspective by DanceDance1982 and V11

With my head bent forward, I slowly opened my eyes and stared down at my feet. The ground beneath of me was an endless expanse of gleaming brown banding and swirls. The finest, most imperceptible details within the wood were now apparent to me. My legs began to tremble with a sudden realization, I was about to look up at my mother from the perspective of a mouse. I breathed in deeply, noting how much thicker the air seemed to my tiny lungs, the faint scent from her slippers still in my mouth.

As I slowly began to raise my head, I realized how truly insignificant I must appear at this height. The ground below me seemed to stretch out endlessly into the distance. Far away from me, the various paint supplies I had laid out earlier were spread out over a large area. Shockingly, even at such a distance, they seemed to be a mismatch in proportion and scale to my new tiny perspective. They just looked entirely too big. Eventually, on the distant horizon of my gaze, my eyes met the table's edge. It was then, for the first time from my new perspective... I saw just a relatively small bit of her.

Two forms that looked very much like hulking bronze boulders dominated the space between the table and the sofa- those were my mother knees! Behind them lay a field sized expanse of black fabric, it was unlike anything I had ever seen before, but it was only the black skirt covering her lap. My neck continued to crane upwards, marveling at the mountainous expanse of red, like some sort of towering equipment for a rocket gantry or shipyard. But it was merely the knit red fabric of her clothing which was clinging tightly against her stomach. Further up traced my eyes, until they encountered her monolithic breasts. I almost expected to see windows, or balcony railing- advertisements perhaps? But they were absolutely not pieces of a building! The vast overhangs provided enough space for their own shadows to collect beneath of them as they seemingly spilled out far above like twin hills.

I could scarcely believe that they were of flesh and were not desert cliffs or man-made contrivances which simply resembled gigantic breasts. As I continued to look upwards, her bronzed collar bones came into view and then her face. My mother's facial features were ever so slightly softened, a barely perceptible distance-induced blurriness as they towered straight up into the endless sky above.

It was an absolute shock to see my mother- of all people- so absolutely huge and from this low viewpoint. She was such a short woman and because of that I had not actually seen her face from this particular angle since I was a child. Her immense presence actually seemed much more traumatic to me psychologically since she was normally such a petite and unintimidating person. My scalp tingled as I tried to make sense of her scale and my hands suddenly felt clammy and quite heavy.

My mother's face was clearly frozen in disbelief. She was silent and yet her breathing sounded ominous. It was a deep yet rhythmical bellow, similar to the sounds of waves crashing against the shore.

My own mother was now a true giantess of titanic proportions. Though I had known all along that I would experience this, nothing thing in the world could have actually prepared me for this unearthly sight. Sweat immediately broke out on my skin. I felt a trickle of it run down my neck, my heart pounded violently inside my chest. I was terrified!

It was then I was reminded of the automobile sized camera on the far left of the table. With the painful realization of my foolish ambition and potential financial crisis, I mustered the courage to walk towards my mother.

As I tread the endless oak floor, the facial features of the now towering behemoth gradually sharpened fully into focus. Her cheeks were still flushed red and her expression was one of astonishment, shock and something else... Fear? Worry? My best guess was that she actually looked much more frightened of me than I was of her, which seemed slightly strange to me. In a haunting manner, her eyes tracked my body as I walked, causing the hairs on my arms and neck to feel like they were standing up with fear. I was physically nothing in comparison to her and that notion was laughable and incredibly surreal. This was like walking towards a mythical dragon. No, this was worse than that in a strange way because my mother was very real, unlike any dragon. Despite her expression of amazement, her eyes gazing down on me from the sky caused me to tremble. As I arrived at the tyre sized paint pots at the end of the table, my mother finally spoke.

“Oh, my goodness,” her voice was much deeper than it should have been, with a slight echo and it caused me to instinctively shiver with a sudden influx of adrenaline, “you're just so tiny, Steve!”

My mother moved a little bit on the couch, causing it to creak ominously. Her face grew as she leaned in towards me slightly, perhaps simply to see me a bit better. I wanted to shriek and cower down onto the table, but somehow I held my composure. As her face loomed in even closer I instinctively knew that I was actually smaller in comparison to her than I had initially thought.

I looked down to the paint pots, quickly studying them with a critical eye- god, they were relatively huge. They were perhaps twice as big as they should have been! My calculations for shrinking had been terribly wrong, but by how much? The math was obviously quite off. Was I only half of my expected size? Two-thirds? I could not estimate it at all in that moment. Still, I was noticeably smaller than I should have been. I needed to remember to go over the math again before my mother re-enlarged me.

As my mother dominated the sky, I stared up at her in quiet terror, every blemish and wrinkle on her skin was apparent. Her breath alone caused currents of air comparable to a summer's breeze to wash across my face. I looked up apprehensively as her park bench sized lips parted, her eyes still fixed on my tiny form.

“Well, are you still sure you want to do this?” she questioned with a thunderous whisper that stung my ears and caused my jaw to ache slightly.

“I guess!” I yelled at the top of my lungs and the only result was that my mothers expression changed to mild puzzlement. It was quite apparent that my tiny lungs were not powerful enough to produce a sound audible to the towering woman.

“Oh, Steve, you're just too tiny for me to understand! All I can hear is a soft squeaking.” she boomed with a concerned look. “Look, if you want me to change you back right now just wave your arms.”

Her words quite literally washed over me as her hot breath tickled my cheeks. God, I could actually slightly feel her voice on my bare skin! I pondered calling it all off, it was all so harrowing. Had I not committed so much finance into my plan, I would have waved my arms above my head like a castaway signaling an aircraft. However, I had come too far and I needed to see it though. I stood defiantly, my mother all the while peering down at my tiny body in disbelief.

“So, once again, sweetie- are you sure?”

I timidly picked up the paint brush in a demonstration of my determination. I realized then how ridiculously big the brush was, it was as thick as a kitchen rolling pin, but I was committed to this undertaking. I even thought about asking her to enlarge me slightly- but that was simply too complex of a task for my mother and without proper communication it would have been completely impossible to even try to relay what I wanted to her.

“Well, you've made up your mind, I see,” she said in a soft voice. “Let me get situated for you then. I think that you may want to stay back.”

With an almighty earth shaking thud, my mother went from sitting on the couch to kneeling down onto her knees in front of the table. I was not at all mentally prepared for her to do such a thing. Though I knew that she did not move particularly fast and it was merely a trick of my tiny perspective, it was almost like her already huge form had exploded outward in every direction, tripling in size almost instantly with the speed of her movement. Her enormous breasts grew in the blink of an eye as they rushed downward and towards me. I cried out in panic and fell to my knees as a strong wind tore across the tabletop.

My mother's huge bosom now towered just above the table's edge, rocking with the impact of her movement. Her cleavage dominated my vision and I should have looked away, yet, I couldn’t help but stare! As I peered directly into the deep and daunting fleshy canyon, I gulped as my eyes began to wander upwards to the monolith above me. Extending my neck, to the point it strained my throat, I stared up at my mother's billboard sized face as it loomed over me, a dominating edifice of living flesh. I knew that she had just witnessed my eyes linger on her vast breasts and it made me feel embarrassed and shameful. But, her expression did not change.

With an almighty rustle, my mother reached for a cosmetologist's magazine on the sofa cushion behind her and held it to her stomach. After one last chilling stare at my minuscule form she began to pivot her body, so that her left shoulder was facing me. Strong currents of air flowed past me as she moved, probably imperceptible to her massive form. I watched as my mother reclined backwards onto her elbows, one at a time, her torso slowly vanishing over the horizon. As I stared at the empty space between the table and the sofa a tension filled my gut.

Then, without warning both of her monumental, tightly folded legs lifted upwards from one side in order to clear the edge of the coffee table. They then straightened, became two nicely shaped towers that filled the void she had previously occupied. Quite far above me, her feet slowly bobbed back and forth, soles pointed upwards in the sky as her slippers shifted loosely from side to side. Her charm anklet jangled and rattled against her skin.

“Let me get rid of my slippers,” she thundered from below the edge of the table, “stay back.”

Her knees folded, and the huge, slipper-clad feet lowered closer to where I stood. Her toes began to dip towards the table. Suddenly, a rumbling noise filled my ears as her slippers began to slide from her feet. I watched in an anxious state of fearful anticipation as her long and meaty feet began the inevitable reveal from their humid prisons

As the slippers began to pick up momentum, the balls of her feet were revealed. I could only see each one of them from their sides, but they were like large boulders, quite distinct swells of flesh, their color a temporary reddish contrast to her predominantly peach-like skin. In what almost seemed like slow motion to me, the slippers began to fall towards the floor, disappearing over the horizon and landing with two deeply echoing thuds.

My mother's now bared feet rotated a few times at the ankles just off and above the edge of the table. It was immediately obvious to me that her heels having previously appeared to be so smooth were now littered with slight scuffs and the yellowed beginnings of calluses perpetually held at bay by her care routines. Her high arches were deep, graceful curves with long, delicate seams indented into her flesh.

As I watched in amazement, her smaller toes- all large enough to do me harm- wiggled freely in the cool air as their familiar scent intensified. Each of her prominent big toes almost seemed aggressively poised, as if they were protectively guarding their four smaller charges like they were their children. My mother's big toes made me feel very uneasy. I had to consciously keep myself in check to stop what felt like a terrible, overwhelming anxiety as I stared at them. Compared to her other toes, their pads were huge, thickly built and elongated egg shaped things. I was only a slender, delicate being in comparison to their stocky, powerful forms. The digits were stronger and arguably many times greater in mass than I was.

If my mother wanted to, she could easily... My stomach fluttered. I gulped and narrowly managed to mentally cling to the task at hand, forbidding my subconscious from actually picturing the nightmarish scenario that it wanted to conjure up. Even so, a shiver went down my back and I felt slightly sick.

“Okay sweetie, watch out!” my mother cooed in the distance.

Her soles began to dip down and level with the table's edge. The big toe of her left foot was closest to me and I could not look away as it lowered. The ball and toes of her huge foot unceremoniously came to rest on the table, creating a deep rattle that I could feel through my feet. Her right foot lowered as well and crossed over her left. It came to rest on it's sister's ankle, like a roof. As my legs steadied I stared, nearly frozen with fear at the hulking monoliths of my own mother's feet. I knew that I needed to start as soon as I could, so I tried to remain calm despite my sudden burst of adrenaline as I walked towards the paint pots.

4. Her Good Day by DanceDance1982 and V11

 As I trekked nervously forward, my stomach churned uncomfortably with anxiety. I was painfully aware of the fact that I had greatly miscalculated my size. This situation coupled with the endless wooden landscape caused me to break out in a healthy sweat as I walked towards my mother's toes. As I approached the foot resting down on the table, a heavy lump formed in my throat- the seemingly innocent appendages continued to slowly grow with every step I took towards them.

The looming sole of her right foot tilted upward for a moment towards the distant glow of the sofa's side lamp. The fluorescent glow illuminated her flushed, high arched sole, revealing a seemingly endless sea of wrinkles. I felt strangely anxious about studying it so closely and had to force myself to avert my gaze away. Her left foot tucked beneath her right ankle was supposed to be my focus, the long and thick toes rested on the surface of the table calmly waited for me. Each of her toenails would be a real chore, my heart sank as I realized the futility of my ambition at this tiny height.

At least it was obvious to me at my size that her feet were looking quite good for the high definition camera… But, that thought actually caused me to pause. My eyes swept over the extraordinary magnitude of flesh resting in front of me. As I took it all in I realized that something about them just seemed off to me. What exactly was bothering me about them? I slowly realized that her feet were not simply acceptable for the camera- what I gazed upon was far more than just that. I couldn’t find a single piece of peeling, dead skin or any areas of reddened, irritated wear- on either one of her feet. This certainly wasn't what I had expected at all. Her prone foot was a huge sculpture formed of quite new looking, well-hydrated skin- and it was absolutely impeccable! The edges of each toenail had been expertly shaped. Even the skin surrounding each toenail was uniformly healthy and meticulously maintained.

I had thought that at the very least, being tiny and so close would reveal hidden, distasteful details on her feet. Details that the camera would probably never pick up on but that I would have to do my best to ignore while I worked. The reality was quite the opposite. Why couldn't I even see any of this when I had been normal sized? I had either not been paying attention, or I must have needed to be quite close to do so. Regardless, to witness her feet- of all things- being this nice and yet so ludicrously huge honestly stunned me.

“What the fuck? Oh, wow,” I whispered in awe, “I had no idea.”

I couldn't help but stare, her feet were amazing and actually somewhat unreal looking up close. They almost seemed to be too perfect in a way that was somewhat unsettling. Their unnaturally pristine state was almost creepy to me if that made any sense. I realized that it must take a ridiculous amount of dedication (and expensive beauty products) to continually keep them like this considering that she was probably on them all day at her job. It suddenly dawned on me that my mother got a steep discount from my sister on beauty products from her shop- of course she did. Kathy was always bringing her new things, partly to try them out with her, but also to keep her well stocked with replacement products.

Both women used a stunning amount of lotions and potions on their bodies regularly. It was a normal and frequent occurrence to witness one of them going about their day with what appeared to be wet body parts- usually gleaming hands or faces, but perhaps feet or necks or elbows. I knew for a fact that my mother even had a daily schedule for such things- almost like one might have for taking prescription medications at the proper time. As I thought about that, I realized that their use of beauty products was actually probably quite excessive, but it had been going on my entire life and was a normal part of their daily routines. My mother habitually kept no less than 5 large bottles of quite expensive lotion scattered throughout the house within easy reach for use. I also knew that the bathroom off of her own bedroom was absolutely filled with various professional-grade beauty potions and devices. The two women were constantly talking about new products and testing them out on themselves. They seemed to feed on each other's enthusiasm when it came to beauty stuff and I suspected that sometimes they tried to outdo each other. All of that explained a lot of what I had noticed with my mother's feet, but still...

It seemed realistic to me that in comparison to my mother, none of the women my age that I knew would have feet capable of being filmed so closely without an entire day spent at a spa first to make them at least presentable. Yet here I was, filming a video in high definition and my mother had no preparation or warning whatsoever. When I still lived at home it had never occurred to me that she put in a lot of effort maintaining her hands and feet- although why would it? I had no other women to compare her to at that time other than my own sister- who was already completely emulating her when we were both still quite young.

In my mind, it had always seemed like my mother's regular self-care sessions were normal, trivial things. She simply had always done so, as I related earlier during her college years it was done nightly at the kitchen table as she studied. But since she had become a nurse there was always time set aside during her days off each week to spend several hours in front of the television on the floor with tools and trendy applications spread out around her as she worked on her nails. I had never thought about just how much effort and expense that actually was. It was all evidently merely for her own gratification as well, which I found to be a bit strange. But, as I said before, my mother had always been rather quirky.

I realized that I was just so stupid and short-sighted. I had obviously been aware of her grooming habits the entire time. I was just so caught up in my own self pity and desperation at having my artwork rejected once again. I had not even considered much past the fact that my own mother's pretty hands would be the perfect video subjects to hopefully help catapult me into real success. But, my plan had ended up here- with her feet, of all things, being filmed. I realized that this improvised, last minute substitution for her hands was going to work quite well. I couldn’t help but feel lucky to have her in particular do this for me, but I also felt oddly guilty about it.

Obviously, now that I was confronted with it, how well maintained her feet were just seemed wrong somehow to me. It was quite strange if I considered it in an unbiased way. I almost felt like I was intruding into some private, perhaps secret part of my mother's life where I did not belong at all. I shook off that feeling because it just seemed so ridiculous- I was simply over-analyzing it. She just emphasized the care of her hands and feet far more than all of the other constant self embellishment that she did. So really, what did I know? This was simply how she was. Perhaps this was how she perceived or expressed feminine beauty? Maybe she felt that she did not have a pretty enough face? Or perhaps she felt that she was never very good at doing her own makeup and had always compensated elsewhere to make up for that little inadequacy? Regardless, I had been absolutely correct in my thinking about approaching her to help me with my video project.

My mother's extravagant habits couldn't possibly be so unusual- there had to be many other women besides her and my sister that lavishly pampered their feet and hands to such an extent. After all- there were countless products for it and millions spent every year to advertise these things. Though, honestly, I had never seen any of these women out in the world, not that I had ever really ever paid much attention to any woman's feet before now. I had to be shrunk very small and literally standing five steps away from my mother's amazing feet before I even realized. Whatever her actual motivation was, her beauty routine was obviously very important to her and the results of it were undeniably spectacular.

I actually felt for a moment that I was completely inadequate to even attempt painting my mother’s toenails. I almost felt like some random guy chosen off of the street and tasked to do women's makeup for the first time- right on the face of a super model. It seemed ridiculous to catch myself even thinking about my own otherwise seemingly normal mother in such a way- and in reference to her feet no less- but there it was... and it was actually fully justified. Knowing her as I did, and the time she consistently put into this endeavor each week, I again felt like an idiot to have been at all surprised by any of this. But, I also immediately knew that I shouldn't at all consider myself incompetent or unprepared. I was a damn good artist who deserved recognition! All that should really matter was that I was very lucky that all of this had actually fallen into place for me. Because now all that I really had to do was complete my painting neatly and efficiently and my mother's incredibly pampered and photogenic feet would effortlessly help “sell” my video.

I briefly considered what her hands would have actually looked like at such a tiny size and so closely. After all, I had quickly looked them over just like her feet when I had been normal sized. I had not really spotted anything too out of the ordinary, other than they were in their typical, amazing default state that she had always kept them at. That particular quirk about her was after all what had initially inspired this entire insane project. I knew that they endured the same weekly meticulous treatments as her feet and it seemed logical to me that she might even put a bit more work into them because they were always in view.

“For an artist, I must be really blind or something. God, being this small... I bet that her nice hands at this size would have been like watching one of those no-expense-spared jewelry commercials- but playing on a huge theatre screen right in front of me.” I said under my breath with a chuckle. “Well, this is going to be such amazing publicity for me! A number one trending video all the way! Shit, this could be number one for weeks! Okay, come on Steve, this will be easy. Let's just do it. I can do this...”

Somewhere beyond my horizon, my mother was idly flicking through her magazine, the faint rustling of pages and occasional droning hum reminded me of her conscious presence. I stood beside her gargantuan toe, rooted to the spot with a stomach full of panic despite my pep talk with myself. This was the closest I had yet been to my mother's body at this size and of all the things I could have ever experienced about her like this it had to be one of her now giant and truly intimidating big toes. Why couldn't she have just put her other foot down so that I could have first gotten used to being so close to one of her little toes?

The huge digit came up past my waist, and due to my size miscalculation the immense toe pad by itself was probably as long as I was tall. With it's long, nicely shaped toenail, the hulking appendage looked exactly like a more powerfully built and much bigger copy of one of her pretty thumbs, which made sense to me. It's toenail was almost reminiscent of a convexly bowed and over-sized “body board” surfboard. Besides being slightly long, each of the nails on my mother's big toes had very deep nail beds, which really just meant that they began quite far back on each huge digit. The nails themselves easily encompassed an area equal to a full sized portraiture canvas. They were strong, healthy and quite smooth- wonderfully blank fields just begging for a great swath of meticulously rendered art.

There was no way that I would have enough time to paint a detailed artwork onto my mother's toenails. I had stupidly never fully taken into account how small I was supposed to actually be- and now I had ended up even smaller than had been initially planned. I had been hoping that I could do a traditional painting and then some random flowers. But, I’d be lucky to have enough time to paint a single base color onto all of them. This ended up being such a lost opportunity, I realized.

Knowing how fanatical my mother actually was about keeping her feet so incredibly nice made this all now seem weirdly intimate to me. But, there was more to consider about that than just my own reluctance- it was the aesthetics of the video. It was how her feet actually appeared. My video was not going to seem subservient or humiliating like I initially had thought that it might, simply because these were not the leathery and deeply seamed feet of an average middle-aged woman. But, to be fair, these were not even remotely like the feet of an average young woman either and I was sure that the camera was picking up on this fact in incredibly high definition. Instead, her feet were so remarkable that the task I was about to undertake could be mistaken by a viewer to be something weirdly sexual, dare I even say it- kinky. That could be a problem- or it might simply be perceived as a hip, deliberately edgy aesthetic. I took a deep breath and pursed my lips in thought. I tried to objectively weigh what the video would look like to a random viewer in my mind.

