The future is a funny place. 

As a child, I remember those institutions called "jails" and "prisons."  Now that I'm a college student, things sure have changed.  Commit a crime these days and you will simply find yourself in a "Punishment Palace."  They all essentially work the same, especially since women took complete control over our government and presidency.   

A Punishment Palace works very simply: When a man breaks the law, he is shrunk and forced to undergo torture appropriate to the crime he committed.  Run a red light, and the female officers and judges will recommend a light "crush"; rob a bank, and you could find yourself on the ass-end of a 90-day "sole strap" complete with "occasional oxygen deprivation."  All that is fancy jargon for having a man shrunk and tortured under the feet of female correctional employees.

My ex-girlfriend works at Punishment Palace Phi, a local facility not far from my house.  She's a glorified secretary, and schedules the offenders with the appropriate lady correctional officer, assigning the required punishment and sending it to the officers for administration.  Phi is a good place to work; even my mom works there, as a full-time correctional officer. Nice pay, decent benefits.  The work is easy, she tells me.

I was about to find out.  You see, my ex, Lindsay, called me to her office one day, demanding I return the XVD player she bought me last Christmas.  I was happy to do so--anything to get rid of relationship reminders.  As I entered her office on the third floor of the massive Phi complex, she walked behind me and shut the door.

I placed the XVD player on a nearby leather chair.  She turned to face me, her long blonde hair and tight mini-skirt looking rather coservative for women these days.  They could get away with quite a bit, espeically with the new federal regulations that all Punishment Palace Wardens had to be female.

"Ever wonder how they do it, Bobby?" she asked me with a smirk.

"Do what?" I asked.  She made me uneasy as she reached into a tight pocket located on her skirt.

"Shrink the offenders, I mean.  I guess your mom never told you?" Lindsay produced a thin blue pen and pointed it at me.

"I never asked.  What's that?"  I knew something was up--but too late.

Pressing a tiny button on the pen, a thin red beam extended from its tip toward the center of my chest.  "Simple, Bobby," she explained.  "This red light dehydrates certain molecules, and reorganizes others through micro-compression...well, I think you get the idea."

She was right.  No sooner had the light created a burning sensation in my chest, than I found myself shrouded in the thick bundles of my own gigantic clothing, my body having been shrunk almost immediately.

Lindsay picked through my belongings and picked me up gingerly with her fingers, laying me in the palm of her hand.  "Our relationship is over, Bobby.  But, I want to schedule a special punishment session with one of our...best officers. My treat."  She smiled slyly.

**************

The room containing my Punishment Receptacle (i.e., leather shoe) was a bare room with light blue walls and a thick Berber carpet.  The mule into which I had been placed by Lindsay was constructed of dark blue leather, and contained special straps that now tied my naked, 2-inch body in the middle of the sole.  Unable to move, my arms, legs and torso were tightly bound with a thin fabric, and I faced upward, looking at the shoe's exit so far away from myself.

The shoe itself was attached to the floor via special brackets, so as to stay in place during the Punishment.  The cool, hospital-like air of the room was unsettling.  A voice over a hidden loudspeaker began to emit basic instructions.  The female speaker was clearly a recording.

"You have been found guilty of Punishment Level 6.  In accordance with Punishment Palace Phi's procedures, you will undergo Punishment Cycle S-1.  Your Correctional Officer is Sandy Spelahn."

My heart leapt.  That was my mother!  What had Lindsay done to me? I hadn't committed any crimes, especially ones that warranted Level 6 punishment with my own mother as the officer!

"In further accordance with Phi rules, the officer will not be given your name or specific crime information.  She will merely administer the required punishment as outlined in her data packet.  Any attempt to communicate with her will result in additional punishment."

I struggled against my bonds.  I couldn't believe this! I had to escape before the session began. 

"Further details will be given to you during the session by the officer."  With an abrupt crackle of static, the transmission ended.  This was followed by the hissing sound as the door to the small punishment chamber slid open and then closed.  A giantess form entered the room and sat on the small cushioned chair directly in front of my shoe.

As she leaned over, I recognized her immediately.  The loudspeaker had not been wrong. She was my mother.

Sandy Spelahn was in her mid-40's.  Her shoulder-length blonde hair was styled with a bit of "spiky" attitude; her smooth, lightly-tanned skin and thin frame leaned over the shoe.  I noticed her red lipstick and light make-up.  She certianly dressed professionaly for this job.

She looked down at something in her lap, then began to read, her voice disinterested in the words--bored, even.

