Soccer girl
by poppy

After a hard session at the soccer ground, there was nothing that Chrissy liked more than a nice foot massage. Having dumped her bag in the hall, she went into her lounge, and flopped heavily into a comfy armchair. 'Hey,' she shouted, 'what about a bit of a massage here?' There's no answer, but Chrissy already knows this - because this massuese is trapped in a used coffee mug on the coffee table beside her.

'Oh, I forgot,' she says, and leans over to leer down at him, 'it can't get out.' Inside the cup, staring up terrified, is a naked little man, barely a couple of inches high. Mockingly, Chrissy reaches out and shakes the cup, jiggling his tiny body cruelly. She grins down on him with her mighty teeth, before tipping the cup upside down, throwing the naked man onto the ground.

He makes to escape, screaming a small scream, but Chrissy moves her monstrous muddy training shoe toward him, pinning him down under its great, flat expanse. He struggles, pathetic, trying to push away the great object - Chrissy ignores him, smacks him against her sole to shut him up. 'Now, like I said, what about a massage?' She lifts up the other foot and pulls off her size 10 shoe to reveal a less than perfumed foot, draped in a holy, sweaty sock. Casually she pins her screaming victim under this one, and removes the other shoe. 'Aaaaah, just the thing,' she says, flipping the boy onto his back with her big toe and sinking her big sole down deep into his writhing body.

She lies back and enjoys the sensation, pressing him flat with the ball of her foot, driving and wriggling to ease her aching muscles. However, she is especially achy today - perhaps a little extra something... ? Having an idea, she reaches over the armchair to grasp her trusty soccer ball. 'I think we need a bit of curvature here,' she says, releasing the captive, turning the ball over in her massive hands. She quickly peels both socks off, and then thumps them down violently on either side of him, making him ball up. 'Right, if you don't do any better this time, I'm gonna mash you to pulp.'

She picks him up, and rubs him against the sole of one upturned foot, covering him in her sweat. Now sticky, he adheres nicely to the surface of her old ball, his little belly and dick curved out as if to invite her attentions. She puts a huge finger on his dick and presses threateningly.

'Now, massage good, little bug.' She puts the ball on the floor, his body presented to her, and brings one massive bare sole down on him. The hot smell envelopes him, and desperately, he writhes, in a mixture of terror and obedience. She smiles and rolls him back on forth across her tired arch, his sticking and peeling off from her pleasingly. If he stops, she brings her great toes down on him, driving her big ugly toe into his pert little tummy, making him squeak and struggle. She rolls him alover, back and forth, rubbing him hard into her cracks and crevices. However, it's inevitable that he'll wear out sooner or later, and feeling much better, Chrissy realises she has a phonecall to make before tomorrow. She leans forward and looks at the exhausted man dismissively.

'Don't think it's working anymore.' She pokes it, and unimpressed with the response, leans back once more. 'Well, don't want to waste it.' She slowly raises one foot, and brings it down with relish, engulfing the boy completely. Pressing hard now, she smears him back and forward on the ball, squashing down deep and roughly with her toes. Stretching all five of them out, she feels a deep itch in her muscles, and drives down hard with her sole to eliminate it, surging down with all her might. The boys screams are soon no longer audible as he is crushed to a hot paste underneath her, crunching like a ripe plum. Finally she slows, rests for a minute on his remains - then she's getting up and walking away, ignoring the tiny object that falls from her sole as she leaves.