I quickly distilled the problem down to the real judgment that I had to make about it. It was simple: everything hinged on how the viewer perceived my mother. I thought about all of the things that had been already caught on the camera since it had been turned on; my mother's face, her bearing, voice and clothing. Then I contrasted all of that with what her feet actually looked like. I quickly came to the conclusion that very few people would honestly believe that she was actually my own mother. At least on the footage she had not come off as the doting, socially awkward middle-aged woman that she actually was. Nor was she some gravelly voiced old hag like some might unfairly think that she should rightfully be at her age. She looked rather youthful thanks to all of the various and constant beauty treatments... But even so- contrasting the rest of her somewhat ordinary looks with the amazing and very distinct state of her feet, most people would immediately come to the conclusion that she had been hired for the video.

I could not help but chuckle at that realization, it meant that logically many viewers would presume that she was an actual professional foot model. Standing where I was and how I was I could not help but to agree with that speculation. My quirky mother would have been quite successful at such an unusual and niche profession.

Even though my surprising impression of how my shy, unassuming mother would be perceived by the public was very amusing to me and it bode well for the likely reception of my video, I still frowned. I certainly had no choice now, therefore I simply needed to get over my own embarrassment and shock. I had to just carry through and get on with the task at hand.

Staring at the pots of paint, I glumly decided on a solid pink coat with white french tips, knowing that my floral landscape idea was a hopeless feat. Hooking the paint pot over my shoulder and picking up the baton-sized replica paint brush, I took a deep breath of resignation. Other than the slight sour smell of her well-used slippers, her feet were just as pleasant and inviting for me to be physically close to as her hands would have been. This was going to be good, I told myself. This was going to make me famous.

I didn't at all want to touch her, I realized. I already felt incredibly insignificant and vulnerable. I didn't need to experience my little body in undeniable comparison to any part of my now immense mother, let alone these particular pieces of her anatomy. These were body parts that she definitely took an excessive amount of pride in. My task seemed… perverse somehow, wrong. It was perfectly fine for me to at least acknowledge that I was truly frightened. I was completely off balance mentally and it made sense for me to be so in that moment.

Without any exaggeration whatsoever, I had entered my mother's home on a quiet Sunday afternoon, received a cheerful kiss on my cheek and only a few minutes later a flash of light had transported me to a surreal reality. A place where I was completely physically dominated by my own normally diminutive mother and her huge, shockingly well-kept feet. Feet that my vulnerably small self had no choice but to interact uncomfortably closely with. This situation that I had created for myself would probably have been enough already to send some people into a shrieking, floundering panic.

I stared in distasteful wonder at the massive, plump pad of her big toe. It wasn't repulsive- not at all, that wasn't what was wrong. It was that it was so alarmingly big. The ridged, fresh looking flesh looked so soft to me, but I knew better. At my size it would be... I could not help but tremble involuntarily for a moment. There was no point to continuing that thought. I would only make myself feel even more queasy and nervous about this.

I suddenly realized that I would need to make cautious, deliberate movements while in contact with her feet. They were completely devoid of calluses and all rough skin and had probably always been so, making them supremely sensitive. The last thing I wanted was to be hurled off the coffee table by the ticklish flick of a well hydrated toe. But, the clock was now running. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to just start.

“God,” I whispered to myself, “I just need to position myself so that-” I lifted the brush, then stepped sideways as I reassessed everything once again. I looked over the huge big toe, unsure of my options. “I guess- Well, shit. I guess I'll just have to get up on it. Couldn't I just- No, that's too awkward- Not enough control. Oh, well fuck. Alright then. Fuck… I don't want to... But, I just have to do it.”

I straddled my mother’s big toe like I was climbing aboard a motorcycle. The sheer circumference of the huge digit surprised me and I was only sitting upon the narrower “trunk” of her digit. The hot, humid skin pulsed between my thighs as the thick aroma of residual musk from her old slippers filled my nostrils. I shivered with revulsion at feeling the great bulk of her toe pressed against the insides of both of my legs as it flooded my skin and muscles with her body's great heat. I wondered briefly if this was similar to what it was like to sit atop a horse- no, a truly big horse. What were those giant draft horses called? Clydesdale horses? Yes, that was their name. In the distance I heard a deeply pitched giggle as her giant toes jostled slightly to my presence.

“Is that you on my big toe?” she thundered. I shivered slightly upon hearing her question as a ticklish sensation of anxiety crawled across my scalp. It was only my fight or flight response, I reminded myself. It was only because of how frightening and powerful her voice sounded to me. Well, not exactly. I was lying to myself...

It was because an impossibly gigantic being that happened to be my own mother had just asked me if I was clinging to one of her toes.

“What? Just what is that, Steve?”

The massive digits shifted and suddenly I felt my leg resting on the inner side of her big toe gently squeezed. A full third of my leg had become enveloped in a hot, firm pressure from the gentle grip of her two toes. I felt butterflies in my stomach again and my face grew warm.

“Oh shit. Oh shit!” I whispered in disbelief.

“Is that... Is that your tiny paintbrush?”

The giant appendages gently rubbed back and forth against each other, my little calf caught between them. I struggled to not slip off of her slightly rocking big toe as my pant leg was crumpled and rolled halfway up to my knee by the friction. With a gasp of horror I realized that I had been right, her flesh might have looked luxuriously soft, but it wasn't to me at my scale. Instead, her toe flesh was surprisingly dense, almost like the strange gel inside of ice packs- or boulder-sized masses of malleable clay residing within thick leather skins. The sensation of her hot, slightly sticky and heavily ridged skin enveloping my bare lower leg made my stomach immediately feel nauseous.

The toes stopped softly rubbing against each other and the crevice that held my lower leg gently squeezed. The flesh surrounding my leg slowly molded around my calf and foot. I could feel a steady, hammering throb from the ridged skin that was surrounding my leg from all directions. Oh my god- it was her pulse! I watched in mute shock as the glittering, fleshy seam right where my leg was embedded swelled because of the gentle pressure. The tightly shut crevice- that collision point where the nice pads of her huge toes met- almost rolled, like a moving, engulfing monster as it spread even further up until my knee was partially enveloped. I struggled to slow my breathing and the stupid jumpsuit I was forced to wear felt uncomfortably hot and scratchy.

“Oh, Jesus. Oh fuck.” I croaked.

“This is all so weird! I'm sorry, Steve. You can't paint like that, can you? I'll let your tiny little brush go so that you can get on with this. I hope that I didn't just stupidly rub a bunch of wet paint into my skin.”

A strangely thrilling panic flooded through me for an instant. She had mistaken my leg for the miniature paintbrush! I frowned as I realized that my cock felt heavier and a bit more tightly confined in my underwear. My cheeks grew hot as I shut my eyes. What the fuck was wrong with me? I wasn't aroused by this in the slightest, I told myself. This was simply like when a person might pass ripe, stinking roadkill in their car and occasionally one's mouth might salivate from the unavoidable stench. This response was only that- just the human body coping with fear or surprise or disgust.

The toes parted slightly as they relaxed. I struggled to regain my composure with deep, settling breaths. Only then did I forcibly peel my sweaty, partially bared leg away from the side of her big toe's giant “trunk”. A gasp escaped my mouth and I snapped shut my eyes once again, concentrating on simply breathing until the depraved sensation lessened to a manageable level. I finally got to work, angry and quite disappointed with myself. I stubbornly ignored the overwhelming sight of her nicely shaped and ever shifting toes laid out upon the table around me. My face was rigid with concentration as I willed myself to quickly lay down pink paint all over the broad middle of her huge nail.

After a good 15 minutes of hot, awkward work I had finally managed to coat her entire big toe's nail. Eyeing her second toe to my side, I hopped fearfully across to the knuckle of it. All of her toes suddenly reacted to my change of positions, lifting as they spread wide. Her long second digit rose up with its sisters and I was lifted off of my feet. My face turned red as I inadvertently straddled it like a steed.

“Ha! All of that time spent on just one of my toes?” my huge mother thundered from the floor below me. I gripped tightly to her upwardly flexed toe with the insides of my legs, desperately trying to not spill the paint. “I can’t wait to see what ‘masterpieces’ you’ve created, sweetie,” she mocked.

All of her toes finally lowered and relaxed once again. I eased my legs, planting my feet onto the tabletop as I sat straddled on her digit. I froze there for a long moment, stock still and wearing a grim frown as I desperately ignored my cock weakly pushing against my boxer shorts. I eventually got to work again, repeating the slow process of painstakingly coating her nails in pink.

I finally became isolated kneeling in front of her smallest toe- merely the size of a fat Labrador Retriever’s torso- panting for breath as I worked. My final task for it was to paint the edge of it's nail, taking extra care so to not get any paint onto it's bulbous, splendid flesh and I completed it with a few minimal and efficient strokes.

“Okay, one foot down” I said between gulps of exhaustion, my ribs straining from trying to catch my breath.

Looking up from her toenails, I gazed at the mammoth right foot, ominously towering above the resting foot I had just attended. Knowing how perversely my body had been reacting to the sight of her digits, I intentionally forbade myself from even looking at the plump bottoms of her toes. Despite my precaution, I became momentarily entranced by the sea of softly wrinkled skin above me. Glittering hints of moisture twinkled across the expanse of curving flesh. I shuddered, imagining myself much smaller and tumbling down that meaty sole to become trapped within her wrinkles- no, that thought wasn't helpful at all! Turning back to her nails, I stood up from her pinky toe and walked back around, facing her toes resting there like 5 neatly packed boulders.

Painting her toenails so simply wasn't what I had initially intended, but I was still proud of my accomplishment. I was honestly surprised with how nice they looked and I could not help but grin. Decked out in a satiny, pastel pink her toes were incredibly feminine and quite attractive. I pondered an odd thought; her foot looked very familiar to me now with her toenails tidily painted. To me, her foot looked complete, just as it always should be. I realized that this was now one of my mother's- dare I say it- gorgeous feet, straight out of my childhood, from before she worked at the hospital, from before I had moved out. There was almost a strange, nostalgic comfort in that, despite the fact that the foot in question was of a ridiculous, impossible size.

For some reason at that moment I recalled a time when I was a young boy and had gotten separated from her in a grocery store. This was when I had grown too big to sit in the shopping cart and had to trail along next to her as she shopped. I had become distracted by some product, perhaps a toy or a cereal box and she had continued on into the crowd. When I had finally realized that I was alone, I remember desperately scanning the shoulders and heads of the adults around me, looking for her face. But, she was such a small woman and due to the angle involved and my own child stature I could not find her. However, I instantly knew exactly what to do to remedy my situation. I looked out across the well-waxed tiles of the floor, searching for her feet clad in stylish sandals. In no time at all I had found them, those well shaped feet with their gorgeous toes. Those vividly polished, slightly long toenails that unmistakably belonged to my mother. They were definitely feet intended to be seen, not hidden from the world within scuffed leather footwear. They were extraordinary feet which at that moment were beacons of potential safety to me. They stood out among all of the laced shoes and boots of many of the other shoppers, but they were also strikingly different from the sandal-clad feet of the other women shopping. They were quite apparent amid the shuffling sea of bunioned and yellowing, hangnail-ridden ugliness.

As I thought about that, I considered the contrast between her feet and those of the other sandal-clad women in the grocery store. That difference had seemed almost comical. It was almost like trying to spot a professionally decorated, multi-tiered wedding cake amongst a myriad of lopsided and oozing creations baked by a team of drunken single men. Just no contest and not a challenge at all.

I could no longer really deny that today was not the first time I had recognized that her feet were indeed quite striking and beautiful. From what I could recollect, it almost seemed like I had imprinted on them as a child, much like a duckling might imprint on an adopted, human parent. I vaguely wondered for a moment if she might somehow bear a certain amount of responsibility for this in some unforeseen way? Perhaps when I was quite young she had not picked me up often enough when I was in the crawling stage of childhood? Had I spent too much time on the floor in her presence and I inevitably came to identify my own mother by her feet as much as her face?

There was something else that I could not deny at all, but it made me feel sick to my stomach to even think about it. I really was aroused by her feet. Perhaps I had always been like this and I had simply buried it?

I felt so guilty at that moment that I wanted to drop the brush back into the bucket of paint and give up. But I knew that I wouldn't be able to get her attention and I would spend the next half hour just idle and staring at her distressingly stunning yet colossal feet. Too much was now on the line for me to give in to self-loathing or despair.

I was snapped out of my daydream as the huge, pretty toes in front of me stirred as if the giantess was mildly irritated or restless from holding still for so long.

“You're done with my first foot, aren't you? Right?” her powerful voice rumbled. “Hmm. Your voice is so weak though... I doubt that I could even- Oh, I know what we can do! Why don't you just tap me on my toe if you are done and then I'll switch my feet around for you. Otherwise I'll just keep holding still like this, alright? Here you go...”

I watched in awe as her powerful big toe reared upward, presenting the bottom of its huge pad to me. I felt a ticklish thrill on the back of my neck as I stared at her digit. It was taller than I was already, which was very intimidating considering that it was still at an angle. I felt that familiar uncomfortable tightness along with my nervousness as I took in the powerful pad's nice, full shape with it's slightly long nail peeking defiantly past the top of it. I forced myself to abandon my normal, quite habitual artist's analysis of form, of what specifically about the shape of my mother's big toe made it so curiously pleasurable for me to gaze at. I knew from all of my training and my endless hours of creating art that I could easily figure out what it was in particular that made them so appealing to me. I honestly didn't at all want whatever that conclusion might have been rattling around in my mind.

I knew for certain that I didn't want to get that close to her massive big toe, that would put me in the wrong place if it lowered suddenly- the thought of such a terrible scenario sent a sickening hot flush into my cheeks. I realized that my stupid arms simply were not long enough to touch her from where I safely stood. I ducked in with a single quick step and rapped on the heavily ridged flesh like I was knocking on a door before leaping back to relative safety. Her marvelous toe reacted with a flinch that transmitted through her whole foot and shook the table top.

“Ooh! There you are!” she giggled thunderously. “Okay then. You had best get back, Steve! I'm going to move now.”

I turned and trotted away from her feet for my own safety as deep impacts shuddered through the surface beneath of my feet. This time the ankle of her left foot came to rest upon her right foot, with it's sole facing down towards the table. I quickly averted my eyes as her soft looking and lovely toes all flexed invitingly as they made themselves comfortable.

“There you go. I think I'm all settled now.”

Knowing I’d be cutting it close, I immediately got back into position. I knelt next to her smallest toe- this time starting with it to began my work. As I continued to apply the pink paint to her toes, my mother spoke to me.

“Ha! I never realized how popular shrink therapies are!” she exclaimed. I pondered the cryptic meaning of this sentence as I frantically stepped over to her next digit in line and began to paint. “Get a load of this! There’s a spa in LA, that uses shrinking technology to provide ‘intensive and luxurious’ massage therapy to it's clients.” She continued to laugh softly as she read through the article, meanwhile I remained focused on finishing my ambitious project, not really picking up on the words of my mother.

“Oh wow, this looks so relaxing,” my mother said gleefully quite a while later in response to the article she was reading. The massive foot relaxed above me flexed it's toes as I heard her sigh. I felt a twinge of arousal in my cock and I shook my head, frowning and completely disgusted with myself. I turned away from the tempting sight above me and hunched over once again to continue my task.

I never once glanced up at the clock as I worked. I knew that I had to be as fast and precise as I could without distractions in the small time frame that I had been allotted. However, after a lot of exertion and concentration I was finally getting ready to do the very last strokes of paint!

Four of the five toenails on each of my gigantic mother's feet had been painted without needing much strategy from me, but the extraordinary nails on her largest two toes required a lot of repositioning...

I was atop her final big toe, having completed the front end of it's slightly long and imposing toenail while standing and facing it. I had situated myself on it’s “trunk” so that the massive, quite convex nail was centered just in front of me, completely accessible to my brush. The base of her toenail started right in front of my spread thighs. I had barely been able to stretch my legs wide enough around the beginnings of it's plump pad to straddle it at all and then I had to wiggle my hips to slowly inch forward to the most accessible place. That action by itself had forced me to briefly pause as I tried to calm my depraved, seemingly instinctive physical response to my quite necessary painting position. I pulled the brush several times in a slow, metered half-circle across the very beginning of her toenail, leaning my waist from one side smoothly to the other as I matched the curve of the amazing border of skin on her digit.

“I really want to show you this article after you're done, Steve,” she thundered as I finished the last stoke. “I'm starting to wonder if it's entirely possible that, hmm... Well, that you might also appreciate it. Like I do.”

I didn't even really hear her- I was finally done painting! I couldn't help but smile, filled with a sense of accomplishment. I cautiously held my brush up and away from her skin so it wouldn't drip on the nail itself or her flesh. I finished checking down the great, gracefully bowed length of her rapidly drying toenail, looking for imperfections in the paint.

While I had been moving around and working on her nails, my eyes were consistently drawn to several aspects of her feet and toes that I found to be fascinating and strangely beautiful if I was being honest with myself. But, even though everything was unnaturally enormous and literally in my face, I had ignored every characteristic that might have distracted me as I concentrated on my task. One of those oddly attractive features that all of her other digits shared was also present here on this toe. It was located just in front of my widely stretched legs and I realized that I was staring.

At the base of each of her toenails- and knowing my mother surely at the beginning of each of her fingernails as well- was a circular border of remarkably perfect flesh that created a well-defined frame for each nail. I didn't completely understand why I found them to be so fascinating. However, it was partly because of how a bit of such trivial, mundane anatomy could be so aesthetically pleasing and I knew that they were deliberately intended by her to be just like this. This was something that on most people would resemble a slightly ragged, bunched up towel stuffed against the bottom of a bedroom door to keep out a draft. But, on my beauty obsessed mother they, just all of the subtle details of her feet, were almost reminiscent of the flowing, curved bodywork of a 1960s race car.

I couldn't keep from looking at this inconsequential feature of her big toe and that fact in itself was utterly ridiculous. What was wrong with me? Had the shrink technology altered my mind in some detrimental way? I knew that I should be gathering my supplies and placing them a safe distance away from her feet in preparation to be restored to my proper size. But I was completely enchanted with what lay within arm's reach of where I perched.

To be honest, since my work was finished- I could have at least a little time to myself if I wanted it.

In the air around me her deep humming reverberated. There was no way at all that she would ever see me if I decided to indulge my curiosity just a little bit. I knew that even if she felt me, she wouldn't be able to sit up from the floor far enough to see me without a great deal of effort while resting both of her feet on the edge of the table. The risk of deeply embarrassing myself in front of my mother was totally manageable. If she moved at all I could immediately stop and she would never be the wiser.

I just couldn't help myself. I knew that this was wrong, let alone incredibly bizarre and quite out of character for me. But, I also knew that I would never be able to have the chance to do this again and I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't act. I was quite confident that due to the camera's angle the viewers of this video wouldn't see exactly what I was doing. It would merely seem as if I was still working, perhaps cleaning away some paint.

With a nervous swallow I reached down and ran my empty hand across the surprisingly smooth rim of thick flesh framing in the base of her magnificent toenail. I was just right there, probably less than half an inch away in reality and it was truly immaculate- this was even with eyes attuned to seeing at such a small scale due to my shrunken size.

Didn't she mention these specifically? Her... cuticles? I vaguely recalled that the arcane term did indeed designate the trivial thing at the base of a human nail. Yes- she had warned me to be sure to not get paint onto them, that she always worked very hard to keep them, as she said, absolutely perfect. Perhaps it was no wonder then that I found them to be so tempting and unusual. By her own admission they were considered a point of pride for her.

I wasn't sure if the fumes were getting to me, or if it was simply because I was an artist- or both. Like so many of the amazing details of her monumental feet, every cuticle that emphasized the beginning of each well-tended toenail must have represented at least some quite deliberate work on her part to achieve. I honestly didn't even really know how any of these things were accomplished by her.