"My name is Sandy Spelahn.  I am Correctional Officer 2213.  You have been sentenced to a Level 6 Punishment.  We will begin with light crush procedures.  If, at any time, you attempt to communiacte with me verbally or by biting my foot, you will be sentenced to Level 7."

I wriggled violently against the straps.  Nothing.

"If you ejaculate on my foot, we will repeat the previous punishment until you no longer ejaculate."

I couldn't believe my own mother was telling me this.  I was her son! If only she knew!

"Because Level 6 Punishment involves multiple procedures, a 10 minute break will be given to you half-way through the punishment."

My arms and legs burned with my attempts to free myself from the dark interior of the leather shoe.  The odor of fabric and leather grew around me, perhaps disturbed by my efforts.

"Now, we will begin.  In order to ensure your privacy, I will not directly look at your body.  I am required only to focus on the shoe itself."

My blood pumped furiously in my viens.  Should I yell? Say something? Would that simply cause my mom to administer a higher level of punishment?

Perhaps I should just take what was coming.  Surely it couldn't be that bad!

As if to answer my question, I watched as her left leg came into view.  Her min-skirt rode up a bit as she raised her left leg above the shoe, and then pointed her toes and red toenails toward the sole of the shoe.  I gave up struggling.  Heart pounding, chest heaving, I watched as her soft-looking foot descened. The dim light from the room was almost extinguished as my mom's foot lowered toward me, covering the shoe's opening.

Before her skin even touched my body, I could feel the heat eminating from it.  She must have been wearing an identical, closed-toe mule that made her foot so hot.  The smell from her foot indicated she had been wearing that shoe all day.  The little light that remained revealed a sole flushed with red, sticky skin; the thin lines of her foot became visible as they came closer to my helpless body.  Then, all light was gone in the shoe.

The center sole of my mom's foot came to rest upon my naked, shrunken body.  She slid her foot into place, pressing her toes into the furtherst corners of the shoe.  Hot folds of thick, soft skin were suddenly dumped on my naked chest, face, arms, legs, and crotch. Before I could yell out, an immeasurable, suffocating layer of sticky skin enveloped my body like a raison pushed into a giant pile of thick dough.

Totally compressed into place, unable to move my head after I had turned it to the side, I found that wiggling a finger was beyond my abilities now.  My mother was smothering me with the sole of her left foot.

After her foot settled, the real pressure intensified.  Perhaps she was slightly arching her foot; maybe she simply leaned foward in her chair and placed her arms on her legs.  Whatever her technique, I found my body horribly crushed and compacted, with my bones popping in protest and my ribs cracking lightly as they fought back against the giantess on top of me.

My skin felt stretched, and my muscles were pinched painfully as I lay like a bug under a pane of glass.  Breathing was impossible; I could only stay still and take the punishment my mom was doling out to me.  I simply became one with the pain, imagining her likely-bored face, as she had done this many times before.  To her, this was just another day at work.  To me, this was pure toture.

My mom's foot covered and smashed my body. 

I felt my heart slow as I struggled to breathe.  Claustrophobia was the least of my problems right now--my mom was smothering me!

Almost on cue, the pressure lessened.  The giantess foot on my chest slowly lifted off of my skin, pulling me along until the straps around my body resisted and kept me in place on the shoe.  My mom's foot was lifted out of the shoe, and I inhaled more deeply than ever in my life.  A thick, smelly odor greeted my nostrils and tongue--my mom's foot-smell--but I knew that was a small price to pay for oxygen.

As my body adjusted to the freedom from crush, I blinked.  If only she knew! I couldn't take more of this.  Already, my naked body had been violated by my mom's hot sole.  I had inhaled the odor of her foot.  What next? The straps remained as tight as ever, despite my best efforts.

I felt my body temperature rising.  Her foot had been very hot--swollen, even, from spending all day in uncomfortable flats. 

I watched as her toes dipped back behind my shoe-prison.  Her face, so very far away and yet so unbelievably gigantic, merely looked at the shoe with total indifference.  To her, I was another crime offender, getting exactly what I deserved.  She had no clue this had been engineered by my crazy ex-girlfriend.  If my mom knew, it would likely break her heart to know she had almost smothered me.  However, if she kept this up--I was going to be the one broken! Into pieces!

She began speaking again.

"Based on the electronic reader next to the shoe, you just experienced Crush Weight .75 on the Offender Scale.  Next, I am required to generate a Crush Weight of 1.5.  However, this weight will only be applied for half the original time."

More weight?! Was she crazy! My puny body would be smashed into pulp, even if it was for half the time! I had no idea what "Crush Weight" meant, but whatever scale that referred to, the pain had been terrible.  Surely she wasn't going to practically double it!