I suspected that her perfect cuticles were one of the reasons why her pleasant hands had always reminded me of the ones that I occasionally saw in commercials. Yes, that was exactly it- they matched the very best of those graceful, nearly disembodied TV hands, often sporting intentionally inoffensive flesh-toned nail polish. Impeccable hands belonging to never revealed women that seemed to be perpetually occupied on the television with the strangest of tasks: pouring dyed water into diapers to prove their absorbency- or stroking prizes on a game show- or fumbling unsuccessfully utilizing “the old way” of doing something before the bombastic reveal of some new, life-changing product- or trying to convince young men like me to buy a diamond ring for my future (still non-existent) wife.

While I lived at home, I never really paid much attention at all during those times when my mother did her nails, or much of the rest of her incessant preening for that matter. I preferred to stay away from the fumes of nail polish and especially polish remover- which was somewhat ironic, considering that I now worked with paints and solvents nearly everyday as a painter. I vaguely remembered two large lights on adjustable arms set around her on the floor and a spread of arcane looking tools in a case accompanied by a messy row of femininely branded and designed bottles.

I distinctly remembered several times moving quickly through the fume-heavy air of the room where she was working on the floor, my favorite microwaveable pizza on a plate that was destined to sit beside me as I ate it while playing a video game in my room. All I had really taken away from the sum of my brief and disinterested glances in her direction was that it seemed like she had been prodding at her wet looking cuticles. She was apparently pushing them back with some sort of a tool while uncomfortably hunched over them. Of course, she was aided tremendously by the blindingly bright lights where within their power nothing asymmetrical or unsightly could hide from her for long.

Perhaps it wasn't such a leap then that one of her children had actually became an artist.

“Oh, God, Mom,” I whispered as my fingers traced part of the sleek curvature of almost curb-like flesh. This boundary between her elegant skin and nail was now accentuated nicely by the contrast of vivid nail polish that I had carefully painted in to match it's shape exactly. “I'm so sorry, but... This is so- I can't help it. I don't understand. I don't...” I grew quiet, full of bittersweet emotion as I became mesmerized again with what ran beneath of my exploring fingertips.

As I continued to softly stroke my hand across the expanse of skin, her big toe began to move, shifting somewhat. It lifted slightly and I could feel the plump pad of her digit between my legs shrink a bit in diameter as it subtly changed shape from the lack of pressure against it. I instinctively matched her digits small upwards tilt by leaning forward a bit at my waist. Her toe flexed sideways, widening the gap between it and her second toe. It was moving just like a friendly animal might react, stretching languidly in response to the slow, gentle caress of my hand. After a moment of lazy, almost tranquil flexing just above the wooden surface it relaxed back into line and immediately lowered, coming to rest once again. I unconsciously tensed my jaw as I savored witnessing her beautiful big toe's intimidating pad fatten marvelously from it's own weight settling against the table.

From behind and below me I heard the giantess chuckle deeply. The toes resting above me on her other foot flexed wide apart for a moment before slowly squeezing together with an intimidating, quite muscular sound, almost like thick leather creaking as it was crushed in a vice. I watched in awe as the pads of her shapely toes bulged against one another in a tight knot as they turned red. They flexed apart again and I had to force myself to turn away as it was causing some fluttering in my stomach. I could be there- trapped within the tight crevice in between two of her wonderful, meaty looking... I shook my head as I gritted my teeth angrily at my lack of mental discipline. The giant digits above me flexed one final time before relaxing. I wasn't sure if her reaction was because of something in her magazine or if she had actually felt me.

The low-pitched humming began again, though I could swear that there was an amused, playful quality to it now in some way. It was slightly deeper in pitch this time, almost throatier sounding. There was no way that I might ever get used to her humming, even after listening to her almost the entire time I had been working. The deep pitch and volume of her tremendous yet still unmistakably feminine voice made it quite intimidating and unsettling. But now her quite sultry humming coupled with the sight of the enormous, flawless big toe that I perched upon made the entire experience of stroking just a small area of her digit's amazingly smooth flesh powerfully humbling. Unfortunately for me, it was also simultaneously quite erotic and I felt my cock begin to grow heavier and much more rigid...

The cuticle's rounded contour where it terminated against her toenail fit perfectly in my tiny hand. The deep, feminine humming and the feel of her hot, smooth skin... They were such perfectly shaped and incredibly feminine toes- yet simultaneously so fantastically large as to require a very deliberate and cautious respect from a small, fragile creature such as myself.

It was as if I was making love to- Like she and I were... I had to stop, I had to...

“Oh fuck. This is too much for me. It's all just too much,” I whispered.

I became immediately regretful of my indulgent caress. It took much too long before I could actually will myself to stop covetously stroking her bizarrely wonderful and enormous cuticle. By the time I did actually pull my hand away my cock was fully engorged. I held my hand up and looked at it as I frowned. I was confused, and quite disappointed with myself. But, I knew that my guilty conscious would fade in time, leaving me with only the memory that I had wanted to form to begin with- probably because I was an incurably selfish asshole at heart. Part of me was disappointed that this had to end. I wanted to examine and touch even more of the intriguing areas of her incredible feet and I knew that I was unforgivably disgusting because of it. With a troubled sigh I wearily slid from her toe. I cleaned the paint brush in a pot of thinner I had placed close by.

Finally finished dealing with the brush, I collapsed to the table in triumphant exhaustion. It was a minute or so before my mother stopped softly humming.

“That's all ten of my toes, isn't it?” My gigantic mother smoothly thundered. She paused for a moment, listening for a response, but I was still breathing quite hard. “Oh, you're too far away up on the table. I wouldn't be able to understand you even if I could hear you. Well, you probably want me to show my toenails off for your camera, right? That's what Kathy always does with her hands at the end of her nail polish videos. She has nice music during that part, too. So... Well, stay back then, Steve.”

Laying flat on my stomach upon the expansive wooden table, I watched as my mother uncrossed her feet with a tremor. They lifted, hovering ominously above the tabletop as she flexed and scrunched her beautiful toes, her soft soles alternating from smooth, graceful curves to rippling pillows of flesh. She would only have to just reach out a little ways more with one of them and... My mouth set sternly as I felt my cock press hard against my ugly jumpsuit's tight crotch.

Both of my mother's feet suddenly pressed their huge, soft looking balls against each other. Her immense bronzed calves tensed and then her legs shifted closer to the camera. I could hear a dull rumble. It was her tremendous weight moving across the resistant carpet below where I lay as she slowly scooted forward. As she moved, the mammoth, bulging curves of her calf muscles brushed against the edge of the coffee table for just a second. The jolt through the table caused me to cry out as I suddenly splayed my arms and legs wide against the cold surface.

Huge shadows engulfed me and stayed in place. Her feet had shifted and were probably directly over me! I gazed upward for only a second to confirm what I already knew must be true. I caught a glimpse in that moment of her twin heels, hovering nearly above me like softly rounded mallets poised to crush me into jelly. I rolled onto my back to scramble away, but then I froze, like a deer caught in a car's blazing headlights as I took in the meaty and wonderfully curvaceous undersides of her feet.

In tandem my mother's fabulous feet pointed their toes downwards towards the table with a flex from her ankles. She scrunched all of them for a moment and the baby-soft soles furrowed into neatly packed rows of succulent bulges right before she released them. The unblemished undersides of her lovely toes came down much too close for comfort over me as she held them still, showing off her toenails once again. Most of the sumptuously bulbous pads of her smaller toes were at least the size of my entire head.

I blinked stupidly, taken aback and quite understandably preoccupied at how close her digits now were to me. Then, her massive big toes began to slowly alternate in flexing up and down. My hands instinctively flew down to my crotch to hide my shame. I gulped, my mouth painfully dry and my heart racing as I stared, wide eyed. Each giant, lovely digit created a strange, continuous rubbing sound on the dense flesh of the side of its own twin as it moved. I had the best view imaginable as my gigantic mother inadvertently gave me a toe show.

“Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.” I whispered as I grimaced, my cock pressing hard against my cupped hands. “What the fuck is wrong with me? Goddammit. This is my own-”

“What do you think, Steve? Is this good? I don't remember exactly where the camera is.”

My eyes raced over the glittering, swirled ridges of each of her big toes menacingly large and well-endowed pads as they slowly flexed. I eyed the pair of identical overhangs from the huge nails that the twin toes sported with concern. Instinctively I pulled my arms and legs in and hugged myself tightly. I realized that if one of her prodigious big toes were to accidentally touch down tip-first onto the table- any of my tiny limbs could effortlessly be crushed and simultaneously severed by those slightly long nails.

“That better be enough. This is too much like doing leg lift exercises for me,” the giantess murmured. “I hope that you at least use some good music. I think that you should watch some of your sister's videos for ideas, Steve. Kathy is apparently doing really well with her channel. It couldn't hurt to emulate how she edits things together, you know.”

My mother’s feet slid away, disappearing from view as she pivoted her legs both to one side and bent her knees sharply to clear the table. A loud, low pitched rustling noise rumbled from below and for a moment I could see the enormous messy blonde bun on top of her head as it rose slightly above the level of the table.

“God, Steve. Honestly, is that it?” she called with bemused disappointment, “all of that time, just for a pink paint job? I thought you were going to, you know- paint something? Wildflowers? Kitties?” Silence dominated as an almighty and terrifying spectacle played out in front of me: my gargantuan mother’s body began to rise up from the floor!

5. Magazine by V11

My panic-inducing mother knelt beside the table, creating several powerful quakes that made my elbows hurt as they rested against the table top. Her immense and majestic breasts quivered impressively within her loose fitting vest for a moment after she stopped moving, casting shadows down over the table in front of where I lay.

The only features really easily visible on my mother's towering, foreshortened face to me were the underside of her chin and nostrils. I felt like she was watching me and I prayed that she would not spot the raging bulge in my jumpsuit. My face was quite red and I just couldn't hide my embarrassment. I felt supremely vulnerable.

I looked further up the vertical contours of her massive face, past the end of her cute nose and I immediately regretted it. Situated atop each of her foreshortened, rounded and wall-like cheeks was a huge, quite familiar looking green eye. They were fixated on my tiny form, peering down on me from where they were ensconced just above each of their rim-like lower lids and curled fan of long lashes.

I was immediately gripped by an irrational dread and I desperately began to defuse a panic building inside of me. It was a crazy notion that had overwhelmed me as I gazed up at her. It felt as if her lofty vantage and incredible size allowed my mother some supernatural power that could see right through me. It felt like I could hide nothing from her. I was quite anxious in her presence, as if she already knew that I had struggled mightily to ignore my repeated arousal from the sight and feel of her gigantic, extraordinary toes.

I pushed away my anxiety and forced myself to think rationally. Putting everything into a proper context immediately helped me and I sighed with genuine relief. I had made it, I had accomplished my task. It was now finally time to take my place in a sane, mostly predictable universe once again. I wanted to quickly forget all of the awkward details of this twisted place. Forget everything about this frightening, mercifully temporary world of the coffee table and of my encounter with an immense version of my own mother and her unexpectedly gorgeous yet terribly intimidating feet.

The shame that I felt from being repeatedly aroused by my mother’s immense physical presence would eventually pass with enough time. The saving grace for me was that she would never actually know what had transpired here. Someday soon I would have no problem looking her in the eye. But, one thing had indeed permanently changed for me because of this day: I would always have to deliberately exert extra control of my composure if her stunning feet were ever bared around me from now on.

I could tell that even being in her presence after today might cause a strange, temporary thrill to course through me. A tingling flash of excitement that would be the only remnant of the quite peculiar and uniquely awful panic of witnessing her so gigantic. She even might seem for a moment upon viewing her form oddly… far away to me. But, I may have to be especially vigilant in the first few minutes upon seeing her each time I came over to visit. My tiny, shy and lovably quirky mother might always briefly be quite intimidating to me no matter how well I psychologically prepared to be in her presence. It made perfect sense to me, after all, I would always have the memory of experiencing her just like this: as an unstoppable and panic-inducing Goddess.

But, all of that was for the future. I would have to deal with it if and when the time came. But for now none of it was worth dwelling on. It now was time to be restored, and then off to edit and upload my video! Soon I would finally reap the rewards of my brilliant plan! I could hardly wait!

My giant mother hovered there silently for a few short moments as if in thought before an immense arm extended over my exhausted body, reaching out to the camera I had set up. I felt the air around me move, whipped up and flowing in the direction that her giant arm had gone. Then I heard a metallic click, signaling the power off function. With a harsh shudder her huge hand came to rest on the table in front of me- perhaps a few yards away for me, yet only a few inches away for her.

I intentionally did not look at her hand resting there in front of me. I didn't need any more reminders of how small I really was, especially now that I could finally be enlarged. I was also quite uneasy about that prospect. I honestly no longer fully trusted myself. I knew that I had a very long-held yet quite innocent fondness for her pleasant looking hands. But, after my detestable reaction to her awe-inspiring toes, I was very concerned that I might have a... bodily reaction... to the sight of them at such a scale.

“There,” my mother said blankly with a rumble, as she peered down on me like a goddess, “I switched your little camera off for you.” I rose up onto my knees and gazed upwards in fearful curiosity at her titanic form.

“Well, you have your footage, Steve, I gave you what you wanted,” my mother coldly summarized, “I honestly still cannot believe how tiny you really are! You know- I think I'm actually getting more comfortable with all of this!” A devious smile began to curl across her face.

The huge fingers of her hand which rested on the table in front of me all flexed slightly for a moment as my mother unconsciously adjusted them. I spotted the motion out of the corner of my eye and it caused me to cringe and immediately raise my arms as if to ward them off. Her giant, looming face smiled at my reaction and then she looked thoughtfully down to her hand. A little smirk crossed her face for a moment and then she gazed back down on my cowering form.

My mother had a strange look on her enormous face, it seemed initially expressionless, but below the surface I could plainly see hints of her true expression. It was exactly the look I often saw my sister display when we were children and she was on the verge of doing something mean-spirited to me. It was playful but mixed with a sort of calculating mercilessness.

My mother continued to gaze steadily down on me, however, she began to drum her long, strong fingernails against the wooden table in front of me. The sound of it was deafening and the table’s surface quivered from the impacts. I could not help but to immediately cower, sinking my head lower as I warily braced against the wooden surface beneath of me with both of my hands. I watched as a little smile betrayed her and threatened to dimple the corners of her mouth.

I didn’t want to look at her hand- I couldn’t allow myself to. I needed to simply wait and not react very much to her inadvertently cruel teasing. She was going to briefly have her fun and then she would move on from it, realizing that I needed to be re-enlarged. She would then pick up the PMRD and complain about how she didn’t like technology before activating the device.

“Oh, you're just adorable, Steve!” she paused for a moment and all I could do was listen to her huge nails hammering against the wood.

God, I needed a shower. The jumpsuit’s high-tech material was actually somewhat heavy and it smelled like my own sweat mixed with the scent of her. The smell of dense, giant flesh that had spent all morning in those horrible old slippers. The smell of those extraordinary, flawless, intimidating...

Her eyes were still calmly locked on me, as if she were doing absolutely nothing at all. I felt my stomach flutter as I thought about how my mother was tapping her digits on purpose to make me nervous. She was watching me, still with that nearly hidden amusement on her face.

“Hmm. How about this, then? I think that now we should do something that I want,” she said playfully.

“Huh, wha- what do you mean?” I questioned as her giant fingers continued to slowly tap. It was almost as if she were daring me to look to her hand instead of paying attention to her as she spoke, as if that would plainly acknowledge that I was now quite unsettled because of her inconsequential action.

“Well, I swear that I just saw your cute little mouth move, but I didn’t hear anything,” she thundered with a smile. “What’s wrong, Steve? You seem nervous. It’s hard for me to tell exactly, but from up here I swear that your tiny face went pale.”

Her sarcastic remark didn't matter to me at all in that moment, though it honestly should have. I was so disoriented and tired that I couldn't help myself, I had to look to her hand and I did. She chuckled quietly under her breath above me and that should have troubled me greatly, but I could not tear my attention away from what I was now gazing upon.

I gulped hard, realizing that I had been absolutely right- her hands that I had always been so fond of were definitely the equals of her feet up so close and at such an anxiety provoking scale. For some reason, like her feet, her hands seemed to have always been an intrinsic part of her identity to me, with almost as much importance in my mind as her face or voice might have. This strange insight was actually completely logical to me and probably entirely her fault- after all, she had always placed so much importance on their upkeep and embellishment. Seeing those quite feminine and unique identifiers of her physical presence at this size greatly affected me, almost as much as when I had first gazed upon my charmingly petite mother as an outrageous giantess.

I tried once again to turn away, or to look up to her monstrous amused face, but I couldn't. Those hands were so soft looking and meticulously over pampered which was a surreal contrast with how gigantic they now were. I could tell immediately that they would cause the same agonizing and unstoppable bodily reaction from me as her feet. I had never experienced any sort of a sexual attraction to them before now... Was this simply because I was so small? Did the shrinking technology have any side effects that were not mentioned in the literature? I just couldn't look away.

The preposterous diameter of each of her magnificent digits reminded me of the huge logs in a North American colonial era cabin I had seen once, long ago while on a school field trip to a museum. I stared blankly at the perfect cuticles which punctuating the base of each long, well-kept and pleasantly arched nail. Those obviously dense and shapely pads of her fingertips. Her well hydrated knuckles that seemed ever so slightly squarish and each of them graduated in size, smallest to largest, on one end roughly equivalent to a dinner platter and at the other as large as a manhole cover. My eyes traced over the lustrous, almost luminescent skin on the back of her hand from her relentless use of various expensive potions and liniments. Unsurprisingly, everything I gazed upon was just like her feet had been. Different appendages yet with identical results from years of sumptuous embellishment and obsessively detailed care.

It was happening again against my will. I cursed the fact that all I owned were loose, breezy boxers as my cock pushed out away from my body against the silky fabric unhindered. My reaction, as always, made me feel ill and shameful. What the hell was wrong with me? But, even worse than that, I just knew that she was going to see my bulge!

“Oh, that's right!” she thundered deafeningly overhead, suddenly snapping me out of my reverie. “I wanted to show you what was in my magazine, didn't I?”

Suddenly her hand flew away sideways towards her huge upper body and a gust of wind whipped past me from it's motion. It dove towards the floor, the beautiful nails flashing for a moment before it disappeared as she rummaged around for something out of view.

“Just look at this, Steve,” she said, her voice thundering gleefully.

With another blast of wind my mother brought her magazine up from beyond the edge of the table. I cried out and covered my head, cowering. She giggled to herself as she held the magazine wide and a tremor shot through the surface I stood upon as the meaty heels of both of her hands touched down. I could hear my mother moving a bit just beyond the great wall of the opened, towering magazine but I ignored it, focusing instead on what she had presented for me.

I was confronted with a photo spanning the two pages, overlaid partially with the white text of the article. A blissfully smiling woman was slightly out of focus, her foot the main subject of the image. Little people, perhaps only half of my size if not less, clothed in matching jumpsuits were crawling on the top of her foot. They were kneading vigorously with their tiny fists as others attended to the pads of each of her immense raised toes. It looked like they were softly stroking the unblemished and bulbous tips of each long appendage.

I immediately noted that the woman's digits in the magazine were obviously treated with a photo manipulation program and filters to make them appear more attractive for the article. There was some strong irony in that for me. My mother's own feet outclassed even this doctored image of a woman half of her own age- and a model specifically chosen for her beautiful feet, no less.

“What do you think?” my mother smoothly thundered. Her huge face had come to float just above the magazine as I had looked it over. She was gazing down onto me with an excited, eager smile. I desperately tried to ignore the fact that I was much too close to her now- she had leaned forward so that I was really more or less right below her unreal face.

I felt almost lightheaded as I looked over the towering photo spread once again. I tried to ignore my mother leering above me and her giant, intimidating fingers that held the magazine open from each side.

My mother had really latched onto this, this silly article in her magazine. I should have known that it had struck a chord with her. Something new for her to spoil those peculiarly impressive feet with, and it involved tiny... I tried not to choke as I tensed, violently sucking in air through my teeth. What was portrayed in this stupid picture- this was undeniably quite intimate, like massages inevitably always were. But, beings that were comparatively so small could only tickle, only caress, no matter the effort put forth by them. This wasn't an actual massage, such a thing wasn't physically possible for them. It was all just overly hyped bullshit. It was only an excuse for an exorbitantly expensive trend. The tiny people were really just engaged in a form of fawning worship. Oh god. Surely she realized that this was just pointless, right? There was no way that I could ever-

“Doesn’t that look incredible?” my mother thundered down. My skin almost stung from the force of her voice as hot breath tinged with the scent of ham and cheap sandwich bread swirled around me. No, it didn't look incredible, not to me. It looked like some kind of surrealistic hell dreamt up by an insane person! I glanced over at the clock nervously and jumped to my feet. My time was almost up! As I waved my arms over my head to signal my distress, my mother just watched me with an amused curiosity.

“I want this, Steve,” she announced. A giant index finger pulled away from the side of the magazine, causing me to immediately grimace as I tensed up. It tapped the edge of it's long fingernail against the photo. “I want to sit here, drink champagne and be pampered,” she commanded.

“No! Mom there’s no time! I need to be regrown!” I yelled, as I jabbed an arm in the direction of the wall clock.

“What? You're just squeaking- Oh, I see... the clock! You want me to grow you back now?” My huge mother said flatly before assessing the timepiece on the wall. She shook her head disapprovingly. “Oh no, you're not getting out of this so easily!”

My heart sank and my stomach knotted as her words stung my tiny ears. The magazine slid backwards and snapped shut with a gust of roaring wind. It disappeared past the table's edge. One huge empty hand then rose up from beyond the table and swept out towards me.

“Oh no. Oh fuck,” I muttered flatly.

“I don't want to grow you back just yet. After all, Steve, it's Mother’s Day, you owe me.” she boomed.

My mother was quiet for a moment as she gazed down at my tiny form, her hand had simply stopped, floating there above the table's surface between us in a relaxed manner. A strange expression crossed her face that ended in a large grin which made me feel very uneasy. What had she just been thinking about? An index finger reached out to touch me and I stumbled, falling to the table on my ass.

“Please don't touch... Don't... Not this! Oh fuck! Not with those- with one of your... I can't handle this...”

Her hand paused again, hanging in the air, her vast face amused by my skittishness.

“Mommy should get what she wants, right?” she said playfully, licking her lips in anticipation of her words, “And right now, I want a luxurious foot massage from a teeny, tiny, little person.”

“Oh, god no! I can't do that, mom! I can't be around your feet anymore at all! They're just so... They're too much for me. I just can’t- I can’t cope with… This isn't right!”

“Such soft little squeaks. You're just precious!”

Her finger began to raise and I scuttled backwards awkwardly on all fours away from her like a fleeing crab. I witnessed a delighted yet slightly predatory smirk slip across her face for a moment.

“Just where do you think you're going? Hmm?”

My towering mother leaned forward, her vast breasts skimmed just above the wooden surface I was upon and overshadowed the coffee table's edge. There was fast, huge movement above me accompanied with a gust of strong wind. Her other hand slammed down directly behind me, cutting off any chance of a narrow escape that I might have had. The sudden dropping of this wall of flesh made my skin crawl with a terrible anxiety.

I ran to the right, trying to skirt around the vertical stack of giant fingers but she was having none of it. She merely shifted the wall of her hand to match my movement, keeping it in front of me as it rumbled across the wooden tabletop. She had me trapped.

“I don't think so, little boy.”

“Oh god!” I groaned, “No, mom!” I was shocked and hurt deeply in a way that was difficult to explain. By blocking my retreat with her cupped hand she had suddenly crossed a line. She had used her size advantage to effortlessly overrule me. My mother was treating me like something kept in a cage, an overactive mouse, a nervous hamster.

I was so desperate that for a moment I overrode my anxiety and actually touched her. I pushed against the wall of seamed, ridged skin on my knees uselessly before finally giving up in defeat. I reluctantly turned and looked up at her. Behind me, beyond her hovering hand loomed her giant face. She was staring at me intently with a little smile.

The giantess pouted slightly with concern, “You obviously didn't mind crawling around on my feet at all just now, did you? So what's your problem? I just want to relax and have some fun with you like this. You've had your fun already. But, it's Mother's Day- my day and I work so hard.”

As she spoke, I stared in horror at her index finger floating between us. My mother's fingertip looked at least the diameter of my waist and coming to terms with this startling fact as I warily stared at it made my stomach hurt. A slight smile crossed her face as she realized what was responsible for my grave expression. The massive digit drew a little circle in the air slowly as she watched my tiny eyes follow it.

“Are you hypnotized by my finger? Hmm? Earth to Steve?” She waggled her lovely finger in a playful wave at me and scrunched up her nose mischievously. “Just look at you! So incredibly intimidated! Oh, you're just adorable at this size!”

The giantess laughed thunderously. Her hovering hand was in motion again and her index finger slowly reached out to me. There was no place for me to go.

“Oooh, such a handsome little...”

The tip of her finger grew truly huge as it glided in directly at my head. I opened my mouth to protest and my words were immediately cut off. The hot and rough flesh of her fingertip had lightly brushed across half of my face! As her digit retracted I yelped in surprise and fell onto my back.

“Hey! Stop that! Oh god, no- what the fuck are you doing?”

Her distant giant face looked supremely amused. “Ooh! Was that a scared little squeak? I guess I broke the spell, hmm? I just want to touch you, that's all. It isn't everyday that I get to spend some time with a tiny person that's even smaller than my thumb.”

“Oh god… I think I’m going to be sick.”

She smirked and her finger reached down over me once again. My blood felt like it had turned to ice. This wasn't at all like coping with the act of mindfully navigating her giant toes to apply some paint. I was just so small and she was completely focused on me. My huge mother was going to touch me again no matter what I tried to do. Touch me with one of those… This was absolute powerlessness.

“Now, don't be scared. Oh, that is quite a look you're giving me, young man!” The giantess pouted playfully, “Such a teeny, tiny, angry looking face. Thankfully, it would be very easy for me to correct your attitude right now, wouldn't it?”

Something was wrong, I realized. It was the way she was looking at me. Playful, yes, but there was something else in there mixed with it. I had never seen that look before from her. She had gone from almost frightened of my shrunken presence to- what was it? Excited? Enthusiastic? I didn't know.

“You're much too handsome for such an ugly, mean look! I could get rid of that angry expression myself, you know. Hmm. Maybe I'll just rub it right off of that cute little face.” she chuckled.

“Don't you dare! Mom, please don't- Oh fuck- Please don't touch me with-” My words were cut off as her giant digit lowered, the swirled, dense pad pressed against my entire face as I whimpered. I couldn't believe that my mother was actually touching me! The tip of her index finger was almost the size of a galvanized steel outdoor trashcan- the kind that a certain grumpy puppet from an American children's show had used as his home.

“See? That's not so bad, is it? However, this is what you get for displaying such poor manners around your mother.”

A moment later my head was forced back, gently pinned to the table beneath of it- after all, my skull was smaller than the tip of this particular digit. I grimaced in shock while the ridged flesh which filled my vision completely spreading out over my face and neck. It was so heavy to me and incredibly solid, emanating a great heat from it. It felt like someone had slowly lowered a 50 pound sack of flour directly onto my head that had been just sitting in the afternoon sun. I was forced to inhale the sickening scent of her expensive hand lotion. My legs shifted frantically as I struggled beneath of a finger bigger than I was.

“Your face is cold! Oh, just look at you kick! Well, you can't honestly tell me that you minded touching me, Steve. You were perfectly happy crawling all over my feet just five minutes ago! So why are you now struggling so much when I just want to touch you? Is it because I'm not holding still so that you can pretend that my body is some sort of a giant private playground for you and your strange ideas about achieving some kind of stupid internet fame?”

I moaned weakly as my stomach knotted in response to the sudden panic overwhelming me. I couldn't stop her. Just one of my mother's elegant fingers was too much for my entire body to overcome.

“Hmm? What was that? I can't hear you!” she mocked.

She was quiet for a moment as the ridged flesh slid in a little circle against my face. I shivered as I realized that my mother was casually feeling my tiny facial features. I had become so badly frightened by this situation that I was actually crying a little bit. My nose was dragged sideways and my cheeks were stretched and then compressed by the slightly tacky corrugations of her fingerprint.

“Oh, you have such a tiny little face now, Steve!” she rumbled. “This just feels so weird! But, you know what, I think that I actually kind of like it! It's like a soft little button! This is just so cute!”

I couldn't believe that she was actually touching me against my will. I struggled with myself to not feel violated. After all, to her this was just a stern gesture to show me her annoyance at having to put up with such a ridiculous stunt by her son- at least I hoped so. I tried my utmost to lay still and let her just do it without a fuss. She would realize at any moment now how much she was overstepping my personal boundaries, how powerless and frightened I had become and how wrong this really was.

The digit finally lifted away from my face but it hung there, still threatening to drop and make contact with me in some way. I was desperate to avoid being touched again by her and angry that she was able to intimidate me so easily. I forced myself to brace against her fingertip with both of my hands, partially to show her that I wasn't scared, but also because I didn't entirely trust her.

It was one thing to have her digit feel rough and unyielding pressed against my face, that seemed quite reasonable to me. But I was so surprised that her huge fingertip felt wrong against my hands as well. It was not at all how it looked like it should feel. It wasn't soft at all, just like her toes had been, more like a large diameter wooden log with thick, ridged leather stitched tightly to it between my hands. The luxurious softness that I knew to be there was offset by her great size in comparison to me. I simply didn't have the necessary force to cause her flesh to yield at all.

“Please, mom, listen to me! I really don't have any time left! Just pick up the remote! Change me back! That's all you have to do!”

With a terrible sinking feeling I realized that my begging was in vain. My mother simply ignored my distress, continuing to stare down at my pathetic shrunken form, her eyes shining with fascination.

“Now, about that magazine article. Do you happen to know anyone almost small enough, and more importantly, someone who is quite willing to massage my feet?”

Her giant fingertip pulled itself free and she playfully tried to touch my face again with it. I intercepted her fingertip with both of my hands again and that seemed to delight her to no end. She began to gently stroke my fluttering, desperate hands as I tried to ward her off. She was smirking, quite amused as the ridged skin of her fingertip's pad lightly slid across both of my tiny intercepting palms at once.

Oh god. She was quickly becoming more casual touching me at this size. She was more or less playing with me now.

“You know- If I really want this massage from you, we'll obviously have to use your shrink gun again. I wonder if I can figure it out? Since I can't communicate with you I guess then that I'm on my own. Well, it can't be that difficult.”

This wasn't a conversation with me. She was merely thinking out loud to herself. I swallowed hard. The air in my lungs felt stale. She was- she was really pushing on this notion to shrink me again, so that she could make me... Oh fuck. This was already truly frightening. I couldn't even imagine being as small as that picture and crawling around on those... I tried to force the image out of my mind but I couldn't. I would be a bug compared to her at that size. She would be- like a landscape- like a- I couldn't even really imagine it at all. But, her feet! Those feet! I would be- I couldn't let her do that to me!

The fingertip stopped, hanging there directly above me and I gripped it squarely with both of my hands once again. My towering mother giggled at my touch or perhaps the sight of my tiny hands wrapped around the tip of her huge digit. I finally lost my temper and with a growl I pushed back against her finger with all of the strength that I had in me- and it didn't move at all.

I saw something then, plain as day, but I didn't realize it's importance. My mother shivered for a moment, almost imperceptibly, like a chill had raced up her spine. She shifted her ass like an uncomfortable schoolgirl in a chair and a rosy color quickly filled her cheeks.

The blonde giantess gazed down on me with a strange expression. Her unreal finger effortlessly overpowered my tiny arms, knocking them aside like they were merely plant stems as it gently touched my chest. Despite how forceful her finger had been, the motion to me resembled her reaching out to carefully touch a feather without disturbing it. The giant digit stroked my chest softly, the edge of it's cold fingernail grazed across my throat and collarbones.

“Oh yes, I think that a massage from you would do nicely,” she cooed with a light tap of her digit which harshly interrupted my breathing.

“Argh, fuck. You can't make me- I have to-”

The index finger raised and her huge thumb from the same hand swung in next to it. I flinched, blinking rapidly because there were suddenly two of her huge fingertips floating much too close to me, directly overhead. She was smiling down on me with a strange look in her eyes. I witnessed the tips of those giant, pretty digits rub softly, eagerly together for a moment and a cold tickle of panic raced up my spine. I watched, my mouth hanging open like an idiot as one of my tiny arms was delicately pinched between the pads of her fingers.

“Oh fuck! Mom- let go!”

My arm up to my elbow was trapped in the firm, grooved flesh. With my free hand I slapped at her plump, torso-sized thumb pad. My palm immediately stung because of how dense her flesh truly was. I quickly stood up the best that I could and planted both feet firmly. I tugged backward with all of my might but I couldn't free my arm, my feet instead slid across the smooth table top. She was completely unfazed, my tugging was useless. All that I managed to accomplish was to heave against her unmovable fingertips, inadvertently gouging her thumbnail's edge repeatedly up into my armpit

“You just have the cutest little arms! They're such delicate little things, aren't they? They're like twigs!”

The immense hovering face grinned as her massive, hot digits slid against one another, twisting my arm back and forth slightly as she gently caressed and squeezed my tiny hand. Her tremendous, ridged fingerprints tugged at the skin and hairs of my engulfed arm as they slowly slid back and forth.

The lovely tips of my mother's menacing digits were quite literally in my face and I could not keep from gazing at them with a fearful sort of awe. They possessed a strange quality in how they looked because of the amount of care habitually lavished on them. There was a blank sort of healthy regularity to their skin, almost reminiscent of something from a statue or a mannequin. Her nails also seemed oddly featureless to me, as if they had been optimized for a perfect shape at the expense of almost all of their other natural details. One of the only signs they were actually real things grown by her body were the natural longitudinal ridges even spaced across their entirety. But, even those had been nearly completely obliterated by careful filing.

“I want to feel both of these teeny tiny hands of yours all over my big achy soles,” the huge being rumbled dominantly, licking her lips in anticipation.

I grimaced in shock as the huge digits gently squeezed my tiny trapped hand. I could feel her throbbing pulse occasionally hammer through the thick flesh and into my trapped, splayed fingers. I tried to turn away, but my arm kept me in place facing her formidable fingertips. No matter what I did, I couldn’t keep from looking... Those rounded, symmetrical cuticles residing at the base of each... I could see that they were pleasantly featureless as well, almost stylized, so uniform and fresh looking like... Like those... Like her...

I quickly shut my eyes as a chill raced up my spine. I could feel my cock firming up, pressing against the ill-fitting jumpsuit. Though honestly- it was such a tiny little penis now, really, in comparison to-

I grimaced as I sharply drew in breath over my clenching teeth. I struggled to stop fixating on it. But, the invasive thought was incessant: my cock was obviously small enough that I could hold it in my hand… and yet... One of my hands was daintily pinched between... Those giant, oddly stark digits- They would have to be especially careful with something so small, so fragile-

I could no longer keep from babbling in panic.

“Oh, please stop! Just stop... Stop doing that... You're going to see my- Please don't see it, don't-”

“You know, I have very sensitive feet, Steve,” she thundered in a hushed, conspiratorial tone, “It’s from the exfoliation that I do and of course, all of the lotion I use. So, I'll be able to feel every single marvelous little touch from you. Besides, weren't you practically begging to be at my feet a little while ago? Well, I can’t wait to make you a much more pleasant size and then you'll get to explore every inch of them, up close and personal. That will be like a dream come true for you, right?”

The blonde giantess laughed as her giant digits withdrew, causing me to pitch backwards onto the cold table top. With a small tremor and a loud, harsh clatter of her fingernail's blunt tips all impacting down against the table's smooth surface at once, her intimidating hand came to rest in front of me. I scrambled up into a crouch and hastily covered my crotch as best I could without drawing attention to it. I frowned unhappily as I was forced to actually consider whether standing up might provoke her into actually grabbing me.

“There isn’t time for any of this! You've got to change me back right now! My time has run out!” I yelled, a sense of fear growing in my stomach.

“Oh, stop pretending to resist, I’ve already figured you out, mister,” she said with a devious grin, ignoring my vigorous head shaking of disapproval. “Smelling my slipper, begging to be shrunk down, painting my toenails... Don't you dare think that I'm so naive, Steven! You're infatuated with my feet aren’t you?” she questioned, her face strangely amused and flush. The blood drained from my own face in horror at her surprisingly accurate speculation. How did she-

“You- You couldn't have seen me! You don't know what I- That's not possible!”

My mother only smirked, my voice too weak and high pitched for her to comprehend at all. I immediately realized that she really didn't know what I had done, not at all. My foolish caress of her big toe had merely been a single, sustained tickle in a long, slow torture session of ticklish sensations that she had thankfully endured and kept still throughout.

“This wasn't some moronic plan to become famous at all, was it? You really do have some sort of a- Oh, what are they called? Ah- a fetish! You have a fetish, don’t you, Steven? Some sort of a dirty fantasy that involves me- you're own mother- being... what? A giant compared to you?”

“No, I don't! You're wrong!”

The pretty hand resting in front of me partially raised and her index finger unfolded and pointed at my face threateningly. I felt the hair raise on the back of my neck.

“You don't know what I did,” I whined bitterly, my voice cracking from the stress, “this is all just crazy. You're...”

My voice dwindled away as I stared at a fingertip bigger than my head. I knew better than to move at all, I could be effortlessly overpowered.

“You even had the audacity to film yourself while crawling around on my feet! Why did you want to do that, Steve? Hmm? That seems a bit strange to me, you know.”

The finger gently pushed me in the stomach and I had no choice but to collapse onto the table. I froze as her digit lowered over my head. Was she going to dominate me again? Suffocate me? Regardless, she was going to notice the bulge between my legs!

The frighteningly large index fingertip lowered down tip-first next to my head. The edge of the giant digit’s long nail caused a palpable but small tremor as it came to rest against the varnished wood with a solid sound much like a chair leg thumping down against a floor. The cool, smooth keratin shield slid lightly against my cheekbone and it forced me to look directly into her face.

My mother didn't really look angry, despite her words. In fact, she was almost... happy? Smiling? Something was terribly off, this was not how she would react to such an idea. She should be mortified, sickened with shame- anything but this! I felt ill as I realized that this was a glimpse of something that I had never seen before within her. Whatever it was, it had revealed itself suddenly and now totally obscured her normally shy and cheerful demeanor- but what was it?

“So just what were you really up to with that painting nonsense? Don't think for one moment that I couldn't feel you straddling each one of my toes while you worked on them! So- did you enjoy yourself? Because now I wonder if you were really just filming some kind of- of crazy- I don't know... Something... pornographic.”

The shock of her words drove the air from my lungs and I blinked stupidly for a moment.

Did she really think that!? I didn't- I was only- Wait, was she just mocking me? If this was some sort of a joke, my mother was going deeply into weird, dark territory that made me very uncomfortable.

I pushed disgustedly at her looming digit. “Mom! Ewww, no, of course not! This is not funny at all! Change me back!”

I could not believe how insane her accusations were and how dominant she was being- it was terrifying. I was completely at her mercy, my own mother literally had my life in her hands... and she thought that I had staged all of this because I was some sort of a filthy pervert. What was she going to do to me if I wasn't able to convince her that this was all a misunderstanding?

The face of the immense goddess softened into a small smile. “Don't worry, I'm not really angry, though I probably should be. Honestly, I'm mostly just shocked, I guess. I had no idea that you were- Well, that you were like that!!”

A terrible sinking feeling filled me, she wasn't joking at all. She really thought that I was a... that I-

“But, maybe you should be careful what you wish for, Steve.”

My eyes grew huge, what did she mean by that? But before I even had a chance to process her words, it seemed that all my prayers had been answered. The hand threatening me swept sideways and pounced onto something at the far end of the coffee table. My mother lifted the shrinking device up to her face, studying it’s complex interface. It was easily as big as a coffin to me and yet she effortlessly held it between just two of those extraordinary fingers.