In answer to my question, her left foot again rose above the shoe, her red sole indeed swollen.  I watched as blood pumped through some thin viens near her ankle.  Her delicate, lightly tanned skin around her foot almost looked attractive.  I realized with a start that I was becoming slightly aroused.  Shaking my head, I tried to stop my growing erection.  She was my own mother, after all!

The foot dipped back into the shoe.  I turned my head to the side again, and braced as my mom placed her sole on top of my body.  Settling it into place, she wasted no time initiating her new "Crush Weight."  As the pain doubled this time around, I tried screaming in agony, but my lungs merely collapsed under the pressure, and no sound came from my abused body. 

My mind reeled.  Please mom! I shouted silently. Please! Mom! No more! No more! You're crushing me!

Spasming, my body racked with agony, I felt my head ache as if it would explode.  Suddenly, the pain slightly subsided, and my mom removed her foot from my body entirely.  The time might have been "half" to her, but for me, it felt twice as long.  Taking deep breaths again, I moaned from the pain and humiliation.  I was ready to cry.

My eyes watering, saliva dripping from my mouth onto my face, I watched blurry-eyed as she again placed her foot behind my shoe-prison. 

She spoke again, her usually light voice booming across the room due to my tiny size.

"The reader indicates a Crush Weight of 1.4.  To make up the difference to 1.5, I will now apply some solo toe treatement."

Solo toe treatment? I could only imagine what that would entail.  My mom then raised her foot yet again, this time pointing her big toe at my naked form.  The gigantic toe was certianly large enough to cover my tiny body, if that was what she intended.  Dipping the toe further, she lowered it towards me, then straightened it out and laid it directly over my body, only allowing my mouth and nostrils freedom from her sticky skin.  All else was covered.

She had yet to apply any painful pressure, and in anticipation I inhaled deeply to prepare my body.  Her foot's aroma filled my lungs and mouth.  As I exhaled slightly, I thought of the improbable situation.

My mother was a giantess.  I was shrunken.  Her left foot's big toe was laying on top of my body, so large in proportion to myself that it literally covered every bit of my skin except my face above my chin.  Wit the tip of her toe curving above my head, I couldn't see the top of the shoe; I only saw the thin, miniscule lines of her toe's skin, so tiny that even she couldn't know about unless she had used a magnifying glass to examine her own foot.

Whether or not I still maintaned an erection, I couldn't be sure.  Her skin was so hot that I literally couldn't feel any "details" down there; just the soft, enormous fold of sticky sole all over my form.

She then applied the pressure.  I watched as her skin surrounding my body turned a shade of white as the blood inside her toe dissapted due to the pressure.  My body cracked in response, and I grunted loudly and continously.  I didn't care if she heard me or not. 

The pressure continued.  While not as bad as a full foot-crush, it was enough to bring more tears to my eyes.  Finally, she stopped the crush and removed her toe from my body.  I could already tell that my skin had adopted quite a bit of her foot's odor, as I now smelled like her sole when her foot left the shoe.

What next? I pondered.  What could be worse anyway?

My mom read the next set of instructions from her data packet.  "We will now begin Phase 2.  In this phase, the crime offender is to be placed inside a specially-designed wool sock as issued by Punishment Palace Phi."

Wool sock? This was getting ridiculous!

"Once the offender is placed inside the sole of the wool sock, the sock is to be worn by the Correctional Officer, who will then proceed to place her foot back inside the Punishment Receptacle attached to the floor."

Just call it a shoe! I wanted to shout.

"The officer will keep her foot inside the shoe until the electronic reader indicates the desired temperature and moisture levels have been obtained inside the sock."

Damn those readers!

"In order to maintain the annoymous identify of the crime offender, an assitant will place you inside the sock while I momentarily leave the room."

With that I watched as her giantess form quickly stood and walked away from the shoe, ground shaking.  As the door hissed open and then closed, a new face leaned down toward me--Lindsay!

"Wow, Bobby," she whispered as she wrinkled her face.  "That shoe stinks! Or maybe it's just you? Either way, your mom must have some stinky feet.  That won't make this next phase any easier on you!"

With that, she bent down and released the straps on my body.  Before I had time to savor the freedom from my restraints, she gently plucked me from the shoe and unceremoniously dropped me into a thick, gray wool sock.  I rolled down the side of the rough fibers until I came to a halt in the flat sole section.  Somewhere, outside my new, gray world I heard Lindsay's voice.

"Your about to absorb the sweat from your mother's foot.  Sound like fun?"

I tried to shout, but found the crush sessions had made talking difficult; my lungs burned with the effort.