A weird panic filled me as I watched her push the compact device's tiny wristwatch-like buttons with the edge of a strong thumbnail. She was going to fuck the whole thing up. She was going to mess up my rented PMRD and I wouldn't be able to reset it to enlarge myself!

“Oh, please don't do anything to that! Mom? Come on, please just listen to me! Mom! Oh fuck! You can't just- Stop it! Put that down!”

“You're still too big, you know. Your current size doesn't match that photo in the magazine at all. What is this thing even set in? Those instructions you had me read were so confusing! This isn't millimeters. No, percentage? It's got to be... Ah! I think I understand now.” The device beeped several times as my mother fiddled with it.

“Agh,” she huffed, exasperated. “It just won't let me change it. Hmm... Oh, down there it says, umm, 'safety lock out'. What is- It keeps saying that function is locked out... because... because you were already shrunk by it once? Well, I'm pretty sure that's what it's trying to tell me. Is that right? Why would it- What’s wrong with just shrinking you a second time? This is such a tiny screen. Oh- reset? Yes! To reset! I want to do that!”

“Mom? What are you doing? Change me back, damn it! Press normalize! The big blue button!” I yelled up at her. I was almost sick to my stomach as a black fear swept over me.

“Oh, now that's complicated. Hmm. I've got to- Okay... Hold blue button number one and this red rectangular button... and... the green... I can barely keep all of these pressed down at the same time! That's... well, that's going to be difficult.”

Both of her hands had gathered around the little remote in a tight, uncomfortable knot of intervening fingers. I watched uneasily as she drove the edges of her strong nails into the various little buttons, pushing them down in the proper sequence. The flesh visible through the semitransparent natural “windows” of her engaged fingernails whitened subtly from the pressure being exerted.

“Okay, that's right. It’s flashing now. I've got to do all of that and keep them pressed for five seconds? Alright. Then... I'll just wait I guess, making sure that I keep holding them like this?”

The device beeped several times in a row and I watched as a light on it slowly turned from red to green.

“I think I've got it, Steve! Oh, that wasn't so hard! Not hard at all, really.”

“What have you done? Please! Just turn me back!”

Suddenly, my mother ceased her experimentation with the device and smiled down at me, her eyes piercing and eager.

“Well, I don't need to understand your little voice at all to interpret that expression! Aww, do you still want me to change you back, Steve? What's the matter? You don't want me to make you even more teeny-tiny so that you can massage my feet? Really? Even after all of your work to make them so pretty? You just want to be big again right now, hmm?” she asked as a wave of warming reassurance washed over my body. This feeling was short lived though, as the corner of her mouth curled into a crooked smile. She bit her top lip before opening her mouth to speak.

“Well, not a chance! Not until I’m satisfied with your pampering,” she laughed, as I squirmed in anxiety under her all consuming gaze. ”Besides- I've reset the device already. I can shrink you again right now!”

Suddenly her green eyes widened, “Oh, but wait a moment! That's right- I had almost forgotten! When you came over earlier today... At first you wanted to shrink yourself down to paint my fingernails, didn't you? That- that was your original plan, wasn't it? You were so desperate about it too- practically begging me... and then so terribly disappointed when I refused.”

She laid down the device and fanned out the fingers on one of her hands, appraising them, her expression puzzled. “I’ve- I’ve got everything wrong, don’t I? So, let me get this straight- it's not actually my feet that you're infatuated with then, is it? It was only after I wouldn't let you paint my fingernails that you suggested them at all. Oh my!”

I stared at her, clueless, my mouth slack. Was she crazy?

“So, that's why you've been staring at my hands so much- and even before you were shrunk too! Oh, I can be so stupid sometimes! Here I thought that you were just frightened because you were so small now! Hmm, so is that why you don't want me to touch you? You're... embarrassed, right? Like… Are you afraid that you might just... react in some way... you know, in front of me?”

“For fuck's sake!” I bellowed. “Stop saying sick shit like that!”

“Such an angry squeak! So, you have a 'thing' for my- what? My hands? Or, maybe just my fingers? No- it's my fingernails, isn't it? Well, I suppose that... That's just what it has to be. After all, those were what you wanted to lavish with attention, right? Those were what you were sneaking peeks at, isn't it? That's why you were acting so strange earlier!”

She sighed and inspected her nails.

“Oh, I've always known that you liked to look at my hands. This is certainly not the first time that I've noticed- you've always done that, ever since you were little. But, I thought that it was just innocent somehow- you know, because you've always been so talented artistically!”

She had known all along that I had an odd but harmless fondness for… I couldn’t keep from frowning. Why was this upsetting me at all? There were much more dire ideas spilling forth from that looming blonde head for me to be concerned with.

“I always thought that maybe- Well, I guess that I thought you found them to be- I don't know... pretty somehow? You know, since I like to keep my hands nice. Though, I suppose that you do think that they're pretty, don't you? Just not how I- Oh, Steve, really? Of all things- these!?”

She held out both of her hands, looking at them.

“That's just... that's... well now.”

My immense mother smirked and wiggled her fingers lightly.

A terrible chill raced up my spine. That horrible smile on her face, that terrible, knowing expression as she gazed down on me. It was mocking, certainly, and yet it seemed as though her eyes had just undergone a subtle change. It was perhaps only because of my current size that I could detect anything at all. Were her eyes watering? No. They seemed darker somehow. Deeper?

Oh.

Oh shit.

I knew exactly what I was looking at. Her pupils had become slightly dilated.

Dilated. Receptive.

That subtle, uncontrollable biological response people had when...

Oh no… The crazy theory that she had come up with about me had obviously resonated with her own psychology as well- and in a quite deep way. Of course it did- the woman had a daily schedule for lotion. She probably spent almost as much money nourishing and maintaining her hands and feet as I, in my impoverished state, spent on food each month.

“I don’t- I don’t think that your hands are- I wasn’t trying to- Nothing you just said is true at all! It's not- This is all you! It’s just you and all of your weird fucking- It’s all of that obsessive preening that you- Just change me back!”

“I still can't understand you, but I know denial when I see it. I can plainly see that your little face is beet red! So, that's why you really wanted to be tiny around me, hmm? Well, I know that I shouldn't even be considering something like this, but, to me- Well, to me this whole thing is… It’s…”

Her cheeks flushed with color and she inhaled sharply.

My hands were shaking.

“You know what, we're going to have all of this evening by ourselves anyways, Steve. Kathy told me that she couldn't make it over tonight. She has to stay late at work and cannot get out of it. So, I suppose then if you do a good enough job tending to my feet, then maybe afterwards I'll- Well, I’ll reward you- let's see... Oh, I know! I'll get out those new manicure tools that your sister just gave me and nicely tidy up my nails! Then you, all teeny-tiny, can enjoy oiling the cuticles on my fingers afterwards,” she smiled triumphantly, fully embracing the power she had over me.

Her words caused a horrible chill to shoot through my body with an adrenaline tinged shiver. Oiling her what? Her cuticles? Was that why they were so- There was an oil for that? I wasn't exactly sure what she was talking about, but I knew immediately from her tone that it involved me being forced to experience even more of her gigantic body than just her feet. Obviously her frightening hands, my tiny form and... some sort of an... oil? Oh god.

It felt like I had gravel in my throat. That… Those... They had been responsible for my indiscretion. My misdeed. At her feet. Her cu- She wanted me to…

The towering giantess grinned and lifted one of her hands up past the coffee table's edge. She looked the top of it over.

“I almost can't believe it! It was my fingers... That whole complicated production you put on earlier was all about being tiny so you could get close to my fingers!”

My mother's immense face was obviously struggling to keep from laughing down at me. Her expression was an awful, knowing smirk. She then smiled lewdly down on me. It was such an ugly and uncharacteristic expression coming from her. Those disconcertingly huge fingers floating just beneath of her face fluttered as she gazed down on me with that scheming, devious expression.

“Well, I suppose… Go ahead then- there is no reason to be secretive about any of this now, little boy. Look at them. Are they sexy, Steve? Hmm?”

As my mother gazed down on me she showed her hand off, trying to make her display of it dramatic and erotic. It moved it back and forth slowly through the air in front of her breasts like she was sensually caressing her fingertips through a pool of water, almost like a graceful hand movement from a Hawaiian dance. I should have realized what I was unwittingly doing, but everything had gone much too far and I was totally stunned. My head stupidly swiveled to track her languidly moving hand like a spectator watching a tennis match. The intimidating fingertips lightly touched down onto the tabletop with a tremor, at first playfully fluttering against the shiny wood in front of me as she grinned and then her nails clattered loudly against the hard surface.

“You like that, don't you, hmm?” the giantess whispered, “You can't even look away! Oh, this is all just so adorable!”

My mother laughed quietly to herself and ran her fingertip's pads elegantly across the edge of the coffee table before they slid away from view.

“Well then,” the huge woman rumbled triumphantly.

My mother's face lowered, coming alarmingly close to where I lay. The table creaked mournfully, like a wooden ship as it took the weight of those colossal breasts. I was overwhelmed, trembling in horrified awe as my mother's tremendous and amused face continued to glide towards me. Her face filled the entire space in front of me. A wall of her body heat engulfed me, filled with her particular smell. Those giant green eyes seemed to slightly cross as she focused on my little form which lay below and in front of her hovering chin.

“Oh, fuck... You're so fucking big. You're so- Please... Don't come any closer!”

I stared in horror at her giant lips and the tip of her cute nose, which now took on a bizarre, much more ominous character due to their size. Fine, soft looking translucent-white hairs covered her skin, like sparse fuzz on a peach. I knew this specific view of her quite well. I had seen these particular facial features of hers up close perhaps thousands of times over the course of my life. Exactly how I had witnessed her nose and mouth deeply hurt my soul. I had seen them so closely in better times, in the normal, sane world where I really belonged. It was whenever she had kissed me as my mother- when she had put me to bed at night, or said goodbye to me before I left to wait for the school bus, or thanked me for my gift to her on Christmas or her birthday... or even on Mother's Day.

Where I was and how I was right now was an absolute abomination. My stomach hurt from the strain of trying to process the horror and heartache.

“Please... Oh god, mom. I can't handle this. I can't...” I whispered, wide eyed as I felt a chill race up my spine.

One of those lovely hands came into view, gliding past the side of her towering face. The little finger unfolding from it causing me to visibly flinch.

“Don't touch me! Please, you have to-”

“So, would you like to rub some oil into my fingers, Steve?”

My chest ached from the sheer force of her unnaturally deep and powerful voice.

“You'll have to follow my instructions, of course. I'm very particular about how it should be done.”

Watching her lips move as she spoke caused me to babble pitifully like an idiot.

“It's after lunch, so I usually put on more lotion now, but I don't think it would be a good idea for you to be directly exposed to that stuff since you're so small. I'm a nurse, after all, Steve. That particular lotion I always use is very potent- it might be really bad if you got it all over yourself. It might even be like a slow chemical burn to you. But, it's still formulated just to be a lotion. So, I'm certain that it's perfectly safe for me to touch you once it has been absorbed and any excess neutralized by my skin's PH. That’s just how it works.”

I hugged my torso tightly with my arms. I gazed fearfully at her giant mouth as she spoke again.

“You didn't really follow any of that at all, did you, Steve? Of course not. That was a little too technical for you, wasn’t it? Sorry- I do this to your sister all the time, too. I forget sometimes that I’m not always at the hospital talking to RNs and MDs.”

I just couldn't handle the sight her giant mouth or the sensation produced by the force of her incredible voice so close to my tiny form. I wanted to just shut down. I wanted to simply cover my head with my hands and just sink down to the polished wood and curl up. My almost amusingly tiny mother was now an incredibly intimidating being. Her voice was like a fog horn. All of my senses were violated by her colossal presence, almost like my mind had been tainted by some awful hallucinatory drug. As if her entire physical form had been affected by the grotesque and shocking effects of being viewed through a magnifying glass. She was simply too loud, too big, too close... too much. I had no choice but to be subjected to this new, awful version of her without any apology or care for my well-being or sanity.

The smiling giantess ran the quite smooth and cool length of her little finger's long, slightly bowed nail gently across my cheek and jaw. Her invasive touch made me shiver, but it snapped me out of my horror and I immediately tried to push the fingertip away. My most strenuous efforts didn't even move her soft looking flesh or even sway the pretty digit.

“I don't- I don't want any of this! You're completely craz-”

I was blasted again by what issued from her giant lips. Her words caused my vision to occasionally blur and my eyeballs itched in their sockets.

“You know, Steve, I don’t mind skipping a moisturizing session, after all my routine is three times every day. We'll just play with the cuticle oil. I think that you'll like it! I know that it's nothing like painting my fingernails, but isn't it really the same thing as far as you're concerned?”

I could not help but to stagger backwards stiffly as her hot, incredibly humid breath assaulted me.

“You'll be able to crawl around on my hands to your heart's content. You can explore and touch them- or they can touch you, if you'd like. We'll make my great big fingers even prettier- just for you, as a nice little treat. Or are you also attracted to my feet? You can admit it to me, I wouldn't be surprised if you are to some degree.”

Her huge features slid and moved, transforming. It took me a moment, looking to each part of her vast countenance before I understood her expression. She looked puzzled, troubled.

“At the very least you really like the smell of my feet when they've been in my slippers all day, don't you? You know, honestly, that's really the part I don't quite understand at all- their smell? Really? My hands make sense- that isn't shocking to me at all considering how you’ve always been. But my foot odour? Well, you've really turned out to be quite the little pervert- but please don't take that the wrong way. I don't mind, really. I'm not angry, it's just- It's just so surprising.”

I watched as her mouth twisted into an amused smirk and it truly felt like the hair on the back of my neck had suddenly stood on end with an electric tickle. This wasn't the woman from my memories- she wouldn't react like this- or at least it was no longer her.

“Stop... Stop all of this...” I croaked hoarsely.

“Don't deny it, my little slipper sniffer.”

“Oh god... I didn't really- I just wanted to...” A sob caused my throat to tighten painfully.

My mother's face suddenly sped upwards away from me as she relaxed, straightening her back. Wind whipped past me from behind, rushing to fill the void where her tremendous head had just been. Her lovely hand had stayed in place however, still threatening my tiny form with it's raised little finger.

Everything was coming apart, unraveling and I had no idea what was going to happen next. Tears of shock, of frustration came to my eyes. Why would she possibly think that I- Well, it was certain that I didn't cause this, that was for sure. This had nothing at all to do with my uncontrollable stimulation in the presence of her astounding feet. She truly knew nothing at all about that. This was all just her: crazy assumption after crazy assumption, too fast for me to make sense of. Like the first trickle of an avalanche- and something else, something obvious for so long now. The way that she looked at me: she thoroughly enjoyed the fact that I was tiny.

6. Petting by V11

The tip of her little finger was as big as a loaf of bread. The humid pad of it stroked lightly down my face. I grimaced and wrapped my arms around my ribs to comfort myself, to help keep from shaking, from screaming, from scrambling away like a-

“Oh, your shaking! There is no need to be so embarrassed about any of this. I know that, well, that what I'm proposing to do is seriously taboo. But, I'm perfectly fine with it- provided that you never mention this to anyone- ever! Especially your sister! To be honest with you, I think that it's very cute! I don't mind handling you a lot using my hands. Obviously, I was probably going to already, you know- whether you wanted me to or not. But now I know your secret, don't I? I guess I'll just have to just use my fingers more to, hmm... to interact... with you. I get it, Steve, I really do- domination. This is all about domination, isn't it? Oh, this is going to be so much fun for me!”

The firm, ridged digit touched my lips playfully and it seemed to delight her. “Please,” I croaked, “just change me back. None of this is- it isn't what I-”

“Shh. I'm saying that I am willing to explore this with you. I'll dominate you- you know- just like you want! But I want you to understand that I promise to be very careful as I handle you. You'll be perfectly safe. I'll be a very gentle goddess. Oh, I really like how that sounds!”

Her little finger covered my face and it gently pushed me down flat on my back as she giggled. The pad rested against my face and I squealed in protest.

“Listen to me- You don't have to worry, Steve. I will never tell anyone about this either, I promise. And if, well, if you're worried about your mother's dignity... It really won't be like, well, like something legitimately sexual- you know what I mean.”

I grabbed her fingertip with both of my hands and pushed back as hard as I could. My straining efforts were pointless.

“It isn't at all like you would be having actual sex with me. My self-respect will be completely intact. I won't ever be in a compromising position, obviously. This couldn't really be any more safe for me, from my perspective.”

I quickly tired trying to resist and finally let go of the digit. I grimaced with effort as I twisted my head to one side until I could breathe in an unobstructed manner. I laid there as calmly as I could muster as her fingertip rested lightly on my head.

“Honestly, I'll just be sitting here at home relaxing on Mother's Day, just innocently playing with a certain delicate and adorable little doll. Well, that's completely harmless, isn't it? That's only petting for me. Only touching. It's certainly nothing for you to worry about at all. It’s not like you would be taking advantage of me in any way- you simply cannot. It isn’t possible.”

The digit raised for a moment and I was screaming hysterically as soon as my mouth was free. I tried to sit up, but I couldn't get past her finger. Despite my flailing, she used her little finger to lovingly brush my hair off my forehead before bringing it back down to hover over my lower face.

“Oh my goodness! Just listen to you! You really need to calm down about this, Steve! How can I put it? Look, what is the worst case scenario, hmm? What is the worst thing that you could possibly do to me in your position? I can't think of anything other than... well... Let's suppose, if I were to say, become a little bit too enthusiastic- you know- touching you? Well, I guess that I might suddenly get some teeny-tiny droplets of something on one of my fingers, right?”

“What?” Her strange assertion had instantly ended my tantrum. I stared up at her immense face for a moment, trying to understand what she had just insinuated. Then I got it. “Oh no! Oh fuck no! There's no way that-”

The smiling mouth's deep, bass-y words hurt my chest.

“I wouldn't want you to feel bad about that, you know. It would be perfectly acceptable to me, Steven. I would understand if that happened and I certainly wouldn't be upset about it. It would only be simple cause and effect. It's only natural, after all. That shouldn't be something for you to be ashamed of. I have plenty of tissues here.”

She paused for a moment. Then a small smile dimpled her cheeks.

“But, now that I think about it- maybe wiping that off wouldn't be ideal. Well, maybe in an odd way both of us should actually be happy if you produced a little mess? Because, according to an article I read last week in one of my women's magazines, well... How do I say this? I wouldn't be surprised at all if, well, you know- Those pearly little droplets are apparently really good nourishment for nails and skin!”

“Oh shit! No, no no!”

“It’s all the rage right now, from what I’ve read. At least according to that magazine.”

I tried to get up, to make it onto my feet but she just winked at me as her little finger pushed against one of my shoulders to gently counter the momentum of my frantic scrambling.

“Please, just stop! Get the remote! I don't want- This isn't- Oh god- I'm going to be sick!”

“I guess, well- hypothetically, of course- I guess if that happened it would really just be best then to- Well, for me to just rub any of your little secretions that might be accidentally produced into my skin? Oh, I think that you know how I am, after all. I'm always keenly interested in the latest beauty treatments!”

The giantess roared with laughter.

The digit contacted my cheek, forcing my head to turn to the side. It then effortlessly drove me down to the table beneath of it in one smooth, slow motion. My little head had become pinned again beneath her dense, stiflingly hot finger flesh. It was horrible to be physically overpowered so completely without any effort at all- especially by her of all people, especially with- those- with one of her dainty-

“Oh, hush now. I was only kidding, you know! Everything is going to be just fine. Your little body is in some very good hands, Steve. But, you're already keenly aware of that, aren't you?”

As I lay there, peering out from beneath of the log sized finger pinning my skull I could only see the bulging cloth covered red wall of her breasts resting on the coffee table's edge. It was so obvious when I spotted them that I was surprised it had taken so long for me to notice... Gigantic, hard nipples almost the size of beer kegs pushed against the tight red shirt. I gasped in horror and began to loudly sob.

The immense giantess was smiling as her little finger lifted free of my head.