"Nothing to say, Bobby? Well, it's probably better that way.  Let me give you a little tip for this next phase: When you're being smothered by the hot air around your mom's sole, don't be tempted to drink her sweat.  That will just make you more thirsty."

I groaned.  This couldn't be happening!

"Just try to enjoy it, if you can," Lindsay continued.  "I know that sounds far-fetched, but if you can find some pleasure from being trapped under your mother's smelly foot, that will make this next phase less torturous.  Trust me--Level 6 has much worse punishment in store for you!"

With a slight giggle, she placed the sock in a heap on the seat, burying me in hot, dry gray fibers.  I heard the door open and close, and the sock was picked back up again.  I knew it wasn't Lindsay this time.

As my mother inserted her foot into the wool sock and stretched the footwear tight against her skin, I found myself pressed back into her sole yet again.

My face was buried in her hot skin, and I turned my head to breathe.  Though the pressure was much less intense, I still found myself unable to move.  The rough fibers rubbed against my back and buttocks, and my chest heaved in and out against her foot.  My penis was hard; I just hoped I could mantain my composure so as to keep any additional punishment out of my mother's mind.

She then lowered her foot and placed it inside the shoe.  As she wiggled her toes and foot into the tight space, I once again found myself sandwhiched between her skin and the shoe, with a thick layer of sock seperating the two.  She wasn't using "Crush Weight" this time, merely content it seemed to let her foot rest inside the shoe until the "temperature and moisture" readings had been acheived.

Oxygen was at a premium inside that space.  I soon understood that deep breaths would only make my situation worse, so I practiced short inhalations followed by even shorter exhales.  How long the air would last--I didn't know.  I could only pray that her foot and sock would get hot and wet enough before all air dissapeared.

Though the tight, dark, muffled confines made any movement impossible, I still wanted to laugh.  Who would have ever prayed that their mother's foot, while placed on top of them, would get hot and wet as soon as possible?

And so, time passed.  With it, the temperature around me increased.  I felt my skin break out in a layer of sweat, and the air around my face and skin was laden with thick moisture as my mom's foot began to lightly prespire.  After a while, my sweat was more than matched by the continous, salty sweat of my mother's sole.  It bathed my body, from head to toe, and I shut my eyes tightly to keep the burning moisture out.

The sock surrounding me began to absorb some of the sweat, and the fabric grew damp and finally became soaked, caking to my back like a wet towel wrapped tightly about me.  As I breathed harder, I couldn't stop my mom's foot-sweat from getting inside my mouth.  And, despite Lindsay's warning, I was unable to avoid swallowing some of it.  I felt the liquid slide down my throat and into my belly.  Nausua began to set in, but I fought the feeling back.  Surely this was almost over?

More time passed.  Sounds outside the sock were totally cut-off.  My mom occasionally shifted her foot inside the shoe, and I got the feeling, based on how relaxed her sole was, that she was reading or filling out paperwork.  I could feel each of her heartbeats pushing blood through her skin, and with each subtle shift of her foot, individual muscles inside her foot.  No one had ever been this close to his own mother before, I surmised, save pre-birth.

The temperature increased yet further.  I tried to wiggle, hoping that the slick conditions might allow some more freedom of movement.  I found that all I could muster was a small wiggle back-and-forth near my crotch.  Doing so, I soon discovered, awakened the feeling inside my penis.  My erection was certainly real, and I pondered how such a depraved situation could have possibly excited me.  Was it the domination? The maternal power over my helpless body? Simply the aroma of a sweating female?

Whatever the cause, I kept wiggling my member against my mom's sole.  Lindsay was right--the only way I was going to pass time here was to find some kind of pleasure in it.  As sick as that thought was, I knew that if I ejaculated on my mom's sole, amidst all this moisture, she would never know. 

Guilt was overriden by desperation; I was desperate to make time go by quicker, and to satisfy the urges growing stronger within me with each passing moment.  I wiggled faster and faster, pressing my member deep into the sweaty, swollen skin.  My mom must have noticed the new movement, for a sudden wave of fresh pressure was applied to my body.  After a moment it abated, and so I began again, this time trying to keep my movements less noticable. 

I tried not to picture my mom's face; her short, blond, spiky hair; her red lipstick; her miniskirt; her lightly tanned skin; her wonderfully pedicured toenails; her total oblivious knowledge of my plight.

Instead, I just focused on the foot and sole around me.  The odor had long since passed into something that was now a part of my very soul.  The sweat was lubricant; the pressure the neccessary friction; the situation the motivation.  With a final lurch, and putting all restraints aside, I ejaculated on my mom's sole.  Again and again I freed myself, trying to keep my movements small and undetectable.  

Finally, I finished my passion and relaxed.  More guilt swept over me, but I pushed it aside just as quickly as it had arisen.  My body was now at peace with the current situation.  Taking the first deep breath in a long time, inhaling my mom's odor, I lay in place and absorbed the torture.

My involuntary bath, in which my body lay soaking in the hot, salty moisture of my mom's left sole, continued.  Having freed myself of my sexual urges, I relinquished all efforts at freedom and allowed my mom's foot to dominate me.

This was certainly torture--made all the worse by the fact that my mom was obvlious to the identity of this "criminal" inside her sock.

As I lay trapped in the dark, all sound muffled, I tried to imagine the next series of punishments.  My mom had indicated during the "tutorial" that a break would occur half-way through the procedures.  As no such break had yet been afforded me, I could only assume several more sessions of foot-torture lay ahead.  The irony of the situation, that I had committed no crime, wasn't lost on me--nor, I suspected, my ex-girlfriend. 

Finally, I sensed movement in my mom's foot.  The pressure increased again for a moment before abating, and I imagined her sitting upright in the chair again.  Who knows how long I had bee down here?

Suddenly,I felt myself lifted from the shoe, still wrapped in wet sock and sticky sole.  The pressure released, and I felt my body swirling in the air somewhere above the shoe.  My mom spoke again.

"This concludes the first half of your punishment.  We will now take a 10 minute break; during this time, an attendant will arrive to prepare you for the remaining procedures."

Great! I wondered how to view the glass at this point--half empty, or half full? Given the amount of moisture covering my body, I knew that answer was clear!

My mother continued: "In order to protect your privacy, I will remove my sock while you remain inside.  At this time, I require that you grasp the fabric with both hands and prevent yourself from being removed as I take my foot out.  Failure to comply will result in additional punishment."

Additional punishment was the last thing I needed! Heart pounding yet again, I used both hands to squeeze as much wet sock fabric as I could, finding my grip quite tenuous as my skin was extremely lubricated.  My eyes still squeezed shut, I felt my mom place her foot back inside the shoe.  Once again, her foot rested upon my puny body.

With that, she began pulling her foot out of sock, presumably grasping it with her hands to ensure it stayed inside the shoe.  With my grip tightening, I felt her hot skin slide down my body, and her sticky skin would have taken me with it had I not grasped the sock.  First, her sole slid over my face, chest and legs, followed by the ball of her foot.  Finally, she slowly dragged her toes over my face, across my heaving chest, on top of my crotch, and over my legs.  After that, her foot was off my body, and the upper sock fabric collapsed over me, burying me inside a wet, stinky, hot mound of wool.

Unable to move due to the weight of the sock, I waited silently for my mom's voice, but I only heard the distant, muffled sound of the door to the room opening and closing.

Without warning, the sock was picked up, and as I tumbled into its toe, the opening was spread wide, a famaliar face appearing.

"Hi, Bobby," Lindsay whispered as she smiled seductively.  "How was it?"  She wrinkled her nose.  "Phewww! Your mom really did well this time.  According to the electronic reader, she achieved the highest temperature and moisture content today than she has all week.  She should be proud!"  She giggled quietly.

I tried standing in the sock, but found the swaying, loose fabric too unstable, and I remained in a helpless pile as she loomed over me.

"I'm responsible for preparing you for the next phase.  If you'll follow me?" she giggled again, and the sock swayed further as she walked to the far side of the room.  Reaching inside the sock, her cool fingers gently grasped my body and removed me from my newest prison.  The sudden light of the room, combined with the fresh, cleansing air, was overwhelming, and I felt momentarily dizzy.

As my eyes adjusted, I noticed that Lindsay had dropped the sock, now laying next to her feet.  She then bent down near the wall's base, and placed my back against it.  My view of the room remained blocked as I faced Lindsay's impressive, giantess chest. 

I felt my back pressed against some sort of leather pad.  It wasn't exactly soft, and didn't yield as Lindsay pressed me against it with her index finger across my chest.  Holding me in position, she used her other hand to press my legs against the pad.  I tried to resist her, but her strength was overwhelming, and I watched hopelessly as she placed a thin strip of fabric across each leg, followed by identical stips across each arm, below my chest, and across my shoulders.  Removing her hand, I remained strapped to the wall, the thin fibers biting into my skin.  The leather was just rough enough to assist slightly in keeping me in place. 

As she stood, I looked between her legs at the shoe and chair so very far away from me.  What could this possibly be? Above my head, I heard Lindsay typing into a keypad set into the wall, followed by a series of "beeps." 