“Please, I- I don't know what- I didn't know that coming over here to try and- I don't understand what's happening! I didn't mean to make you- I didn't know that being shrunk around you would- Oh god, I'm not- I'm not a freak like- I just wanted to-”

“I can't understand you at all, you know. It's all just little squeaks. But, I guess you're in shock that I saw right through your stupid plan so easily, hmm? Just let it go, Steve. Stop pretending. It's pointless now. I'm obviously more than just fine with all of this. It's a little strange, I suppose, but I don't mind at all. It's actually intriguing to me more than anything else. You have to admit, from my point of view it's very cute! I am well aware that I have nice hands- I've always gotten compliments on them. So, don't you think that it would be a shame if you didn't get to experience them like this at least once? Isn't this what you want? It obviously is. So just calm down. Give in to it. Shh.”

Her face lowered over me as she smiled happily. Her eyes flitted back and forth over my tiny prone body for a moment.

“Please- don’t touch me anymore! Just don’t- I think that something went wrong when I was- I’m not supposed to be like this! Something isn’t right with my mind! I shouldn’t be excited by- This isn’t- I need you to-”

“You're perfectly safe with me, Steve. I'll be quite careful playing with my special little Mother’s Day finger toy.”

“I don’t want to be your- Oh fuck, you’re just so huge! Please! Just-”

The little finger silenced me as it began to stroke my lips once again, dragging them out of line and distorting them. She was completely focused on my tiny face, specifically my mouth. Her eyes were shining, enraptured as she softly caressed my frightened features.

I continued for a time to resist, only managing to work myself backwards away from her a short distance across the coffee table on my back. She merely had to make small adjustments in her looming, soft looking hand to keep up with my desperate struggles. Every time I would try to shout up at her in protest she would smile with delight and indulge in lightly pressing against my entire face with the pad of her fingertip to silence me. Every time I would try to get off of my back her digit would effortlessly overpower me with a nudge to my chest.

She was playing me, like a fisherman might play a fish, letting me exhaust myself. All the while she was deliberately using just one of her little fingers to completely control me. I softly sobbed the entire time, I was pitiful like this. She was effortlessly dominating me, using the vast size discrepancy of our bodies against me. I was helpless and completely under her control- and she obviously loved every second of it.

It wasn't long before I grew tired crawling across the hard, cold surface of the table. I laid there, trying to not sob as her invasive fingertip continued to dab at my lips with all of the grace of a knee prodding me in my mouth. I knew what she wanted from me, why she wouldn't leave my mouth alone. I couldn't give in. But, at this rate, she was eventually going to accidentally catch my nose with that long fingernail and break it or bloody it.

Perhaps... Perhaps I could just appease her and then she would listen to me? No, that wasn't going to work. It would just make everything worse. But, she was going to eventually slip and put out one of my eyes, or something about that bad. She truly had me and I could not escape. I knew it was probably the worst thing I could do, but... With a stoic frown, I desperately forced myself to kiss her fingertip.

It was like kissing a humid football.

Immediately my mother's face lit up cheerfully and she giggled with satisfaction. The giantess slowly pressed the column of hot flesh against my lower face as I kissed, lightly smashing my nose sideways.

“Aww, just look at you! You've finally given in! That wasn't so difficult, was it? I simply needed to be patient with you! Oh, such sweet and tiny kisses for Mother's Day! They sort of tickled! Well, go on, kiss my finger some more!”

“Please, just listen to-”

“Kiss it,” she commanded forcefully with a rumble and I shook my head as a sob reddened my face. I grasped the pleasant looking fingertip with both of my pitifully small hands and shut tight my watering eyes. I could feel her gigantic form gloating happily above me as I began to kiss the salty, face-sized fingerprint.

I was kissing my- This hot, dense thing that my hands were wrapped around -as thick as a wooden support leg from a small wooden pier- Like grasping somebody's thigh right in the middle. This was really just my mother's-

A deep, throaty giggle rolled over me, “Oh, I almost feel like a Peeping Tom who is watching two lovers. Well, I suppose that description is accurate, isn't it? You are almost the same length as my little finger.” I blinked back tears as she smirked down on me. “Though, honestly, I think it would probably be at least a head taller than you if you were side to side with it. Perhaps even a bit more than that.”

“Please, mother! Please!” I shouted up at her, trying to keep my voice from cracking, “Just change me back! I'll do absolutely anything that you want me to do once you just-” The pad of her digit stroked across my mouth.

“Do you love my little finger, Steve?” She whispered with a darkly amused smirk. My puckered lips were lightly smashed for a second as the beautiful fingertip pressed it's pad against my entire face.

I shook my head yes as I tried to hold back a sob of frustration.

She wasn't going to stop until I played along with her, and she obviously wouldn't listen to me until she stopped. I reluctantly stroked the side of her digit like I might stroke someone's hair.

“I asked you something- do you? Is it your little lover? Hmm?”

“Yes,” I croaked and nodded again.

“But, with that unusual fetish of yours... Well, I guess that you're a real connoisseur of all of my fingers then, aren't you? I guess so. Maybe this one just isn't doing it for you, hmm? I do have quite a few to choose from, don't I? I wonder if there is one that you might enjoy even more? Do you have any favorites, Steve?”

My mother's other hand lifted from beyond the edge of the coffee table, clenched in a loose fist.

“Perhaps you would rather be snuggling with... Hmm... How about one of my thumbs?”

My blood turned to ice. She smiled as her pretty thumb unfolded from her hovering fist. She looked it over, amused as she assessed it.

“Would that be better? After all, they're much bigger. Bigger than you, that's for sure. But, of course, you want to be the submissive one in this particular encounter, right? Hmm, I'm not so sure that you could even wrap your little twig-arms completely around one of them. I could easily arrange that for you- if you want. Do you enjoy some girth, Steve? Would that do it for you? Maybe you'd like one of them even more?”

I vigorously shook my head no.

Her fist drifted toward me, held just beneath of the coffee table, only it's huge thumb was visible as she kept it vertical and pressed the base of it against the table's edge. The powerful and intimidatingly plump digit towered over me, nearly twice my height.

“How about this one? It's very pretty. It could sure use some nice kisses too. You know- I wonder how you'd feel struggling underneath of it to me? Probably just divine! I could just rest it on top of you, Steve, if you'd like. I would be really careful, of course. How about it?”

“Oh, god. No. Please just...” I whispered under my breath as I tightened my grip around her finger.

“Aww, that's quite an expression! No? You don't want that? I find that to be very strange, Steve. I thought for sure that bigger would equal better to you, you know- in your situation. So, is my little finger your favorite? I suppose it isn't quite as scary, yeah? That makes sense.”

I tried to hold her pinky fingertip still between my hands as I kissed it again in desperation.

“I don't want to be tiny anymore,” I pleaded before pressing my lips against the swirl of ridges again.

“You had better really show me that you love my little finger then,” she smiled dominantly. The giantess stared at me calmly right in the face as her pretty thumb pivoted downward. The massive pad bulged as it pressed against the tabletop in front of me threateningly.

“Oh God no,” I caught myself croaking under my breath. My scalp tingled as I heard the plump flesh creak slightly against the polished wood.

“If you don’t do well enough then I might just completely cover you up with this great big thumb of mine, my slim little doll... Of course I will expect lots of kisses from you then. Now, demonstrate.”

I averted my eyes away from her amused expression in incredible shame as I wrapped my trembling arms and legs tightly around her digit. The dense column of flesh instantly flooded my skin with heat through the jumpsuit. It was like wrapping myself around a giant prehistoric snake's sleeping body that had absorbed the noon sun's warmth into it's dense musculature. Despite how incredibly awful this was for me I couldn't help but cling to her finger for comfort as tears streamed down my face.

A thunderous chuckle deafened me as her panic-inducing thumb slid backwards and disappeared from my view. I frowned as my mind wouldn't let go of the simple yet insane logic plainly laid out before it. Logic that automatically humiliated and degraded my self-image no matter how I tried to ignore it.

I was hugging my mother, but... It wasn't the same as hugging her- as-

My mother was a quite small woman in comparison to me. Definitely smaller than this finger in height. But this was one of my mother's little fingers, her smallest- I was bodily clinging to- It was- Such a crazy realization caused me to grimace painfully. The thought threatened to further unhinge my mind.

Most of my mother's lovely fingers were bigger than people. She had- I was- I was only the size of- of one of her little-

I let out a soft, tormented moan. My cock was hard enough to push against the dense flesh pressed between my legs and I sobbed in horror.

The hand adjusted and the finger lifted me slightly off of the table as I clung to it. She was grinning as she looked me over.

“That’s better. Well, the saying 'wrapped around my little finger' will have an entirely new meaning for me after today, little boy.”

“Oh god, no! Please, I want to be big aga-”

“Squeeze those little legs for me, Steve.”

“I don't- I don't-”

She frowned slightly and her eyes narrowed. Her other hand lifted, gliding in past the table's edge, the pretty thumb and index fingers elegantly poised as if they were going to capture something tiny in between them. I immediately knew that it was my little head which was their target. My scalp tingled fiercely as panic took hold of me.

“What do you think might happen if you were to disobey your Goddess? Hmm? Any ideas come to mind? You’re so tiny, after all. Like a toy.”

“Oh, God, no! Don't grab my-”

Her fingers reached for me. The end of her intimidatingly large thumb caused me to start hyperventilating as it came in much too close. The dense, hot pads gracefully enclosed my little skull from opposite sides as the edges of her nails rested painfully on my collarbones.

“Like a nice little toy.”

The sickening scent of flowers made my sinuses burn. Her well moisturized flesh molded around my cheekbones and jaw as her fingertips softly gripped my head between them. I swore that I could feel her tremendous pulse on my cheeks.

“Squeeze your legs around me!” she hissed.

I had no choice. I squeezed with all of my might. Her frightening fingers pulled away from my head and the hand fell to the tabletop, suddenly inert.

“Oh, I like that,” she whispered and then giggled sultrily.

The little finger that I clung to lowered, my backside came to rest on the coffee table's top. But then it's weight loaded on top of me, from face to crotch. My legs unwrapped from around the diameter of it and I bent my knees, planting my feet squarely against the flat surface. I tried to push it away. Such heat and weight on top of me. Like a- Like a lover on top of- like what she had said. My little lover. No, more forceful that, like an assailant. Like a-

“Kiss.”

I peppered her humid fingertip with kisses. She tried several times to slowly pin my head beneath the pad of it again, but I managed to rob her of that indignity. I pressed my cheek strongly against the side of her fingertip to thwart her as I hugged it's dense flesh even more tightly to me with my arms. The giantess finally gave up her game of trying to dominate my tiny head and smirked, still thoroughly pleased with herself.

“Please, just leave me alone! You're really frightening me, mom. Please, just push the button,” I whispered hoarsely. “This isn't funny at all. Please stop torturing me.”

The finger shrugged me off of it with a slight bend as it raised up. It lowered over me again and against my better judgment I grabbed it with both hands and tried to push it away. My strength was no match for her. My little arms buckled and my tiny lower lip was dragged downwards as the edge of her long, healthy looking nail played with my mouth. My lower lip was repeatedly rolled back as the blunt edge of her nail lightly traced across my tightly clenched teeth and gums.

“You know, just because I can't wear any polish today, that doesn't mean that my hands don't deserve to be lavished with some attention. You did go to so much trouble to arrange this, after all. Oh, look at that cute little mouth!” Her eyes glittered mischievously. “I want to- Oh, I just have to!”

My mother's smallest digit suddenly pulled itself free of my feeble grasp. Her other fingers fanned out and her hand gracefully lowered onto my body, crumpling me beneath of it's massive weight. I hardly had a chance to react and by the time I realized what was happening the opportunity to struggle, escape or reason with her had already passed.

Her giant, powerful digits effortlessly overpowered my tiny arms and legs, shoving them together like the stems of a flower bouquet. Her hand tightened around me into a fist and I was driven into the firm flesh of her palm. The giantess lifted me off of the table like King Kong scooping up his prize. I was just as powerless against her, squealing as I was held before the tremendous grinning face.

My mother's looming mouth chuckled thunderously at the sight of my tiny screeching head sticking out of her fist before pouting playfully. “That's a terrible noise your making. Come now, this isn't really so scary, is it? You wanted me to be a giant for you, right? Don’t you like being in my hand? Hmm?”

She leaned in closer to me, and I completely panicked as I realized that she could enclose my entire skull in those giant lips like a piece of candy.

“You poor little thing. Shh,” she whispered. The huge muscles of her hand which surrounded me hardened as they seemed to expand against my body. She was giving me a slight squeeze in her soft fist and it made her grin as she savored it.

“Good dolls don't whine, do they?” The thick skin surrounding me creaked like compressing leather as it tightened into itself. “No, they don't.”

My vertebrae popped as the air was squeezed from me. My guts felt heavy, like gelatin squeezed into one corner of a plastic bag. The immense pressure caused my eyes to bulge and spittle dripped from my mouth. My face grew hot as the blood rushed into it.

I gaped in shock at her amused face floating before me, almost unable to accept that this was the same person from an hour ago. My mother looked fierce, self-assured, relaxed. I realized that she looked like a giantess now.

I tried to beg her to stop but I couldn't speak at all. I was only capable of silently mouthing words with no air behind them. In response she frowned mockingly and her giant thumb raised up away from where it had been laid against her clenched hand. It hovered ominously above me for a moment before gently forcing my trembling head back against the meat of her fist. She pinned it there, completely covering my little skull beneath her hot, dense thumb pad.

I was now entirely sealed in my mother's cruel skin. I was slowly suffocating as my face distorted in a silent scream against the swirls of her massive thumb print. The gigantic musculature of her fingers and palm had forced my little body in upon itself in a gentle but brutal crush from every direction. One of my tiny hands had been caught between the ridged pleats of a closed crease on her palm's muscular flesh. It felt hot from the pressure and it throbbed from her gigantic pulse driven into it from every direction.

“There, that's better. Nice and quiet.” Her thumb raised off of my head and the leathery, plump pad lightly touched my face. “Kiss me,” the goddess whispered. I eagerly complied as my brain screamed for oxygen, sloppily kissing the pillow-sized thumb pad. It pulled away from me, taking with it strings of my saliva before smashing my features sideways as it stroked across my breathless face.

“Such an itty-bitty head,” she rumbled, “it's just so cute.”

The pad of her thumb carefully played with my tiny trapped head like a marble. Those gigantic green eyes watched calmly as my neck was forcibly flexed in every direction. My entire skull was slowly stroked and rolled beneath of the sturdy digit. I could do nothing more than moan weakly in terror. She lightly pinned my head underneath of her stout thumb's pad again and grinned at my anguished face peeking out at her from it's shadowy crevice.

“Yes, I think that you'll make a fine little doll for Julie. Does that make you happy, Steve?”

A moment later the hand holding me rotated as it opened. I peeled free of the unfolding fingers to lay limp and completely helpless in her palm. I was wrecked, I could only pant raggedly as I gawked in shock at my mother's face bearing down on me. She was grinning cheerfully and I knew it was because of how effortless it had been for her to overpower and humiliate me.

“I don't... want to... be a doll. I don't want... to be your...”

My giant mother made herself more comfortable, leaning back and curling up on the couch. As she did so, one of her immense breasts pressed briefly against the edge of the palm I lay in. The bulging, cloth-covered wall ran across the edge of her cupped hand with a dull rumble. The firm nipple pushing against her shirt lightly brushed against my arm as it slid past. With a happy sigh I was brought closer to her face. I stared horrified into her calm, confident eyes as her other hand came in next to me, it's little finger extended.

For quite a while now she had been moving her hands in a peculiar manner as she handled me. It was difficult to describe yet easy to recognize. Her hands movements were very over accentuated, overly graceful and slow, like a child’s idea of how to act at a tea party. Like an exaggerated portrayal of refined, lady-like composure.

“There's that precious little mouth!” She whispered gently, smiling happily as her well-hydrated fingertip brushed across my lips and smashed my nose to one side. “Hmm. What are the magic words? How about open sesame?”

“Please- Stop playing with- Oh god, mom! Leave my fucking mouth alone! Leave-”

Her fingernail gently inserted itself partially into my mouth in mid-cry. I bit down onto it accidentally as I flinched. I realized that I was blinking back tears as my jaw was effortlessly pried open. Her fingernail tapped on my tongue before withdrawing completely.

“I want to see this,” she thundered.

I shut my eyes as I trembled and hesitantly stuck out my tongue. The hand holding me shifted, the giant musculature of it moving around me as I was jostled like a rag doll. Suddenly my head became trapped between two hot and ridged surfaces and my eyes snapped open in a panic. It was the thumb and index fingers of the hand I lay in, gripping my head like it was a small acorn.

I cried out as I hastily wrapped my slender arms around her giant fingers. I kicked and strained to free myself. I briefly thought of some poor, long dead soul forcibly tied to some huge sacrificial stone, waiting for a lavishly dressed priest to come closer with their knife held high overhead. This is exactly what that must have felt like, I surmised as I pushed and pulled with everything I had in me. My struggles had no effect at all on her powerful digits. My captor chuckled as she shook her massive head.

“Oh, you're perfectly fine, Steve! I'm just holding you still, that's all. Now I want to see that cute little tongue!”

I obliged her, sticking out my tongue as far as I was able. She cooed thunderously as her little finger lowered over my mouth like a foal's head about to take a drink. I shut my eyes again, her looming, amused face was simply too much for me to take. I forced myself to concentrate on catching my breath as my tongue and lips were lightly touched and stroked by the pad of her little finger. The salty oils and residual beauty products on her digit tasted terrible and my tongue stung slightly. She cooed thunderously and chuckled to herself as her fingertip gently and slowly explored.

“That's amazing, Steve!” she rumbled, “Your tongue is so soft! It's just like silk! Now, don't you think that we've had enough cuddling and kissing? How about something other than just foreplay?” My eyes shot open and I uttered a wet grunt of surprise against her fingertip. “Isn't that what you really want from me- from your wonderful Finger Goddess?”

I squealed as the tip of her little finger’s nail gently forced it's way into my mouth. I gagged, pushing weakly against her digit with both of my hands as her fingernail raked down the length of my tongue. My jaw felt like it would break as my mouth was forced as wide as it would go. Her nail slowly forced against the opening of my throat as the salty tip of her finger kept my mouth levered open, filling it halfway. My jaw popped loudly in my ears as the gigantic face in front of me grinned widely.

“Oh, your teeny tiny mouth almost fits like a glove, Steve! Well, like a little piece of a glove, at least. No, I know what it is- it's more like a wet little thimble!” The cruel goddess giggled softly to herself, “Honestly, I think it's a little bit too small for me though. But we can make it work.”

As I kicked my legs uselessly, eyes wild with panic, an inescapable realization hammered home. I was truly in trouble. I idiotically kept expecting her to stop at each new depravity and grow me back. I had hoped that somehow her behavior was all some sort of a punishment. That everything was some sort of a frightening life lesson for me, so that I could learn to not use others, or use her for my own personal gain. But, everything I was feeling and thinking was just my shock and denial. I was so very wrong about everything and I had no control over anything at this size.

I realized that the realistic truth of my situation was even worse. My mother was doing awful things to me because she was getting off on it. Did I miss some sort of a warning sign? I never could have known. She had accused me of harboring some sick sexual desires but the truth hurt me even more. My mother was the perverted aggressor.

I never should have....

But that didn't matter, right now I was tiny and the cruel giantess was violating me.

“Oh, that's nice, isn't it? Such a handsome little mouth. I bet that your throat is so soft and warm,” rumbled the cheerful, relaxed face hovering low over my struggling body.

She was slowly pumping her little fingertip against the wet resistance of my tiny mouth. I was helpless, my head caught in the unrelenting vice of her thumb and index finger. I was forced to try to cope as the blunt edge of her invasive fingernail repeatedly pushed against the back of my throat. I tried to relax, to put what was happening to me out of my mind. But, I couldn't. She was raping my mouth.

“Such a tight little thing, aren't you, Steve?” The vast face smiled wickedly while I choked.

Her words hurt me deeply. That phrase she just used- something that some men used when describing... Tears flowed freely down my face. I wasn't a... I wasn't a tight little... My mouth wasn't a- I was a man, a human being! Her son! Not a pathetic toy for my own... The pressure against the sides of my skull increased as the huge fingers asserted themselves, dragging my head upwards, my spine held ram-rod straight.