"All set," she said, looking down at me.  A true giantess, I had to strain to look up and see her face so high from my position.  "I've set the pressure meter.  Next, your mom is going to roll her chair to this position.  Using her big toe, she's going to place it against your body, arch her foot and press against you with her toe until the meter beeps.  Then, sliding her toe down, she will alternately place pressure on your legs, arms, chest...even crotch."

My blood ran cold.

"We call this 'Body Displacment,' because the focus is to punish your body from various angles.  You'll get the hang of it."  With that, she turned, and as she strolled toward the door, each thunderous step shaking the wall, I watched as she placed her hand against a switch and dimmed the lights slightly.  I realized the pad against which she had placed me was colored with various designs and shadings, mostly likely to keep the correctional officer from getting a good look at me.  

Once Lindsay left, my mom returned.  Grasping the chair and rollling it past the torture shoe toward my location on the wall, I noticed she did indeed have on flat, uncomfortable mules.

My mother's toe pressed against my upper chest and face, burying my mouth, nose and eyes in smelly skin.  She was careful with the pressure, no doubt aware that this area was delicate for the offender.  Even with my legs and arms free from her pressure, I still felt humiliated and crushed.

Finally, she removed her toe from my face, and I gasped for air, sucking in as much odor as oxygen.  I watched as her toe hovered in front of my body, the tip of her red toenail pointing at my face like a beacon, warning me that more torture was to follow.  I could barely make out her face beyound her foot and raised leg, but the dim light made her expressions difficult to discern.  As best I could tell, she seemed bored yet again--this might have been her last "job" of the day, and perhaps she was ready to go home.

My eyes grew wide and my heart skipped a beat as her toe again rested upon my body while I remained strapped to the wall.  This time, she placed her toe lightly on the middle of my heaving chest, then seductively dragged it toward my right arm, sealing it inside her hot, hard, sticky skin.  Once again, she increased the pressure, and I gritted my teeth as the bones and muscles inside my arm burned with agony.  Tears welled-up in my eyes, and I watched her face, begging her silently to stop as she smashed my arm.  I desperately wanted to cry out--to warn her--but feared more punishment.  She had made it quite clear earlier that any sounds or communication would not bode well for me.

And so the torture continued.  Each time, she placed her smelly toe on my chest, and dragged it to another appendage--first my left arm, then across my crotch twice to each leg.  After that final session, all that remained--at least, according to what Lindsay had said--was for my mom to crush my crotch with her big toe.  I waited nervously as her toe dangled in front of my helpless, smelly and sore body.

Just get it over with! I thought quietly.  I had already been crushed so often this night, that another round wouldn't matter all that much. 

Her toe once again lowered toward my chest.  As her hot skin threatened to touch me, a loud "beep" issued from the data packet in her lap.  My mom placed her toe back on the carpet, and I watched as she read some sort of new information that had just been forwarded to her.  Was I saved? Had Lindsay revoked the rest of the punishment?  Perhaps she had a change of heart. I prayed that it was true!

My mom finished reading and looked at my tiny form, indistinguishable to her in the dim room. 

"I have just received some new information," she said, almost with sadness in her voice.  "It seems we have been administering the wrong punishment to you."

My heart leapt.  Yes!  Finally! Someone, somewhere, had discovered Lindsay's abuse of power! 

My mom remained sitting on the chair.  Why wasn't she freeing me? Didn't she understand that I was her son?

"I have been notified that you should not have received a Level 6 punishment," she continued, a certain quietness in her voice.

No kidding! I thought.  When she freed me, I was going to sue the hell out of this place--after they fired Lindsay!

"Based on my records," my mom continued, "your crime actually warranted a special Level 7-X punishment.  Apparently, you were convicted of a sex crime.  The punishment for this is permanent sterility."

I didn't understand.  Did she just give me a...higher punishment level? Wasn't she going to unstrap me? And what was..."permanent sterility"?  The only sex crime I was guilty of was having dated Lindsay, an obvious physcho!

My mom placed her foot back inside her flat shoe, stood, and began walking toward the door.  Before she exited, she deviated from her script, and a sincere "I'm sorry" was whispered before she left.  Why was she sorry? What was about to happen? What had Lindsay done?

As if to answer my question, Lindsay appeared, and she sat in the chair vacated by my mom.

"Bobby," she said, a slight grin on her face, "I've been watching through the moniters.  Honestly, I didn't feel you were getting the treatment you deserved.  You really hurt me when you left me, Bobby...and I think I need to protect all women from you.  That's why I changed the order.  Level 7-X isn't pretty, and, well..." her gaze drifted off to the side, before focusing on me again.

"Let's put it like this: If you get to the chance to ejaculate, you should do it.  This may be your last time."

My heart raced furiously.  What was she--or my mom--going to do? With that, Lindsay removed something from her tight skirt pocket.  My eyes grew wide as I watched her lower it toward my helpless form. 

I watched as Lindsay removed a 6-inch piece of string from her pocket.  Midway, the string was extremely dense and fromed a small ball. 

Slowly, smiling as she worked, Lindsay attached each end of the string to the wall on either side of my body .  As she tightened the string, the middle ball began to rest lightly on my genitals, exhibiting a slight bit of not-uncomfortable pressure.

"Lindsay," I cried out, "Please! I'm sorry for anything I've done to you!"

She merely winked and further tightened the string.  Suddenly, the pressure was much more painful, and I cried out in short gasp.

"Arrghhh!  Lindsay, I'm begging you!"

Lindsay leaned back in her chair.  "Okay, Bobby," she began, "Get ready for your final punishment.  Your mom is going to extend her foot and placed her left big toe directly on that string's ball.  When she does this, the ball will compress your genitals."

I struggled against my bonds for what seemed the 50th time.  I couldn't believe my ears!

"As your mom increases the pressue through her toe, your genitals will be increasingly crushed.  Via a pre-determined set of motions that our scientists have decided will cause permanent sterility, your mom will alternate levels of pressure, and certain amounts of grinding."  Lindsay stood up and continued smiling.

"Basically, Bobby," she said as she turned to leave, "your mom is going to turn your tiny little balls into jelly."  With that, she left, and I remained alone in the dark, my tesiticles already feeling a bit sore from the rough string ball.  My heart pounded at the coming prospect; my own mother, unaware of the torture she had leveled against me, was about to sterilize me! Permanentaly!

As I hung in place, I pondered my situation.  Certainly, my mother would be coming back any moment.  I couldn't yell out to her--that might cause her to increase the punishment more quickly.  Perhaps if I prentended to pass out? Might that force her to stop?  The idea of mind-bending pain, administered by my mom's hot toe and focused on my tiny manhood, frightened me deeply.

Just then, the door opened, and I watched as my mother came inside and resumed her seat at the chair in front of me.  Stuck to the wall like bug speciman, I could only watch in horror as my mom slowly removed her left foot from her shoe and pulled the chair closer to the wall.  After that, now dominating my view of the room with her giantess form, my mom pointed her toes at my puny body.

I watched as her lightly tanned skin, which had becamed flushed red by her walking, hovered just  in front of my balls.  The hot, musty odor of her foot emanated against my body, and I felt the warmth of her big toe slowly heating up my penis and testicles.  I felt ashamed as my manhood became erect.

I expected my mom to say something official.  Instead, I heard nothing, and her face had a look of slight sorrow.  Clearly, she didn't enjoy this type of punishment.

Then, without warning, her toe came into contact with the ball of string, and I felt her flesh cover and envelope my balls, penis, and surrounding crotch.  The skin of her toe just touched my belly and upper legs.  My mom then pressed lightly with her toe, and the pain increased dramatically, causing me to again grunt in pain.  My mom pressed into the ball harder still, and my testicles felt as if a giant clamp was squeezing them.  Again, my mom increased the pressue, and I screamed out in pain, a deep, gutteral groan that emptied my lungs.

My arms and legs writhed in pain, but I could do nothing but endure my mom's unwitting torture.  I watched her face, beautiful yet sad now.  If only she knew! But then, most likely, she would be heart-broken.

Thankfully, the pressure eassed a bit, and I watched as the skin around mom's skin went back to a reddish hue, having been whiter when it pressed into my crotch.  My mom's toe was sticky and hot, smothering my balls in a moist and rubbery bliss.  I could feel that my penis remained erect.

As I breathed in a small sigh of relief, the pressue suddenly increased again, and this time my mother pressed harder than ever into my crotch as I screamed in agony, unconcerned with making noise.  My mom continued the pressure, and I felt extreme nausua rise inside my body as a continuous blast of sharp pain ripped through my tesitcles.  I continued my screaming, my lungs expelling air, and through my half-open eyes and I watched as my mom lowered her head and shook it sadly.  Gritting my teeth, I tried to keep quieter, but I still seethed in torment and shook against the wall as my mom's toe buried my crotch in concrete pain.

After several moments, my mom completely removed her toe from my body, her sticky skin pulling on me slightly.  My testicles throbbed in unfamaliar agony, each beat of my heart shooting lances of pain through them.  I sobbed uncontrollably, and begged my mom to end this torture.  After a few minutes, the pain subsided only slightly, and a numb feeling began to enter my balls.  I prayed my mom hadn't done permanent damage!  Even amongst this toture, my penis remained erect. 