“I want you to take your little lover in as far as you can, Steve. Swallow her whole.”

Her towering, smiling face winked at me before blowing a kiss. She watched intently as her digit slowly eased itself in as far as it would go. I made desperate, gurgling noises of protest as the tip of her nail forced it's way past the beginning of my throat and slid in even deeper. My esophagus felt like it had flattened internally, stretching slightly like a sock might as it molded around the shape of her massive probing fingernail. I strained to breathe, my nostrils flared desperately as my little chest quivered with effort. My gag reflex fired repeatedly, but there was nothing that I could do about it at all other than to silently heave as I drooled.

The giantess chuckled as she watched me. Her little finger shook ever so slightly as she laughed and my upper body did as well, grotesquely anchored to the huge appendage. My collar bones and neck vertebrae ached from the unnatural stress placed on them.

“Aww. It's a shame you aren't just a little bit bigger right now. I'd like to go deeper into that little throat- Oh, I’d love to feel that tiny heart beating against my little finger! Mmm. I would wear you on my little finger, if I could.”

The tip of the huge finger finally pulled free of my mouth with a smooth tug. My head was released and I fell back into her giant cupped hand. The offending finger hovered over my gasping, bawling face, glistening with my saliva. Beyond it her cheerful face was foreshortened by the angle of how close beneath of it I lay, like a looming, living cliff.

“I was thinking, Steve, you'll probably end up getting cuticle oil all over yourself as you indulge in your special little reward after pampering my feet.” My little body was hammered by her deep, powerful voice. The drenched fingertip glided across my trembling, exhausted lips playfully. “That's something to look forward to, isn't it?”

My jaw popped back into place with a startling sound that only I could hear.

7. Play by V11

My mother's finger lifted free of my head and glided slowly down my body. I felt it's weight on my stomach as she wiped my saliva off onto my jumpsuit. “You know, that oil is going to be very messy, Steve. Very slippery and you'll be smaller than right now. You'll be so very tiny! Like a little- Oh, I don't know. Hmm. Well, honestly, like a little tree frog! Yes! Just like a tree frog clinging to one of my fingers! Mmm! Oh my- what a nice image that is, isn't it, Steve?”

A heavy weight suddenly settled onto my genitals, flooding my crotch with heat through the fabric. I yelped and instantly tried to shut my legs but I couldn't. The hand holding me closed loosely, her huge fingers curling around my arms and my head, immobilizing my upper body. I was tilted downwards as she brought my crotch closer to her face. As I struggled in panic her digit gently pressed against my stuff, feeling it.

“Well, I think that we are both going to have a lot of fun tonight, my little doll.”

Her fingertip slid in a little circle around the tiny lump she had found. She was silent as she fondled me for a few moments. I was crying, my tiny head had become trapped and mostly immobilized against a giant crease composed of dense, flower-scented finger flesh. The blood had rushed downwards, making my face feel hot.

“Maybe later, if I don't forget- maybe I'll turn your camera back on. If I can figure it out. Let you have some really good footage of you all teeny-tiny with my giant sexy fingers playing with you. Though you might honestly have to make a copy of it for me too! You know how to do that, though. You and your sister have always been so good with computers, unlike me. I just don't have the patience.”

I could feel the edges of a pair of fingernails probe my genitals through the jumpsuit as I whimpered. She was gently squeezing them between the tips of her nails like she was evaluating an overly ripe berry. Thankfully I never fully hardened up and the cruel, indulgent being moved on to new playthings. One of my feet was captured and my leg was gently straightened.

“These are darling little shoes.” With a jerk my entire shoe was cleanly removed. “Even little socks!” My other foot was captured but my remaining shoe's removal was not so easily accomplished this time.

She tugged at it, but it didn’t budge. I felt my shoe being supported from beneath as what must have been my mother's fingernails dug into the entire top of it at once. The laces were effortlessly severed by the blunt edges of her strong nails tearing right through them. My shoe was removed with a small tug.

“Then we go!” She exclaimed cheerfully.

The giant fist trapping me tightened slightly against my head and chest as I felt her cool, smooth nails pick at the top of one of my socks. It was finally clenched and I heard the fabric of it fail as it was stretched away from my ankle and foot sideways. The sock was deftly pulled away by it's toe but then my other sock was seized and simply torn free like paper.

“Oh, look at these piggies!” The cold edges of her giant nails captured my left big toe between them. My toe was wiggled gently as she chuckled. “Such tiny little things!” My toe was released and hot, ridged flesh enclosed my entire barefoot as it was lightly squeezed between her massive fingertips. “Sorry Steve, mommy just can't resist.”

I felt humid breath on my feet and an instant later they were both plunged into wetness that seemed as hot as a furnace. Soft, pillow-like flesh molded around both of my shins up to the beginning of my knees! The goddess giggled and I felt the vibrations travel up the bones in my legs. My feet were in her mouth! Her giant tongue collided with my feet, playing with them. I shivered as taste buds the size of marbles slid across my soles and forced themselves in between my toes.

There was a grotesque slurp and I realized that my mother was gently sucking on my tiny feet. The gusts of hot breath from her nostrils blasted directly down onto my crotch. I felt ill as I realized that I had to concentrate to not to become aroused. “Please... Please stop, mom!” I whispered as I squeezed shut my eyes.

“Mmm!” My gigantic tormentor cooed. I felt her huge front teeth press against the soles my feet. They felt like warm and slightly curved marble against my feet. I felt the teeth moving, sliding and then one foot was squeezed between their hard edges. She giggled from her throat as I squealed in terror. “Such tasty little things,” the giant mouth managed to slur around my wet shins, each spoken word sent vibrations into my body that caused my cock to grow hard from the sensation.

My mother gently nibbled at both of my feet. It felt like smoothly worn river rocks pressed against my flesh, like slick dinner plates, the huge teeth gently gripped and squeezed each of my feet playfully. I screamed into the hot cavern of her folded fingers and tried to thrash against her nonchalant might. She snickered the entire time I wiggled uselessly against the dense flesh enclosing me. The tremors of her mirth were transmitted through her menacing teeth. At any moment I just knew that her withheld laughter would cause her teeth to shear off one of my feet at the ankle. Finally, with a slurp my feet were pulled free and the giantess loudly kissed each saliva covered sole.

The hot finger flesh trapping my head unfolded as her hand tilted. I was swung up so that I hung vertically once again. I cried out in horror as I realized that her vast face was directly in front of me. She laughed at my little chirp and brought me even closer to her. I found my face hovering directly in front of her giant mouth. Her lips were as thick as automobile tires to me.

“Your little feet were salty tasting!”

Her lips puckered and I screamed as they crashed against my face in a kiss. My features were dominated by quite soft, seamed flesh that molded to them. The lips pulled away and the mouth whispered, giant teeth flashing dangerously, “I don't know if that was entirely pleasant or not for me. But, it's the thought that counts, right?”

My ears rang from her words and I could feel the bones in my skull buzzing from the immense sound waves.

“Please, mom! Just change me back! I promise I won't tell any-”

“Oh hush. I can't understand your squeaks and you know that.”

I was kissed again and she did not pull me away completely from her lips when she was done. I struggled to breath through my nose as she ran my tiny face slowly back and forth across her lower lip. A gust of hot breath stung my panicked, wide open eyes as she whispered to me slowly and seductively.

“Is this your sweet end, Steve? Because I didn't like your salty end very much. Oh, this is absolutely your sweet end, isn't it? I can tell, you know- this precious little head of yours is just irresistible to me. I love it so much. I think I need a little treat.”

The huge lips in front of me pursed and then blossomed outwards again in another kiss, but the slick, muscular flesh did not pull away afterwards. The wet tunnel of her puckered lips instead enclosed my entire head as I was pushed forward. I bellowed in terror as my cheeks and nose were smeared across her giant front teeth. Each tooth was the size of my entire face, like milk-white porcelain facsimiles of riot helmet visors. The smooth teeth parted, sliding across my face as they dragged the tip of my nose upward.

My head was pushed a bit further into the slimy darkness. I was hoarsely screaming into the humid void of her mouth. Her teeth were closing! The edges of my mother's huge top and bottom front teeth pressed against my fragile jaw and forehead. My head was inadvertently twisted sideways as the giant teeth slowly closed. The warm, blunt edges pressed into my cheeks from each side and rested there. My mother had gripped my head delicately between her teeth like a small olive!

“Please don't- Oh god!”

The massive lips that were sealed around my neck and shoulders hardened as they constricted against me. I realized to my horror that she must have been smiling. I was deafened by the low, throaty roar of a chuckle. The timbre of my voice broke completely and I sounded more like a desperate, high-pitched cartoon character.

“I don't want to die like this! I don't want to die like this!”

The thick tip of my mother's tongue surged forward and flowed over my face. My panicked, wide open eyes were overwhelmed with a thick layer of her saliva. The blunt tip of her giant tongue explored my grimacing, howling features for a few seconds before suddenly plugging my mouth. My lips were forced aside, stretched almost painfully as the very tip of her tongue filled my mouth. I screamed mutely into the pebbly muscle as she stroked my little teeth. I bit down as hard as I could onto the hot muscle and a giggle deafened me. My jaws were forced as wide as they would go and she played with my tiny tongue, curling it backwards so far that I almost swallowed it several times.

As quickly as I had been plunged into this hell I was freed. I was drawn backwards with a deafening slurp, back into the cheerful light of the living room. The giant mouth lit up with a huge smile as it chuckled thunderously. My giant mother drew me away from her mouth and looked down on me in delight. Her plump thumb pad settled onto my coughing face and it stroked away the majority of her saliva.

“Hmm. I guess it was only your feet that were salty tasting. Good information to know, right? I think so. Now, I think it's finally time to get settled in before I make you any smaller, Steve. I'm excited, are you excited?”

My mother's hand relaxed and lowered, tilting towards the table. I was rolled off of it like a discarded plaything. I jumped to my feet with a cry of horror and immediately slipped and fell hard onto my side in a puddle of saliva.

“Goodness! Did you hurt yourself, Steve?” From where I lay I could see a frightening hand sweep in over me. “Do you want mommy to help?”

“Ahh! My hip! I bruised my fucking- Please don't- Just leave me alone!”

The giant hand dipped down low over me. I instinctively knew that she was just going to crush me beneath the great bulk of it, but that never happened. A pretty index finger and thumb effortlessly pushed aside my twig-like arms as she took hold of my little torso. Her thumb's pad pressed in against my chest and stomach as her forefinger met my lower back. I was squeezed unmercifully as she lifted me out of the saliva. Even though she was gripping me with no more effort than she might for gathering up a key-chain, I could barely breathe at all. My legs dangled at an uncomfortable angle as I pushed impotently against her thumb's plump tip.

“Oh, look at you struggle! That's just so cute!”

The cruel giantess giggled and her wrist tilted back and forth gently a few times, causing my head and limbs to whip to and fro. I felt like I was clenched in the mouth of a huge animal, like a toothless hippopotamus and it was thrashing me about victoriously.

She stopped rotating me and I could do nothing other than fight for breath. Her other hand swept in as she chuckled to herself. I frowned grimly as those giant, eager fingers lowered. She carefully took hold of one of my delicate legs. It looked much like a bit of sky blue usb cable or perhaps the tapered end of a chopstick gently held between her pleasant thumb and index fingertips. I couldn’t help but think that I must have been a bit like handling some sort of a large Praying Mantis to her with my slender little limbs. That thought made me even more uneasy.

“You have such cute legs! I just love them!”

The dense flesh squeezed my thigh gently and then her fingers pulled backwards, stretching my leg straight as they moved. The pads of her fingers slowly grazed down my entire leg before releasing it.

A moment later I was tilted so that I faced the ceiling and my back could not help but to arch. She had rested the back of her hand on the table. My arms and legs felt incredibly heavy and I had no choice but to give up fighting her. My limbs draped uselessly against the giant fingers gripping me by my waist. The thumb and index finger of her other hand dipped down over my little form from above as she smirked. I was completely helpless. It was hard to breathe being arched back so much and I felt my blood fill my face and throb in my cheeks.

“Please, just- Oh god. Just leave me alone!”

“You poor little thing. You don't look comfortable at all being held like this. But, you have such a cute little body, Steve. You won’t mind if I just...”

I gasped as a pair of huge fingernails gently pressed into my crotch. The hard edges slid across the jumpsuit's material as they tentatively probed, partially closing several times as she tried to isolate the tiny, flaccid lump hiding just underneath the cloth.

“Please- please don't- It was all a stupid mistake... I didn't know that... For fuck's sake- stop poking me with your- just get the shrink gun and... Oh god! Stop it, please!”

The looming goddess grinned when she finally found my cock and balls. They were gently squeezed between the tips of her nails. I pushed against her index finger’s nail with my hands, but unsurprisingly I couldn’t move the digit. It felt very much like my hands were applying pressure to the bowed, rounded surface of a motorcycle’s gas tank.

“Aww, you don’t like me grabbing you there? Obviously not with that face you’re making! I guess that you need to understand, to me you’re just so tiny. It’s wonderful!”

Her healthy looking fingernails lifted subtly upwards and my limp little cock was dragged through their opposing keratin edges. My vision was overwhelmed by her digits slightly glistening, rounded flesh as they carefully captured my manhood again with a delicate pinch. My pitiful penis almost looked like a tiny water balloon shape molded tightly against the cloth of the jumpsuit. A little hidden detail between my legs that had been found by her. It had become harmlessly twisted and deformed, deftly trapped in between the ends of her nails. My pathetic junk was held like that for a moment as she pouted.

“Aww, you’re making me feel sorry for you now. You look so sad and uncomfortable,” the cruel giantess sighed and mercifully released my genitals.

“Oh, I really shouldn't get carried away playing with you like that just yet. You still have that ridiculous jumpsuit on and I really have to go pee.”

The pair of well nourished digits filled my vision as they swept up towards my head. They pinched a swath of my jumpsuit in the center of my chest between their nail's tips, gathering the little area up into a wad and tugged gently at it.

“Is there a little zipper on that somewhere? How did you get that on?”

“I'm not taking this off! You can't make me!”

The digits let go and her index fingertip's massive pad pushed the air from me as it rested against my chest. The huge digit ran across the hidden, bony rim where my tiny ribs ended and my stomach began. She was feeling it, tracing across it as she smiled happily down on me.

“Please, just let me go! I’m not your- I’m- I can't take this anymore!”

“More lovely little scared squeaks! It's quite obvious to me that you get really frightened when I touch you. But, that's okay, Steve, everything is going to be just fine. It’s just my great big fingers, after all! You still think they're sexy, right? Well, I suppose that even though you wanted all of this, your size just isn't an easy thing to get used to, is it? You know- you're going to be even smaller soon. So, it seems to me that you just need a bit of exposure therapy. You need to become desensitized to what is frightening you.”

Her digits came at my head and they slowly closed in a gentle pinch right against my face. I tried desperately to keep my head free, but I could only thrash it back and forth. The undersides of her nails pressed against my cheekbones and jaw from each side. The fleshy, rounded ends of her digits smashed softly against the front of my face, trapping my tiny nose and mouth within a rapidly narrowing crevice where her pads touched together. My little skull became trapped, completely immobilized, my lips forced into a pucker and then stretched. My tiny nose held in a heavily grooved pocket of hot flesh.

“See? It's just my fingers, Steve. You know for a fact that I won't hurt you, right? There is nothing to fear at all. They are just very big and very pretty and… well, all for you.”

I tried to twist away, but I couldn't. I was wild eyed and I slapped against her digits with my little hands as I bellowed, my voice muffled by her flesh. The digits eventually let go and she chuckled under her breath.

“Poor little dolly. I guess you still don't like that very much, I understand. You're just so weak and tiny,” she rumbled mischievously, “and so very terrified of me! Like I said before, Steve- everything is absolutely fine. You're perfectly safe. You'll just have to forgive me, I suppose. I'm really enjoying your little body. I just can't help it- you're amazing like this! Oh, that teeny-tiny head of yours- it's just so cute!”

The self-indulgent giantess grinned as she momentarily let go of my face before delicately taking hold of my head between the pads of her fingertips. She chuckled under her breath as I fought to take in enough air. Her fingers released it for just a moment as they slightly changed their angle to more entirely envelope it. They gently overwhelmed my skull once again. All I could see were twin walls of bulging, ridged flesh and a single green eye looking down on me beyond the gap above my face. My little head was held like that for a long moment as I whimpered.

Her bulky digits let go, gliding around my trembling head and shoulders as they readjusted yet again. They came on, positioning themselves so that the back of my head came to be supported on the pad of her index fingertip. She stroked her thumb's huge pad across my face softly. I could see that she had a tranquil, happy smile on her face. My little nostrils and my upper lip were painfully tugged as they caught several times on the ridges of her digit and I grimaced as I struggled uselessly.

“I've always loved this handsome little face. But, now- like this... Well, it's just irresistibly cute. I just love it!”

The great thumb lifted away and it bent at it's last knuckle, the pad bulged against the digit's own thick shaft as it folded, compacting against itself. The tip of it slowly lowered over my head, bringing the edge of it's intimidating nail straight in at my face.

“Oh, that sweet little mouth. Open up and say 'ah', Steve.”

“Oh god- please, just leave me alone! You're going to suffocate me!”

“Squeak, squeak, squeak. Poor thing. Just so upset.”

My mother leaned in towards me, her face filling up my vision. She gently pushed the edge of her thumbnail against my mouth. It was wider than my head. I tried to turn away, but the huge digit simply overruled my feeble neck muscles, forcibly pivoting my head so that it was straight again. My lips and teeth were parted. The edge of her nail entered slightly into my mouth, pushing back the corners of it to their limits and exposing half of my teeth. It felt like I was trying to take the largest bite possible out of the edge of a kitchen cutting board as if it were a chocolate bar. My tongue slapped and writhed against the bitter tasting underside of the thumbnail as I gagged and drooled.

Beyond the massive, bowed thumbnail and perfect cuticle her thumb’s broad knuckle looked from my perspective almost like a seamed, fleshy cushion for her towering face to rest it’s chin upon. She was happily smiling down on my uncomfortable form, thoroughly enjoying her playful torture of my little mouth. After sliding a small portion of her thumbnail’s edge through my tiny spit-coated lips the frightening digit was finally pulled free. She pushed at the tip of my nose with her thumbnail's wet edge playfully before the powerful digit finally drifted away.

“After I go to the bathroom I think I'll open the little bottle of champagne that I've been saving. I put it in the refrigerator last night. I think we both know exactly where I'm going to put you in the meantime, my little slipper sniffer.”

“Oh, fuck,” I hoarsely whispered, “Please don't put me in one of your-” My words were cut off as I accelerated off of the table and downward.

My mother was chuckling as she leaned over and placed me on the carpet. Bits of fuzz and flotsam stuck to the side of my sticky face. I fought awkwardly against the coarse fibers to stand up.

8. Floor by V11

“Oh, god- She put me- I'm on the fucking floor!” I cried out, and then I began to tremble violently as I saw what was in the near distance.

Before me, resting on the carpet were her enormous, powerful feet. I gulped in air as I gazed wide-eyed at the intimidating extremities. They were unmistakable to me. The very same feet that had often gracefully stepped past me on their way to the kitchen while I played with toys on the carpet as boy. The luxuriously pampered and polished feet of my own mother that were now larger than trucks. My cock stirred in my boxers, feeling heavier, more tightly constricted. Above me, just behind her towering calves, the cliff-like backdrop of the couch suddenly groaned. She had leaned over me, her face was cast in shadow from the light but I could still see her grin.

Her beautiful, gleaming feet rocked backwards onto their heels, exposing their high arches and the graceful curves of the balls of her feet. The giant, sumptuous toes wiggled playfully before relaxing once again. A hand lowered as one of her big toes reared upward to meet it. A beautiful index finger ran across the edge of it's long nail.

Because of the impossible sizes of what I was witnessing, it almost felt like I was watching some excerpt from a well done cgi documentary about prehistoric biology. Almost like there were medium-sized dinosaurs in front of me moving about in some clearing as they grazed. But, I was simply watching my normally petite mother- a being who to me now possessed at least nine foot (3m) long fingers and thirty foot long (9m) feet.

“Pink would never be a color that I would pick out for myself, but of course, that was your idea.” She gently gripped her raised toe between her fingers. “It's a very innocent and simple color, isn't it? More like something for a girl rather than a woman.” I watched as her thumb gently stroked the big toe's flawless cuticle as she absentmindedly evaluated it. “I like it though! I think it's growing on me. Now then, my little dolly boy.”

The hand flew upwards as one immense bronzed leg lifted slightly. The meaty, high-arched foot reached out towards me. That soft, glorious sole became huge to my tiny perspective as her pretty toes spread wide. Before I had even realized it, I had turned and ran underneath of the coffee table. Something that seemed very hard collided with my entire back, lifting me off of my feet as it bowled me over. The wind was knocked out of me and I tumbled across the carpet.

“I am not going to play hide and seek with you, Steven.”

My face was buried in the dusty carpet fibers. I tried to get my limbs beneath of me to stand back up as a shadow grew around me. A heavy, hot weight loaded onto my back as I groaned. I clawed at the dusty carpet, but I couldn't get away.

As I struggled, some sort of a wide object eclipsed the top of my vision, cutting off my view of the far wall of the room. It almost looked like a dining table's edge with rounded corners on each side where it disappeared backwards towards my feet, well past my vision. It seemed like it was made of translucent, pink-tinted bone, or lightly colored wood. It lowered, cutting off more of the sky as the hot weight seemed to rock forward on my body, pressing against the back of my head.

I realized what it was that I was catching a glimpse of, it was the underside of a slightly long toenail. It was one of my mother’s meaty big toes that had captured me!

“Please mom! Fuck, I’m under one of her- No! Don’t!”

The heavy mass on my back moved sideways and my little form was rolled beneath of it. For only a brief, terrifying moment I was belly up, my entire form including my face pressed against by the heavily ridged bulk of her big toe's monstrous pad. I immediately tightly squeezed shut my eyes.

“Oh god!” I screeched. I could feel my breath pool and hang without dissipating in front of my face, trapped against the heavily gridded bronze flesh. “Please, mom- Just let me go! This is- It's-”

My captured body flattened more carpet fibers, plowing them over as I was rolled further until I ended up face down again. I could hear the fibers wadded beneath of me creak and rustle as they settled.

“Let's get you back out from under there, you poor frightened little thing.”

The burden on my back was suddenly gone. I managed to get my knees underneath of me as I lifted my face up out of the fibers. Sudden weight and incredible warmth loaded onto my upper back. Hunks of stocky, dense flesh curled down over my head and shoulders- the undersides of massive toes. They slowly clenched and it went dark as the hot, fragrant flesh closed against the sides of my head and compressed down against my shoulders, gripping them.

“Please, just leave me alone! Let me go! I don't-” My shriek was cut off as the bulging crevice of flesh interrupted and then ended all possible movement of my jaw. I was lifted off of the ground by my upper body. I kicked my legs frantically and that made it much harder for me to breathe.

“That squirming little head of yours is really tickling me! You should be thankful that I have some self control, Steve.”

My legs collided with the floor and they were dragged a short ways across the carpet before I was released. I groaned and rolled over. I was halfway inside one of my mother's fuzzy slippers! With a flash of pink and a tremor her huge foot came to rest in front of the opening, those giant, impeccable toes all in a row. There was no way that I could have escaped, I would have had to scramble over her toes on all fours. I could see that she was leaning down, both of her arms working with something on the floor off to one side of where I lay. I could hear the rumbling and creaking of fabric as she put on the other slipper.

“What do you think, Steve? Are you excited? I bet my slippers are even smellier at this size, aren't they?”

I was trying not to breathe, but I could already taste the tangy, sharp air wafting around me. I couldn't tell if I was tearing up because of the smell or my humiliation. Her powerful big toe lifted, arching up so that I could see the underside of it's absolutely massive pad. It was easily the size of a reclining chair to me, if not even larger. The foot began to slide into the mouth of her slipper with a rumble.

“I want some kisses on my toe, Steve. Do you think you could do that for me?”

All of the huge, pretty toes came on, cutting off much of the light. I was being forced backwards into the slipper.

“Please, don't make me kiss your toes! I don't want to be tiny anymore! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-”

Her big toe swung down slightly. I was struck across my entire chest by it's meaty, dense pad. It was probably meant as a light tap, but I was such a spindly thing in comparison to it. The air had been instantly forced out of my lungs and I was slammed violently against the sole of her slipper. The huge bulk landed on me again briefly and I saw stars. As I tried to recover, sucking in the nasty, sharp tasting air the toenail's blunt edge pressed painfully into both of my forearms and stomach. I pulled myself backwards with a whimper while the tip of her big toe blindly herded me, pushing it's long toenail and dense flesh against my chest and shoulders.

As it became too dark to see anymore I ran out of room to retreat into. I could feel what could only be her aggressive big toe lowering onto my legs. My little feet were effortlessly forced to rotate sideways as my legs were pushed apart. As I thrashed it lifted and slowly worked it's way up onto my chest with brutal thrusts as her slipper was wiggled home onto her foot.

“Oh, please just- Oh fuck!” My voice was thin and small sounding, nearly lost to even my own ears against the low, deafening rumble of cloth weave and stinking fake fur compressed and slid across the endless ridges covering her foot flesh.

I whimpered in shock as I realized how enormous and dense the pad of her digit actually was. I was thankful for the lack of light. I would have been out of my mind if I could have actually seen what I knew to be happening.

“Kiss me,” commanded my mother's slightly muffled voice. The giant toe pinning me shifted. Hot skin connected with my cheek, then suddenly pushed in, spreading out over my entire face. My tears were smeared into my own hair and my little skull was smashed against the wall of the slipper. As I kissed the roughly ridged surface, the slightly moist flesh dabbed at my face.

“That's so nice!” she thundered somewhere above me. “Ooh, I can't hold it in any longer! I have to go pee so badly!”

Suddenly the shadowy and hot space I was crammed into became chaos. The colossal woman was walking. Her foot raised and my stomach fluttered as everything accelerated forward. Her foot touching down onto the floor caused my chest and face to collide with the bulbous tip of her big toe. I could tell that as she walked, she had only really settled the weight of this foot onto her heel, otherwise I would have had broken bones- if not worse. At some point, my left arm slipped into the crevice between her second toe and big toe and was squeezed by the huge digits. My left leg eventually became tightly folded between my stomach and her thick flesh, while my right leg was jostled until it wrapped up the side of her foot.

In a few moments I heard the toilet seat flip up and the fragrant flesh I was wrapped around stopped violently lurching. She sighed with relief and the foot jammed against me slid backwards a little ways, letting light into the putrid footwear. I tried to catch my breath and stretch out my limbs. On the heel of the slipper the toes of her foot scrunched before spreading and reached in at me, the large, bulky pads overwhelming what little space I had.

“Oh god, no! Please, mom, just leave me-” the long pink toenail of her big toe pushed harshly against my stomach as one of my little legs was blindly grasped entirely between her powerful digits. I was effortlessly dragged backwards out of the slipper's canopy until I lay on the heel of it. Her gigantic, soft looking feet blocked my possible escape across the tiled floor like two shapely low walls.

“I was so preoccupied with you that I held it all in. Oh, what a relief to finally be able to go! Now, where is that tiny little face? Hmm?” The foot to my right lifted as her toes tilted down over me. The long, meaty big toe swept upward slightly. “Oh, I see it now! Right... there.”

“Please! I can't take this!” I groaned, “I can't... Don't you dare-”

Far above the plump, powerful appendage, like something nightmarish out of a Twilight Zone episode, sat the towering form of my own smiling mother like a goddess on a throne. But, this being had little to do with the mother I knew from before today. This was instead a giantess, a female monster from a fairy tale. The proof of this difference was right there in her face which gazed down on me. This being was uncharacteristically happy, anticipating the terror and humiliation that she was about to cause her helpless captive with a single huge toe.

“Such a handsome little button,” she cooed smoothly.

“Please don't touch me with- Oh fuck! Don't- Just leave my head alone!”

I began shrieking and that caused her to giggle, which made me even more hysterical. I pushed uselessly against the pad of her big toe as it lowered onto my head. The ridged skin pressed against my face, suddenly silencing me as I was driven downward. The dense, muscular flesh dominated my little skull and shoulders, pinning me against the nasty heel of the slipper as I slapped in panic at the sides of the wide digit.

As the giant ridges pressed against my face and grimacing lips, all I could think about in that moment was how fragile a human skull truly was. The bony struts which composed the cheekbones were not much more than slender afterthoughts, a jaw not much more substantial than the thickness of a leather belt, wafer-thin nasal passages- everything else shaped from bone only as thick as a glazed ceramic dinner plate. This was all of course how it was at normal size- yet my skull was perhaps only as big as a chickpea now. Just a thin shelled hummingbird's egg- at the mercy of a quite long and powerful, scarily meaty big toe’s pad capable of completely covering then crushing an office desk made for my scale.

“You're tickling me with all that slapping and clawing, little doll. Do I even need tell you what I want, Steve? Put that handsome little mouth to work.”

I tried to comply, opening my mouth to kiss the smelly ridges pressed against my face. I could only grimace and force my tongue to run across a few salty grooves of her toe's print. The gently curved surface of her toe's immense pad shifted slightly. My head was inadvertently rolled beneath of it a quarter turn, brutally smashing the pliable flesh of my face all into a tortured, grimacing pug-dog caricature as I squealed.

“You think my feet are pretty, don't you?” The big toe lifted slightly, my cheek peeling free of it. Her foot was still hovering over me yet tilted down to allow her big toe access to me. “I mean, I know it isn't your main thing, but come on, you have to admit that they're really nice, right?” The thick edge of her long pastel pink toenail pressed into the center of my face before correcting it's path and sliding underneath of my chin, forcing my head to look up at her. “Well, I think they're gorgeous- of course I'm rather biased about that. But they're especially pretty now with some nice polish. It's been so long since I last painted them. You know what? I can't even remember the last time I did that.”

I coughed, spitting up the salty oils in my mouth as I pushed against the huge egg-like bulb of flesh threatening me. “Please! This wasn't what- I just- I just wanted to do something that would go viral!” I croaked, “You have to believe me! I'm not like you! I'm just not-”

“Squeak squeak squeak. You're just so cute! Ah! Look at that! Those tiny little expressions! I can’t see much from up here, but… Such a lovely little head...”

The big toe shifted sideways as the whole foot glided forward slightly. She delicately captured my head between the bulbous tips of her big and second toes as I screamed. I felt my neck vertebrae compress as the rounded walls of firm flesh molded slightly around my skull. My body was lifted slightly and my ass was smeared back and forth across the smelly slipper fur as I was entirely subject to the small adjustments of her foot and ankle as she held me there.

“I'm going to rub your little face raw if I keep playing with your little head. I can't help it though- it's just so precious.”

With a chuckle I was freed and I fell back onto the slipper's heel. The rough pad of her big toe brushed harshly across my chest and face before sliding down to nuzzle it's way into my crotch. My relatively weak and small legs were effortlessly pushed apart by the beautiful digit's massive girth and forced down, despite the fact that I was kicking.

“Oh no! Please stop it! Not this! Anything but this!”

My tiny hips were pinned, themselves being not much larger or sturdier than my skull.

“Well, I think my feet are one of my best physical attributes, though I don't show them off like I used to when you and your sister were young. I guess you could say that I'm the one with a foot fetish then, couldn't you Steve? After all, I was always obsessed with keeping them beautiful and soft. You remember that, don't you? You've got to remember that. Back when I was enrolled in nursing school. Ah, even before that too, before the divorce, when I had so much more time for myself- I miss those days sometimes.”

The huge toe softly rubbed against the wrinkled fabric covering my crotch as she smiled pleasantly. The frightening bulk of it's pad quickly flooded my thighs and hips with heat. The digit's slightly long toenail occasionally threatened to bruise my ribs as it's edge inadvertently ran across my stomach and chest. I punched at the plump tip of her digit a few times as it mauled me, but it did no good other than to just make her smirk.

I groaned in disgust as I realized that I was being forced to harden up. I could feel the great ridges of her toe print run across my shaft through the jumpsuit's material. There was nothing I could do to control how my body reacted to such a strange sensation. I could only lessen my arousal by looking away from her tremendous form and what she was doing to me. Somehow the sight of her, of all people, bizarrely blown up to the size of the Statue of Liberty and perversely torturing my little body was terrifying and simultaneously incredibly arousing. It was soon after that her burly big toe pressed lightly against my boner, feeling it. The depraved giantess looked pleased and she cooed throatily as her grizzly bear sized digit's pad grazed gently across the tiny lump.

“Ooh... I'll take this as a yes, that you also think my feet are sexy. That makes me so very happy! You know what? I really want to feel you completely underneath one of my big toes. It's difficult to explain... Well, it's just that- You're so weak and delicate, aren't you? I really have a thing about- Oh, forget about that, Steve. I'm sorry, it's really embarrassing for me to even say such a thing out loud, even to you. Even like this. All that you need to really know is that I can't resist! I promise that I will be super careful. You can trust me, I would never hurt my poor, tiny dolly. You know that, right?”

The foot lifted and readjusted, lowering flat onto the floor just in front of the squat pedestal of the toilet with a dull thump. All five toes lifted and wiggled violently against each other for a moment with a flash of pink and a muscular sounding swish. The foot slid forward across the floor as her big toe arched up once again. It slid over me until my naked feet contacted the swell of hot flesh at the ball of her foot. The massive, shapely pad of her big toe hovered just above me and I trembled uncontrollably despite my cock pressing against the tight cloth of the jumpsuit.

This exact situation was what I forbid myself from imagining earlier in the day as I first approached her toes to paint her nails. The rest of her toes were large enough to be quite concerning- large enough to easily overpower me. But, those- her big toes, they dwarfed my pitiful frame. I could no longer suppress my whimpering. My entire body was now helpless beneath one of my mother's lovely yet powerful big toes. The giant pad slightly glittered from the oils and moisture that her body constantly produced. It really was as long as I was tall, more than big enough to break my bones easily with a misplaced caress.

“Please don't do this to me! I don't think that I can take this much longer! I don't want to be tiny anymore! I don't want to be trapped under one of your- Oh god, no! No, no no!”

“Shh. There is no need to squeak so much. Julie just wants to feel your little body underneath one of her pretty toes. That's it. You'll be perfectly fine, I promise! You might even like it!”

The long, plump big toe gently lowered onto the length of my body, covering up and dominating all of me at once. It's bulky pad came to rest squarely on my torso, my head was only just free of the hot, humid flesh. The breath was slowly pushed from my lungs as it's massive weight settled onto me. The cruel giantess was silent, perhaps slightly puzzled for a moment, as if she were assessing this sensation under her toe. Then she was suddenly giggling, her face lit up with joy. The huge digit slightly shifted of it's own accord. My eyes became overwhelmed with a close up view of the great curve of swirled toe print of it’s rounded tip and the jutting underside of her slightly long toenail.

“I'm not your toy!” I hissed from clenched teeth as I trembled, “You can't just-”

“Such a nice little body! Mmm, I can feel all of you- and... you're trembling! Oh, that's just divine! Now, give me a hug! I want to see those precious little legs wrapped around me like a toe ring- if they're even long enough.”

Out of fearful respect, I did as she asked immediately. I clung with my arms spread as wide as I was able, my tiny hands clenched. I wrapped my legs as far as I could around the circumference of the slightly thinner “trunk” of her toe. The primitive looking ridges allowed much better purchase for me to cling to it, even though I was beneath of it. The huge thing immediately arched up off the floor, taking me with it as she laughed.

“Oh, just look at you! You're so cute! Mmm, I think I like that- I like that a lot! Now then, since you've been so good for me, I think someone deserves a tour in one of my slippers. Come on, little dolly, I'll show you around. You can sample all the smells... all of those good smells that you love so much.”

Her toe waggled slowly back and forth as she laughed deafeningly. I felt the digit lower and it grew dark around me as her toes hid themselves within the shade of the slipper's mouth. A moment later she had pinned my head against the greasy sole of her slipper. I squealed as the back of my head was stroked against the waxy, stinky interior of the footwear while my face was smashed into the giant ridges.

“How does that smell? Hmm? Do you like that? You better keep holding on, dolly. If you let go in there I'll take it as a sign that you want to stay there a while with my pretty toes. I have such sensitive feet, Steve. You know, it wouldn't take much for me to find that tiny little cock of yours by touch alone and... Well, perhaps you shouldn't let go. Don't tempt me further. This toilet seat is uncomfortable already. I really don't want to stay in here another half hour.”

I shivered in revulsion at her pronouncement. I forced my fingers to inch up the great ridges covering the bulky digit, giving me a more secure grip. I pressed my cheek tightly to her flesh and tried to slow my breathing.

I just had to hold on, I thought to myself. Hold onto my mother’s toe. Otherwise, if I let go she would keep me trapped in the slipper. Trapped in front of five huge pretty toes. My weak, absurd little body would be subjugated and then effortlessly pinned. Then she would touch me in the darkness of the sour, fuzzy cave of her slipper.

I was slowly plowed across the dirty fur liner and then the barrel-like digit gently, lovingly crushed me beneath of it as it rested on my hips and chest. Her muffled voice spoke to me in an amused tone from time to time as my little head and back were forced to slowly explore the interior of her slipper. She giggled to herself as I was perversely rubbed into the worst of the stinking fur. After a bit, I was dragged back out into the light.

A stink clung to me, especially my hair. It was sour like diluted, rotten vinegar.

“I like having you wrapped around my toe, Steve. It's quite adorable!” Her distant face pouted as she giggled, “Aww- are you clinging to me for protection, my little dolly? The world is a scary place, isn't it? Don't worry, I'll hide you! I'll just cover you up and you'll be safe with Julie! None of the other giant people will ever be the wiser. You can just stay here with me, all safe and warm.”

I was pressed against the shaggy heel of her slipper as the big toe loaded onto my little torso. The plump pad swelled ever so slightly in width as it lowered. My tired arms could no longer hold on. I realized that I was completely beneath the pad of her toe. I saw stars as something popped. Bones, obviously, but no pain- my shoulder perhaps? I couldn't breathe to voice my complaint. My vision swam, I was lightheaded. A moment later the massive toe began to lift free of me- I was too weak to hold on any longer to it with my legs. I let go and lay motionless on the slipper's heel gasping as her ponderous digit hovered just above me.

“Always just so adorable...”

The enormous toe bent downwards at it's knuckle. The very tip of her digit pressed against my face, cutting off my air for a moment. It's long nail sunk into the slipper's fur just above my head as she pinned my tiny skull into the dirty material. I was face-first against the tip of one of her frightening big toes.

Face first against a lovely monster.

“You just love being tiny with me, don't you, Steve?” My features were dragged sideways by the deep ridges before the toe raised once again. I was gasping for air.

“I know that this has been scary for you at times, but deep down you can't deny that you like it. Well, I want to see if I can pick my pretty dolly up with just my toes. So just hold still.”

I didn’t get a chance to even catch my breath. She had not allowed me enough time to recover before she was on to the next playful cruelty to be inflicted upon my little body. I was going to pass out, I knew it. She was smiling down on me as her huge toes spread and carefully lowered. They landed with a small tremor and fattened slightly, pressing against the outsides of my arms as my feet stuck out in the raised crevice between them. My little torso and arms were gently forced together, crushed between her big toe and second toe. I was lifted off of the floor as her foot rocked back onto it's heel.

My little face was barely clear of the crevice between the massive digits. My eyes were fluttering as dark clouds filled my vision.

The cruel goddess smiled down on me as she folded a piece of toilet paper into a neat little rectangle about my size. She leaned her towering body back slightly and reached down between her vast legs with it to clean urine from her urethral opening.

“Let me just finish this and then I’ll put you back down.”

I couldn't breathe. She was squeezing me so much that I couldn't- I was just an untidy little wad of arms and legs with a pleading, straining face. I was trapped between the pair of dense, beautiful sculptures composed of curved, giant flesh. A roaring sound filled my ears.

Then darkness.