My break ended as the toe was again placed against my crotch.  This time, the pressue was only half, but my mom began to rub her toe, and therefore the ball against my testicles, up and then down, with slow movements while she maintained the pressure.  Again, I screamed out in pain as my balls were rolled up and down, up and down, all the while being pressed into that damned string ball and against my body. 

The hot, sticky and smelly skin rubbed against my penis as well, and the immense pain became coupled with a surprising amount of internal ecstacy.  Part of my mind cried out in horror as my mom destroyed my balls, yet part of my brain reveled in the dominant, maternal torture.  I rememberd what Lindsay had recommended--to ejaculate, as this might be my last time.

The thought was repulsive, and my conflict was made greater as my mom then began to rub the ball around my testicles in a circular, swirling motion.  I felt vomit rise up in my throat, the pain unbearable mentally, but my penis was now enjoying untold amounts of pleasure amid the new motion of my mother's toe.

Smelling the sweat from her foot, inhaling the hot aroma of her skin, and feeling my balls crushed while my mom simply went about her job, became too much for me to handle.  Gladly, gratefully, I allowed my pressed and smothered penis to ejaculate on my mother's toe.  I humped again and again, my mind reeling into colored lines and bright stars.  My heart pounded as I came, perhaps for the last time, and thanked my mom for allowing me to come on her toe one final moment.  I couldn't believe my own mind.  Thanking my mom! For allowing me to come on her skin! I felt sick to my stomach yet again.

As I finished my business, my mom seemed to realize what had happened and removed her toe from my battered crotch, taking some elements of my ejaculate with it.  She removed a tissue paper from a small bag on her lap and wiped her toe clean.

My balls had become completely numb, aside from some occasional tingles of pain.  This frightened me the most--now, I had almost no feeling in my testicles.  What had Lindsay done? My own mother, for goodeness sake!

Without warning, the toe was again leveled against my balls, and my mom pressed very hard into them again.  Amid tear-stained eyes, I looked at her, and realized that her skin was white around my crotch from the pressure--yet I felt no pain!  Horrified, my body convulsing, I watched as my mother rotated and ground her toe into my balls one last time for good measure, then removed her toe and placed her foot back into her shoe.

She had done it.  My mother had destroyed my manhood, and I had been helpless to stop her.  A quick wave of depression and hopelessness overwhelmed me, and I watched as my mom rose from the chair and exited the room.  My mind, reeling from the events, barely comprehened Lindsay sitting down on the chair next.

"Well, Bobby, it seems your mom did a good job here.  And, based on that...mess around your penis, you took my advice."  I had no response for her, and merely hung my head in defeat.

As Lindsay removed the bonds and placed me gently on her palm, she smiled.  "Your punishment is over, Bobby.  I'll fix your size and you will be free to leave.  Don't bother telling anyone--especially your mother--about this.  Trust me--there's no proof I did anything."

Lindsay stood.  "There is one more bit of  business, Bobby.  Sometimes, our prisoners here beome a bit...attached to the feet of the women that work here.  As a parting procedure, we do allow our prisoners to say 'good-bye' to the feet that tortured them.  I know it sounds silly, but some prisoners aren't complete until they do that."

I watched, blurry-eyed, as Lindsay smiled.  "Would you like that? It only lasts five mintues, and you are immediately freed afterward.  Well," she said, using my former string bonds to bundle my arms against my body and my legs together, "I'll speak for you.  Consider this one last, parting gift.  I doubt you'll hurt any girls again, Bobby."  I didn't struggle as a gag of thin string was placed across my mouth.

Moments later, no longer surprised at any of my predicaments, I remained alone in the dim room with my giantess mother.  Still unware that she had unknowingly and unfairly tortured her son for several hours today, she placed my naked body against her left sole as she crossed her legs.  She turned her foot toward her face and spoke gently as she very carefully rubbed my face, chest, arms, crotch and legs up and down her hot, sticky, vinegar-smelling, flushed skin.  Up to the ball of her foot, and down to her heel, hot skin pressed against my numb crotch, my mother worked my pathetic form.

"Well, I hope you have a good life," she said quietly.  "Don't let this experience ruin your happiness.  You sill have a lot to live for, and we here at Punishment Palace Phi hope you will enjoy a productive and eventful future."

I laughed inwardly at the irony.  Not long after, returned to normal size and and guided toward the exit, I limped outside Punishment Palace Phil, unable to take large steps and bending down to massage my battered organd.